God's Good Green Earth: Priuses or Pruii?, part 2: The Humble Stumble

Every summer almost 1,500 Quakers converge on a college campus somewhere in North America for a week that’s known as Gathering. In 2014 it was at California University of Pennsylvania. Confusing, eh? What made it even more confusing was that California, Pennsylvania is not some major metro area. People were a mite worried about finding the place. On Facebook, one wag wrote, “Just look for the line of Priuises with peace and earth care bumper stickers and follow them.”

Good advice. Sure enough when I looked around the cars coming in the percentage of Pruii was huge. Quakers do probably buy more Priuses (or is that Pruii – I’ve never been able to figure out the plural for Prius) percentagewise than any other faith group. It’s not because they’re trendy (the car or us) but because of this whole care for the earth thing. Because we love God we love God’s good earth. It is God’s creation in the same way that each one of us is. And so we try to the call to be good stewards of this planet during our lifetime and for those who come after us, remembering, as John Woolman said, that “to impoverish the earth now to support outward greatness appears to be an injury to the succeeding age.” That’s why so many Friends were among the 400,000 folks who participated in the People’s Climate March in NYC recently. It’s not because they’re good people (well, they are) or it’s a good political stand, it’s because their faith led them to do it.

I often joke that, as a Quaker, I’m not a member of an organized religion. If you ever come visit us and stick around awhile, you’ll see what I mean. We’re always waiting to see what God is telling us to do and we often have various takes on that which we have to sift through to discern what is God telling us to do and not us telling us what God wants us to do. Confusing, eh? Then we’ll appoint a committee with a subcommittee with a working group to discern if the discernment was right on. Then it’ll come back up the Quaker ladder for further discernment.

One thing that we’ve actually gotten to work on, though, is earthcare. At a personal level, that’s one reason you see so many hybrid or high mpg vehicles parked in front of the Quaker meetinghouse. While the percentage of the farmers among us has tumbled in the last century, those who remain often practice responsible farming practices. My friend Katrina runs the family farm her parents founded in the 1970s. Meeting Place Organic Farm is in southwest Ontario, Canada and Katrina's family farms organically with Belgian horses and has a mixed livestock operation designed to nourish the soil and produce food in an ecologically sustainable manner. While that may sound vaguely Amish, trust me, I’ve never seen bubbly Katrina dressed anywhere close to a staid young Amish woman. If she’s wearing black, it’s a fashionable little black dress and she’s stepping out for a night on the town. And step out on the town Katrina does.

In my case, the land we steward has all been taken out of production agriculture and converted to tall grass prairie or forest. This is a big change for me – a man who once saw this land as a potential development and a possible source of monetary wealth. All because of faith and an increasing awareness of the fragility of our eco-system and the vanishing species here in the Midwest. It is rather affirming to see butterflies, for example, in places where there weren’t any fewer than ten years ago.

Besides individual efforts, we actually have some groups that work directly on the issue. Quaker Earthcare Witness takes spirit-led action to address the ecological and social crises of the world from a spiritual perspective, emphasizing Quaker process and testimonies. My friend Katherine, a writer like me, is their publications person. She works with QEW because

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve met God in nature—in the light, in the sky, in trees, flowers, and animals. I’ve had a reverence for all life because God loved it, and even as a child I would make it my job to clean up streams (and even a drainage ditch by my house) because I knew caring for creation was caring for God.

I have a number of other Friends friends who work with the Earth Quaker Action Team which endeavors to build a just and sustainable economy through nonviolent direct action. They’re leading a strategic effort to get PNC Bank out of the business of financing mountaintop removal coal mining. They use nonviolent direct action to shine the light on PNC Bank’s lead role as one of the primary financiers of this devastating surface mining practice which has destroyed more than 500 mountains and 2,000 miles of river and streambed in Appalachia.

My friend (and Friend) Eileen Flanagan is active in this group.

I’d been growing increasingly concerned about climate change when, in February 2011, I had a strong intuition to attend the Philadelphia Flower Show. Although none of the friends I’d invited were available, I kept feeling that I needed to go on a particular day, which turned out to be exactly when EQAT was protesting PNC Bank’s financing of companies engaged in mountaintop removal coal mining. PNC was also a major sponsor of the Flower Show, so here were all these Friends—several of whom I knew—singing and handing out fliers in front of the PNC pavilion. There was something about their mixture of joy and courage that really touched me, so I grabbed a stack of flyers and joined them. I felt that God had given me the nudge I needed.
What many people call “climate justice” really integrates the testimonies of peace, equality, simplicity, integrity, and stewardship. Through my work with EQAT, I’m learning how to confront injustice while still honoring “that of God” in those who are upholding the system. I have a growing appreciation for the early Friends who were willing to actively confront the wrongs of their own society, even when it meant ostracism or jail time. Their faith inspires me!

They are not bad Quakers like I am, but they’re certainly bad ass. And, again, all of this comes from a spiritual – not a “do-gooder” – base.

These folks aren’t a bunch of wacked out aging hippie types either. If you saw them on the street, you think they were as normal as you are. And they pretty much are. Except for Katrina and she’s normal in her own unique way. What they each have in common is that they’ve heard the voice of the Spirit calling them to action in caring for the earth – and often that call is tied in with their views on peace, simplicity, equality, and more.

What canst thou say about caring for the earth as a spiritual practice? More importantly, what canst thou do? Even more importantly, what canst I do?

Taste and See -- Days 23-25

The tastes that have been most prominent have been those of autumn -- but not the ones you might expect. I'm not talking about cool apple cider sliding down my throat or pumpkin pie or any of those tastes. No, I'm talking about musty dampness, dryish sawdust, dank diesel fuel, fresh cut wild onions and...

Well, let me explain. About mid-week, the rain started to fall. And fall. And fall. And so no farm work got done in the evenings. But the weather people kept saying that the weekend would be great -- bright and sunny and cool. And the taste of anticipation of all the fall flavors I mentioned above was with me from Wednesday through Friday. And then came Saturday -- as brilliant as the prediction.

So I started by stacking firewood in the woodshed. Laying a fire in the fireplace has to be one of the supreme joys of the cool evenings. But wood is not clean -- especially when you're transferring it from a wood stack down the farm lane to the woodshed behind the house. Every pieces is lifted, tossed, unloaded, stacked -- while bazillions of wood fragments, old leaves, dry grass, and more float through the air and into your nose and mouth. So I tasted various flavors of trees -- oak, cherry, ash. Some dry, some dampish from all the rain. I saw various mice running for their lives as I dismantled their homes in the wood stack (not on purpose -- didn't know the exact addresses). The kittehs especially enjoyed that part -- they are Catholic cats and thus have no tendencies toward the Quaker peace testimony. So Grace and Ebony tasted meeses.

After the wood was stacked, it was time for the final mowing of the lower woods. We'd planted 3,000 trees down there about 4 springs ago and many are getting very tall. Still, to keep the weeds down -- and to give us paths to walk in -- I mow the rows. That's where the taste of diesel fuel and onions came in. I fueled the John Deere and as the fumes floated up from the tractor a few made their way into my mouth (I need to learn to breath with my mouth shut, I guess). Not unpleasant -- just a soupçon of its pungency. Then it was out into the woods, where, to the hint of diesel came fresh mowed grass and wild onion flavor. Also, a taste of black eyed Susan and purple coneflower. Each borne on the the wind as the bushhog mauled them into particles of minute portions.

I love these tastes -- earthy, real, tangible. They speak of stewardship and work and creation. Things which were noble concepts to me as few as seven years ago, but which have become part and parcel of my life since Nancy and I built Ploughshares and began planting trees and prairie. It still is a wonder to me how I ended up here -- a city fellow who thought by this age he'd be living in condo downtown in the arts district.

Yet here I am. Farmer Brent -- voted least likely to plow by his high school class! No, I'm not a "real" farmer -- no crops other than God's adorn these fields. But I "a charge to keep I have..." as the old hymn says. And part of that charge is taking care of that which I've been granted. Ah, 50 acres and fool -- God certainly has a sense of humor. Him planting me here with the crops reminded me of Jesus calling a bunch of fisherman and tax-collector types to be disciples -- to be the bearers of his gospel to the whole wide world. Not a one of them an expert in the field of God-telling.

While I wonder at it all, I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 1:27 -- "But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty."

Foolish and weak and easily confounded, too, I am. But I enjoy the tastes of autumn -- they remind me of God.

-- Brent

On Being a Gentleman Farmer

When I was being introduced before giving a speech recently, the fellow doing the introduction said this -- "Brent is a gentleman farmer. He lives on 50 acres being reclaimed into prairie and woodlands. That mean he raises grass and trees. Now, as I understand it, grass grows on its own. And trees do, too. So he gets to sit and watch them and read books and think deep thoughts. My thought is -- 'That's the kind of farmer I want to be!'"

Everybody chuckled, of course, including me. It was a witty introduction. But part of it nagged at me a bit and I remembered that part whilst working -- that's right, "working" -- the farm this weekend.

Yes, I do fit the stereotype of the city gentleman farmer -- sort of Eddy Albert's Oliver Wendell Douglas character come to life. I grew up in the city and lived mostly in cities or towns until about 5 years ago. Now I still work weekdays in downtown Indianapolis and take care of the farm chores in the evenings and on weekends. I do own a tractor (modern -- not at all like Douglas's antique on "Green Acres") and various implements that get used on it. A flail mower, log splitter, bucket loader, box scraper, and more. And there are the various other implements -- chain saws of various sizes, chains for pulling logs and stumps, a spray tank, a pickup truck, and on and on.

And they all get used -- which is what made me think of that introduction. Yes, the 6,000 trees that have been planted over the last 3 years will grow on their own -- so long as Nancy and I keep them free of weed entanglement and damage from deers who like to munch on tender young shoots or rub the bark of young trees. That means weeding, mowing, and tying strips of dryer fabric softener sheets on each one (the deer hate the scent as much as I do). Let me tell you, that's a lot of cutting and tying.

It also means controlling invasive species -- like bush honeysuckles which takes over a woods and chokes out all new growth and the understory (wildflowers, etc). Hence the chain, chainsaws, and -- gasp -- bush killer herbicide.

The prairie has to be burned to kill off the woody growth and destroy weeds. Some, though, don't seem to mind the fire. So the bazillion thistle rosettes (that's a baby thistle, I've learned) that sprouted after the fire, have to be dealt with. So I've had to learn about herbicides and the effects and choose the most environmentally friendly ones I could find. Thistle is an invasive species in this part of civilized county, so if I don't control it, the county will -- and probably in a way that is less safe than what I use.

All this is to say, that this weekend has been a reflection (driving around spraying weeds or mowing with the tractor gives one a lot of time to think while doing) about the wonders humankind has wrought. One hundred and fifty years ago this land was prairie and woods. Then it became farmland and it's taking a powerful amount of work to restore it to the pristine way it was when God had charge of it. There was no bush honeysuckle here -- humans brought it in because it was pretty. There was no creek erosion on the scale we have now (the West Branch of the White Like Creek that goes though our land has washed out 1/2 acre at minimum of trees and carved itself a new creek bed) because there were no subdivisions with all their rainwater runoff.

I've appreciated, as Earth Day approaches, how many of us are more conscious of ecological stewardship than in the past. But know how much still has to be done. And how much work it is.

Gentleman farmer? Bah. I may not raise money making (or losing) crops -- but I'm working the land God gave us in hopes of being a good steward. And in hopes of spotting a few more wood ducks, deer, bunnies, and even the occasional coyote.

Excuse me now. I've got to pull on my boots and fire up the John Deere -- time to pull some more honeysuckle. "Green Acres is the place to be..."

-- Brent