Daniel Deffenbaugh is an Associate Professor of Religion at Hastings College and a gardner. He is also a theologian and author of the book Learning the Language of the Fields: Tilling & Keeping as Christian Vocation. I like his book and have been quoting from it on this blog for a year now. One of the reasons I like Deffenbaugh’s book is how he claims gardening as a critical spiritual practice. To garden, to tend a particular place is to keep one’s eyes open for God at work. It is a practice of paying attention to “other”, that which is not us. To pay attention to plants is to pay attention to a living entity that while it is very much “other” from us it still remains as much a part of God’s beloved creation as ourselves.
Three years ago I planted my first real garden. Seeds sprouted, flowers bloomed and fruit formed and it all tasted great! So I did it again and a third time. Deffenbaugh is right. Gardening gets me out of my head and away from my desk. Gardening helps me to see the world around me. Well, to be more specific, gardening helps me to see and honor my part of the world. My specific place. And once I start to see, to honor, I can see God at work with, well, my “neighbors” which Deffenbaugh reminds us includes birds, plants, animals, bugs, even the dirt.
Here in Northern California we are in the third year of not-enough-rain, also known as a drought. Depending on how the next two months go we’ll either be under severe water restrictions or not-so-severe water restrictions during the coming spring, summer and the fall seasons. Until the rains come again. Under these circumstances I started to wonder if I should forgo the garden this year. Why plant seeds now if I have to abandon the crop later?
The answer is this: I need to see the drought firsthand. I need to keep the spiritual practice that helps me to see what is going on in my community.
I am lucky enough to live in a time and place where I can be protected from the worst of drought’s impact. I will be able to drink water even if I can’t take long showers. I will be able to buy food even if it becomes more expensive. Planting and tending a garden will connect me to the reality of rainfall or lack of rainfall in a very specific place: my back yard.
Deffenbaugh writes on page 191 of his book on why we need to connect either to our own gardens or to participate in a local Community Supported Agriculture food source: “Finally, participating in a CSA provides not only an opportunity to enjoy the abundance of the harvest but also the chance to share in the disappointment of a dry season when the crops fail for lack of rain. This is one truth that we would all do well to remember and to acknowledge before every meal: despite its apparent regularity and abundance on our supermarket shelves, food is indeed a precarious and therefore precious commodity.”
Still, I’m loath to plant seeds just for the spiritual exercise of watching them die. So I’m changing up my crop. I’m seeking out plants that come out of the Mediterranean basin, from Central America. Plants that are more accustomed to a dryer, hotter summer. This year I hold seeds for eggplants, tomatoes, tomatillos, and basil. Even squash which I’m growing for the flowers not the fruit. I’m leaving off beans and carrots. I’ll be scavenging for water from my showers and from my kitchen sink. I’ll be scanning the skies and touching the earth trying to sense its moisture.
I’ll not be the only one doing this. There’s a drought in Texas too. There are farmers and ranchers who are staring out the window right now trying to make the same decision - to plant or not to plant; to sell the herd or to keep holding on in case the rains come.
While I’m watching the weather I’ll also be thinking about the stories of drought in scripture. I’ll be thinking about the widow and her children so desperate that she was just going to seal up the house and die till she encountered Elijah. I’ll be thinking about how drought and crop failure accelerated the concentration of land ownership from the control of many into the control of a few and how starvation and suffering followed. I’ll be thinking about the prophetic voices that cried out for justice - and are still crying out for justice today.
I’ll be thinking about what it means to be sitting next to the town well in the middle of the day waiting to be offered a drink of water. And, I’ll be thinking about what it means to offer that water.
Anitra Kitts lives, gardens, writes, and occasionally preaches in Northern California. She is a Candidate for the Ministry of the Word and Sacrament under care of the Presbytery of the Cascades and Graduate of San Francisco Theological Seminary (M.Div. 06).
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