I am back at work now after a summer sabbatical with the theme of “Sustainable Ministry.” I also called it “Slow Church” because I was looking at connections between ministry and sustainable agriculture, slow food, and the new agrarian movement. It was funded by a Clergy Renewal Grant from the Lilly Endowment, and it was built around the hunch that a healthy congregation is a lot like a small, organic farm.

A small, sustainable farm will typically feature a great diversity of crops and animals living in complex interdependence. All crops depend on healthy soil, which in turn, depends in part on manure provided by healthy animals, who depend on healthy grass. Good soil also depends on careful cultivation by a variety of crops in rotation, with each depending on the other to ward off pests. Chickens can get a significant nutritional boost from fly larvae in manure, and this helps keep the cattle healthy and happy. Squash, beans, and corn grow well together because each provides something the other needs.

The ethos of a farm like this will need to be something other than profit. If it is to work the grand vision will need to be health—the health of the soil, the land, the neighbors, and all the surrounding land. A farmer capable of caring for such a farm will need patience, affection, wisdom, stability, and hope.

Now, substitute the word church in that last paragraph, and you get the drift of my sabbatical. I spent the summer looking for this grand, inclusive vision of health; and I wanted to see some of that patience, affection at work. I wondered if they would clash with the more celebrated virtues of productivity and efficiency.

So, I worked in our garden, and kept our small flock of chickens. We also traveled  to organic farms, and we tried to eat only fresh, slow-cooked food. One highlight was a course of study at Russell’s Workhorse Farm in Poplarville, Miss., where I worked alongside farmers who have been farming the slow way their whole lives.

I can report that there is in fact a movement. We met scores of young people farming in the summer the way previous generations registered voters. We had terrific meals with good people who are giving themselves with affection to small places. We met people who had “come to their senses” like the prodigal son, and taken up a difficult but tasty new way of living. Even though this way of farming still accounts for only a tiny fraction of agricultural production, I came home encouraged.

A key part of my sabbatical was the participation of our congregation. Mahan Siler agreed to be our “sabbatical director,” and his four visits were blessed events. Through preaching and over a series of Sabbath meals Mahan helped our congregation think about Sabbath and consider the health of our common life.

I think I want to be a member of a slow church, but realize this membership will be a challenge. We will also need a wider vision of salvation, one which includes the health of all creation. We need to think hard about our unquestioned use of technology, and about living within creaturely limits. We need a Gospel vision big enough to give us the patience and hope we need to stop what we are currently doing to ourselves and the Earth and learn to trust in God’s provision. We will need friendship.

One happy result of my sabbatical was a desire to get back to our church. I am eager to get my hands back in the fertile soil of this congregation. I am deeply grateful for this work.