The Taste of the Place

One of the keys to understanding Slow Church is captured in the seventeenth-century French phrase le goût de terroir, which can be translated “the taste of the place.”

Carlo Petrini, co-founder of the Slow Food movement, writes often about terroir as “the combination of natural factors (soil, water, slope, height above sea level, vegetation, microclimate) and human ones (tradition and practice and cultivation) that gives a unique character to each small agricultural locality and the food grown, raised, made, and cooked there.” Thus, a Pinot noir from Oregon’s Willamette Valley takes on the taste and texture of the grape, the soil, the barrel, and the late frost. Milk, it turns out, is also highly sensitive to terroir, according to a fascinating and slightly terrifying article on raw milk in the latest issue of The New Yorker.

In the same way that food and wine take on the taste of the place, Slow Church is rooted in the natural, human, and spiritual cultures of particular places. Slow Church is a distinctively local expression of the global body of Christ. “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14, The Message). [Read more...]

Learning Contentment (from Thomas Merton and Liberty Hyde Bailey)

This is the second in my promised series of reflections on Liberty Hyde Bailey’s poetry.

[ Bailey's collection of poems Wind and Weather, has just been released by The Englewood Review of Books as a bargain-priced Kindle ebook.  It's well worth it! ]

Read the first post in the series here: Cultivating Wonder.


Wind and Weather

Passengers on the cosmic sea
We know not whence nor whither, –
‘Tis happiness enough to be
Complete with wind and weather.

This first and title poem in this collection of Bailey’s poetry reflects the importance of contentment (and particularly with the weather) in his overall philosophy.  I have described this outlook in my essay on Bailey’s poetry:

[Read more...]

Cultivating Wonder.

This is the first in my promised series of reflections on Liberty Hyde Bailey’s poetry.

[ Bailey's collection of poems Wind and Weather, has just been released by The Englewood Review of Books as a bargain-priced Kindle ebook.  It's well worth it! ]

Miracle

Yesterday the twig was brown and bare;
To-day the glint of green is there
To-morrow will be leaflets spare;
I know no thing so wondrous fair
No miracle so strangely rare.

I wonder what will next be there.


One of the great losses in the post-industrial age, is the disappearance of wonder.  Our pace of life moves so fast that we don’t have time to take in our surroundings deeply, to reflect on them and to wonder, as was the source of many of Bailey’s poem’s including “Miracle.”  To wonder takes time.  We often speak of child-like wonder, for what is it but time that makes wonder possible for the child but not the adult?

[Read more...]

Liberty Hyde Bailey Poetry Reflections

One of the great gifts of my writing retreat at the Convent in Cincinnati last week (here’s a glimpse inside the Convent’s own story of stability, written by one of my fellow retreatants) was the realization of how important Liberty Hyde Bailey‘s work, and especially his poetry, has been in framing the concept of Slow Church in my head and in the life I share in community with others at Englewood Christian Church.

Liberty Hyde Bailey was one of the most prominent American botanists of the early twentieth century, who taught at the university that would become Michigan State and then later at Cornell in upstate New York.  But of more interest to me is his work as a nature and agrarian writer, one of the respected grandfathers of the New Agrarian movement (Wendell Berry, Wes Jackson, Gene Logsdon, Norman Wirzba, et al).

On the retreat, I had the opportunity to read aloud the introduction to Bailey’s collection of poetry, Wind and Weather, that I wrote several years ago.  [ You can read the full intro here.] I read it as one of the most deeply moving — and despite my impersonal voice in it — personal pieces that I have written in the last several years.  Bailey’s poetry has played a vital role in helping me to come to know and love the Englewood neighborhood, an urban place that by most social and aesthetic standards doesn’t have a lot going for it.  Over the coming weeks, I would like to share occasional Slow Church-related reflections on Bailey’s poetry here.

Today, I’ll begin with a few snippets from the introduction that I wrote:

[Read more...]