Princeton Seminary’s Farminary
by Rev. M.
Courtenay Willcox
There are so many things to say
about compost, and I can add specific observations about my own compost pile,
which is neither beautiful nor bodaciously effective, but it is still effective
enough, and that is enough. What makes a beautiful compost pile?
The compost
pile at Princeton Theological Seminary’s Farminary mirrors the mysterious,
beautiful choreography of what creation set in motion. It is a big, dark,
steamy, warm-to-the-touch pile that is turned regularly. Organic material is
breaking down. It doesn’t smell rotten; it smells rich. It flips the idea of
wealth. In Farminary terms, being rich means having robust compost and being
able to run your fingers through the loam. It gets under your fingernails and
stays with you. It retells the story of dirt, of death and resurrection, and
makes it clear that death is never the end. Much has been written about this
particular pile of compost, a centerpiece of the Farminary’s regenerative
agriculture farm and part of Princeton Theological Seminary’s curriculum. The
farm’s mission focuses on theology, ecology, and
food justice, while encouraging students and visitors to learn about compost,
stewardship, agrarian rhythms, and “living soil,” a vibrant ecosystem.
Much has been written about this particular pile of compost, a centerpiece of
the Farminary’s regenerative agriculture farm and part of Princeton Theological
Seminary’s curriculum.
Eleven years
ago, Farminary's brainchild, Dr. Nate Stuckey, suggested
joining agriculture with theology to then-Seminary President Craig Barnes.
Before it became the Farminary, the parcel of land had been a cow farm, then a
sod farm, then a Christmas tree farm. Serendipitously, the seminary owned the
21 acres. When Nate began, the soil was completely depleted and unproductive.
Over the last 11 years, the Farminary acreage has experienced a resurrection of
sorts. In addition to compost, the three-season farm produces various vegetable
varieties, all planted in the rich compost. It also supports roaster chickens,
laying chickens, sheep, goats, miniature cows, and an apiary. As I walk through
the grounds, I am fed and consider my call to tend and care for the earth.
There is a dawning here that perhaps I need to do more of this earth-connection
work.
An article from the Presbyterian News Service
reports,
“The Farminary
is a … context for theological reflection. Over the past decade, it has become
a vital space for spiritual formation, communal healing, and deep engagement
with the ecological challenges of our time, … Dr. Nate Stucky, Director of the Farminary Project, says, “It’s a place
where the rhythms of the land shape our understanding of God, community, and
calling.”[1]
There is a
symbiotic relationship between the Farminary’s fecundity and the seminary’s
refectory. They feed each other: the Farminary supplies the refectory with
fresh, organic vegetables, eggs, and chicken, and the refectory returns its
scraps to the Farminary, which are sufficient to feed the dirt. The Farminary
also provides food to a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program and a
food distribution center in Trenton. There is also a symbiotic relationship
among some of the plants on the farm. Our tour guide and seminary professor,
Rev. Dr. Kimberly Wagner, reminds us of the Trinity Garden, the three sisters:
corn, squash, and beans. They are planted together in sequence. Corn is planted
first, then beans, which put nitrogen into the soil and climb the corn stalks,
and finally squash, whose leaves shade the beans. These plants grow together in
synchronicity. In regenerative agriculture, there is also the concept of
restoring the dirt. Nothing says this to me more clearly than the movable
chicken pen. I watched as the 10-foot-by-10-foot chicken-wire pen was pulled
from its resting place, with about 25 chickens moving along with their
enclosure, to another location. This gives the chickens a new supply of bugs to
eat, and the soil benefits from chicken manure.
There is a deep theology in the
Faminary’s compost pile. After my recent tour of the
farm, I observed four components of compost. It became a conversation point. I
spent considerable time in a lively discussion with Farm Manager Larry Rogers
about the finer points of compost. I loved it and learned from it. I was
grateful to Larry for his generosity with
his time and shared knowledge.
The second is that the compost pile
removes and uses refuse from the farm and the seminary’s
refectory. Food scraps and other organic material are not sent into the waste
stream but find a second life in compost. Garbage is different than trash.
Third, there is the process of
composting. It is a dying that results in resurrection. There is a breaking
down and a heating up of everything in the pile. It takes organic material,
such as eggshells, banana peels, and coffee grounds, and transforms them. No
longer in its original form, garbage is transformed into humus and then used to
feed and enrich next year’s crops.
The final component is that compost
is restorative and productive. This rich loam helps rebuild depleted soil,
feeds growing plants and vegetables, and supports herbivores, such as cows and
goats, and omnivores like chickens. In this sense, creation, the earth, and all
that is associated with it, become our conversation partner, modeling both an
understanding of creation and an understanding of God. John Calvin said that
the more you know yourself, the more you know God, and the more you know God,
the more you know yourself. The Farminary takes this one step further, helping
each of us understand that the more we know creation, earth, and soil, the more
we know God, and the more we know God, the more we can love, appreciate, tend,
and care for the earth. And it all starts in the compost pile.
Courtenay Willcox is a transitional pastor at Northampton Presbyterian Church, Moderator of Presbyterians for Earth Care, and a very grateful Gigi to three remarkable granddaughters
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