In further thoughts on foodsheds, I once interviewed the wonderful farmer-poet Wendell Berry who said:
When you take away the subsistence economy, then your farm population is seriously exposed to the vagaries of the larger economy. As it used to be, the subsistence economy carried people through the hard times, and what you might call the housewife’s economy of cream and eggs often held these farms and their families together. The wives would go to town with eggs and cream once a week, buy groceries with the proceeds, and sometimes come home with money. Or they’d sell a few old hens, that sort of thing.
So that’s the first lesson to learn about agriculture, as far as I’m concerned: It needs a sound subsistence basis. People need to feed themselves, next they need to feed their own communities. That’s what we’re working for now. We want to develop a local food economy that local producers will supply and that the local consumers will support. It’s ridiculous that we should be importing food into this state while our farmers are suffering.
Living near 13th and Euclid Sts. in downtown Washington, D.C., means I buy my food from the Giant supermarket in all its pre-packaged glory. This summer I actually had a small pot of grape tomatoes that grew on my front walk. I’d pop one in my mouth on my way in and out of the house, trying to get to them before the little creepy-crawly guys.
After living in Columbia Heights for 22 years, I’m thrilled to see the influx of farmers markets and Community Supported Agriculture projects that are available for all economic levels (ie they take credit cards as well as WIC cards and food stamps).
I also take vicarious pleasure in the new generations of “dumpster divers” with whom I am acquainted. Ryan is especially an expert at reclaiming delicious food from the trash at Trader Joe’s. (See The Tao of Dumpster Diving by Ryan Beiler.) He’s trained several other teams as well. The Harris Teeter that’s opened up in the next neighborhood over looks like it will be a great gleaning site.
All this reminds me of an exercise I’d love to explore one of these days…mapping my food shed. This is all part of the ongoing “practice of permanence” that I’m playing at as a faith discipline (see monastic “vow of stability”). Below is an excerpt that lays out the basic food shed idea:
The term “foodshed” is similar to the concept of a watershed: while watersheds outline the flow of water supplying a particular area, foodsheds outline the flow of food feeding a particular area. Your foodshed encompasses the farm, your table and everything in between.
The modern US foodshed includes the entire world. Much of our food traverses the globe to reach our dinner table. In fact, food can often travel back and forth thousands of miles to different processing plants before it eventually reaches you.
Here’s a good section from StopWaste.org in the San Francisco area also on mapping foodsheds:
Start exploring your own local food supply. Who is still growing food in the area? What about neighboring counties? What is it like to be a farmer? What are they growing? Where does their farm produce go? How long have they been farming? How do they care for the soil? How do they decide what to grow? Who does the farmwork? How are they treated? What about food products, such as yeast or roasted coffee beans, or value-added products, such as salsa, jams, tamales, or bread? Who are the local producers of food and food products? Are there any you can support? What does your local food shed need? What is missing?
Foodsheds are particularly useful in describing and promoting local food systems. When we look at our agricultural system in terms of the origins and pathways of our food items, then it becomes easier to expand these pathways and focus them at the local level.
Autumn is a wonderful time to do a little food mapping. Figure out the genealogy of your main meals. You’ll get a whole new perspective on who’s coming for dinner..
On January 14, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King took time out of his busy speaking schedule to travel to the Santa Rita prison to meet with and offer his support to anti-war activist and singer Joan Baez, her mother Joan Bridges Baez, her sister Mimi Farina, and others imprisoned for blocking the Oakland draft induction center. In an impromptu press conference outside the jail, King reflected on civil disobedience and the nature and cost of prophetic leadership.
“Henry David Thoreau said in his essay on civil disobedience that noncooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good. I do not plan to cooperate with evil at any point. …
“I’m not a consensus-leader. I do not determine what is right and wrong by looking at the budget of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference or by taking a Gallup poll of the majority opinion. Ultimately, a genuine leader is not a searcher for consensus, but he is a molder of consensus.
“On some positions, cowardice asks the question, is it safe? Expediency asks the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? But conscience asks the question, is it right? And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right.”–Dr. Martin Luther King (January 14, 1968, in front of the jail in Santa Rita, California)
When Jesus uses it, ‘perfect’ means to be in harmony with God. To be in harmony with that dynamic change that God made part of life. Life changes. So perfection is learning to be in relationship with the changes in life. To be human we have to undergo changes. The focus is not so much on physical change as it is on spiritual change. When we choose to move closer to God, when we deepen our love and we spend more time in those kinds of thin spaces, we get a deeper sense that God loves us. But we could also choose the opposite. We could choose to move away from God. We could choose to control a kind of static world, and we could live in such a way that we resist growth at every step. Because God’s love is without limits and because we are made in God’s own image, we can never, in our human love, reach the limit of our ability to love.
Source: Radical Grace, Vol. 19, No. 2, the Center for Action and Contemplation
Congress is moving rapidly to enact a gigantic taxpayer bailout of the financial sector, with a potential cost of $700 billion or more than $2000 per American citizen. The folks at PublicMarkup.org believe, as Justice Brandeis said, that “Sunlight is the best of disinfectants,” and that all legislation ought to be open to public comment and consideration in real-time, not just after the fact.
So, as a public service, they’ve posted for public comment the 44-page proposal currently in front of Congress from Senator Chris Dodd (Chair of the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs) and the eight-page text of the “Legislative Proposal from Treasury Department for Authority to Buy Mortgage-Related Assets.”
Section 8 of the Treasury Department documents states: “Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency.”
Isn’t it this lack of oversight and “just trust me” attitude that got us into this mess? “Budgets are moral documents” as we say at Sojourners, repeating the Hebrew prophets..
I had a wonderful time Tuesday night at the Servant Leadership School in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington, D.C. Thanks to Tim Kumfer, I was able to debut material from my upcoming book Who Killed Donte Manning?: The Story of an American Neighborhood. It’s due out in May 2009 from Apprentice House press at Loyola College in Baltimore.
I appreciated the response from the audience who asked the essential question of our day – and maybe any day: How do we maintain hope in times of despair?
Since we were talking about urban architecture and how it influences the soul of a community, I answered citing Mark 13:1-2 as an example. And as he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” and Jesus replied, “Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another, that will not be thrown down.”
When we survey the “great buildings” around us – which we might understand to be the overarching architecture of despair – we hear Jesus saying: See this mighty facade meant to intimidate you and make you feel small and helpless? I say to you: Not one pebble of despair will remain because I will destabilize these monuments to might by cracking their foundations with hope.
Hope is a decision we have to make every day. Just like they say in A.A., you’ve just got to be hopeful for the next 24 hours. We are surrounded by a world that is addicted to despair. The addiction is to hopelessness, and therefore helplessness. But we can decide to resist that addiction by being intentional about choosing to live in hope. We make that decision every day, one day at a time.
One thing that helps us choose hope is by breaking down the architecture of despair into its component parts. Learn the details of the stories inside that architecture. In every way and in all places, the actual human stories within the facades will reveal – yes, terror, yes, great injustice – and also, always, human ingenuity, compassion, love, acts of kindness, an irrational acts of hope that crack the foundations of the architecture of despair..
On Tuesday, September 16, at the Servant Leadership School community dinner, Rose Berger will give a sneak preview of her forthcoming book Who Killed Donté Manning? A Spiritual Journey in Columbia Heights. Dinner starts at 6 and goes ‘til 7, with soup+sandwiches provided by The Potter’s House for $6. The Servant Leadership School is a program of the Festival Center, and is located at 1640 Columbia Rd. NW. Call 202.328.0072 and ask for Tim Kumfer for more information..
Joe Ross and I are very grateful to have our Cut Loose the Body: An Anthology of Poems on Torture and Fernando Botero’s Abu Ghraib Paintings mentioned in the U.S. Catholic Bishops’ study guide Torture is a Moral Issue. See the quote below and consider downloading the study guide:
Torture raced to the center of public attention in 2004 when startling photographs depicting prisoner abuse by American soldiers at the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq were published and broadcast widely.
While our primary, immediate concern in this discussion guide is about the possible use of torture by the U.S. government, an organization known as the Torture Abolition and Survivor Support Coalition (TASSC) reminds us that torture currently is practiced by more than 150 governments of the world. Those who are tortured include the apolitical and the politicized, says TASSC. In chapter 4 of this discussion guide, we’ll listen to the voice of a survivor of torture who was taken captive because her work with poor children in Latin America was considered suspicious.
“We thought the word was gone.… We thought ‘torture’ belonged to a foreign language.… We were wrong,” write Rose Marie Berger and Joseph Ross, the editors of a book of poems and paintings about torture titled Cut Loose the Body (American University. Washington, D.C. 2007).
Is it surprising that in our third millennium torture has emerged as a matter of great public concern? Perhaps not, and we’ll discuss the reasons why as this chapter unfolds
It surely isn’t surprising either that Catholic leaders speak out about torture. Why? First, torture is a moral issue for the Church. Second, as a participant in its surrounding world, the Church wants to contribute to society in positive ways, by sharing insights and values related to the most pressing matters of the times.
I’ve been tracking Hurricane Palin as it moves down from the now-temperate climes of Alaska to the lower 48. That Sarah! She’s a firecracker! When I talked to one of the resident Republicans at the place I was getting my hair cut, he said he “LOVES HER!” She’s funny, he says. She must be super-smart, because she had to learn everything about government in such a short time, he says. Uhm … yeah. A very short time.
But, I’m not happy with the right-wing misogyny nor the left-wing theo-phobia that’s currently swirling around Hurricane Palin. The far-right theocrats have tried to grab the mic of Big Media by the cojones to make sure everyone understands that they will not be instructed, lead, taught, defended, or otherwise represented by the gentler Double X of our fine species. The far-left secularists are spitting mad that Hillary is no longer a contender and don’t know what to do with this other creature that has stepped into the national spotlight.
I’m glad to see Gloria Steinem, the architect of modern American secular feminism, wading in to the fray. In the Los Angeles Times, Steinem wrote:
Here’s the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that even the anti-feminist right wing — the folks with a headlock on the Republican Party — are trying to appease the gender gap with a first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women — and to many men too — who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm, who first took the “white-male-only” sign off the White House, and to Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny to win 18 million votes.
Steinem puts the onus back where it belongs. On John McCain. If McCain wanted to promote a strong, conservative, accomplished, and experienced woman who represents the mainstream of the Republican party, then Texas’ Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison or Maine’s Sen. Olympia Snowe are ready to step forward.
But that’s not what McCain was looking for, nor who he was appealing to. Instead he chose to pander to the far-right minority. Sad, really. There are some righteous feminists within the Republican party as there are within the Democrats–but it appears that the “F-Word” as a full-on Republican platform still awaits its time.
Sorry, Sarah. I’ve known feminists and you are no feminist. So, here we are again–learning again the hard-knock lessons of tokenism. I appeal to the great Steve Earle to lift us up. “So come Maria Stewart, come back to us now. Tear our eyes from paradise and rise again somehow. If you run into Jesus, maybe he can help you out. Come back Lucy Burns and Alice Paul, Dora Lewis and Alice Cosu, come back to us now.”.
When I want to see live gospel stories, I go to the Amoco station at 14th and Euclid in my Washington, D.C., neighborhood.
One Saturday morning I stopped at the gas station for a cup of coffee. I was standing at the front door lowering my lips to a steaming Styrofoam cup when the Wonder Bread truck pulled up to unload the weekend deliveries. The driver opened the cargo bay doors and began off-loading flats of bread.
Across the parking lot, a woman in her late 40s saw the truck full of bread and made directly for it. She was thin. Her clothes were not clean. Her face was drawn with cold.
The driver seemed nervous to leave her standing next to his open bay doors as he wheeled the deliveries into the store. He glanced at me as if to say, “Keep an eye on things.” She did indeed appear to be weighing whether she could grab a couple of loaves and run. She didn’t.
When the driver returned, she asked him very politely, but with a certain level of desperation, if she could have some bread.
“Sister,” he said, “it’s not mine to give.” She asked again, for just one loaf. With some anguish, he turned his back on her, saying again, “It’s not mine to give.” She walked away.
The driver looked at me, embarrassed. He seemed genuinely ashamed that he didn’t give bread to a sister in need.
The driver was correct in saying that the bread was not his to give. There are inventories to be filled and every item must be accounted for, lest he be accused of stealing. In one sense, the bread is “owned” by Interstate Bakeries Corp. In another sense, a more human sense, bread is to be shared.
In the crisp morning air, Jesus’ question in Luke’s gospel was stretched like a spiritual tension wire between the delivery driver and myself—Who among you, when your child asks for bread, would give a stone?
LAST AUTUMN, another scene unfolded at that same intersection. I attended an impromptu prayer service on the sidewalk across from the gas station. A young man, Erlin, had been killed there in a gang altercation two nights earlier. The word went through the neighborhood that his mother wanted to pray.
Twenty people were crowded around a scrawny maple tree. Someone had taped Erlin’s picture to the trunk. His elementary-school-age nieces and nephews held votive candles purchased at the dollar store.
Erlin’s buddies from his “crew” were there too. They lined up behind his mother, forming a kind of honor guard. They wore dark glasses. A few had guns shoved down the front of their nylon running pants. Some, out of respect for his mother, had put their weapons—thick chains and baseball bats with nails hammered into the ends—behind the dumpster a few yards away.
A woman from Erlin’s church led prayers. The little kids said they hoped “Uncle Erlin” was in heaven. Local activists pleaded for an end to the violence, begging his crew not to retaliate.
Finally, his mother asked to speak. In her soft Jamaican accent, she said how much she loved her son. She said he struggled to do the right thing, and that watching him struggle had broken her heart.
Then she turned to his friends—his fellow gang members—and said the most amazing thing. “He was my son,” she said. “You were his brothers. Now you are my sons and I am your mother. Now we are family. This is the way it is.” She expected his “brothers” to be at her table for jerk chicken and potatoes any time they were hungry. She expected them to help her fix things around the apartment. They must come to her with their problems, and she would pray for each of them every day.
In the gathering dark, I heard the line from John’s gospel echo and twist. “When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing by, he said, ‘Woman, behold your son!’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother!’ And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.”
There is nothing at the intersection of 14th and Euclid to mark the miraculous moment when the kinship model of Erlin’s family shifted. Nothing to mark his mother’s blunt and radical understanding of what makes a family. But the plain prayers of children and ordinary people have soaked the dusty ground. The blood of a young man, who struggled to do the right thing, anoints the place—like on a sacrificial altar.
Ownership vs. kinship. Bread alongside blood. Where do you go to see the gospel unfold?
Reprinted with permission from Sojourners, (800) 714-7474, www.sojo.net.