But is it wrong to wish that Christians, who have discovered the value of wholesome food and the farming practices that produce it, would translate their choices about diet and carbon footprints into congregations and pastors more circumspect about cities and more respectful of the fly-over sectors of the greatest nation on God’s green earth? I hope not. 

Any self-respecting Christian should come down a few rungs on his ladder of self-esteem after reading Wendell Berry on the all-too-common view of organized churches toward farms, farmers, and rural communities. In his essay, “God and Country,” Berry complains rightly that American denominations treat rural congregations invariably as “a training ground for young ministers, and as a means of subsidizing their education.” This stems from a two-fold disrespect for rural people.

First is the assumption that persons not yet eligible for ministry are qualified to shepherd country folk. The other assumption regards successful ministry as one that occurs in conditions of high modernity, such as big cities. In other words, churches encourage young ministers to leave rural parishes as soon as possible and find a “normal” congregation. According to Berry, “The denominational hierarchies . . . regard country places in exactly the same way as ‘the economy’ does: as sources of economic power to be exploited for the advantage of ‘better’ places.” Rural congregations can’t help but gain the impression that “they do not matter much.” Or as one of Berry’s Christian friends put it, “The soul of the plowboy ain’t worth as much as the soul of the delivery boy.”

Part of Berry’s account of this phenomenon is the deep problem of modern Christians being severed in their economic efforts from the land. Because of this division in a modern Christian’s experience, Berry writes, “it is no wonder that [the church is] most indifferent to the fate of the ecosystems themselves.”

And yet, one could argue that Christians supporting Community Support Agriculture farms, or shopping at Whole Foods Market indicates some awareness of the choices consumers make and the environment that sustains them. If more church folk are turning into “crunchy cons,” does that translate into the spiritual equivalent of, say, the “organodox”? Almost two decades ago, in All God’s Children and Blue Suede Shoes Ken Myers made interesting connections between fast food and popular culture, and wondered if believers who were being fed spiritual junk food in the form of contemporary Christian music and P&W worship would turn out in their souls like the bodies of those habituated to eating at McDonald’s and snacking on Twinkies?

Signs are not encouraging though that the growing concern among evangelical Protestants about the environment is having any effect on their church’s estimation of the people who work on farms and live near them. A recent story in Christianity Today on Tim Keller, a popular Presbyterian pastor in New York City, suggests that for all the desires that evangelicals have to be cutting edge and socially aware, a ministry accessible to the rhythms of farming and local communities does not qualify as hip. The story fawns over Keller for his ability to carve out a multiple-congregation structure in the Big Apple, for a theology of the city that says cites are where redemption happens, and for the model of ministry he exhibits to a crop of younger pastors who aspire to make an impact.

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