Archives For May 2019

People using shovels to fill in grave in the woods

Familiy and friends pitch in during a burial (photo courtesy of Honey Creek Woodlands).

In two previous posts (here and here), we have been sharing the story of Joe Whittaker. He played a pivotal role in the founding of the Honey Creek Woodlands green cemetery on the grounds of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, Georgia. It was, I’m convinced, his life calling.

As I wrote earlier, two elements of Joe’s story compel me to share it. First, for Creation to be healed and renewed in any significant way, we need to integrate a commitment to God’s earth into our culture. The burial of our loved ones offers a great opportunity to do just that. Burial intimately connects us with Creation. It also brings us back to the humility and radical Creation kinship of dust to dust. 

Second, when God calls you to make a difference for the future of God’s earth, you will need to step outside of your comfort zone. You and I can learn about the challenges and rewards of answering that calling from Joe.

In this last segement, you’ll learn more about the burial services at Honey Creek Woodlands, what Joe will remember from his time there, the wildlife this green cemetery supports, and what Joe is doing now.

Burials at Honey Creek

“We pride ourselves on the fact that every service is a little different,” says Joe. “The modern American funeral can start to have a little bit of a cookie cutter kind of a feel to it.”

“The pine box burial is probably the most common in terms of what people are going to be buried in,” says Joe. “Those are a nice canvas for people to express their feelings and their loss and their love. We see a lot of painting on caskets and writing and decorating of caskets. That’s something that you wouldn’t see at most modern cemeteries.”

“The family is usually heavily involved. We’ve had families help dig the grave. We’ve had families help fill in the graves. I’d say the vast majority of the time it’s actually the family that is lowering the body.”

Group of people fill grave of friend

Community burial at Honey Creek Woodlands (photo courtesy of Honey Creek Woodlands).

“I told my clients, “You can sit there and watch us do everything just like any other funeral. But we just want you to know that you are welcome to do as much as you’d like.””

“Often it’s basically a family burial. They take care of everything themselves, which in a bygone era used to be the norm. It can be a little dicey sometimes, because they don’t have a whole lot of experience doing this. But typically it’s very moving, very touching.”

Meaning and Stories

When I asked Joe, what he has going to hold onto from his time at Honey Creek Woodlands, he said it would it would be the people he’s met and the strength he’s seen in them.

“I wish every person I’ve buried would have lived a nice long life and just kind of faded out at the age of 95 or something, but that’s not the case,” says Joe. “You bury men who die at 40 and leave behind children. You bury children. You bury teenagers from car accidents. You bury suicides. You bury drug overdoses. You’re dealing with moms and dads.

“It’s hard to watch what they go through, but it’s just awesome to see the strength that people have.”

“I remember early on there was a very young man that came to see me in June of 2008, the first year we were open. He was a musician in Atlanta, and he had lung cancer. His friends brought him. They were all in their twenties, and one of the friends pulled me aside pretty early on. She said, “Look, he doesn’t have any family and doesn’t have any life insurance or any money, but don’t worry – we’re well connected with the musicians in the Atlanta area. We’re going to have a fundraising concert, and we’re going to get the money.””

“So I met with the young man. He was in pretty rough shape as he was in hospice at the time. We put him in a golf cart to take him out there. We picked him a spot. I don’t think a week went by before I got a phone call that he had passed. The person who called me was the same person who had assured me about the money. She said, “Well, we haven’t done our benefit concert yet. We thought he had more time.””

She promised, however, that even if it took until after the burial to do the benefit that they would get Honey Creek Woodlands the money. Joe trusted her. The burial went ahead.

“So they put the word out on social media that this guy had died. Money poured in from musicians from all across the country. A lot of money came out of Chicago, all the big cities. And this wasn’t like a well-known musician. He was just with a garage band.”

“By the time we buried the guy, his friends didn’t just have the money to bury him, they also made a very substantial donation to the monastery and to the hospice where he had been. And this was all pulled off by twenty-somethings.”

A Cemetery with (Wild) Life

Thanks to being managed for natural habitat, Honey Creek Woodlands is full of life.

“We see an awful lot of wildlife,” says Joe. “I’ve probably taken it for granted the amount of wildlife I’ve seen.”

Honey Creek Woodlands has owl, hawks, and all varieties of other birds. It also is a home for turtles, lizards, snakes, and amphibians.

Tiger swallowtail butterfly on flower of shrub

A tiger swallowtail butterfly at Honey Creek Woodlands. I would hope to be buried in a place like this that is full of wildlife. (Photo courtesy of Honey Creek Woodlands)

“We also have an unbelievable number of butterflies,” says Joe, “which is such a great thing for us because it’s symbolic of the resurrection.”

“I love the analogy that the caterpillar has no idea that it’s going to be a butterfly. It’s just going along being a caterpillar. And then all of a sudden, it’s a butterfly. I think that kind of has a parallel with us just living our lives the way we do not even knowing that when we’re done being this person that there’s something even more amazing yet to do.”

In fact, Honey Creek Woodlands holds the Georgia record for the number of butterflies found on a single day at one site. It helps that they have some of the best-trained butterfly counters in the Southeast.

“When we do the counts twice a year,” says Joe,  “we routinely either set a new record for ourselves or try to break the record for the state of Georgia for the number of butterflies found.”

In the chapter in Sacred Acts about Honey Creek Woodlands, the reader learns, too, that Father Francis Michael, a leader in the monastery’s decision to proceed with Honey Creek Woodlands, has identified 52 species of dragonflies on the monastery’s grounds.

The staff at Honey Creek Woodlands and visitors see a lot of deer, turkey, squirrels and chipmunks. Signs of coyotes are also about.

“We know we even have bobcats, but I’ve yet to see one,” says Joe. “People really love that wildlife is here,”

Stepping Back

While the work for Honey Creek Woodland has been a satisfying and deeply rewarding experience for Joe, it’s also been a challenge.

“It’s been very challenging for me being that I don’t live in Georgia. I’ve been going back and forth for years, and I didn’t start this project thinking it was going to be a ten year project for me.”

When he first started, his wife needed to give ever more care for her aging mother, so Joe and his wife agreed that he should work for Honey Creek Woodland despite the separations it would require for them. She would be able to focus on her mother without feeling neglectful of Joe. Joe could pursue his life mission.

But then when his wife’s mother did pass away about four years ago, they had to make a big decision about what to do. They ultimately decided that Joe should continue at Honey Creek Woodlands. since she had four more years of teaching before she retired. Still, Joe makes clear these last four years have been the hardest on them.

His wife retired on June 6, 2018. Joe officially ended his time at Honey Creek Woodlands the day before on June 5. They are enjoying their next season of life together.

I’m happy to report that Joe continues to serve Honey Creek Woodlands as an advisor and consultant. But even after his consulting work ends with Honey Creek Woodlands, his life will eventually reconnect with the place in which he invested so much of his life. Joe has recently made the decision to be buried in Honey Creek Woodlands.

“I’ll be the first member of my family not buried in South Carolina,” says Joe, “so it was a big decision. My family’s kind of scattered in a bunch of different cemeteries, so there wasn’t one that was a family cemetery. I no longer live in Charleston, which is my hometown.”

“It just seemed like more people would know me, and I would be surrounded by more friends at Honey Creek Woodlands in Georgia.”

Covered burial site in a light-filled woods

(Photo courtesy of Honey Creek Woodlands)

One last note. The numbers of green cemeteries are growing, and there is likely to be one or more in your state. I would encourage you to be discerning in choosing a green cemetery for yourself or a loved one. I totally believe in the green burial ideal, but I have seen green burial offered in woods that are clearly not being managed well for conservation. This is far better for Creation than the conventional burial, but it is not ideal.

The ideal situation is a cemetery that offers green burial as the burial method AND is managing the land of the cemetery and around it for conservation with long-term commitment and capabilities. It’s even more ideal if the land has some sort of permanent legal protection. Here’s a short piece that explains the distinctions between generic green burial and conservation burial. If you’re looking at a green burial option and have questions, I’d be happy to try to help you decipher whether it’s a good option. 

Last thought – it’s been such a delight to talk with Joe. I’d ask that you ask God to bless Joe and his wife. He answered a call and moved a better culture of living with God’s earth forward.

 

This update on my Earth Day fast has taken longer to write than I expected. I appreciate the folks who checked in with me and wondered how it went. Here is my report.

On Monday, April 22, around 9:15 p.m., I broke my 24-hour, water-only Earth Day fast with a prayer and a light salad drizzled with drops of lemon juice. I went to bed shortly after, successfully resisting the temptation to indulge in some mint chocolate chip ice cream (organic, of course) in the refrigerator. I slept well and resumed my regular eating habits the next morning.

That’s how my Earth Day fast ended.

I find I can’t summarize the whole 24-hour experience in a pithy, Twitter-friendly form. Portions of the books I had been reading about fasting suggested one would potentially experience a mystical union with God and learn to suffer happily. Neither one of those describe my general experience.

One of the challenges with the fast was that I still had to work that day and do normal household tasks. Even though I prayed during the day and took a long walk at lunch, I found myself unable to create as much space as I would have liked to for mindfulness of God.

What I will say is that I was far more attentive to each moment as it went by. I was prepared for this from my shorter Good Friday fast. Emotions and thoughts stood out more sharply. I was also far more aware of my body. My normal instincts, I found, were to appease my body’s appetities as quickly as possible. Following what I had read, however, I did my best to direct my thoughts and emotions towards God when I felt physical discomfort.

I began my day with the reading of Psalm 104. Two phrases from the psalm became my go-to centering phrases – “…the earth is full of your creatures” and “I will sing to the Lord all my life.” As a result, those phrases imprinted themselves in my mind. In fact, they have come to mind every day since.

You might wonder how hungry I became. In The Sacred Art of Fasting, Thomas Ryan explains that the gnawing in the stomach we feel when we go without food for awhile is not technically hunger. Here’s what he writes about that gnawing:

“It’s not a genuine hunger pang (in the sense that your body needs the food) or a distress signal. It’s just the alimentary tract accommodating itself to a reduced workload.”

My brain and my body had a spirited debate about the veracity of that statement.

Nevertheless, for much of the day, I followed Ryan’s advice. I drank filtered water when I felt discomfort in my stomach. This worked just fine. Calmly naming that discomfort, moving through it, and continuing with life worked surprisingly well. Which is to say that it didn’t seem too intense or mystical.

Until about 8 p.m.

At that point, my body became much more insistent. I had a harder time staying focused on anything other than my body. This happened while I was driving around looking for a good birthday card for my father. Much sharper discomfort emanated from my core. Walking through a grocery store and a pharmacy stacked with snacks didn’t help.

Was I going to give in? Was I going to fight this sharp discomfort with my will?

Eventually, I found myself leaning into it. And from my heart came intense, urgent prayer to God out of both spiritual and physical need. This prayer was simple, direct, emotional, desperate. It came out of my weakness and forced humility. It was for me and also for God’s earth which needs God’s protection and intervention so badly. I have not had an intense prayer experience like that before.

Here are some other thoughts and notes from the fast:

Increased awareness of God’s earth 

I walked to and from work that day. In the morning, there was bright sun. Buds on trees and shrubs were bursting. Male red-winged blackbirds were making a racket as they staked out their territories. During my normal lunch period I walked around the farm our organization owns and manages. I took extra time to spend some time around the beautiful elm tree that has somehow survived all of the years.

The elm tree of the Prairie Crossing Farm on April 22, 2019.

On my walk back home, a soft rain brought a different, more mellow atmosphere. I paid particular attention to the large ant mounds that were visible in a recently burned prairie.

Sympathy for the hungry and needy

It is easy in the abstract to feel sympahty for the hungry and needy when one’s stomach is full. That sympathy is much more heartfelt when one is hungry oneself. I could not imagine a child concentrating in school on an empty stomach. It is heartbreaking to think of children in American and in the rest of the world experiencing hunger on a regular basis.

This broken world

To be honest, I unconsciously expected my day to be smooth and on a spiritually higher plane. I think I expected to find myself able to handle difficulties more calmly and easily.

In general, I did find my thinking clear and decisive. But when I read a group email that I took as directly insulting to me in an emerging grassroots group, my spiritual serenity didn’t do so well. The personal attack stung despite my fast and my spiritual alertness. I tried not to think about it. That just made it worse.

This was a reminder of the brokenness of the world that permeates relationships. It highlighted the serious fractures in community relationships that prevent us from creating a just world and from truly being God’s selfless shepherds of the world. What hope does Creation have? What hope do we have?

Seeking guidance takes sustained focus

One of my hopes going into the fast is that I would gain greater insight into the direction of my life. That did not emerge at all. I think this was in part because I did not have the space to really pray and write about the topic.

The tick

My interactions with Creation were not all beauty and light. After I took my walk around the farm here, I settled down at my desk and dived into my work. About an hour later I felt a light prickling on the skin of my right just below my knee.

When I pulled up my pant leg, there was a slow-moving tick. I instantly and instinctively flicked the tick onto the floor.

An ethical bind presented itself. I did not feel one with Creation at that moment. Would I kill the tick out of anger? I am not proud to admit that I considered various creative methods of doing so. But what was the right thing to do in light of my faith?

Just then I saw a group of energetic chickens making their way through our orchard and parking lot in the company of one of our staff. It clicked. Chickens like to eat insects and other small bugs.

So the tick was fed to a chicken. Instead of violence from anger, a chicken was able to do what it naturally does. From the life of the tick, the chicken gained sustenance. A good, protein-rich egg would result.

Belief and unbelief

When I am honest, I find my belief is mixed with unbelief. My faith compelled me to try this fast. My lack of faith prompted me, deep inside, to question whether it would actually connect me to the spiritual reality of God. I took that step. I did find a heightened awareness of life around me. I also was acutely aware of my own weakness, a deep need for God, and a desperation for God to save what is left of Creation. It requires almost too much faith for me to pray for the renewal of Creation, for God to fulfill his promise of a new heaven and a new earth.

I found, too, how easily I normally pass through life in an unconscious way. The fast woke me up. Maybe faith is, in part, about being truly awake?

 

As I meditate further on the fast and how it didn’t seem to quite live up to the ideals I had read about, it occurs to me that I was naive. Like any practice, whether spiritual or otherwise, one doesn’t just try it once and suddenly reap all of the benefits. Spiritual practices require practice.

I realize my experience of church has not prepared me for this. This quote from Dallas Willard in The Spirit of the Disciplines rings true to me:

“One of the greatest deceptions in the practice of the Christian religion is the idea that all that really matters is our internal feelings, ideas, beliefs, and intentions. It is this mistake about the psychology of the human being that more than anything else divorces salvation from life, leaving us a headful of vital truths about God and a body unable to fend off sin.”

I want the abundant life Jesus offered. Life involves our spirits and our bodies. Fasting is an ancient practice of unifying our spirits and our minds and of opening our hearts to God. So I intend to keep practicing and seeing where it leads.

And I would like to do it with others.

I realize that my fast ended up being an individual experience. Our inner spiritual life does need feeding. But just as we are both spiritual and physical beings, we need both individual development and community bonds. I hope someday to find a community of believers who want to embark on fasts and other spiritual practices together.

I pray that you, too, will look for ways to deepen your faith-life. Even when it means you’re not exactly sure what to expect.

 

P.S. On behalf of my family, I made two donations at the end of my fast. One was to Cool Learning Experience, a summer camp run by First Baptist Church in Waukegan, Illinois, by my friend Barbara Waller. It provides a nature-oriented summer camp experience for chidren and youth in the Waukegan area who would normally not have summer camp experiences and who would be unlikely to get much experience with nature. Barbara has made the development of this camp her life mission for the last decade and has impacted, with many staff, volunteers, and supporters, hundreds of lives.

We also made a donation to African Parks, a non-profit conservation organization that rehabilitates and manages important protected areas in partnership with governments and local communities. Through this organization, people around the world are able to help resource-challenged African countries manage and defend their natural treasures. Rangers in these parks are in a life-and-death war to stop poachers from wiping out elephants and other increasingly rare animals. Global forces are driving this poaching. Support from around the world is needed to stop it.