A nun of the Congregation of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, currently engaged in farming, strives to live out the mystery of the Incarnation of the Word in her daily life. as reported in the Catholic News: Here and Now website.
As February and March arrive, a farmer's heart begins to race. Now that our sisters have finished drying the chili peppers—which they tended with such care throughout the previous year—grinding them finely, and making *gochujang* (red chili paste), the start of spring) has passed, and the time has come to slowly begin the year's farming cycle.
Throughout the winter, we sustained ourselves on dried wild greens and roasted sweet potatoes over the stove; in doing so, we replenished our nutrients and built up our physical reserves—gaining a bit of weight—to prepare our bodies for the hard work of the coming year. Above all, this is a crucial time for formulating the farming plan for the entire year. A farmer thinks of the fields and paddies even during the cold, snowy days of winter. What shall we plant? When shall we plant it? How shall we tend to it? And with whom shall we work?
Catherine Doherty (1896–1985)—who is revered alongside Dorothy Day as a pioneer of social justice and the lay apostolate movement in the United States—operated the St. Benedict Farm within Madonna House, the community she founded in Canada. She was a pioneer who laid the groundwork for "Apostolic Farming"—a practice that forms the very foundation of community spirituality—by demonstrating that a farm serves as something far greater than merely a place to produce food for its members; it is, in itself, a place imbued with apostolic significance. The reason we attach the word "apostolate" to the act of "farming" is that, by engaging in manual labor with our own hands, we enable those who witness our efforts to experience God, thereby allowing us to widely proclaim the Good News.
Catherine Doherty’s life and teachings helped the writer realize that farming is not merely a job, but a way of life—a form of prayer and spirituality that permeates one’s entire existence. She pondered how to concretely embody this concept in her own life, her thoughts turned to the three major festivals of ancient Israel. Long before they evolved into religious festivals centered on faith in God, these celebrations were observed in agrarian societies in rhythm with the natural cycles of farming: in the spring, when the first seeds were sown (the Feast of Unleavened Bread); at the time of the first harvest (the Feast of Weeks); and during the final gathering of the crops (the Feast of Tabernacles). (Exodus 23:15–16) While discussing our annual farming plans with the sisters, she proposed to integrate these agricultural cycles—which are intrinsically linked to those ancient festivals—into their own liturgical life. For the Christian life—and, indeed, the life of a religious—is one in which all things are celebrated and commemorated with the liturgy at their very center.
Although the biting cold of winter still lingers, the need to begin nurturing chili seedlings in early February prompted us to hold a special rite for the sowing of the first seeds. On the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, we blessed the soil and our farming tools before placing the chili seeds into the seed trays. On the final day of February, much as our ancestors once performed *a traditional ritual marking the start of the farming season, we offered a special "Opening of the Farming Season" Mass. We brought out the seeds we had carefully preserved from the previous year, placed them into recycled ice cream containers, and adorned them with beautiful decorations. There is an old saying: "Even if a farmer starves to death, he dies with his head resting on his seeds." To cherish seeds—which hold within them the promise of "potential"—is to preserve life and to cultivate hope. Placing a basket filled with seeds before the altar, we blessed them and consecrated the year’s harvest to God.
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