Jason Varnadore, MDiv ’21, is the rector of St. David’s Anglican Church (ACNA) in Cheraw, South Carolina. This article was originally written for the newspaper of The Anglican Diocese of South Carolina (ACNA).
Years ago, back during my seminary days, my wife, Jenna and I traveled to Port Royal, Kentucky, to meet Wendell Berry at an event The Berry Center was hosting. The moment finally came for us to get in the book-signing line and meet the man himself (I had ordered a first printing of Jayber Crow for just this moment). My Old Testament professor at Beeson Divinity School, Paul House* was a friend of the Berrys and had met us there. When our turn came, Berry looked up and saw that we were with his friend Paul. He laughed and then warned us: “Be careful who you entrust your soul to.” I treasure this memory not only because it is the only time our lives overlapped, butalso because it encapsulates the man himself. He laughs and he warns.
Berry is known for his agrarian writings. He was a novelist, essayist, poet and farmer. His subject was the land under his feet and the people who inhabit it. His novels and short stories chronicle the fictional farm-town of Port William, KY, as it experiences the pains of industrialization and the joys of community. His poems came mainly from his Sabbath walks in the woods. And his essays span every topic from sustainable forestry to horse-drawn tools to higher education, God, war and Shakespeare. He was a faithful husband to Tanya Berry who partnered with him in his writing for nearly seventy years. He died in August at the age of 92.
Berry was a critic of our industrialized world. He believed industrialization takes more than it gives. He believed that people can only flourish if all creation and all living things flourish together. And the only way we can know if we are causing damage to the world is if we are connected to our work. Pushing numbers behind a computer in a far-off place enables us to turn a blind eye toward the damage we do in the real world, God’s world. The Earth is exhausted by our irresponsible work. “For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now” (Rom 8:22). To make matters worse, in order to secure our excessive wealth in the name of national security, we Americans have relied on militarism to defend our consumerism. The two always go together. We’ve become the tower of Babel. Berry writes, “It is easy for me to imagine that the next great division of the world will be between people who wish to live as creatures and people who wish to live as machines.”
But for all his warning and criticism of industrialism and the rootlessness it has caused, Berry refused the poison of bitterness. He was a man of joy and laughter. Life is a miracle, full of infinite beauty and wonder, no matter how fallen our circumstances. And so, as an alternative to our wasteful and violent and rootless society, Berry spent his life advocating for the ways of Jesus–simplicity, peacemaking and faithfulness; limits, hospitality and rootedness; generosity, forbearance and neighborliness. Keep your feet on the ground and your eyes on others. We spend too much time trying to solve the big problems of our day with big solutions. Berry called us to think little and think local; good work happens from the margins. Every little thing in life is a gift from God. So, love the people and place that God has given you, no prestige or position necessary.
Not everyone has a family farm to return to. Not everyone has the money to buy land. Not everyone has a place filled with cousins down the street. Not everyone has a place to call home. That is the story of Jayber Crow, the barber of Port Royal who returns to the town with few connections, no money and no family. It is also the first book I read by Berry and the reason I moved back to South Carolina. Jenna and I had moved to Dallas, Texas, after we graduated college. I was struggling with my faith and vocation at the time, feeling lost in the world. We had just started attending an Anglican church and a few friends thought I would like Wendell Berry, the prophet from the wilderness. Late one night, around 2 a.m., I was washing the dishes and listening to the audio recording of Jayber Crow. Never before had I experienced anything like a revelation. But I did that night. I was changed. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I stand by it. We all have moments that set us on a new course in life. Jayber Crow set me on a new course. Within a few months, Jenna and I moved back to South Carolina. Wendell Berry became my guide, my shepherd in this American life. And God used Berry to call me into small-town rural ministry.
Everyone needs an example of how to follow Jesus in their own context. We need good examples now more than ever. The apostle Paul says, “Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1). This is how I feel about Berry. He was and is a faithful guide. Berry wrote more than 50 books in his life. So, if you are looking for a good place to start with his work, here are my recommendations: As far as his novels go, start with Hannah Coulter, essays, start withThe Art of the Commonplace and for his poems, start with A Timbered Choir. And remember, be careful who you entrust your soul to!
Finally, I leave you with Berry’s closing remarks in his 1981 essay, The Gift of Good Land.
“To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of Creation. When we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament. When we do it ignorantly, greedily, clumsily, destructively, it is a desecration. In such desecration we condemn ourselves to spiritual and moral loneliness, and others to want.”
So, follow Wendell as he followed Jesus.
*House taught at Beeson from 2010-23 after serving as associate dean from 2004-10.