This post was written by longtime attender, Emily Ralph, currently serving 4 months as a seasonal intern at Koinonia Farm, learning about intentional community and participating in their life of prayer, work, study, service and fellowship.
It’s Thursday, 7:53 p.m. and I’m walking from our intern house to the small and simple chapel that sits just across Georgia Highway 49 South from the main campus of Koinonia Farm. It’s almost time to ring the 8 p.m. prayer bell, the last bell of the day. Those within earshot will take a short pause from whatever their hands or minds may be holding. For some it is a moment of silence or a word of praise or petition. For others, it simply signals to them that the day is coming to a close. The prayer bell will ring again tomorrow, first at 10 a.m., then 3 p.m., and then again at 8 p.m. Each ring is an opportunity to pause and, for a moment, “turn our faces toward God.”
Noonday meal
The ringing of the prayer bell is one of the many rhythms here at the farm. Each week day we meet for morning chapel, beginning the day together in silence, followed by Scripture, song, and a short reflection. At noon we all pause from our work—whether we’re staring at spreadsheets or spreading manure, to join together in the Jordan House dining hall for lunch. Radical hospitality is practiced here in many ways, one being that guests are always welcome to join us for the noonday meal (and they often do!). I’ve come to appreciate how these rhythms, much like seasons, help to carry the day along.
This year I missed the glorious Fall season in Minnesota. In Southwest Georgia, a few trees are turning color here and there, but I’m missing the grand symphony along the Mississippi River, a favorite site to take in as I cross the Franklin Avenue bridge on my bicycle. I may not be experiencing this season with my eyes, but my body and my mind know it well. I know the migrators and the hibernators, both animal and human, and they are preparing. I’m preparing too. Ordinary time is coming to a close and the season of Advent is drawing near. A time when we prepare our hearts to long again for a King and a Kingdom not of this world.
Emily harvesting grapes
The other day I was asked, “What is something that continually surprises you?” I thought for a moment. “Spring,” I said. I think we can all agree that the end of winter is not much to write about—slushy, sloppy gray, and often dreary. Teasingly warm days followed by yet another snowfall. But when Spring finally hits, when it’s truly arrived, it always startles me how quickly everything turns green. Branches begin to bud, plants push their way to the surface to unfurl their leaves, and trees soon display flowers of stark white, brilliant pink, and royal purple. One thing I like about the rhythm of the seasons (both liturgical, and in nature) is that they often create anticipation. They have a way of placing something hopeful on the horizon.
Summer at Koinonia Farm means the blueberries are ripe for harvest, and the Muscadine and Scuppernong vines are stretching and crawling along the wire fenceline, their grapes beginning to ripen. The pecan harvest begins in the Fall. Pecans are one of the main crops here at the farm. They are sold in halves and pieces. They are hickory-smoked, spiced, baked into breads and pies, and mixed into dark chocolate and brittle. This year, though, there will be no harvest. This was already known by early Summer. The trees are wind-pollinated and subjected to pests and diseases, so a variety of factors can affect whether they will produce a good harvest, or any harvest at all. In 2013, Koinonia ended their more conventional farming methods in the orchards (using herbicides, pesticides, and other chemicals) that, although harmful, did help produce consistently good pecans every year by keeping the pests and diseases at bay. They transitioned to biological farming, a way of farming that takes into account the care of the soil, trees, and humans by eliminating harmful chemicals and increasing the microbiology of the soil. In short, biological farming works hand-in-hand with nature. And this takes time, an incredible amount of patience, and plenty of trial and error. I am learning that much of farming is this: maintenance and response. This year we are working on digging up and fixing irrigation lines, and planting clover for the sheep to graze, hoping their manure will fertilize the soil for next year’s harvest. Then we wait and see.
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The chapel and prayer bell
Koinonia’s mission statement begins like this: “We are Christians called to live together in intentional community sharing a life of prayer, work, study, service, and fellowship.” Communal rhythms are rooted in the life here, ensuring that each of these has its place and time. Prayer is woven into each one. During one of our intern study sessions we talked about Thomas Merton’s simple response when he was asked how one could improve their prayer life. “Take the time,” he said. I’ve thought of this often during my time here, and especially when I hear the prayer bell ring. When I choose to stop for a moment and take the time, I am reminded of God’s presence in me and throughout creation.
As the season of Advent approaches, I invite you to take the time. Perhaps you would like to join us here at Koinonia one day in observing moments of prayer and silence during our daily prayer bells. Set an alarm for 10:00am, 3:00pm, and 8:00pm. When the bell rings, take a brief moment in your day to “turn your face toward God.”
