Toward an Anointed Agriculture
Christening the Earth in Biodynamics
I. Life: The Pattern of Becoming
Christ is not merely a figure in history—His life is the form of the world itself
There is a pattern woven into the living body of the earth, one that repeats in humbler forms extending across the liturgical seasons. In the sprouting seed, in the unfolding leaf, in the fruit-bearing tree and its autumnal return to stillness, we witness again and again the shape of Incarnation, Passion, and Resurrection. This is not a matter of creed, belief, or membership. It is an archetype that informs all existence. “The Biodynamic Method, however, can be employed by every farmer. This must be stressed, since many, later, got the idea that one could not work biodynamically if one were not an anthroposophist. … One must learn to understand that there is a difference between the mere application of the method and creative collaboration” (Ehrenfried E. Pfeiffer, as quoted in Applied Biodynamics, no. 63, 2008–2009, 2). We are always already participating in this mystery. The only question is whether we wish to do so consciously or not.
Candace Coffin wrote: “We celebrate Christmas at this time, the birth of Christ, the Birth of the Light” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 2, 1992, 1). This is no mere symbolic phrasing. Light from Light. In midwinter, when the days begin once more to lengthen, something stirs not only in the sky, but beneath the soil. The germ of light that is born into darkness returns annually to call forth life. And just as this cosmic rhythm pulses through the calendar, it also seeks to be born in the human heart: “Christ can now be born into the human heart that is open to this birth” (Ibid.).
As farmers and gardeners, we do not merely witness this process from a distance—we participate in it. We till the ground, sow the seed, and steward the unfolding mystery.
This rhythm of descent and emergence calls us to more than observation. So too, resurrection is not only a future promise, but a present task. “The path of every plant is sacrifice: it gives itself to become something new—root, leaf, blossom, fruit.” To walk the rows of a garden is to walk a Gospel path—one written in chlorophyll and loam. "For the experienced farmer, autumn is always a promise of spring" (Stewart Lundy, Applied Biodynamics, no. 105, 2022, 4).
II. Death: The Ego Sacrificed in Service
Christ shows the way: not to annihilate the self, but to die to selfishness and live toward the whole.
Composting is not just a technique; it is a spiritual activity. We put our hand on the wheel of time and hold back life in one place in service of more life. Composting is the transformation of death into life, of waste into nourishment. In Christo Morimur. But more deeply, it is an image of the human ego in biodynamics: the necessity of breakdown, surrender, and humility.
There is nothing lower than manure, but as Chuang Tzu says, the Dao is even in the lowest thing. Hugh Courtney writes, “It is not enough to pile matter upon matter. The human being must enter with reverence and rhythm—Our prayerful deeds invite Christ’s redemptive presence to sanctify even the humblest labor of the compost heap” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 5, 1993, 5). The preparations are not mechanical. They are free acts of moral clarity, demanding the inward gesture of sacrifice. “Our work with the preparations is a deed of love in freedom which allows the Christ to penetrate into Earth existence” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 23, 1998, 2).
What matters is not personal identity or mastery, but service. The measure of our freedom and love is our willingness to give away our freedom for the sake of others. “Christ gave his blood to the Earth. What now is asked of us is to give our will—our deeds and conscious participation” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 10, 1994, p. 4). The ego-death is not a loss of self, but a yielding to something greater. As Michael’s meteoric sword clears the way, the soil is prepared by experience, made ready to receive illumination.
Manfred Klett writes: “The farm becomes a manifestation of love... The earth is longing for this love!” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 62, 2008, 10). The death of the ego is not the end but the condition for resurrection.
III. Resurrection: The Return of the Son
The Father runs to meet the returning son. The world is not simply condemned—its return is longed for.
We live in an age of exile—like Adam driven from the garden, or Israel wandering in the wilderness. As souls, we may have all creature comforts, but nonetheless remain spiritually homeless. Humanity has forgotten the Father’s house, and the earth appears abandoned in the void of space. But through Christic agriculture, we rehearse our return. Biodynamics is not merely a method—it is a journey home.
With our small crosses, we participate in the spiritualization of matter. As the worst is the best perverted, so too the best is the worst elevated to its rightful place. Through our voluntary bloodless sacrifice (“will forces”) we become collaborators in a vast conspiracy to sanctify the earth. Patricia Smith explains: “The mystery of Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection occurred in such a way that His blood was spilled onto the Earth. This event marked the beginning of the Earth’s spiritualization” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 36, 2002, 9). We now live in a world suffused with moral substance. It is for us to become conscious of this.
“We are called to cooperate with divine grace, transforming ourselves and tending the Earth in light of the Christ impulse. Biodynamics is not only agriculture—it bears a sacramental character” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 79, 2013, 2). The father runs to meet the prodigal when the son turns homeward—but the feast still must be prepared. Every meal, rightly prepared and received with gratitude, becomes a sign of grace—reflecting like moonlight the divine light.
As Stewart Lundy writes, “Though a difficult way of phrasing it, one could say that the ‘Sun’s Sun’s Sun’ is the Christ” (Applied Biodynamics, no. 106, 2022, 7). This threefold luminosity speaks to the very heart of an ‘anointed agriculture': not simply warmed by sunlight, but illumined from its source. It is this deepest radiance—the light behind the light—that enters the field through the preparations, consecrating the act of farming. The source of all light is not merely solar, but divine. As farmers and gardeners, our task is to collect this gift of light that descends freely like dewfall by letting its radiance live in as many lifeforms as possible. The preparations are not superstition—they are a restitution. The earth awaits our reverent participation.
Closing Benediction
All that dies lives again.
In the Christ-seed buried in the Earth,
May we learn to rise in freedom.
May the love of the Christ
Stream forth to fields and farmers alike.
And may our preparations, like sacred gifts,
Be laid at the altar of the soil—
In trust, in clarity, in joy.