Staying put: The inspiration of Wendell Berry’s words
Alex Pretti memorial bike ride in Minneapolis, January 31, 2026. Photo courtesy of G. Travis Norvell.
Rev. G. Travis Norvell
Although Wendell Berry died on August 31, 2026 at 92, we all know he was much older than that. Mr. Berry was one of those people who emerged from his mother’s womb at 39. He was an old soul who reminded his readers of old ways, from not using a computer (more or less social media) to not using modern equipment on his farm. Perhaps the oldest way he kept front and center was sticking around, digging deep, and forming relationships.
As a pastor, I did not have a farm to work on, but I did have a “parish.” For years, I could not figure out how to do this as an urban pastor until I began to think of the parishes I served as pieces of land I nurture and love. Berry’s invitation to stay put seems so beautiful and tantalizing and healing: “put your faith in the two inches of humus.”[i] But doing so is difficult work. Because, well…there are these creatures called human beings with personalities and egos and differing ideas and competing interests and varied maturation rates.
Over the years, every time I have considered moving, the words and witness of Wendell Berry have emerged in comforting, comical, and transforming ways. Once I interviewed for the chaplain job at Berea College. It was the worst interview of my life. In my mind, I wanted to say to the search committee, “I was born for this job, as a child of Appalachia, as a lover of Appalachia, as someone who wants to return to highlight the wonder and beauty and specialness of Appalachia.” All I could voice, however, was a bunch of contradictions, incoherent thoughts, and a slop bucket’s worth of run-on sentences.
I did not get the job.
After the interview, I got in the car and drove to the rest stop off I-75 which is also the Berea, KY Welcome Center. I did not stop to rest, but to cry. Once the tears ceased, I walked into the welcome center and saw an entire shelf of Wendell Berry and Thomas Merton books side-by-side. For some glorious reason, seeing the books of my two favorite authors leaning on one another made the sadness and embarrassment disappear. After Berry and Merton picked me up, I felt ready for the next invitation.
A few weeks later a church in Minneapolis reached out to me and wanted to know if I’d be interested in an “exploratory conversation.” I have been here ever since.
Another time a search committee wanted me to provide for them a broad view of my approach to ministry, so I provided them with a first 100 days of ministry plan.
An activity I proposed during my first 100 days of ministry was a field trip to Wendell Berry’s farm (at the Berry Center in New Castle, KY) to learn more about the relationship between the land and the Bible. Most on the search committee thought it was a great idea. The search chair, however, couldn’t figure out why everyone on the committee was so excited about the farm. Finally, the chair said, “Why is everyone so excited to take all the kids from church to Wendell’s Berry Farm?”
Berry’s invitation to stay put seems so beautiful and tantalizing and healing: “put your faith in the two inches of humus.” Staying put has surprised me, healed me, and loved me into a new existence. I expect this movement will continue and I will, thankfully, have the words and wisdom and witness of Wendell Berry along with me on the journey.
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence, followed by some suppressed laughs when another member of the search committee explained that I was proposing we go to the author Wendell Berry’s farm, not Wendell’s Berry Farm (a pun-loving berry farm in Appalachia, that may or may not exist).
Again, I did not get the job.
When you stay put, you start to think you’ve seen it all. You start to think you know what the future brings. Berry’s essays, poetry, and especially through his fictional Port William help you realize, thankfully, that if you stick around long enough, you are surprised over and over and over.
During Operation Metro Surge, it was difficult to be a pastor in Minneapolis. There were days where I did not know if I would see another sunset. My wife, Lori, and I shared with our children what to do if anything happened to us (and our children shared with us what to do if anything happened to them). I wondered on many mornings how much longer could I keep doing this. I questioned whether this is the place we needed to be.
On the morning of January 31, 2026, I joined 8,000 other bicyclists in 20-degree weather for the Alex Pretti memorial ride. Alex was killed by U.S. Customs and Border Patrol agents the week before, on January 24. Alex was also an avid bicyclist. The ride was seven miles from the Pretti memorial on Nicollet Ave to the VA hospital where he worked.
The route for the ride was one I have biked a thousand times; it is part of my daily commute from home to Judson Memorial Baptist Church. During the ride, however, I saw neighbors I had never seen before. As all 8,000 of us slowly rolled through south Minneapolis, neighbors who had been hiding since the beginning of Operation Metro Surge came out onto the boulevard to say thank you, to make heart shapes with their hands, to dance, to jump up and down, to see and to be seen.
Staying put has surprised me, healed me, and loved me into a new existence. I expect this movement will continue and I will, thankfully, have the words and wisdom and witness of Wendell Berry along with me on the journey.
Rev. G. Travis Norvell is pastor of Judson Memorial Baptist Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota.
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
[i] Berry, Wendell. "Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front." The Country of Marriage. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1973.
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