Stories

STories of canticle farm

Testimonial

“Canticle Farm, and the love and possibility I witnessed there, is held deeply in my heart, a source of strength. During this time where the profound wounds of our society are being exposed and liberated, Canticle feels to be a sacred light illuminating the path we must walk. I have so much gratitude for the deep learning I experienced while sharing such intimate moments with many of this beloved community. I am in such awe, the simplicity and profundity of us sitting around the table and sharing our truth in a way that infuses such hope and purpose into our lives. Sitting around the table with all of y’all activists, healers, creators, artists, liberators, elders, and wisdom-holders from all different walks of life. Black, white, indigenous, old, young, queer, straight, Jewish, Catholic, Buddhist, from poverty, from wealth, and on and on; the outstanding beauty of holding each other in all of it, all committed to living together in solidarity, justice, and truth. I felt held in such a beautiful way; inspired into the present and future I know is possible. Dropping into the space of love with one another, sharing. I will be forever grateful for the high vibration, warmth, and welcoming I received while witnessing this vision of collective liberation manifesting in this world.” – Jessie Zelisko, Guest, Summer 2017

Press Coverage

Four farms in Oakland where food justice takes root – Oaklandside, July 2023

Paul Redd, prison reformer freed after 44 years behind bars, dies at 65 – San Francisco Chronicle, July 2022

Canticle Farm: One Heart, One Home, One Block at a TimeAnne Symens-Bucher, All Creation, July 2022

A chapter about Canticle Farm appears in A Wild Love for the World: Joanna Macy and the Work of Our Time – Anne Symens-Bucher, April 2020

Podcast: Meet Anne Symens-Bucher, Canticle Farm, East Oakland, CA – Holistic Nature of Us, July 2018

An Alternative Community – Center for Action and Contemplation, May 2018

Fruitvale’s ‘Canticle Farm’ Raises Food, Spirits – Cirrus Wood, Hoodline Oakland, April 2018

How I Can Offer Reparations in Direct Proportion to My White Privilege – Chris Moore-Backman, YES! Magazine, Fall 2017

Granddaughter of the Founder of the Catholic Worker Movement Visits O’Dowd – Bishop O’Dowd High School, October 2017

Watani Stiner: Tending to historical wounds – Watani Stiner, BayView Newspaper, September 2017

Granddaughter: Dorothy Day would be marching today – Christina Gray, Catholic San Francisco, September 2017

Canticle Farms: Dancing On The Horizon – Tom Webb, Oakland Voices, March 2015

Canticle Farm, Oakland, CASally Neas, Voices from the Great Turning, March 2015

Canticle Farm – a meaningful experienceHoly Names University, February 2015

Making Peace, One Block at a TimeAwakin.org, May 2013 [Audio]

Anne And Terry: How Life is Living Us – Audrey Lin

Making peace in inner-city Oakland, one block at a timeJohn Dear, National Catholic Reporter, February 2012

ON CANTICLE FARM, RESILIENCE, & PANDEMIC 

A POEM BY OPHIR HABERER

I stand on this worn-down porch,
overlooking elder trees dancing next to
sprightly stalks of corn and sprawling squashes and melons

my chest filling with pride of the life

we are tending together
in a soil we continue to build.

These plants flower resilience like the people here,
evoking a nostalgia
birthed only in those moments of bittersweet departure.

A man, released this year from
45 years in prison,
comes back from chemo
smile widening out to make contact
with his twinkling
eyes, flexing his muscles like
“I got this—I know the pains of the world and I
am still here strong.”

The rest of his housemates shower love
in brief, sweet encounters;
folks sentenced for life in an unjust system,
sporting a warm sense of home
birthed out of life’s deepest hardships.

An elder, 69 years of age,
separated from her family in El Salvador,
waves frantically across the garden,
in her hands more generous offerings
than I know how to receive.

They seem to not spiral into all the dangerous possibilities
of the future when they see the
simple blessing of having another day.

Two neighbors
run towards me,
one five years old, one seven,
continuing to feed a world of magic and imagination in
an environment
of pandemic and smoke and gunshots.

The founder in his 60s, approaches, hands
overflowing with tools,
joining his wife in retiring into service
day in and day out.

Colored bodies and queer bodies
finding rest & glory in skins the world had
lacked the courage to celebrate.

The birds in the early hours of the morning
and the frogs at night
raise their pitch
to match the endless orchestra of fireworks & car stereos, engines and alarms.

20 or so of us, have chosen these past few months
to come together
despite the differences, the traumas,
we embrace the imperfections of our co-existence
we navigate the perpetual missing of one another
and still show up
to find the
profound richness in those moments where the perceived stranger
sees us more clearly than we see ourselves.

We have planted seeds together,
tended each others’ seeds,
made medicine, distributed plants & food,
shared in the bread of Christ sweetened with honey,
a cup of Shabbat wine or elderberry juice,
and Filipino, Hebrew, Hawaiian, and Indigenous Mexican prayers.

We have joined our bodies
protesting curfews
and police brutality
and prison conditions,
chanting songs of freedom
and drawing up the overwhelming grief
that has bioaccumulated
in all of our bones.

We have masked and un-masked ourselves over & over again,
supported each other in new life & death,
sickness, and health.

I have mirrors all around
me
reminding me of the resilience of my ancestors;
reminding me that
struggle is
defined by
how we meet it

and at the very least I can meet
what’s coming
with a smile and a generous heart.

My eyes set out to the road again,
nomadic returns tugging at my heart,
forever imprinted
by these last few months
on a secret garden
sandwiched between two
urban streets and a world
beginning to fall
apart
and birth anew.