Monks Go Green

An Atlanta-area monastery looks to "green burials" to sustain a cloistered lifestyle

by Gabrielle Coppola

Father Francis Michael, abbot of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery, spends his days watching the birds, butterflies, and dragonflies that inhabit the order's grounds about 30 miles east of downtown Atlanta. In August, the monks of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit broke a state record by spotting 59 butterfly species in a single day.

Such contemplative activity is occupying less of Father Francis' time these days. With many of the order's 45 brothers now in their 60s, 70s, and 80s, health-care costs have surged, forcing the monastery to employ outsiders to complete tasks the monks once performed. Since the monastery's founding in 1944, the monks have undertaken a series of entrepreneurial ventures, from hay farming, to raising ostriches and emus, to baking bread.

In their latest round of entrepreneurialism, Father Francis and his fellow Cistercian brothers are hiring an outside company to convert 30 acres of clear-cut pine plantation into a "conservation burial ground," and perform "green burials"—interments without embalming and with biodegradable caskets or urns, or simply a shroud, instead of cement and steel caskets. The monks, who have 2,200 acres, plan to charge $3,000 to $4,000 per plot and sell plants and engraving works. Father Francis hopes the green venture will appeal to monastery visitors of all faiths and enable the monks to obey their sixth century mandate to be self-sufficient, a goal that has eluded them in recent years. The order's "community costs" were $1.6 million last year, up from $700,000 a decade earlier, with most of the rise attributable to health-care expenses.

A Sustainable Business Model?

"One could, in a big monastery, fall into being a CEO instead of a monk, because you have a big operation that you have to manage and make sure survives," Francis says. "I'm trying to not get into a mindset where I think this is a silver bullet that's going to solve everything. It'd be nice, but we've tried too many other things that weren't that."

The monks' green burial venture is the latest sign of just how far and wide the greening of American business has spread. That an order of monks so strict it once communicated by hand signal has partnered with eco-entrepreneurs shows how no corner of the nation's economy is sheltered from the enticement of green marketing and "cause-based" consumption.

Green burial is still very much in its infancy in the U.S., and whether it can work as a sustainable business model remains to be seen. The U.S. has five exclusively green cemeteries so far—in Florida, New Mexico, New York, South Carolina, and Texas—yet they do not all adhere to the same environmental standards.

Struggling to Keep Up with Queries

Ramsey Creek Preserve, a conservation burial ground in Westminster, S.C., that is teaming up with the monks to develop the Georgia grounds, expects to earn about $150,000 in 2007, the second profitable year in its eight-year history. Of course, it is not unusual for a new business to take time to recoup its startup costs, and traditional cemeteries often take even longer—entry costs for just a five-acre piece of land can range from $250,000 to $500,000.

While market size and penetration are speculative at this point, early surveys show that baby boomers are particularly open to green burials. The Green Burial Council, a New Mexico nonprofit that monitors and promotes "environmentally sustainable death-care practices," says its Web site averages 120,000 hits a month and that it struggles to keep pace with consumer queries. Most people are motivated by the contribution to conservation that green burial fosters. But as rising cremation rates demonstrate, some consumers are turned off by the bells and whistles of ornate funerals and the perceived price-gouging at funeral homes. The council's executive director, Joe Sehee, says 40 funeral providers across the country have signed on to offer its standardized green burial package.

"We're trying to get conservationists and the death-care industry to get on board with each other," Sehee says.