The agricultural fields of Dayalbagh, Agra do not feel like conventional farms. When you enter them, it can seem as though you have stepped into an open-air temple where soil, seed, and sweat are all part of an unbroken act of worship.
During my master’s studies in theology at Dayalbagh Educational Institute, I wrote a short paper as part of a self-study project. This blog grows out of that work, exploring how a Radhasoami (Ra Dha Sva Aa Mi) faith-based community in Dayalbagh, Agra, approaches agriculture as a form of daily spiritual practice, and what this perspective might contribute to contemporary ecotheology.
What Ecotheology Looks Like on the Ground
Ecotheology is often defined in abstract terms: a branch of theology that reflects on the relationship between God, humans, and the natural world. But at its heart, ecotheology is simply a way of asking: if we truly believe the world is sacred, how should that change the way we live on the land, grow food, and treat other beings?
Radhasoami (Ra Dha Sva Aa Mi) community at Dayalbagh offers a rare, concrete answer to that question. Rather than treating religion as something that happens only in a temple or during a weekly service, this community integrates spiritual practice into every layer of daily life – education, transport, healthcare, and crucially, agriculture. Here farming is not just an economic activity, it is a primary arena in which spiritual ideals like selfless service, quality, and stewardship are lived out.
Dayalbagh: A Living Eco-Village
Dayalbagh is often described as an eco‑village or eco‑city: a consciously designed community that strives to be socially, economically, and ecologically sustainable. With a few thousand permanent residents and many more pilgrims visiting during major festivals, it functions as a small town whose way of life influences neighboring communities as well.
Agriculture and dairying are central pillars of this model. Over the last century, residents have transformed what was once difficult terrain into a largely self‑sufficient, green landscape that produces food, fodder, fruits, and herbs for residents, pilgrims, and associated institutions like the Dayalbagh Educational Institute.
Dayalbagh today is characterized by organic fields, tree‑lined roads, rainwater harvesting structures, and a Gaushala (cowshed) that is fully integrated into the local food and energy system.
Seva in the Fields: When Work Becomes Worship
One of the most striking features of Dayalbagh’s agriculture is that most of the work is done as seva – voluntary, selfless service. Hundreds of residents, irrespective of age, caste, income, or occupation, gather in the fields morning and evening to weed, transplant, irrigate, and harvest, not for wages but as an expression of devotion.
This is not romanticized rhetoric: fieldwork is recognized as physically demanding, and yet it is embraced as a spiritual discipline that cultivates humility, shared responsibility, and a direct connection with the land.
The Dayalbagh model explicitly frames agriculture as an “opportunity to do selfless service,” a way of participating in the upliftment of all rather than merely securing one’s own livelihood.
From an ecotheological perspective, this is profound. It means that environmental stewardship is not an optional “add‑on” to spiritual life, it is one of the main ways people actually practice their faith.
Organic Farming as an Ethical Commitment
Dayalbagh’s farm is officially described as an “Agroecology‑cum‑Precision Farm,” and one of its foundational commitments is to organic cultivation. Agriculture there “mostly follows the concept of zero chemical fertilizers and pesticides,” relying instead on compost, vermicompost, biofertilizers, and organic manure from the dairy.
Cow dung and urine from the Gaushala are recycled as fertilizer and as inputs for biogas, creating a near closed‑loop system where waste becomes resource. This reduces dependence on external chemical inputs, protects soil and water quality, and aligns with the Radhasoami emphasis on ahimsa (non‑harm) and reverence for life, not only human life, but also plant, animal, and microbial life.
In a world where industrial agriculture often treats soil as an inert medium and animals as production units, Dayalbagh’s organic practices embody a different ethic: one of care, reciprocity, and restraint.
Ecology, Community, and Consciousness
Ecotheology is not only about “nature”, it is also about community. Dayalbagh’s agricultural system is deeply communal, involving residents, students, and visiting satsangis in everything from sowing to harvesting.
Agricultural work is woven into the education system of the Dayalbagh Educational Institute, so that students learn not only theories in classrooms but also values like dignity of labour, cooperation, and environmental responsibility through hands‑on fieldwork.
At the same time, the community’s broader philosophy – often captured in phrases like “better worldliness” and the “Dayalbagh Way of Life” – insists that spiritual growth and social responsibility cannot be separated. Living a good life means living in a way that reduces one’s footprint, shares resources fairly, and consciously aligns everyday practices with the welfare of all beings.
This is why Dayalbagh’s way of life is frequently cited as a practical model for implementing all 17 UN Sustainable Development Goals: sustainability is not pursued through policy documents alone, but through daily habits in housing, food, energy, education, and transport.
A Different Imagination of Progress
Spending time with Dayalbagh’s fields invites us to rethink what “progress” means. Here, success is not measured only by yield per acre or income per capita, but by the quality of relationships – between people and land, humans and animals, elders and children, contemplation and work.
The community does not reject technology; on the contrary, it uses innovations like drip irrigation, rainwater harvesting, and recycled wastewater to reduce resource use and environmental impact. Yet these tools are always subordinated to deeper values: selfless service, moderation, and a commitment to the upliftment of all rather than the enrichment of a few.
For ecotheology, this is a crucial lesson. The question is not simply whether we use technology, but what spiritual and ethical frameworks guide that use.
Dayalbagh suggests that when technology is harnessed in the spirit of seva and stewardship, it can support rather than undermine our sacred relationship with the earth.
What We Can Learn Wherever We Are
Most of us do not live in intentional eco‑villages, and we may not have access to community farms or Gaushalas. But we can still draw inspiration from the way Radhasoami (Ra Dha Sva Aa Mi) Faith at Dayalbagh turns farming into a daily liturgy of care: buying food more consciously, growing a few herbs or vegetables, reducing waste, and treating our local environments as sanctuaries rather than as commodities.
For me, as a theology student, Dayalbagh has been a living commentary on ecotheology, one written not in academic prose, but in compost piles, irrigation channels, and tired yet joyful hands returning from the fields. It reminds us that the most compelling religious environmental ethics may not be found in books alone, but in communities where farming itself has become a form of prayer.
