Orthodoxy and Beekeeping

When I’m home from the road, one of my favorite things to do is grab a chair and sit quietly out by my apiary. I’ve got five hives going right now, and if I’m calm and respectful, the bees will leave me alone. I can sit there, listening to their gentle buzzing, surrounded by life, by rhythm, by something deeply ordered and beautiful. It’s one of the most peaceful places in my life.

Beekeeping has also become a father-son activity. My son John has his own little beekeeping suit, and when I’m home, we tend the hives together. He’s learning how to feed them, how to watch them, how to respect them. And when I’m on the road, he helps with small tasks—feeding the bees, checking the syrup, making sure the girls are doing well until Dad’s back.

This is one of those simple joys in life that ties together so many things: patience, attention, nature, community—and faith.

Years ago, when I first started keeping bees, I wrote a post called ‘The Need for a Queen.’ Today I want to revisit it, because the lessons of the hive speak even louder to me now than they did then.

Without a queen, the hive will collapse. It’s that simple. The queen isn’t just a symbol—she’s the heart of the colony. She’s the only bee who can lay fertilized eggs. Without her, no new workers are born. Without her, the workers grow aimless. Without her, the drones serve no purpose.

Installing a queen is an act of patience and trust. When you first install a package of bees, the queen comes in a small wooden box with wire mesh. The workers must get used to her scent before she is released. A candy plug blocks the exit; the workers eat through it slowly, bonding with her along the way. Once she’s free, the hive begins to thrive under her presence.


And it strikes me every time: the queen’s role is maternal, central, life-giving. The colony gathers around her—not in blind obedience, but in love, in recognition that without her, they would have no future.

She’s Just Mom

It’s not hard to see the parallel to the life of the Church.


In the Orthodox Church, we honor Mary as our Queen—not as a distant figure, but as our spiritual mother. Now, I know that not everyone listening shares that view. I have good friends—good Christians—who are inquiring into Orthodoxy and still wrestling with what to make of “all that Mary talk.” And that’s okay. I’m not here to pressure anyone.


But for me, it’s this simple: she’s just Mom. She’s Christ’s mom. And if we love Christ, why wouldn’t we love His mom?

Scripture points us there. In the Davidic kingdom, the Queen was the King’s mother—not His wife. Revelation gives us that beautiful image: ‘A woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.’ The Church has long seen this as an image of the Theotokos.

And like a hive without its queen, a faith that forgets its Mother loses something vital—something life-giving.

Lessons from the Hive

There are so many lessons we can draw from beekeeping and apply to our life of faith. Let me share a few that have stayed with me:


1. The Hive as Community. Bees thrive in community. So do we. The Church is the Body of Christ—meant to be lived together.


2. Humility and Hidden Work. Bees labor quietly, without acclaim. Our spiritual life is built on hidden virtue—prayer, fasting, mercy unseen.


3. Sweetness from Bitterness. Bees draw nectar even from bitter flowers, turning it into honey. God brings sweetness from our trials.


4. Liturgical Beauty and Order. The hive is a work of order and symmetry. So is the Church’s liturgical life—teaching us the harmony of heaven.


5. Watchfulness. A beekeeper must stay vigilant. We too must guard our hearts and minds—watchful in prayer.


6. Lessons of the Seasons. Bees teach patience. They live by the seasons. The Church teaches us to fast and feast in rhythm with Christ.


7. The Story of St. Modomnoc. I love this story. St. Modomnoc loved the bees at his Irish monastery. When he left, the bees followed him across the sea to Ireland—a picture of how love sanctifies even creation.


8. Be the Bee, Not the Fly. One of my favorite quotes from St. Paisios: ‘Some people resemble a fly. The fly seeks filth. Others are like the bee, seeking what is sweet and good. Be the bee.’ In a world full of ugliness, seek the good.

Final Thoughts

So today, whether I’m sitting quietly among my hives or rolling down the highway in my Freightliner, these lessons stay with me.


Be like the bee. Stay vigilant. Love the Queen Mother. Seek sweetness even from life’s bitter flowers.


And remember: in the Church, as in the hive, we are not meant to live alone. We are meant to gather, to build, to serve, and to love.


Thanks for riding along with me today. Until next time—this is the Orthodox Trucker, signing off.


Glory to God for all things.


And… bee good.