Our second reading this morning comes from Genesis
chapter 2, beginning with verse 15, and I invite
you to hear God's word for you. The Lord God
took the man and put him in the garden of Eden
to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded
the man, You may eat freely of every tree of
the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge
of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the
day that you eat of it you shall die. Then the
Lord God said, It is not good for the man to
be alone. I will make him a helper as his partner.
So out of the ground the Lord God formed every
animal of the field and every bird of the air
and brought them to the man to see what he could
call them. And whatever the man called each living
creature, that was its name. The man gave names
to all the cattle and to the birds of the air
and to every animal of the field. But for the
man there was not found a helper as his partner.
So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon
the man, and he slept. Then God took one of his
ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And
the rib that the Lord God had taken from the
man, God made into a woman and brought her to
the man. Then the man said, This at last is bone
of my bone and flesh of my flesh. This one shall
be called woman, for out of the man this one
was taken. Therefore a man leaves his father
and his mother and clings to his wife, and they
become one flesh. This is the word of God. I
had a lot of fun talking with Blake about a children's
message this morning because it's so enjoyable
to think about produce this time of year. But
anytime I walk into the produce department of
a grocery store, I get a kick. No doubt you've
had a similar experience. You walk toward the
produce department and you see at least one adult
smelling the fruit. Here's the scene. There's
a carefully stacked pile of cantaloupes, peaches,
watermelon, maybe some clam shells of strawberries
or possibly a pile of beefsteak tomatoes. We
walk over to that pile of fruit or two. We pick
something up and we smell it. We want to know
if it's fresh. We want to determine how ripe
it is. We smell each piece like once upon a time
someone told us to. We thump. the size of the
melon again, like someone taught us to do a long,
long time ago. Then, depending on the type of
produce, we might shake it. That goes for coconuts
for sure, sometimes melon. Finally, we turn that
fruit around and examine it for one last time
to see if there are any spots or any bruises,
and then we choose whether or not... to buy that
piece of fruit that we've just smelled and had
all over ourselves. Please remember to wash your
fruit when you get it home. Once home, we put
the peaches or maybe the strawberries in paper
bags and we sit them on a counter. We place the
tomatoes on our windowsill over the sink until
they reach the right color. We leave avocados
on our table, maybe outside if we want them to
soften even more quickly. Several days later,
we find ourselves at the kitchen counter staring
at the melon we've sliced half through. In spite
of our diligence, the thickness of the rind and
the now -revealed pale flesh tell us that not
only was the melon or tomato or peach picked
way too early, which we knew, it still hadn't
ripened since we bought it. Dang it. In moving
to Florida, I assumed that I would never again
have to eat a hard -as -a -rock, styrofoam -textured,
flavorless cardboard cantaloupe. I assumed that
in the nation's produce capital, that I would
be delivered fresh, in -season fruit like I'd
never tasted before. So imagine my grief in discovering
that our grocery stores are stocked with melons
from the Honduras, tomatoes from Mexico, figs
from Turkey, and oranges. Yes, those oranges
that make a Florida license plate stand out on
the highway from California. In May, beneath
the sign that says, locally grown. I suppose
it's no wonder the development along A1A is noteworthy.
Flo Ann told me not too long ago that there was
nothing at all on the west side of the road from
the gas station near the fish market clear down
to Winn -Dixie before the church was built. It
was pretty much a straight shot, she said, from
Palms to St. Augustine. In the four years since
Joe and I have had a home here, we've also watched
construction along A1A and Ponte Vedra Boulevard
and Roscoe Road. dotted with tropical trees,
have given way to bulldozers, piles of sand,
concrete blocks, and stacks of lumber. As you've
seen for yourselves, there are now dozens of
stunning new homes along every stretch of previously
undeveloped land. Is this what God had in mind
when God told us to till the land and keep it?
I'm leaning toward no. In today's reading from
Genesis, we are told that God created the earth,
placed humans in the garden, and commanded us
to till and keep it. Till and keep can also be
understood as cultivate and cared for. It's a
reminder that our role in creation is not one
of dominance, but of nurturing, of care, of stewardship.
But this commandment isn't merely about agricultural
work. It's about our relationship with the land,
our stewardship of God's creation, our stewardship
of the very same land that we're called to tend
that we now take for granted, depleting it for
profit and growth at the cost of ecological balance.
Well, back to my family. My family... bereft
by the depleting state of Florida's agricultural
footprint, began its counterattack just a few
months ago. Joe built a hydroponic produce tower
and dutifully stocked it with plants he started
in a countertop seed pod device that takes up
way too much room. In his defense, he's also
provided us with... a lot of basil, and more
recently, some coleus that I transplanted into
an outdoor container garden just before Easter.
With God's guidance and much to my delight, Joe
gave me a nuc of bees that arrived just a few
weeks ago. Home -harvested honey once again.
Now, we're surfing Amazon Marketplace for Facebook
Marketplace, you know better. Facebook marketplace
for someone legit and local to supply us with
some raised beds that we don't have to build.
Not out of laziness, there are just only so many
hours in the day. But then, this happened. A
few weeks ago, I was driving across Solana Road
toward Nocatee. My eye was drawn to something
that I just hadn't noticed before, having been
easily distracted by all of the beautiful new
construction. it was an arresting sight. There,
amidst the neatly fenced yards and just a few
remaining parcels of native palms, there was
a setback stretch that's home to what appeared
to be a very large organic garden. If you're
driving down Roscoe and look just to the left,
just beyond Canal, if you crane your neck not
too uncomfortably, you too will see raised wooden
beds of enormous collards and kale left over
from last year, fluffy, fluffy stalks of fennel
or maybe asparagus, again, left over from last
year. They haven't quite gotten to it all yet.
Large leaves of wild ginger heaving toward the
heavens. After a bold drive down their long entryway
lined with gardens, I was met with a warm -hearted
ambassador who showed me that their work continued
behind the very large house in the middle of
the property. There were chickens and pigs and
goats. I think there might have been a donkey,
but I might have been projecting that for my
love of donkeys. I was floored. He told me that
this is the peace of heart community farm. Their
mission is to provide people of all abilities
the experience and benefits of farming and gardening
and community interaction. On Friday mornings,
it's host to a farmer's market. A few days later,
on a Friday, I returned to meet beekeepers, bread
makers, leather tanners, garden growers, pesto
makers, chicken farmers. What? a delight to my
senses. A large, open -sided farm of freshness.
The gardeners from Bee Pollen Farms offered me
a taste of the most delicious cantaloupe I had
ever eaten. The young woman at the cantaloupe
booth not only sold me a piece of fruit, but
she told me her story. She told me about the
storms. She told me about the droughts and what
that did to their farm. She told me about her
early mornings on the farm. She shared with me
her joy. She taught me that buying local or buying
produce from small farmers was as convenient.
It was clear from our conversation, if it wasn't
clear to me before, that supporting local farms
helps us to care for God's creation responsibly.
In the process, this gardener explained something
so ridiculous that I felt like it should have
been part of our prayer of confession this morning.
Those California oranges beneath the locally
grown sign at Winn -Dixie, she informed me that
those oranges actually were most likely grown
in Florida. Then why the... Made in Florida,
excuse me, made in California citrus bag, you
might ask. Well, that's due to a convoluted financial
arrangement between states that results in truck
-ripened citrus being delivered to our disappointed
tables. Florida oranges picked way too early
are sent to California, while California oranges,
also picked way too early, are sent to Florida.
It's been verified. Florida produce travels 2
,750 miles to get to the other side of the country,
crossing paths with California oranges on their
way here, adding to the carbon footprint of all
of those containers of pineapple from South America,
cantaloupe from Honduras, tomatoes from Mexico,
and avocados from Guam or Colombia, depending
on where you shop. All so you and I can have
the types of produce we want, when we want it,
at a price we feel like we want to pay, regardless
of the ultimate cost. Indeed, I'm pretty sure
when humankind was created amidst fields and
fields of food, God did not have this in mind.
The global food system, even our domestic food
system as it currently functions, is extraordinarily
resource -intensive. Fruits are flown thousands
of miles out of season. Livestock are raised
in ways that drain water, degrade soil, and pollute
our air. Ships burning fossil fuels carry staple
products from all over the world, often from
places of food insecurity to places of abundance,
like here in the United States. None of this
is inherently sinful, but it becomes spiritually
problematic when it dulls our awareness of the
Earth's ability and our neighbors' needs. In
a world of climate change, shrinking biodiversity,
and environmental degradation, the way we eat
is a deeply moral issue. Yet buying food is something
we all have to do. and every meal connects us
to labor, land, and choices. So I've come to
the conclusion that buying local foods when and
where we can is one small way you and I can reduce
the negative impact we create with our convenience
culture. The bonus? You will never have to eat
a flavorless cardboard cantaloupe ever again.
More seriously, it's just one but great way to
make space for justice, justice for the land,
and justice for the people who tend it. It's
also one more way we can express our faith in
our Creator who provides for each one of us in
God's time and in God's way. So go. Go to a farmer's
market this week. Enjoy local goodness. Cultivate
relationships being planted there. Learn one
farmer's story. When the opportunity arises,
participate in a community garden and empower
someone who's never had the chance to experience
the joy of growing even one small patch of lettuce.
Taste and see. what the earth is offering in
its good season. Let your daily bread, your cantaloupes
and tomatoes, your honey and your herbs be more
than nourishment. Let them be your prayer. Let
them be your protest. Let them be your praise.
And when you do... when you lift a ripe peach
to your nose, when you shake a melon in your
hand, when you thump its sides like someone once
showed you. May it not be simply about testing
fruit. May it be about remembering Eden. May
it be about honoring creation. May it be about
living in such a way that our smallest choices
reflect the love of a very big God. Because the
garden was never just a place. The garden is
a calling. And we were never just consumers.
We are stewards. We are cultivators. We are co
-creators with the one who made every tree, every
fruit, every field. When God took humankind and
put us in this garden of God's making to till
it and keep it, God gave us the ongoing opportunity
for faithful living, to participate in a holy
rhythm, a sacred dance of seed time and harvest,
work and rest, justice and joy. all rooted in
the love of God. Let us pray. Gracious God, who
planted us in this good earth and calls us to
tend it with care and love, continue to open
our eyes to the spiritual blessing of eating
the fruits of local labor. Bless the hands that
grow, harvest, and prepare our food. Help us
make choices that honor your creation and lift
up our neighbors. Help us to trust in your provision,
striving to be a patient community of Christians.
Root us deeply in gratitude and generosity that
every meal may become a feast of justice, kindness,
and humble fellowship with you. Amen.