Convenience Culture and the Cardboard Cantaloupe

Our second reading this morning comes from Genesis

Genesis 2 · chapter mention

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.