Cultivating Presence: Lessons from Urban Farming

I have been spending the past few weeks of my summer as an intern at an urban farm in Denver, Colorado. Over the past four or so years, I have been increasingly invested in food as an important meeting place for understanding and working to change environmental, economic and social injustices in our country and world. I could ramble about this for many pages, but in a nutshell, food (particularly the ability of people to access and use healthful food) is deeply connected to race and class in the United States. 

Nearly 20,000 pounds of produce grown each year on the 1-acre Denver farm located on the property of an elementary school are cultivated to provide food and education opportunities for underserved children, some of Denver’s refugee population, and a faithful group of Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) customers, who sign up and pay a reasonable sum of money to receive fresh, seasonal produce every week during the growing season. 

Serving in this small but meaningful space of land dedicated to growing food has reminded me of many things, but has taught me new ones even more so. One conviction remains unwavered: the Church and fellow communities of faith have a responsibility—entrusted to us by God, the Creator of all—to care for creation and support small, sustainable agricultural practices which value people, safety, and protection of the planet over the profit-seeking, exploitative and environmentally degrading practices of many of our nation’s (and our world’s) agricultural and advertising systems. 

Something else has also revealed itself to me in my work on the farm— something which I perhaps already surmised but had not fully comprehended in such a new way: 

the simple, tireless work of weeding, pruning, mulching, and harvesting eggplants, tomatoes, summer squash, garlic, etc. (plants which become like children to an invested farmer!)—can be a profoundly sacred act. Amidst the frantic pace of urban life, personal struggle and haste, and a world broken and suffering from the hatreds of violence, neglect, racism, and overconsumption,  this little farm beckons something different; something I would identify as holy. 

When I enter the gates of this urban plant oasis, I am at the mercy of God’s self revealed through wonder, presence and patience. Rich, bright colors of red and pink Easter egg radishes, purple Music garlic (yes, there is a variety called Music!) call my attention. My fellow farmers and I wonder about how much water and organic “fish soup” fertilizer will be enough to grow the fragile eggplant starts, when the pepper plants will flower, and how on earth a weekend away could produce so many new weeds?? Concerns about unanswered emails and other personal or worldly trials are left suspended from their place of abstract worry or complacency, and directed into focused energy in the activity of caring for plants and producing food—food to fill hungry and curious bellies with life and energy and health. 

When was the last time you dug around in the dirt or tended a garden? Whether it’s a part of your daily life or not, I encourage it. I guarantee that you’ll find God, or the Sacred, or the Eternal Presence, whether or not you were seeking to do so.