Cedar City, North Carolina
One of the oldest beloved inspirational books in print is Brother Lawrence’s The Practice of the Presence of God. Three hundred years ago, Brother Lawrence wrote deeply emotive observations about his evolving journey in finding God in his daily life. In a profoundly chaotic post-atomic world where al-Qaeda would have sway, the musings of a monastic dish washer speak deeply and quietly into our noisy frenetic souls. In the Carmelite Priory kitchen, Lawrence found a centering sensibility while washing dishes for his brothers. Over the years he found his humble low station in life a place of high learning. Despite his lowly position in life and the priory, his character attracted many to him. Having a reputation for experiencing profound peace, many came to the priory seeking spiritual guidance from him. Wisdom he passed on to them in conversations and letters later became the basis for The Practice of the Presence of God, published posthumously. Many consider his timeless musings to be benchmarks in the explorations of God consciousness.
“Men invent means and methods of coming at God's love, they learn rules and set up devices to remind them of that love, and it seems like a world of trouble to bring oneself into the consciousness of God's presence. Yet it might be so simple. Is it not quicker and easier just to do our common business wholly for the love of him?" For Brother Lawrence, preparing food and washing dishes became a holy offering. "Nor is it needful that we should have great things to do. We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of him, and that done, if there is nothing else to call me, I prostrate myself in worship before him, who has given me grace to work; afterwards I rise happier than a king. It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God."
In his Peace is Every Step Thich Nhat Hanh, the much-loved Vietnamese Buddhist master has written many imperatives on the virtues of mindfulness in daily living. In one short musing “Washing Dishes” he describes the benefits of mindfully washing dishes in warm soapy water, being particular to experience the warmth, the sensation of bubbles on skin, the sense of doing something of inherent value. Ever since reading his thoughts, I’ve washed my own dishes in a small basin of warm soapy water, always being mindful of what proves for me a solitary centering experience. I find a sense of good orderly direction in my life when the dishes have been mindfully cared for.
“Each thought, each action in the sunlight of awareness becomes sacred. In this light, no boundary exists between the sacred and profane. I must confess it takes me a bit longer to do the dishes, but I live fully in every moment, and I am happy. Washing the dishes is at the same time a means and an end – that is, not only do we do the dishes in order to have clean dishes, we also do the dishes just to do the dishes, to live fully in each moment while washing them.”
The past weeks have found me washing dishes, mountains of them. With six hundred meals a day being served, a small basin of quiet hand washing doesn’t quite suffice. A large stainless steel industrial washer suits my task better. Technology may have changed since Lawrence washed for his Carmelite brothers, but our motives are little changed. We experience the same happy results in our souls and our dining rooms.
Abraham Maslow in his hierarchy of needs described the progressive needs of human beings; foundational to these are food and water. Providing clean pots and pans in which to cook food, and clean cups and plates with which to serve it are as basic as life responsibilities get. There’s something rather grounding and centering about creating good orderly direction out of a mountain of chaos. My two hours in the dish room insures stacks of clean dishes will be available for the next feast four hours later. This time also insures I learn more about living with mindfulness, maybe even performing sacred acts while doing the ordinary tasks of daily life.
American culture tends to be about grandiosity, conspicuousness, competition. God favors humility, the humble, the least of these. Lawrence served his fellow monks by insuring their stone dining room had clean dishes. Here in our knotty-pine dining room we serve those who have turbulent journeys in life, those disabled, afflicted, and addicted.
Last week we had more than a hundred and twenty alcoholic men seeking to find their way beyond alcohol and drugs. Here on the mountain they hope to find conscious contact with God and the power to move beyond the straits of addiction. A number of them joined us in the dish room for thrice daily lessons on how it feels to give back to life by being of service to others in lowly ways. I receive my own life lessons while running the power sprayer and loading the industrial washer every ninety seconds. Serving those who haven’t quite learned how to serve themselves or others takes me right into the Presence of God, just as Brother Lawrence promised centuries ago.
We have very different guests this week. Seventy addicted and alcoholic women who have suffered inconceivable pain and abuse are here to find their own way into conscious contact with God. They’re not joining us in the dish room; their learning is a bit different this time. Watching them take tentative steps towards embracing God and life is more than ample compensation for my labors in the dish room.
Twelve special families are also with us. These families have been called to a very hard journey in life. As participants in a Spectrum Camp they’re here learning coping and empowerment skills in dealing with autistic children. They’re on a long journey where care-giving is endlessly overwhelming without breaks. At least for a few days, these beleaguered parents don’t have to do the dishes.
For those on recovery journeys from the darkness of alcoholism and drug addiction, in a society where many turn away, we offer them experience, strength, and hope. Sometimes experience, strength and hope begins with a clean plate. Jesus performed numerous miracles. Many of them had to do with foundational needs; such as finding a good meal in the wilderness. In the wilderness of the mind so many addicted find themselves in, a good meal is a hopeful illumination of hope. For those on unending journeys of care giving for the disabled, a good meal is a sorely needed time of rest and emotional refreshment.
In the dish room we are able to explore our motives in life. What brings us to this dish room? What brings us to each new day? My journeys in fifty nations have brought me to this stainless steel sanctuary. Others not yet of legal age are here, still full of idealism, hope, and possibility. Will these younger ones learn in time grandiosity, conspicuousness, and competition don’t scratch those deepest itches in their souls? Will they learn in time that humility, being humble, being the least of these is the pathway to true greatness?
Many of those coming up here, embracing twelve step recovery, firmly believe recovery and renewed living come only from daily conscious contact with God, a practicing of the presence as Brother Lawrence discovered in his dish room centuries ago and I find here today in mine. The first ten steps of recovery prepare and empower us to experience a spiritual transformation restoring our spiritual and emotional centers. In the eleventh step through unencumbered “prayer and meditation we sought to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him, asking only for knowledge of His will and the power to carry that out.” We found ourselves transformed, experiencing the life-changing presence of God.
Transformation germinates in the ordinariness of daily life when we offer those common profane things up as spiritual service and acts of worship. Each time I open the industrial washer and pull out two loads of clean dishes I’ve performed a sacred act. There are no longer any boundaries between the sacred and profane. I can pray without ceasing, perhaps changing my own world while washing it.
Blessings,
Craig C. Johnson
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