Dec 12 | Peace is done together (Letters from the Coast)

Not long ago our old dishwasher finally kicked the bucket. We were impressed it lasted as long as it did, as I suspect it was original to the condo and therefore probably as old as I am. But now the need to go through the dance of searching and price-comparing is upon us, and until we find The One we’re relegated to washing dishes by hand.

Honestly, although I’ll be happy to have the old clunker replaced, I don’t mind washing dishes this way. Out of all the household chores there are, washing dishes is the least tiresome to me. I’d rather do it than clean the bathroom or do laundry or even vacuum.

There are a number of reasons I can think of that this is so. Some of them are quite practical. The hot water feels nice on my hands. The task itself is fairly simple, and progress is easy to gauge. Dishes must be used again, so it’s not like other chores that often feel Sisyphean and meaningless, like wiping soap scum off the sink when I know it’s just going to reappear in a few days.

I also have good memories of doing dishes. When my father moved to his house in Port Coquitlam, the kitchen did not come equipped with a dishwasher. I ended up rather enjoying the post-dinner ritual of washing and drying and putting away dishes, because, like the long drive to get to his house, it was time I got to spend with him. I almost always dried rather than washed, and he was clever enough to somehow trick me into thinking washing required more responsibility, which meant that when I got to wash it felt like a step up. I still complained about it, as teenagers do, but secretly I didn’t mind.

Years later, I attended a friend’s wedding held at an island lodge, and holed up in a cabin during the reception to wash all of the dishes because I didn’t really know anybody and felt shy. Not only did it calm my nerves, it somehow felt easier to talk to the few who stood alongside me to help dry or put away…and then, of course, I was the hero of the day!

Looking at this simple household task in the light of Advent, I’m struck by the sense of peace I’ve encountered when doing it.

Retreat leaders often stress the importance of “work of hands” alongside prayer and workshops or reading. Monastics arrange their days around the same ‘beats’ or movements. Any task, no matter how mundane, can become an act of prayer. And if peace is already a part of it, so much the better.

Photo by the Rev. Dr. Marilyn Hames

The second Sunday of Advent focusses on peace, but this peace is deeper than the rather bloodless concept children sing songs about in school. Peace is more than the absence of war, and it’s more than the very solitary feeling most people reference when they talk about “inner peace.” It’s even more than the feeling I get when I wash dishes by hand, although I suspect it’s similar. When I wash dishes alone, I often feel myself slip outside time as the repetitive motions and warmth lull me into a sense of comfort and stability. I’m held by those earlier memories, that sense of family and purpose and appreciation. But of course I must remind myself that the memories themselves are much closer to God’s idea of peace, of which I feel a mere echo as I work, because those memories are of the task being done together.

And peace is done together, or not at all.

In Advent, we are called to also reflect on the coming peace that we are promised in the birth of the Prince of Peace. This is beyond any peace we can fully grasp on earth. This is more than bone deep. This is Spirit-deep.

My prayer for you is that, wherever it may reside in your life, you may find and lean into peace…and then share it with others.

Peace is done together, or not at all.

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