Who knew, when our culture became modern, what would be
lost? And of course, part of being modern means only looking ahead so this
question is not something most of us often think about, but several people I
have read lately have got me thinking about communal work.
It is often easier to do things yourself. Parents will be
quick to recognize that truth. And there are all sorts of efficiencies to be
gained with assembly lines. Certainly Henry Ford and his followers figured some
of those out. And so I’m not trying to discard valuable ways of doing work at
various times and places. But modernity has in fact often discarded traditional
ways of doing work.
One woman, through her
granddaughter’s blog, described wheat harvest and her small but important role
pulling a wagon with coffee and cookies for the workers threshing the wheat. The granddaughter then recounted a day working
together with friends to butcher chickens. She writes, “I had been
apprehensive about the day before it began, due to the unpleasant nature of the
task at hand. But by evening I marveled at how much I had enjoyed it. And how
exhausted I was.” http://www.goshencommons.org/category/blogs/hoof-and-wing/
Then I came upon some thoughts in an essay called ‘Economy
and Pleasure’ by Wendell Berry about work.
Berry talks about the tobacco harvest: “Many of my dearest
memories come from these times of hardest work … The tobacco cutting is the
most protracted social occasion of our year … The tobacco cutting is a ritual
of remembrance. Old stories are retold; the dead and the absent are remembered.
Some of the best talk I have ever listened to I have heard during these
times...”
O yes, he almost forgets to mention that the tobacco got
cut.
He finishes the essay with a sweet story about hauling a
load of dirt for the barn with his five-year old granddaughter.
“We completed our trip to the barn, unloaded our load of
dirt, smoothed it over the barn floor, and wetted it down. By the time we
started back up the creek the sun had gone over the hill and the air had turned
bitter. Katie sat close to me in the wagon, and we did not say anything for a
long time. I did not say anything because I was afraid that Katie was not
saying anything because she was cold and tired and miserable and perhaps
homesick; it was impossible to hurry much, and I was unsure how I would comfort
her.
But then, after a while, she said, “Wendell, isn’t it fun?”
Perhaps not many people are aware of how much deep pleasure
we have deprived ourselves in our in our embrace of modern conveniences and
ways of doing things, but here’s snippet from my life. When I was much younger,
I remember the kitchen was often filled - mostly with women who were cleaning
up after Sunday dinner. And wasn’t it fun? What did the automatic dishwasher
really give us? What did it take away?
I’m not going to try to take your dishwasher or any other
modern tool away from you. But we should recognize that sometimes, as Robert
Frost pointed out with perhaps glancing relevance to what I am talking about,
“two roads diverged in a yellow wood… “
I believe that relationships and community are built in
significant part upon our physically needing
each other, our being genuinely useful to each other - even if it’s pulling a
wagon with coffee and cookies.
It’s simpler if I have my own ladder or wheelbarrow, if I do
my own work and you do yours. But what happens if there is almost never a time
when we really need each other’s efforts or the presence of our family members
or neighbors in our activities? Where does the bond for the times when we need
emotional support come from?
We tend to dismiss with our words the realization that we
have become an individualistic culture, but rarely do we understand how deeply
that cuts. And rarely do we do much to change things.
The small church I occasionally attend has a couple of work
days a year. I enjoy that participation more than sitting in the chairs on
Sunday morning. But we’ve nearly forgotten how to do communal work. Each of us
tends to find a task and does it. The coffee and cookies are inside and most of
us trickle in on our own. Our attitudes and ways of doing things are mostly
modern.
There’s a knack to almost everything. To get the full
benefits of communal work, people need to establish a rhythm of working and
pausing - talking and laughing and trimming the forsythia. It’s even in the
prayer sometimes used after the offering: “work and worship are one.”
We like to think that such things as community should happen
naturally, and of course, you shouldn’t force friendship. But when traditional
cultures worked well, it was in part because people genuinely needed each other
in all sorts of practical ways and because people, over generations, had
learned how to literally work together.
We won’t learn to knit communities back together overnight.
And if we don’t recognize what we’ve lost, we won’t even look for what we’ve
lost at all.
Sometimes it helps to try to orchestrate things. My parents
were likely mostly following tradition when they had me wash, my brother rinse,
and my sister dry the dishes, or some other combination. It was a real task
that needed to be done, and it was set up to be done together.
The task of winning a softball game, for example, has less real
need behind it, but it’s not a useless exercise.
We are people of mind and body. Talking over dinner is a
fine thing, but you’ll notice that even that doesn’t even ‘happen’ as often as
it used to. The people who sometimes work together become different than people
who always work alone.
The foundation of so many important things in life is not
simply our ‘wants’ but our ‘needs.’
When we need each other’s real assistance to accomplish a
necessary task, whether we want to work with this or that person or do this
particular task or not, more than the work sometimes gets accomplished.
Wendell Berry writes of “poor country people” as having
everything within their community but money. Now we have nearly everything that
money can buy except strong communal bonds.
Maybe getting almost everything we think we want – which
sometime includes the ability to not need anyone else - doesn’t lead to
happiness. But people in traditional societies truly needed each other. How
could people in wealthy cultures choose to be less self-reliant? Still, I have
come to believe that necessity is the mother of a lot more than invention. We
can’t just talk about wanting to build community. I think,
perhaps, we will need to build more barns together.
Working together might also turn out to be more fun than we
imagined.