Recently, our dishwasher broke down. Instead of the usual swish-boom-swish that told me things were being cleaned, it made an ominous, sort of electric hum, a sound that was unfamiliar and disconcerting.
I pushed several buttons that would usually shut it off, but to no avail. When I opened the dishwasher door, instead of immediately stopping as it would under normal working conditions, the haunting hum continued. So, like I do with things that don’t seem to be working right, I disconnected the electricity, uttered a little prayer and then reconnected, finding a clear answer to my whispered prayer: a resounding “no.”
Still hopeful, I again disconnected the power, checked to see if the spray arms were spinning freely, cleaned out the filter, looked for any debris that could cause malfunction, made sure that the water source and drainage was clear, then connected the power again.
The machine hummed to me that it had washed its last dish.
My wife and I began shopping the various outlets online for a replacement. In the meantime, we washed the contents of the now-useless convenience by hand and informed the sons and daughters in our household that when they use a dish, they wash a dish, confident that we could get by for a few days.
When the monsoons of May and early June subsided and my lawn began to resemble waves of grain, I charged the battery for my lawnmower, clicked it in and pushed the start button. That ominous, sort of electric hum of the dishwasher had somehow jumped to the lawnmower. After thoroughly checking connections and clogs, as well as the battery, it was clear that my lawnmower had hewn its last leaf of grass.
Suddenly, we had an immediate choice to make: a new dishwasher for the good of the household or a new lawnmower for the benefit of the entire neighborhood.
The choice was obvious: Piled dishes could be curtailed, but growing grass keeps on growing. So we told our sons and daughters that hand-washing dishes will continue until further notice. Then my youngest daughter, who audibly sighs whenever reminded to empty the dishwasher, says, “I actually like washing dishes.” She described the warm water, the suds and the immediate gratification of a clean dish.
I started to notice other anomalies, too. We no longer were running out of clean forks and spoons that would have sat in a half-loaded dishwasher for a couple of days. I no longer had to rummage through dirty dishes to find a pot I needed. My favorite coffee cup was there to cleanly greet me every morning.
One evening after dinner, as I stood at the sink, soapy sponge in hand, I thought about the Saint Teresa of Avila quote, “God walks among the pots and pans.” In our most mundane tasks, like washing dishes, God can be found.
In hand-washing dishes, we are acting as co-creators with God – not creating so much as in encouraging good works, fostering virtues, contributing to the common good, and accepting and living according to God’s will in the moment, not putting it off until we think it’s time to press the start button.
Our kitchen has never run so smoothly: dishes, bowls and glasses piled in the cupboard; flatware filled in drawers; pots and pans ready for the next meal; each person taking responsibility for his and her own mess. Frankly, I may not get a dishwasher again – well, maybe not until Thanksgiving.
Perhaps the answer to my whispered prayer wasn’t a resounding “no” after all. Maybe it was, “not exactly what you’re asking for, but here’s something way better.”
Deacon Dean Johnson serves at Church of the Holy Family, Sewell.
at the bottom and then tap “Add to Home Screen”
