No "buts" about it

The monks at Christ in the Desert Monastery, near Chama, New Mexico, invite all of their overnight guests to join them in worship, table fellowship and work that will benefit the community. As their guest for a week in early June I said "yes" to all of it and became a part of this faith-filled community.  I chanted Psalms with the brothers, sat and ate quietly during lunch and dinner while listening to the daily readings, and for four consecutive days, showed up at 9am for work.

On day one and day two brother Christian invited me to work in the garden.  I watered trees, flower beds and shrubs.  I soaked the soil for hours.  And under a cloudless canopy the plants began to lift their weary arms.  Daisies opened their petals and turned their faces towards the sun.  And John's description of Jesus came to mind ... Living Water ... refreshing thirsty souls,  reviving weary travelers.

Brother Benedict took charge of me on day three. He guided me into a walled garden hosting eight trees, each tree surrounded by a stone lined tree well.  Each tree well was full of weeds.  "Lee, how 'bout spending the morning weeding the wells?  A few of the wells have plants as well. Leave the plants.  Remove the weeds." 

I immediately went to work pulling weeds, doing my best to leave in place what appeared to be flowering plants.  The first few weeds broke off just under the soil.  "No root."  I dug deeper with the gardening tools brother Benedict provided.  Then from somewhere deep I heard the voice of Mrs. Davis.  When I was a teenager I worked for her each summer mowing her lawn, trimming her hedge and weeding her garden. "I'll give you 1 penny for every three weeds you pull.  But you've gotta get the root too.  No roots, no pay."  As her voice faded I remembered how good I could be at pulling weeds!

At 12:15 I stepped back to examine my work.  One well had nothing in it.  Everything extracted.  Everything in that well had been weeds, now gone.  Good job!  The other tree wells each retained a few leafy green plants.  As brother Benedict requested:  "Leave the plants.  Remove the weeds."

At 1pm just prior to lunch brother Benedict greeted me with a big smile, "I stopped by the garden. Nice work today.  Thanks."  I savored brother Benedict's appreciation as much as the flavorful lunch.

Brother Benedict met me again at 9am on Thursday.  "Lee, how would you like to do some more weeding today?"  "Sounds good to me.  Whatever I can do to be of help."  He turned, waved his hand indicating I should follow, and within moments I found myself in yesterday's garden standing in front of yesterday's tree well that "had nothing in it but the tree."  Brother Benedict pointed to the nude well and said, "That's the model.  All of the tree wells should look like that.  When you are finished removing the weeds from the wells I have a tree that I'd like you to plant.  I'll see you later."

I was stunned.  "That's the model."  Yesterday I had carefully differentiated between the plants and the weeds determining that every tree well but the one in front of me had plants in it.  According to Benedict the greens I thought were plants were actually weeds.  How foolish of me.

And so I began again ... "Always We Begin Again" ...  pulling weeds (including the roots) and smiling.

First, Brother Benedict unconditionally affirmed my work on the prior day.  He had simply said, "Nice work today. Thanks."  He didn't say, "Nice work today. Thanks, BUT ..."  He didn't hint even one little bit that I had not completed the task as requested.  He simply affirmed what I had done.  I don't always do that when affirming others.  I often find myself affirming conditionally ... "That was good, yes, BUT...."  "I appreciate the effort, yes, BUT ...."  And when I've experienced conditional affirmation I tend to hear the last part of the sentence, not the first part.  I hear the "but" and miss the affirmation.  Brother Benedict the wise taught me an invaluable lesson that first day in the garden.  Affirm without conditions ... no buts about it.

Second, I found myself thinking about Jesus' parable about gardening.  He told his disciples to let the weeds and the wheat grow together.  Someone else will do the sorting. 

I will be spending more time with this parable and its application to my life.  Determining who belongs in God's family and who should be excluded is not my job.  That's the responsibility of another.  And that's a good thing, because I'm just not that good at distinguishing between weeds and plants.