A Dishwasher's Diary

By Rev. Dr. Richard E. Kuykendall

A Dishwashers Diary is the fictionalized diary of Rev. Joshua Thornbee. Thornbee ends up leaving the ministry after suffering a nervous breakdown. He then tries to find other work but has no luck. Finally, as last resort, he takes a job as a dishwasher at the restaurant that he used to go for local ministerial association luncheons. The diary is for the year he worked there and deals with subject ranging from his personal life, poetry, dreams, literature, history, romance, and special entries for holidays. It is truly a delightful read!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Aug 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466946156

Rev. Dr. Richard E. Kuykendall

Rev. Dr. Richard E. Kuykendall holds both a Master of Divintiy degree, and a Doctor of Ministry degree in Creation Spirituality. He served as a minister for over 35 years, and has led his Creation Spirituality Community, Spiritwind, for over twenty years. Kuykendall is also the author of fifteen books, including: The Dream Life of Jesus, Liturgies of the Earth, and The Way of the Earth.

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December 31

NEW YEAR’S EVE

TONIGHT WAS MY FIRST NIGHT at the Iron Skillet. I worked from 1:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. People flooded the restaurant like a torrent of water. Needless to say there were plenty of dishes to be done.

I am glad to have a job where I really know what I am doing and where I no longer have to perform in front of an audience—a class or congregation. I am also glad to have a wife that has a job that is enough to keep us afloat with my meager paycheck. Sam works in human resources for a health insurance company. Thank God that at least one of us has a real job. For the last twenty-plus years, I was the main breadwinner, with Sam supplementing our income. More than this, I was the person who was out in front of the people—the pastor, the minister, Rev. Dr. Thornbee. Now I am behind closed doors, doing my menial work away from the eyes of the public. I am hidden away like some dirty secret.

Sam has been a lifesaver through all of my trials and tribulations. She has stood by me for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health. She has always been willing to let me do whatever I had to do to keep my sanity. Thank God for Sam!

Tomorrow I will work early because we’re closing half day on New Year’s Day. I’m the new guy, and so I get the holidays. I don’t mind; I’m just glad to be out of the ministry. As a minister, I was supposedly in the business of washing people’s sins away in the waters of baptism. Not the stains of Original Sin but of unoriginal sins or, I should say, common sins—the common run-of-the-mill sins that litter our lives and make us feel guilty and unworthy. Now I wash dishes and silverware, pots and pans, and cups and saucers—and glasses that have been filled with the water of life—not to mention the occasional beer. Speaking of beer… listen to what was attributed to St. Brigid in the tenth century:

"I would like to have the men of Heaven in my own house; with vats of good cheer laid out for them.

I would like to have the three Marys, their fame is so great.

I would like people from every corner of Heaven.

I would like them to be cheerful in their drinking.

I would like to have Jesus sitting here among them.

I would like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.

I would like to be watching Heaven’s family drinking it through all eternity."

And now I am home, having a beer. A crock-pot of black-eyed peas is cooking, which is our tradition to eat on New Year’s Eve. We watched the fireworks on our television and ate our black-eyed peas when it struck midnight. And then a kiss before going off to bed. I have to work tomorrow morning, so I need to get a few hours of sleep. All is well, and all manner of things shall be well.

January 1

NEW YEAR’S DAY

WELL, TODAY IS NEW YEAR’S Day, a day to start over. It’s a time to make resolutions. I resolve today to be happy with the little that I have. We have a small apartment and a car that’s paid for. I live within walking distance of my work. My library of nearly 3,000 books is in storage. Will they ever see the light of day again? I don’t know. I don’t know what the future holds. I’ve got all of my books in trunks. They are stacked on pallets and covered in plastic tarps. They look like coffins filled with the dead. Many dead writers of the past are entombed in our storage unit. But I just couldn’t give them up. They represent over forty years of my spiritual journey. Perhaps some day, I will be ready to let them go…

So I worked half day at the Iron Skillet—it was a fairly light day. I walked home thinking about the turn my life had taken. It was my doing, and I have no one to blame, nor would I want to. Sometimes we have to make a change in order to be who we are and not what others expect us to be.

The word repentance brings up images of crying a river of tears—of sorrow for our sins. In English, it is related to penance—what we do to pay for our sins—and penitentiary—a place where you pay for your sins. In the Greek, however, the word that is translated as repentance in English is actually the word metanoia, which means to change your mind—to change your way of thinking. The challenge for me is to change my mind in terms of what is considered successful. Am I not successful because I am no longer a minister? Am I now a loser and a low life because I am a dishwasher? Our culture thinks of success in terms of how much money you make, and that is linked directly to your career—Are you a professional, do you have letters behind your name, or are you a common laborer, and what are your possessions? Do you own property, homes, pools, cars, clothes, and the latest various and sundry communication devices? If not, you are looked down upon in our society. And I will be looked down upon. But that’s okay with me. After all, Jesus was just a carpenter, and at least four of his disciples were just fishermen. Well, I’m just a dishwasher…

When I got home from work, we had a simple and quiet afternoon and evening. The Twilight Zone marathon was on, and that’s what we watched. I was always fond of the Twilight Zone—it, in fact, introduced me to the supernatural and paranormal world. It made me think differently about all that is. It made me think that things aren’t always the way they seem. When I got older, I actually went into the Twilight Zone on drugs. I smoked marijuana, took LSD and mescaline, and various other barbiturates and amphetamines. I was not a recreational user; I was a spiritual adventurer. I was a traveler in the Twilight Zone.

But that was long ago, and this is now. Now we are content to watch the Twilight Zone marathon and have a beer with chips and dip or a glass of wine and cheese. Contentment comes with having what you need and a few extras, and that is what Sam and I have here.

January 2

TODAY I WENT INTO WORK at noon and started in on the dishes. They came at a pretty steady pace. The bus boy would bring in load after load of dishes and I would just pace myself at a fairly even pace—like a marathon runner. Pace yourself steadily. In time, the side of my right hand was raw from scraping food off the plates with my hand, and by the end of the evening, my feet were wet from water that had splashed over during some intense periods of dishwashing, and so I had to walk home on what amounted to sponges.

One thing I notice as I work here is how much food is wasted. Perfectly good cuts of meat, untouched vegetables, and partially drunk drinks—it is indicative of what is going on everywhere across our nation. The harvest time comes each week for us. We go to the grocery store and pushed our carts; we go down the aisles harvesting our food for the week to come. In the meat section, there is a large selection—so large that a good share of it will never be bought. What becomes of this meat and the produce for that matter? The produce gets thrown out into dumpsters, and the unused meat represents the many lives of animals given in vain—they died for nothing!

Speaking of dying for nothing… in the restroom, someone wrote on the wall: I wish all the Christians would die for me! You’ve got to know where that’s coming from. Someone has been burned by Christians. He obviously doesn’t agree with them, and he probably thinks they’re all hypocrites. But even if a Christian died for us, it wouldn’t do anything for us. Each Christian’s death is only meaningful for them if they are dying for what they believe in. Otherwise, it’s just another waste of life. Now Christ, King of the Christians—is his dying something more? For me, from one perspective, the death of Jesus is an honorable example of someone dying for what they believe in. From another perspective, however, it is just another example of human cruelty. The powers want to snuff out the life of anyone that does not fit into their mold. But he said, My kingdom is not of this world. But it didn’t matter. The powers wanted him dead. When he did die, he died just for himself. He didn’t dive onto a grenade to save the lives of others. He didn’t put himself between a gunman and another. He just died for himself—for what he believed was the truth. Pilate had asked Jesus, What is truth? Pilate did not wait for an answer—because there is no answer other than fire is hot, and water is wet. So I do not infuse Jesus’s death with any redeeming power. The atonement happens when we come before each other and lay down our arms and whatever comes between us. We can only have at-one-ment with each other.

January 3

MY BOSS AT THE IRON Skillet, Jim Fell, is the restaurant manager. Jim looks like how I would picture Washington Irving’s Ichabod Crane to look. He is tall and slender, and because the upper part of his spine was fused, he can’t turn his head without turning his whole body. He wants work to be done quickly and efficiently, but he is never harsh or demeaning.

As I have come here over the years, I have never seen the actual owner. He seems to be a disembodied presence, made present in the person of Jim Fell, his earthly representation. It’s kind of the traditional understanding of the trinity without a Holy Spirit. There is the Father, and there is his earthly representative, the Son…

By the way, I don’t believe that God is a Father—that God is male. What defines a male are male body parts. I don’t think that God has a penis. What would he do with it? If God were perfect, he wouldn’t need to urinate because he would have no waste products. It doesn’t seem he fathered his son with a female spirit, using the aforementioned penis. In the Greek New Testament, the word for spirit is pneuma, which is neuter. In Greek, they have masculine, feminine, and neuter words. So instead of having a father, a mother, and a son, we’re left with a father, a neuter spirit, and a son. In actuality, both the father and the son might as well be neuter too, because neither of them seems to use their male parts. In my new career as a dishwasher, I don’t have to worry about having the right beliefs anymore. I can believe whatever I want, and no one can do a damn thing about it!

January 4

JESUS SOTO—OUR BUSBOY IS AN immigrant from Columbia. This is not the end of the road for him. He has great plans of owning his own restaurant one day. He speaks English very well and has a wife and two daughters. Jesus’s wife is from Columbia too, but their daughters were born here in the states.

Jesus and his wife came here as illegal aliens but worked for a number of years to get their citizenship. As it turned out, they finally succeeded. It is strange, being a former minister, working with someone who is named Jesus even if his name is pronounced Hey Zeus. Once I attended a lecture at the Claremont School of Theology in which a feminist theologian, Carol Christ (pronounced Krist), was the speaker. I thought to myself that if she gave birth to a son and named him Jesus, his name would be Jesus Christ although pronounced Hey Zeus Krist.

We have four waitresses: Maureen, Gail, Sandy, and Barbara. All of them couldn’t be sweeter. We usually have only two waitresses working at a time. The restaurant has two main sections, and there is also a banquet room where I have lunch with the local Ministerial Association. Normally, two of the waitresses cover the two main sections, and a third will cover the banquet room when there is a group meeting.

Sandy is so very giving—she would give you the shirt off her back. (I wouldn’t mind seeing that.) She is giving off her time and attention. Barbara seems so innocent that she borders on naivete. She is also so forgiving that she will trust you even after you let her down. Gail is a hard one to figure out. She doesn’t talk much about what she does after hours, but she is a hard worker who works well with whoever is on duty. Maureen is a bit unapproachable but fares well with the patrons nevertheless. We have another dishwasher named David who works when I am not working…

January 5

FIRST DAY OFF AFTER MY first week at the Iron Skillet! I spent the day with Zackary, my best friend in the area where we live. Zackary is just a few months younger than I am, though he has lived most of his life without having to work thanks to a well-invested inheritance. Zackary is gay and has a gay roommate who is nearly twenty years his senior. They have lived together for nearly twenty years and yet have never consummated their relationship. They have a platonic relationship, as Sam and I do.

When I was a minister, he would often go with me when I visited members who were shut-ins or in skilled nursing facilities or hospitals. He was my sidekick. We truly enjoyed each other’s company. Zackary is a writer; he is forever working on a gay romance novel that he just can’t seem to finish.

It is appalling to me, all the prejudice against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people. Religious bigots try to justify their hatred of those of other sexual orientations based on a handful of antiquated Bible verses, which are against homosexuality. All of them pick and choose scriptures to justify their prejudices while blatantly ignoring the scripture that they don’t agree with such as not eating foods such as pork and shellfish, considering women as unclean when they are on their periods, or that women can’t speak in the church, slavery, and polygamy, just to name a few. Sam didn’t have the day off, so Zackary and I had a nice day together watching movies in my house…

January 6

EPIPHANY

AS I WORKED TONIGHT, I thought about what Matthew Fox calls the four paths of Creation Spirituality. They are the via positiva, the via negativa, the via creativa, and the via transformativa. He holds these four paths in contrast to the three paths of medieval mysticism—that of purgation, illumination, and union. Matt holds that these three paths have been superseded by the four paths. The via positiva is the path of awe and wonder at the cosmos in all of its manifestations over the past 14 billion years. The via negative is the path of silence, darkness, and the dark night of the soul. The via creative is the path of creativity—of the artist in all of us. The via transformativa is the path of transformation of both self and society, and celebration. Whereas the three paths are linear, meaning you have to first purge yourself through asceticism for years before receiving illumination and then many more years before reaching union with God, the four paths are cyclical—we can walk all four paths in a day or be on one for an extended period of time.

I learned this and much more from Matthew Fox first through his books and then later in his doctoral program at the University of Creation Spirituality. It was a doctoral program in Oakland, California, that existed for only a few years, but it was a tremendous education. Creation spirituality has nothing to do with creationism as in creation versus evolution. Rather, it is a life affirming, creation affirming, spirituality that affirms the new creation story that is 14 billion years in the making.

The reason why I was thinking about the four paths as I worked tonight was because I was doing the four paths of dishwashing—that is, scrape, rinse, wash, and dry…

January 7

THE PROBLEM OF SUFFERING HAS really been bothering me lately. I agree with the Buddha’s noble truth of suffering—life is full of suffering, both physical and emotional. My problem, however, is why must it be this way? Yesterday, Sam and I were over to her son, Ed, and his family’s house. Our grandson was very upset when we came over. It turns out that this morning when he went out into their backyard to feed his rabbits, the female had given birth to at least two bunnies, which he found in pieces. Rabbits apparently sometimes eat their babies. Why? The violent and inhospitable nature of the world is most often explained by Christians in terms of The Fall. In philosophy of religion the problem of evil is set forth in the following equation:

If God is all-loving, God would not want us to suffer.

If God is all-powerful, God could prevent suffering.

But we suffer. Therefore, either God is not all-loving and, thus, does not care that we suffer, or God is not all-powerful and, thus, cannot prevent suffering. Because Christians want to preserve the idea that God is all-loving, they usually say that God voluntarily limits his/her power in order to allow for free choice. In this case, I can understand that if a smoker gets cancer, they may die as result of their own choice. But choice does not explain why there are natural disasters or why rabbits eat their babies. Even if humans made all of the right choices, there would still be a lot of suffering.

So Christians explain all of this suffering with the Fall: When the first humans made their fatal first choice, everything went to shit! I drive myself crazy speculating on why there is suffering. This is what I call double suffering—not only are you suffering from whatever is causing you to suffer, but you are suffering also over why there is suffering in the first place.

So the Christian idea of the Fall is speculation, so is the Buddhist idea of samsara (at least when it is coupled with the idea of reincarnation). Neither can be proven. All we can say is this world is full of suffering. We don’t know why; it just is—thus the noble truth of suffering. Now the question is, How do we deal with suffering? The Buddha’s answer comes in the form of the eightfold path, through which we are supposed to be able to transcend suffering, which is caused by desire, attachment, and the transitory nature of the world. My first problem with this is that though desire does cause suffering, desire is a part of who we are. To be without desires—without attachments—is to devolve—to become like a rock rather than a sentient being. My second problem is that I cannot see how following the eightfold path can bring the cessation of suffering. I can see that it would make one a better person, and if all people followed it, it would definitely make a better world. But I can’t see how it would stop all suffering. It would stop suffering that is caused by human activity, but natural disasters would still wreak havoc on the world: Bees would still sting us, and disease would still have its way with us. Do I have the answer? No… it seems that when it comes to suffering, all we can do is try to accept it as an unavoidable part of our world and try not to become pessimistic. I guess we need to learn to accept the world as it is—even the parts that we don’t like, just as we must accept people as they are—imperfections and all.

January 8

THIS AFTERNOON, I CAME INTO work to work from 1:00 p.m.-9:00 p.m. David, the other dishwasher, was just finishing up, taking off his apron and getting ready to leave. David is a nice guy, but there is something about his personality that just grates on me. He is narcissistic and lives as if the world revolves around him. He is quite a bit younger than I and is intellectually smart. But socially—wow, he just can’t seem to maintain a harmonious relationship with anyone. But here, we are together. I had the illusion that, once I got out of the ministry, I wouldn’t have to prove myself to anyone again. But here, I feel as if I have to show Jim Fell, the manager, that I am a better dishwasher than David. It seems you can never run away from your demons, for they follow you wherever you go. But at least I’m not having to perform in front of an audience. Oh, there is Maureen, Gail, Sandy, and Barbara… Maureen is standoffish—a joke with her goes nowhere. Gail keeps her cards close to her chest, and I can never tell what is on her mind. I guess it is just to do my job. Sandy and Barbara, however, are friendly; they laugh at my jokes and are not demeaning to me because I