Domestic chores — a symbol of life

Housework, for many women (and a growing number of men in this postmodern world) is such an essential part of life that it is surprising more sermons don’t focus on it.

I don’t mean the kind that say, “Unless your house is spotless you’re failing in your Christian duty.” Such attitudes only promote guilt among less-than-perfect performers.

Unfortunately, housework is something on which others judge you based on what they see, rather than how much you do, and certainly than on how much you can do. And what people see in me is an apparently able-bodied woman maintaining an untidy house with lots of unfinished (even unstarted!) tasks.

Consequently, I get comments like, “You realise that the state of your house is a poor witness to others, don’t you?”

Yet it’s not only others who judge me — I judge myself, all the time. The fact that what I can achieve is subject to my physical limitations holds no comfort for this self-confessed perfectionist. I live with a level of achievement constantly significantly lower than my ideal.

For some, housework is a career choice, a deliberate embracing of the role of home-maker within the family. For others it is a stage along the way, a hiatus in an otherwise career-oriented life.

For yet others it is merely tasks that must be juggled around a satisfying career.

For me, permanently unable to take on work outside the home, it is neither a career choice nor richly satisfying. Yet as a single mother it is unavoidable.

And so the duty that takes up a large portion of my small store of energy is neither my inclination nor within my capabilities; nor can I devote to it all the energy that it requires, else I have nothing left for any other activities, including mothering.

Is this a spiritual issue? I believe it is, not least because perceived failure in such a fundamental aspect of life strikes at the heart of one’s identity and, by extension, one’s spiritual life.

Giving to others — the essence of love — happens most effectively in an atmosphere of freedom, not criticism. Guilt is constricting. And, like the rest of our faith walk, focusing on what we don’t achieve rather than what we do achieve is destructive.

Yet the expectations of others, and the judgment they pass on us when we fail to live up to accepted standards, foster our sense of guilt.

And many of the biblical models are little comfort: the woman of Proverbs 31:10-29 is too energetic for me to copy, Mary and Martha carry a lesson in priorities that doesn’t provide an answer for someone for whom doing other things means being unable to do the housework, and the injunctions about keeping one’s house in order merely set an unattainable standard.

So what is the answer for those of us compelled by circumstances to do a job that we both dislike and cannot complete? Somehow we must find a spiritual component in the actual doing of it or gradually lose faith in our own worth.

I have discovered a symbolism in the cleaning and tidying — an outer reality that somehow parallels my inner state. The mechanical nature of the tasks facilitates a meditative mindset, and doing housework has become a time when I can reflect on my life and my activities, what I do and what I’d like to do, who I am and who I’d like to be.

And when all that I can do is done, I remember the widow’s mite. What she offered, ostensibly so small as to be almost worthless, was actually a great portion of what she had to offer, and it was valued accordingly.

But, in my heart, I also keep returning to the thought of the woman with the lost coin. She had to pick up a broom and sweep in order to find it. Was it because the corners into which the coin may have rolled desperately needed sweeping anyway?

I’d like to think so, because I can identify with that.

Clare Pascoe Henderson, a single mother studying the history of gender dynamics in religion, is permanently disabled due to CFS.