In English folk tradition today, the first Monday after Epiphany, is called ‘Plough Monday’. It is traditionally the day when work begins after the midwinter revels, and when the tools of one’s trade are blessed by the local priest. The blessing of the tools may be seen as a kind of prayer for success and prosperity in one’s work, but I believe it is far more than that. It is a reminder that our work is holy.
The way we spend our productive hours; the way we support ourselves and our families, represent a great deal of the way we spend our time and energy. And our work – no matter what it is – always has an impact on many others. There is no such thing as work that is disconnected from others. The solitary sheep farmer, working alone on a huge ranch, affects the welfare of the animals they work with, the land they take care of, and those who wear or eat the wool or mutton they produce.
And so because all work is connected to others, all work is part of the great symphony of human life. With our work — and our approach to the people we affect through it — we can either build that symphony into something more beautiful and transcendent, or we can frustrate and diminish it, whether through malice or lack of skill.
In short, work is holy. This – and not a superstitious desire for wealth – is what led medieval farmers to church on Plough Monday for the blessing of the tools. And what leads Buddhists to consider Right Livelihood one of the essential aspects of a virtuous life. As scientists we have the tremendous privilege to spend our time and earn a living working out what makes the world tick, and when things are going well, it is easy to feel as if our work is a kind of worship, albeit a secular one.
But the path of science does not always run smoth. Last year I got caught up in a frantic rush of supervision, deeply challenging experiments, unreliable lab instruments and intractable data sets, all while racing against the clock of the PhD process. By the time I went on vacation I was quite far from a mindful awareness of the holiness of work. This blog, among other things, suffered.
Each year, however, we are given an opportunity to rest and rejuvenate. And each year we get to reflect and reorient ourselves in our working lives.
This year, as I return to work this Plough Monday, I shall begin by blessing my tools and instruments — my pipettes, glassware and analytical instruments, my plants and the soil and greenhouses they grow in. Because that will make the reminder explicit. My work is not just for me. It is for you, for all of us, and the the Eternal Mystery that permeates this world we study.
Go forth, my friends, and measure the world with love and kindness!