Who’s That New Person in Our Midst?

By Brother Luke

Lessons in humility come in many different packages.  Physical diminishment that comes with aging will impose itself on us, and we know that to accept this reality peacefully is a sign of humility as a willingness to be open to what God has placed before us. By responding this way, we recognize and acknowledge an essential element of our human nature. This is a far cry from the images of humility that spring from manufactured practices of self-abasement and abuse we humans dream up. They may be well intentioned, but they are not from God. But other areas of our life that challenge us can creep up on us without our being fully aware of what is happening. The good news is that humility is about growth. It’s about embracing new realities. It can open up possibilities for reaching for new horizons that we otherwise think might be unattainable or unimaginable. Humility engages us even when we do not realize it.

When New Skete was founded, back in the 1960s, the brothers were in their 20s and excited about the new life they had embarked on. No challenge was too great. They had no place to live, so they found temporary lodging in Pennsylvania while they looked for a permanent home. A first stop in Shushan, New York, gave them opportunities to learn about renovating an existing residence. Of course they got help and advice from neighbors, but they did the work themselves. When that location didn’t work out, they moved to a new property on Two Top Mountain in neighboring White Creek, New York. Then the issue was not renovation, but building from scratch. No problem. They got books about all aspects of construction, and they drafted their own architectural plans for residences, workshops, and a chapel. Again, they got help from neighbors, but they did the work themselves: carting all the tools and materials up the dirt road to the work site, making cement frames and then pouring the cement, hammering nails, dipping cedar shingles. You name it, they did it. They tried farming, also worked on neighbor’s farms, hired on as construction workers to build a local motel, built the first monastery for the Nuns of New Skete, created businesses in food production and dog breeding and training. They translated texts for religious services and wrote new music. No project was too formidable. And by doing all these things, they developed a sense of self-reliance. Of course they needed help, and many good people made donations to support the work of the monastery. But there was always that sense that New Skete took care of itself and helped others.

As time went on, the brothers discovered that they did not have time to do all the maintenance work, so outside contractors were hired for specific jobs. Even so, this was limited, and the brothers still did all the work in the businesses and shops, managed the financial books, mowed the lawns, and ran a growing mail order business. I entered this picture in 1995.

By the turn of the new century we began to realize that we really could not manage everything by ourselves, so we started to look for help that went beyond occasional contractors. Now we had to think about employees. This was new, and we needed to learn all about issues we had never dealt with before. Hiring an employee was not the same as hiring a contractor. Now we had salaries, taxes, benefits, supervising employees. And we couldn’t treat employees like brothers. We had long discussions in our house about hiring employees and how to interact with them. We needed help in learning how boundaries with employees were different from between brothers. Who is that new person in our midst who is not a monastic but is with us daily? How are we supposed to treat that person? When we were self-sufficient, none of these issues even came up. Now we could no longer avoid them.

Not every new person was an employee; we still hired lawyers and accountants as needed. Roofing work was on contract. So was snow plowing and road maintenance. Even the first employees were treated like independent contractors. We started with a house cleaner, a cook, and a clerk for our gift shop.  But we soon realized we needed help managing our books. Then we realized we needed more than occasional help with our computer system. We also hired on contract a person to help with development. Things just kept growing. We hired a consulting firm to help us steer through the growing issue of managing our businesses and staff.  The consultants made a valiant effort to structure a new approach to our work, especially with dogs. Through their efforts we learned how to advertise and then interview for new hires, and we welcomed into our community new full-time employees for marketing and communications, advancement and stewardship, and a financial officer with bookkeeping and accounting skills. We also had to hire a full-time maintenance man. We had full-time staff in dog training and at the puppy kennel. In the end we finally reached a plateau where staff costs exceeded income, and we knew we had to cut back.  Hiring is one challenge, but letting people go was an even greater challenge: one that is never easy, and shouldn’t be. The life the brothers had chosen back in the 1960s had moved from simplicity to complexity.

So the lesson in humility that we received from venturing into the world of employees and management structures was all about embracing the help we needed and letting go of the initial ideal of self-reliance. But maybe this is exactly where God has been leading us all along. Self-reliance can be a disguise for denying or avoiding the reality that we need to rely on God. If what we are striving for in our monastic life is worthy of God and others, we need to recognize and accept that God and others as the arms of God are all necessary parts of this monastic life. It is humbling to face that reality, but liberating to embrace it.