Several weeks ago, a picture of a man working at Trader Joe’s went viral. At first glance, it was hard to tell what was worthy of note in the picture—a man simply standing near a cash register. It turns out, the picture went viral not because of what the man was doing, but because of who he was: Geoffrey Owens, who played Elvin Tibideaux in the Cosby Show. Once the picture brought Owens back into the spotlight, he addressed the phenomenon on Good Morning America:
“This business of my being this ‘Cosby’ guy who got shamed for working at Trader Joe’s, that’s going to pass. … But I hope what doesn’t pass is this idea … this rethinking about what it means to work, the honor of the working person and the dignity of work…There is no job that’s better than another job. It might pay better, it might have better benefits, it might look better on a resume and on paper, but actually it’s not better. Every job is worthwhile and valuable, and if we have a kind of a rethinking about that because of what’s happened to me, that would be great.”
Is Every Job Sacred?
I’m not sure anyone who heard Owens’ remarks doubted that they were beautiful; the question is, are they true? Is every job really worthwhile and valuable? Is there something about the nature of working itself that carries with it inherent meaning and dignity? To answer that question, it might be helpful to back up a little and ask, “Where does the idea that all work is sacred come from?” Cambridge professor Owen Chadwick points to the 16th Century:
“The Reformation made all secular life into a vocation of God. It was like the baptism of the secular world. It refused any longer to regard the specially religious calling of a priest or monk as higher in moral scale than the calling of a cobbler or of a prince. Christian energy was turned away from the still and the contemplative towards action. The man who would leave the world turned into the man who would change it.”
Anyone familiar with Martin Luther will be sympathetic to his portrait of the Reformation. It was Luther, after all, who claimed that the milkmaid’s milking was a service to God just as the preacher’s preaching was a service to God. Of course, this only kicks the ball down the road; we’re left now asking of the Reformers the same question we were asking of Owens, namely: why is it that every job is sacred? To answer that, we have to back up even further, as far as one can back up, in fact—to the creation of the world.
In Genesis 1:1-2:1 we’re given an order to creation: day 1, night and day; day 2, the sky and sea; day 3, land and vegetation; day 4, the sun and the moon; day 5, sea creatures and birds; day 6, animals and humans, and on day 7, God rests. At first glance, this ordering seems strictly historical: Moses lists the creatures in the order in which they were created. On a deeper reading, which by no means necessarily negates the first reading, Moses is giving an order to creation that goes beyond the history of reality and touches on the teleology of reality.
Let me explain: days 1-3 are spheres, days 4-6 are corresponding sovereigns—night and day (day 1) are “governed” by the sun and moon (day 4), the sky and the sea (day 2) are governed by birds and fish (day 5), and land and vegetation (day 3) are governed by animals and, most importantly, mankind (day 6).
It’s by examining this passage that we can finally understand the inherent dignity of work. It’s here that we see (1) God rules over all and (2) he rules through us. (more…)
