Franciscan University Presents

“Faith and Human Work”

With guest, Dr. Deborah Savage
Excerpt from “The Eucharist and the Work of Human Hands”
A talk given by Dr. Deborah Savage
Archdiocesan Faith Formation Day
Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis
April 14, 2015

[John Paul II’s] argument begins with a fundamental distinction he makes between two
dimensions of human work. The first, the objective dimension, is that which results from
work in the external or material sense, either a product or a service, whether in the public
or the private sphere. This is the dimension we most associate with working. It is what
the customer buys, it is what we may or may not get paid to produce; it is the pizza or the
lecture we deliver, the meal our family eats, the (reasonably) clean house.

The second, the subjective dimension, and the primary concern of the encyclical, refers to
the person performing the work, that is, the “subject” of work, who, by virtue of his or
her very humanity, is called to be a person in the fullest sense of that word. The human
person, made in the image of God, reflects God’s creative activity in the act of working
and is “a person, that is to say, a subjective being capable of acting in a planned and
rational way, capable of deciding about himself and with a tendency to self-realization.”
Anyone here have children? Do you insist that they work? Why? Because you know that
unless they come to love it, they will never be happy. Every act of work especially when
I am learning something new is an act of self-transcendence.

So, the subjective dimension of human work is constituted by the fact that in working, the
person not only creates some object—a prayer service, a widget, a paper, a meal—but
also creates herself in the process. The Holy Father states: work “is not only good in the
sense that it is useful or something to enjoy; it is also good as being something worthy,
that is to say, something that corresponds to man’s dignity, that expresses this dignity and
increases it. If one wishes to define more clearly the ethical meaning of work, it is this
truth that one must particularly keep in mind. Work is a good thing for man—a good
thing for his humanity—because through work man not only transforms nature, adapting
it to his own needs, but he also achieves fulfillment as a human being and indeed in a
sense becomes ‘more a human being.’”

So—we become who we are through the work that we do and the actions we take in that
regard must serve to realize [our] humanity, to fulfill the calling to be a person that is
[ours] by reason of [our] very humanity. The value and dignity of work is not a function
of the kind of work being done but is to be attributed to the fact that the one who is
doing it is a person.

You know, in the natural law tradition, there is a recognition that we are already in debt
to our Creator for the gift of life. We are obligated by that debt to become the person he
had in mind when he created us. We are being told here that this takes place, in part,
through work. To consider this proposition is to realize the horror associated with
persistent unemployment, the real meaning of young men standing on street corners
because they can’t find a job and have stopped looking or even planning on it. It is in part
through the work that I do that I become whom I am meant to be . . .

Secondly, if it is the subjective dimension of work that gives it its dignity, then we are
obligated to question the bias that exists in our culture toward placing more importance
on the objective value of work than on its subjective dimension. This insight should do
away with the differentiation of people into classes according to the kind of work they do.
The working men and women who serve us in restaurants or collect the garbage lend as
much dignity to their work as those who occupy the more prestigious jobs in our
community. Public school teachers, insurance agents, are heroes equal to the Kevin
Garnetts or the CEO’s in our culture. Cleaning ladies and gardeners, child care workers
and parking lot attendees, possess as much dignity as those who hire them. I have heard it
said that the most insidious ism in our culture is not racism or sexism but classism. This
does not mean we cannot rate or quantify the value of work in its objective aspect; it does
mean we must remember that the primary basis of the value of work is man himself, who
is its subject.

John Paul says that only when the goal of work is man himself, only when he is reflecting
on his personhood as a conscious and free subject in making decisions about his work,
can he be said to be master of it. It is only in this context that the biblical meaning of
work is fulfilled, when throughout the process man manifests himself and confirms
himself as the one who “dominates.” It is not the goods of creation he is to have mastery
over; it is himself he is to have mastery over. But this is what constitutes the ethical
dimension of work—that the one who does it is a person, a conscious and free subject, on
his or her way to self-transcendence, to realizing, becoming that most excellent person
God had in mind when he created us.

The theological significance of work is found when we realize that through my work I
become who I am meant to be—or not.

And now, finally, we are ready to consider more fully the intersection between our work
and the Eucharist. Perhaps you have already considered—maybe even deeply
considered—the words the priest says during the Offertory: “Blessed are you Lord, God
of all Creation. Through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given
and human hands have made. It will become for us the bread of life.” This prayer reveals
a profound truth: that it is at the sacrifice on the altar where we join our work to the
sacrifice of Christ and participate in the Redemption of the world.

It may help if I back up and give a little historical perspective. During the Middle Ages,
the whole town of course was Catholic…the whole town came to Mass. Did you ever
consider where they got the bread and wine—before the days when someone was in
charge of manufacturing those little hosts? Tell the story.
Since our situation is a bit different, the meaning of this ritual is a bit obscured. Plus,
perhaps you go to a Church—as I do—in which instead of bringing the collection up at
the same time as the gifts, an usher scurries surreptitiously up the side aisle to hand it off,
somewhat ironically, to the closest Eucharistic minister who unobtrusively hands it off to
someone in the sacristy. While I understand it and don’t mean to be critical, this practice
has allowed our awareness of the relationship between the Eucharist and our own work to
dim. It is in the Eucharist that our work is offered to God. It is our work that joins with
Christ's sacrifice and is offered to the Father.

What is offered at Mass is our work— in the form of bread and wine. It is our work that
is transformed into the body and blood of Christ. We bring the fruits of our labor—our
monetary contribution—what John Paul would call the objective dimension of human
work - and that is added to the gifts that are offered at the altar. But there is a prior
reality to consider is there not? After all, it is via the subjective dimension of work that
the objective results of work is created. The value of work is found in the fact that the one
doing is a PERSON—and though it is true that in working I create things that can, quite
legitimately be traded and contributed and shared - in that process I ALSO in a sense,
create myself. And it is this inner work more than anything else, it is my being, my effort
to BECOME during the past week, that is offered. It is our work on OURSELVES that
becomes the sacrifice. What could be more clear? For this work is not just the money we
make, nor the objects we produce – what we learn from John Paul II is that it is ourselves,
our becoming, our own joining of ourselves to Christ on the Cross through the work that
we do.

But what is our work? Merely a means to make money, a job? A chance to excel, to be
famous, to have a career? Or, do we see it as a vocation, a place where we can put our
gifts to work in the service of the kingdom? A place where the call to holiness is sounded
every day - not just in a concern for properly organized prayer services or ethical
business practices - but every moment of the day. Do we remember that we are always in
the presence of God? Do we attend to his presence in the every day occurrences? Do we
notice the opportunity for small - or big - sacrifices?

The co-worker who needs help. The co-worker we can barely abide. The successful
colleague who, though we hate to admit it, we envy for their accomplishments. The
temptations to gossip and speak ill of others and the pleasure we get from that. The
parishioner or customer who asks us to go the extra mile. The boss who counts on us to
say yes. The husband or friend who needs us to keep a commitment to them, even if it
means saying no to an opportunity for glory or appearing really committed at work.
Waiting that extra split second to allow actual grace to keep me from reacting angrily to
my boss, my coworker, my husband.

I suddenly realized myself lately that I really don't know how to suffer, I don't want to
suffer, and I will never be able to join my suffering to Christ's if I don't find a way to
simply wait 10 seconds before I give in to my negative reactions. My husband says
something absolutely unintentionally that sets me off and I cut him exactly zero slack.
My boss brags one more time about that the paper he is publishing and I harbor
resentment toward him all day, trying to justify it by criticizing him for his boastfulness
and feeling sorry for myself because I deserve more credit for my work. When I really
don't. The examples can be multiplied indefinitely. No doubt you have some of your
own.

But what about the good examples? The days I stay late to finish a project that my team is
counting on me to do, when I'd really rather go home and play with Maddie or plop down
in front of the TV with a BIG glass of my favorite adult beverage. The alarm goes off
and I am really tired. But I get up anyway to get to work on time because I made a
commitment. Day after day I keep my commitment. I hold my tongue in a meeting. Or I
speak up in a meeting, risking my reputation or going outside of my own comfort zone
for the sake of the truth. Or, I give credit to a co-worker when it is just as easy to take
credit for something myself. I get home from work and the last thing I feel like doing is
making dinner for my family. But I do it and I do it with a smile (most days) because I
love them. Again, the examples can be multiplied indefinitely.

But all of these moments presented as ordinary and—on the surface—unimportant

moments are actually opportunities for sacrifice, opportunities to join my suffering to that
of Christ on the Cross. My problem is I am waiting for the big moment, I want to be a
martyr or something. My ego blinds me to the small way spoken of by St. Theresa of
Lisieux. The little way of small things done with love.

These are the things that I bring to the Mass, that are incorporated into the symbol of the
gifts brought to the altar. I join myself with those gifts in every small sacrifice I make
throughout the week. If I have made no sacrifice, not just in giving up something but in
giving something of myself to my work, what do I bring to the celebration? Where am I
in the sacrifice of the Mass?

I have found it helpful to think of the Cross as representing the intersection of time and
eternity. . . . This is relevant whether I am at a meeting at work, at home making dinner,
or receiving Communion. Where am I? Christ comes to me here. Am I there to greet
him? To receive him?

In the eyes of Our Church, every moment is potentially a Eucharistic moment. The whole
of creation embodies the sacramental principle because wherever we are—it is in God
that we live and move and have our being. There is nowhere, not the public arena, not the
workplace, not the home, not the school, not the Boundary Waters and all points in
between—where God does not reign. And as Brother Lawrence so beautifully said so
many years ago—we are called to practice the presence of God, whether that be cleaning
a toilet, diapering a baby, cleaning out the garage, or giving a talk. We bring these little
moments of sacrifice to the Eucharist, they are transformed, and they are returned to us as
the Body and Blood of Christ—the Bread of Life, without whose sustenance, we cannot
have eternal life.
We go to Mass to worship, to offer our sacrifice, and to be renewed so that we can
remember that our work in our lives must be ordered toward, not only our own salvation,
but the salvation of all. Our work must be ordered toward this, wherever it takes place.