Since When Did Work Become So Important?

Is work a calling or a necessity? Rewarding, or part of God's curse after the fall? Is your work ethic a reflection of your faith, or is it every bit as much a product of your time?


The following are some highlights from a 1992 paper titled "The Historical Context of Work Ethic" by Roger Hill, a professor in the Education department at the University of Georgia.

Traditional Judeo-Christian beliefs state that sometime after the dawn of creation, man was placed in the Garden of Eden "to work it and take care of it" (NIV, 1973, Genesis 2:15). What was likely an ideal work situation was disrupted when sin entered the world and humans were ejected from the Garden. Genesis 3:19 described the human plight from that time on. "By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return" (NIV, 1973). Rose stated that the Hebrew belief system viewed work as a "curse devised by God explicitly to punish the disobedience and ingratitude of Adam and Eve". Numerous scriptures from the Old Testament in fact supported work, not from the stance that there was any joy in it, but from the premise that it was necessary to prevent poverty and destitution (NIV; 1973; Proverbs 10:14, Proverbs 13:4, Proverbs 14:23, Proverbs 20:13, Ecclesiastes 9:10).

While this directs our attention to the way the fall has affected our work, I think this summary falls short because it risks confusion between the value of work in and of itself and the work we have to do to survive. Hill doesn't really talk about New Testament views on work, so I'll skip ahead to his summary of the origins of the famous Protestant work ethic:

The norms regarding work which developed out of the Protestant Reformation, based on the combined theological teachings of Luther and Calvin, encouraged work in a chosen occupation with an attitude of service to God, viewed work as a calling and avoided placing greater spiritual dignity on one job than another, approved of working diligently to achieve maximum profits, required reinvestment of profits back into one's business, allowed a person to change from the craft or profession of his father, and associated success in one's work with the likelihood of being one of God's Elect.

This high value placed on work apparently led many Protestants to judge the unemployed in the 1500's:

European cities acted to alleviate the problems of unemployment and begging on the streets by passing laws which prohibited begging. The general perception of the time was that work was available for those who wanted to work, and that beggars and vagrants were just lazy. The reality was that the movement of people into the cities far exceeded the capacity of the urban areas to provide jobs. The theological premise that work was a necessary penance for original sin caused increased prejudice toward those without work. Bernstein (1988) suggested that a fundamental misunderstanding of the economic realities facing the poor contributed to the theological development of the Protestant ethic. 

I suspect we were likely to pass similar judgments on welfare recipients and the unemployed before the recent recession, but that things may be changing in that regard.

The American colonists took their work ethic seriously:

When significant numbers of Europeans began to visit the new world in the early 1800's, they were amazed with the extent of the transformation. Visitors to the northern states were particularly impressed by the industrious pace. They often complained about the lack of opportunities for amusement, and they were perplexed by the lack of a social strata dedicated to a life of leisure.

(Also, we're mystified by France's 35-hour work week.)

Work in preindustrial America was not incessant, however. The work of agriculture was seasonal, hectic during planting and harvesting but more relaxed during the winter months. Even in workshops and stores, the pace was not constant. Changing demands due to the seasons, varied availability of materials, and poor transportation and communication contributed to interruptions in the steadiness of work. The work ethic of this era did not demand the ceaseless regularity which came with the age of machines, but supported sincere dedication to accomplish those tasks a person might have before them. The work ethic "was not a certain rate of business but a way of thinking". 

The industrial revolution changed work drastically, as factory work was not tied to seasonal changes, it required machine-like discipline and long hours, and the notion of work as a calling became foreign to the working classes, along with having control over one's destiny.

And then we come to the information age, and a concept of work ethic that resonates with me:

As high-discretion, information age jobs provided opportunities for greater self-expression by workers, people began to find more self-fulfillment in their work. Yankelovich and Harmon (1988) reported that a significant transformation in the meaning of the work ethic resulted. Throughout history, work had been associated with pain, sacrifice, and drudgery. The previously mentioned Greek word for work, ponos, also meant "pain." For the Hebrews as well as for the medieval Christians, the unpleasantness of work was associated with Divine punishment for man's sin. The Protestant ethic maintained that work was a sacrifice that demonstrated moral worthiness, and it stressed the importance of postponed gratification. With the information age, however, came work which was perceived as good and rewarding in itself. Most workers were satisfied with their work and wanted to be successful in it.

I research, write, and teach philosophy, and I believe that my work is rewarding in itself. I hope that my students are better off for their time in my classes, and that they go on to find a vocation that is God-honoring and rewarding. I would like to think that my work ethic is grounded in a well-thought-out Christian worldview. But I'm coming to suspect that it's a product of my time as much as my faith.