On Work
On Work
One of my French students, when I taught literature in France, remarks that the word for work (travail) derived from the Latin word for torture. This rather cheeky, if accurate remark conveys an alienation that many of us feel from the toil and burden of the day. Likewise, another young student, who wished to have a financially successful career, regretted the sad fact of the necessity of work. He wanted the money without the work; he wanted to be Blackadder's Comte de Frou-Frou, who wanted other people to work and to give him the money.
In most lives, we cannot and we would probably not want to be work-free. We must, in the telling phrase, earn a living and keep a roof over our heads. Indeed, few people who are blessed with prosperous idleness really pursue lives of pure leisure; the time may be given to the gym, or to full-time "Youtubing", or even gaming (which is now a potential full-time job). Even the idlers must fill the hours of the day. Work, then, is in some senses a real necessity, even if the more fortunate generally prefer a creative outlet for their energies.
Why must we work? In a materially prosperous world in which spirituality is a marginal, private matter, our energies must have an outlet and the vast majority of us prefer a structured approach to work in the company of others. The purpose and structure it provides are doubtless beneficial and, if our society has one shared moral, it is that those who can work should work, or provide for themselves otherwise. It confers dignity and legitimacy in the public realm; how many penniless, unemployed young men marry successfully?
For work to prove as enriching as it might, it must serve the harmony of life we seek in a happy life. That does not mean that it is always, or even often easy, but it should be far more than bearable. Some forms of work that are arduous but financially rewarding might be borne for a short period of time, in the service of a greater goal or mere need, but, ideally, one's work should be fulfilling. An acid test might be whether one would be willing to continue it until the natural waning of strength makes it unbearable. It is hard to say much on specifics.
Another, perhaps thornier problem is when work becomes too dominant in one's life. The great blessings and pleasure that work can bring can lead us to become work-men, creatures dedicated single-mindedly to work. Why is this a problem? In the short-term, it might not feel a problem at all; praise, promotion and pay are all goods, but they are goods subordinate to the search for felicity. After we have borne the burden of the day, if all our thought is of work and its rewards a further encumbrance, we have, likely unwittingly, erred; it is easy to serve the future too much.
Work, then, is rarely an end in itself. Yet the temptation is that it becomes such, transforming itself into an idle to which we dedicate too much of our lives. What real worth is there in the praise of a superior, if he means only to gratify his own desire for money? Many of the disorders of our day come from an unhealthy relationship with work, whether its absence or too great a devotion to it. What profits it a man to gain the world and to lose his eternal soul? to quote the Jew. Work should thus be treated as an old acquaintance, valued and even, at times, loved, but always kept firmly in its place and not allowed to run amok.
One of my French students, when I taught literature in France, remarks that the word for work (travail) derived from the Latin word for torture. This rather cheeky, if accurate remark conveys an alienation that many of us feel from the toil and burden of the day. Likewise, another young student, who wished to have a financially successful career, regretted the sad fact of the necessity of work. He wanted the money without the work; he wanted to be Blackadder's Comte de Frou-Frou, who wanted other people to work and to give him the money.
In most lives, we cannot and we would probably not want to be work-free. We must, in the telling phrase, earn a living and keep a roof over our heads. Indeed, few people who are blessed with prosperous idleness really pursue lives of pure leisure; the time may be given to the gym, or to full-time "Youtubing", or even gaming (which is now a potential full-time job). Even the idlers must fill the hours of the day. Work, then, is in some senses a real necessity, even if the more fortunate generally prefer a creative outlet for their energies.
Why must we work? In a materially prosperous world in which spirituality is a marginal, private matter, our energies must have an outlet and the vast majority of us prefer a structured approach to work in the company of others. The purpose and structure it provides are doubtless beneficial and, if our society has one shared moral, it is that those who can work should work, or provide for themselves otherwise. It confers dignity and legitimacy in the public realm; how many penniless, unemployed young men marry successfully?
For work to prove as enriching as it might, it must serve the harmony of life we seek in a happy life. That does not mean that it is always, or even often easy, but it should be far more than bearable. Some forms of work that are arduous but financially rewarding might be borne for a short period of time, in the service of a greater goal or mere need, but, ideally, one's work should be fulfilling. An acid test might be whether one would be willing to continue it until the natural waning of strength makes it unbearable. It is hard to say much on specifics.
Another, perhaps thornier problem is when work becomes too dominant in one's life. The great blessings and pleasure that work can bring can lead us to become work-men, creatures dedicated single-mindedly to work. Why is this a problem? In the short-term, it might not feel a problem at all; praise, promotion and pay are all goods, but they are goods subordinate to the search for felicity. After we have borne the burden of the day, if all our thought is of work and its rewards a further encumbrance, we have, likely unwittingly, erred; it is easy to serve the future too much.
Work, then, is rarely an end in itself. Yet the temptation is that it becomes such, transforming itself into an idle to which we dedicate too much of our lives. What real worth is there in the praise of a superior, if he means only to gratify his own desire for money? Many of the disorders of our day come from an unhealthy relationship with work, whether its absence or too great a devotion to it. What profits it a man to gain the world and to lose his eternal soul? to quote the Jew. Work should thus be treated as an old acquaintance, valued and even, at times, loved, but always kept firmly in its place and not allowed to run amok.
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