“They shall not labor in vain.” — Isaiah 65:23
I had a friend who sold everything and moved to another state to build his dream house. Over the next three years, his life was focused on meticulously attending to every detail. Very shortly after the home was done, a family emergency required him to move out of state. Tragically, he never was able to enjoy the beautiful home he built.
There is an incredible variety of kinds of work—from farming, to finance, to the fitness industry. But one thing all work has in common is the fruit we seek to gain from our labor.
In Greek mythology, Sisyphus is a character forced to roll a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll down every time he nears the top. I’ve often thought the point of the myth was the pain of laborious repetition. But I’ve reconsidered that. Doesn’t all work involve repetition and physical or mental effort? It seems the real punishment for Sisyphus was that he was forever unable to experience the fruit of his labor. And like Sisyphus, when our work does not produce the desired fruit—be it a completed painting, a healed patient, or simply a solid paycheck—despair sets in.
“Advent not only holds the promise of “joy to the world,” but also “joy to the worker.””
French existentialist Albert Camus was also drawn to the Sisyphus myth. In, “The Myth of Sisyphus,” Camus argued that since death is going to eventually erase our work (either in the short or long run) we are all living a Sisyphusian life. However, rather than despair, Camus charges us to embrace the absurdity of our lives. We must continue to roll life’s stones “because it is and we are.”
Embracing the absurdity of ultimately meaningless work might make do for celebrated existentialist philosophers, but it is cold comfort to those who labor in obscurity—to say nothing of laborers (in both developing and developed nations) who struggle to find fruit in their labor.
But what does Camus have to do with Christmas?
In two of Isaiah’s prophecies of the coming messiah, Isaiah talks about the long-awaited “Root of David” creating a new world where “the wolf and the lamb will feed together” (Isaiah 11:1-9, Isaiah 65:17-25). But he doesn’t stop there. Isaiah adds to this vision of incredible harmony among God’s creatures another incredible harmony. Isaiah writes:
They will build houses and dwell in them;
they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
They shall not build and another inhabit;
they shall not plant and another eat;
For like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,
and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
They shall not labor in vain. — Isaiah 65:21-23
For Isaiah, Christ came not only to restore the wolf and the lamb, but also the worker and their labor. In other words, Advent not only holds the promise of “joy to the world,” but also “joy to the worker.”
We long for our work to be fruitful, both in the immediate sense and in the enduring sense. And yet, in this life, our labor is not always fruitful and at times feels utterly meaningless. Even so, because “the seed of David” has come we have a twofold help.
First, we can be comforted by the fact that God is already on the move, and that one day our work will be restored to the full weight of fruitfulness. (Could it be that this reconciliation might be as equally shocking as that between animals typically at odds?!) Even more, we can rejoice. Christmas means (sorry Camus) our work is never meaningless; for if the eternal God came in the person of Jesus Christ to redeem work, work is forever imbibed with the weight of cosmic history.
“Tidings of comfort and joy!”
Robert Covolo is a Cultural Theologian and Author of Fashion Theology. He is also on staff here at the Center for Faith + Work Los Angeles, serving as our Director of Vocational Discipleship.