On Holy Labor

The coming of Labor Day marks the end of summer and the beginning of fall—not just for students and parents, but also for senior adults. In old-school Massachusetts tradition, it’s the time to put away your light-colored suits, sequester your gin and tonic water to the cabinet, and return to browns, blues, blacks—and Scotch. There is a rhythm to the year that we often observe even in retirement.

At the church where I serve as Theologian in Residence, Labor Day brings a pool party at a member’s home, and just a week later it’s Rally Day or Back to School Sunday. The pace quickens a bit. Although my wife Kate and I are heading to Ireland in September, it can still feel like we need to go back to work even if we don’t have to. We want to start a new project, enroll in a new class, or explore novel ways of resisting the powers that be.

Retirement can be a time of holy labor, whether we receive compensation or not. Few of us want to rust out. We hope to keep doing the things we love for as long possible, making a difference in our communities and the world. While we may not have to live between Sunday and Sunday as we once did—or have a regular schedule of hospital visits, pastoral calls, sermons, and church meetings—we still want to labor in a holy way. Like Brother Lawrence, we want to practice the presence of God, using our gifts and even discovering some new ones for self-enrichment, service, or just plain fun. Along the way, we discover that rest and retreat are holy too.

I still find joy in the activities that gave me pleasure during my working life. These include teaching, preaching, and writing, and I continue to labor at these every day. I try to avoid administration, budgets, and personnel matters, though I do mentor a few seminarians and newly minted ministers. To keep my life spacious, I place flexible limits even on these holy labors, doing my best to complete all my “work” by noon so I can reserve the rest of the day for serendipity, time with my wife, lunches out, and grandparenting. It’s amazing how much good work you can do in just a few hours. 

The rhythm of work and rest is built into creation and reflects God’s own rhythm of action and retreat. Mysticism describes zimzum as God’s gentle withdrawal that makes room for creaturely creativity. The same applies to our retirement: laboring, resting, involvement, and retreat not only rejuvenate our bodies, minds, and spirits, but also allow others to take on responsibilities that once belonged to us.

With the coming of fall, let your labor be holy and prayerful. Let it be filled with joy and stay mindful of the importance of simple retreats throughout the week. You won’t rust out. In fact, given the wisdom of the years, you may achieve greater things with less effort as your creativity joins that of others—redeeming the troubles of our time and bringing joy to both children and adults in your holy labor.