The Holy Spirit refreshes our memory of the Son’s revelation of the Father: “My Father is always at work.” This, along with the promise of Christ, “You will do greater works than these,” is revolutionary in that it reminds us the necessity of work in man’s life. The Church in the last century was reminded of the great value of work not simply because there were instances of injustice against the worker and she needed to correct the world, but because she has seen a glimpse of God’s tenderness from her saints. Who would have thought that simple works of love from a nun in France would revolutionize the way people see reality? Who would have thought that something great can happen from the streets of Calcutta? These two great women, St. Therese and Mother Teresa, has reminded the Church and the world that contemplation and action are not separate, that contemplation strengthens work and work purifies our prayer. Especially in this moment in history, the Church is reminded again of another great figure, St. Benedict. Even in barbaric times, God does not fail to love. These saints are not simply models of faith that we try to follow and imitate. Without them, and this is where we understand the nature of a saint, we would not know Christ.
Obedience
The saints reveal to us that a Christian is not defined by what he does or what he imposes on reality. A Christian is defined by God’s faithfulness to him. He is defined by love just as the Father’s love for Christ defines Him as “Son.” God’s faithfulness is not something abstract. He shows His faithfulness in events: liberation of Israel from exile, giving the laws, choosing King David, etc. Most of all, His faithfulness has the form of friendship; in Christ, He calls us friends. This faithfulness is prior to any type of work. His faithfulness, His claim upon us, provokes us. “Where are you?” “What are you looking for?” Even before the coming of Christ, God has made a claim on us. Even when we were in sin, He called us: “Where are you?” This question, the question God asked Adam, speaks to us today: what have you done? Like Adam, we are hidden in the bushes, closing our hearts before God and the world. What really have we done? The answer the modern world gives is her success: technology, progress, science, etc. Yet, even she can see the insufficiency of her success. The poor are still suffering, there is still injustice, and she cannot get away from the necessity of death. The meaning of work, then, is not in our hands. It is in the obedience of God to Himself, the obedience to love.
If work has meaning, it must be a response to God’s faithfulness to us. We alone cannot define the meaning of our work. The tough economic situation we are facing now reveals to us that the value of work is not in our hands. We may give our best performance but fall short of the standard of the people we work for. The only standard that must define us is the memory of Christ’s tenderness in our lives. Obedience to Christ is obedience to our experiences of His tenderness. Because we have experienced Christ, we can no longer go to work as if nothing happened two thousand years ago. At work, we are never alone: Emmanuel. To respond to His claim upon us with thanksgiving and passion is what makes our work a participation in the new creation.
Poverty
An essential principle of work is the Ignatian principle of indifference. It is neither complacency nor the denial of God’s claim towards us. It is clearly the opposite: it is one’s availability to God’s tenderness. It is precisely this method which allows a person, even in a crippling situation like slavery, to love. Poverty is not the absence of riches but the freedom to see Christ in all things. It is what takes away the temptation of being consumed by one’s work. A Christian with a poor spirit would freely accept a C.E.O. offer because he knows that his success does not come from his effort but a gift that comes from above.
The value of work can only be recognized when one has been educated in freedom, in adhering to the gift that surprises and awakens one’s wonder in front of reality. Without this wonder, without the memory that safeguards wonder, life becomes reactionary or an aesthetic idea. Circumstances will determine one’s response and our heart will not be present in the work. Freedom, on the other hand, is being satisfied by the work that has been given not because the circumstance calls it, but because the circumstance is the familiar beckoning of Christ in our history. Even when the happy emotions one has experienced when he experienced Christ for the first time has left him, the question remains in his heart: is Christ sufficient?
Virginity
God created the world and saw it was good. One can look at one’s work and possess it not simply because it comes from his toil, but because he understands that this is the participation of God’s self-giving. It is similar to a person on top of a mountain and having a silent joy in his heart. How else can he possess such a beauty? This is virginity. It is not simply abstinence from sex, but the contemplative attitude that penetrates into the depth of things.
To embrace the toil, the mistakes, the beautiful—this is virginity. It is looking at the world the way God does. God is embracing the cosmos in its totality and never distances Himself from it; His transcendence does not take away His immanence. The virgin transcends all things, people and his work, while at the same time never separating himself from it. In fact, it is precisely this transcendence, this space, which allows him to be satisfied in his work.
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