Dear Busybodies, 

Labor Day—that last gasp of summer as we slip our summer whites into storage and prepare for the seasonal responsibilities of harvest. A day for workers to set aside the drudgery of Mondays for one fleeting glimpse of how life could always be had we been born into the luxury of the leisure class. Except these days we no longer mark success as freedom from responsibility, but rather prove our worth by a flurry of perpetual busyness.

Imagine Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos lingering over one more game of croquet on the lawn while sipping lemonade. Or Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg touring aimlessly down a coastal highway, windblown with the convertible top down, regaling each other with another limerick about the freedom to do anything they want. No, today’s scions of wealth prove their success by having calendars jam-packed with important things that must be done. One is wanted, needed, valued, worthy when one will not, may not, cannot, dare not stop.

When Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden, the curse for them both was labor, Eve in the bringing forth of children and Adam by the sweat of his brow to grow and reap food. Proof of their Edenic failure was their loss of leisure. Yes, they were busy in the garden, but once sin entered the picture, previous activities, joyful and free, were now arduous labor. It strikes me as ironic that we prove our worth by packing our calendars with important things to do, tick-marks on checklists confirming our allegiance to the curse. We become contemptuous of those who take time to relax or sit and do nothing—they should feel guilt for their failure to be productive—when work itself was evidence of our fall.

And so, for a day, we feel torn. While we may be free from going to our jobs, there are so many other labors that demand our attention. It is, as my Greek professor once told me, it’s the “tyranny of the middle class”. We curate beautiful lawns without gardeners, press clothing without wash maids, produce gourmet meals without cooks and maintain pristine cars without chauffeurs, fresh painted trim without handymen and spotless glassware without butlers. What was once the proof of a successful well-staffed manor is now the endless responsibility of a single family. As a result, a day off from labor only frees us up for more work.

So Labor Day, here you are! I would love to spend this day ideally musing over wistful prose, but that patio installed to enjoy leisurely comfort isn’t going to pressure-wash itself.

I’ve too much to do, therefore I am,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor