Feast of Saint Joseph the Worker
Today’s Invitation
Today we invite you to explore the sacredness of labor through the Hebrew Bible, and the political nature of work and rest; engage the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker through the lessons of International Workers’ Day, or May Day; and embody the sacredness of labor with the help of historic May Day and the National Day Laborer Organizing Network.
Feast of Saint Joseph the Worker
Reading 1
Then YHWH said,
“Let us make humankind in our image, to be like us.
Let them be stewards of the fish in the sea, the birds of the air,
the cattle, the wild animals, and everything that crawls on the ground.”
Humankind was created as YHWH’s reflection:
In the divine image YHWH created them;
female and male, YHWH made them.
YHWH blessed them and said,
“Bear fruit, increase your numbers, and fill the earth — and be responsible for it!
Watch over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and all the living things on the earth!”
YHWH then told them,
“Look! I give you every seed-bearing plant on face of the earth,
and every tree whose fruit carries its seed inside itself: they will be your food;
and to all the animals of the earth and the birds of the air and things that crawl on the ground
— everything that has a living soul in it — I give all the green plants for food.”
So it was. YHWH looked at all of this creation, and proclaimed that this was good — very good.
Evening came, and morning followed — the sixth day.
Thus the heavens and the earth and all their array were completed.
On the seventh day YHWH finished all the work of creation,
and so, on that seventh day, YHWH rested.
YHWH blessed the seventh day and called it sacred,
because on it YHWH rested from all the work of creation.
Responsorial Psalm
Response: Grant success to the work of our hands, O God.
Before the mountains were born,
you brought forth the earth and the world;
you are God without beginning or end.
Response: Grant success to the work of our hands, O God.
You turn humankind back into dust and say:
“Go back, creatures of the earth!”
For in your sight a thousand years
are like yesterday, come and gone,
no more than a watch in the night.
Response: Grant success to the work of our hands, O God.
Make us realize how short life is
that we may gain wisdom of heart.
Relent, O God!
How long before you have mercy on your faithful ones?
Response: Grant success to the work of our hands, O God.
When morning comes, fill us with your love,
and we will celebrate all our days.
Let your work be seen by your faithful,
your glory be witnessed by their children.
Response: Grant success to the work of our hands, O God.
Gospel
When Jesus had finished these parables,
he left the area and came to his hometown
and began teaching the people in the synagogue,
and the people were amazed.
They said to one another,
“Where did he get this wisdom and these miraculous powers?
Isn’t this the carpenter’s child?
Isn’t his mother’s name Mary,
and his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judah?
His sisters, too, aren’t they all here with us?
But where did such gifts come from?”
And they found him altogether too much for them.
Jesus said to them,
“Prophets are only despised in their own home town and in their own households.”
And Jesus did not work many miracles there because of their lack of faith.
The Inclusive Lectionary © 2022 FutureChurch. All rights reserved.
The inclusive language psalms:
Leach, Maureen, O.S.F. and Schreck, Nancy, O.S.F., Psalms Anew: A Non-sexist Edition
(Dubuque, IA: The Sisters of St. Francis, 1984).
Used with permission.
Explore
Acceptable work
We meet God at work. God seems to be the ideal of work: creative, free, collaborative, neither exploited nor exploitative, contributing to the flourishing of the other. That’s the beginning. Today’s reading, though, starts at the end of God’s workweek and so does the exclamation that humans be “created in our image, after our likeness.” Part of what it means to be human, it seems, is to participate in the creative activity of the divine.
Domination has nothing to do with work here. The newly created humans are commanded to eat the abundant fruits and vegetables, not the other animals. Indeed, both humans and non-human animals appear to be herbivores in this picture of creative unity. This connection between creativity and humanity is reinforced by the placement of the “…and God saw that it was good” formula that brackets off each day’s creation. The ideal of labor for which humans and other animals were created provides for each without diminishing the other.
We leave God at rest. This rest isn’t just punctuation; rather, it’s the creation story’s climax. The text tells us that God blesses the seventh day and makes it holy because God rests. It is a day unlike any other. By making a day sacred, in a sense, the last thing that God puts into this new world is God. The holy day of rest, or better yet, the day of holy rest, helps to mark time and provides meaning to the other six days and the work completed therein.
The only acceptable work is that which underscores the sacredness of the sabbath, that mark it as God’s such as additional sacrifices (Num. 28:9-10) and maintenance of the tabernacle (Lev. 24:8; Chron. 9:32). The day of sabbath somehow breaks the barrier between the mundane and the sacred. It is to be revered.
In Exodus (20:8-10; 23:12; 34:21), all work must cease on the seventh day, even during the all-important harvest time, for humanitarian reasons: all workers, including work animals, servants, slaves, and migrants deserve rest. Similarly, in Deuteronomy 5:13-15, the commandment to honor the sabbath is extended to animals and marginalized, partial members of the community. Their inclusion is on the grounds that solidarity demands it: “Remember that you too were once slaves in the land of Egypt, and the LORD, your God, brought you out from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm.” Work, rest, and solidaristic care tie us to all of creation by virtue of our relationship to God.
The Hebrew Bible interprets and reinterprets the meaning of the sabbath. Despite this diversity of emphases, common threads arise: work and rest are linked, they are both part of a just social order, they pull us into God’s creation story, and finally, they implicate the community. That is, work and rest are political.
Commentary by Dwayne David Paul
Engage Catholic Social Teaching
Far from Eden, work is a site of domination for us today. So, both work and rest remain political. One of our great struggles is to recapture their shared dignity that is undermined by the capitalist-worker, slaveholder-enslaved, exploiter-exploited relationship that has shaped the modern world. One site of that struggle in the United States was the decades-long campaign for the eight-hour workday led by anarchist and socialist workers in the years following the Civil War. In the early days of the Industrial Revolution, 16-hour shifts were a common occurrence.
By August of 1866, leaders of the Coachmakers’ International Union, Ironmoulders’ International Union, and the Machinists and Blacksmiths Unions convened in Baltimore, Maryland and formed the National Labor Union. The first resolution the National Labor Union passed was to limit the standard workday to eight hours because of “the growing and alarming encroaching of capital on the rights of the industrial classes.” Early industrial workers knew that they were being forced to sell all their time to employers. It was against this backdrop that slogans such as “eight hours labor, eight hours recreation, eight hours rest” arose.
While the National Labor Union was unsuccessful in its efforts, and folded in 1873, the struggle resonated with working people across job sectors. On May 1, 1886 labor organizers persuaded an estimated 30,000 to 40,000 workers to walk off the job to demand an eight-hour workday without a reduction in pay. If successful, the mobilization would have been a major threat to the power of the business class.
The strike, marches, and labor meetings lasted four days despite constant police violence, which reached its apex on May 4 when, following an explosion, police opened fire on the crowd killing an unknown number of workers. In subsequent decades, labor organizers around the world and the Soviet Union would declare May 1 (“May Day”) International Workers Day in commemoration of what would come to be known as the Haymarket Affair.
The Feast of Saint Joseph, much like Labor Day in the United States, is an artifact of the Cold War. It exists to provide an alternative to May Day, one that celebrates working people but vacates any critique of the capitalist economy. In 1955, Pope Pius XII declared May 1 the Feast of Saint Joseph the Worker. That same year, President Dwight D. Eisenhower declared May 1 Loyalty Day. Three years later, to really drive the point home, President Eisenhower dubbed May 1 Law Day, to celebrate the life Americans supposedly enjoy under the rule of law wherein, “A man with five dollars in the bank can call to account the corporation with five billion dollars in assets – and the two will be heard as equals before the law.” A far cry from Haymarket.
As a black, Caribbean Catholic, I’m no stranger to holding Church teaching in tension with truths I have experienced or inherited from other sources. On May 1, I plan to celebrate both the Feast of Saint Joseph the Worker and May Day because the Church’s vision of dignified work is a fantasy without each of us struggling to overcome the violence capitalism does to working class people.
A Community
The National Day Laborer Organizing Network (NDLON) is a member-based labor organizing collaborative that works to improve the lives of day laborers, migrants, and low-wage workers. The work of NDLON, and its member organizations across the country, are vital because they build leadership capacity among some of the most vulnerable workers themselves, workers often treated as if they were disposable. All working class people have a shared interest in maintaining as high a floor as possible for the treatment of every worker.
Art
Click the link to view the image: “May Day, 1914,” Library of Congress
This image from a May Day 1914 rally somewhere in the United States captures a largely lost collective memory: There used to be a greater shared sense that workers were the ones who generated the profits from which the nation as a whole, and the wealthy few in particular, benefit. Struggles for better wages, safer conditions, and even for worker ownership of the businesses themselves were never about asking bosses to be more charitable. Instead, those struggles were about making rightful claims to the fruits of working people’s labor, because none of this functions without us. It’s our labor that transforms building materials into a house or a messy house into an inviting home. We create value.