Paul Lim (Ph.D., Cambridge) wears several hats in life! The first hat he wears is as a husband and father; followed by one he wears at vanderbilt as a professor; then one at christ presbyterian church in nashville as scholar-in-residence; then as the interim director of the nashville institute for faith & WOrk. he thinks mondays 5:30-7:30 p.m. are best spent with gotham fellows, all of whom have shown him our collective and desperate need for redeeming grace.
Learning about Jesus from a Syrian
Glad and grateful that you are reading this brief Christmas reflection from me. Per usual, all these “From the Desk of…” entries explore the intersection between Faith & Work. Though daunting, this one is no exception. What does Christmas have to do with Work? More than you think… so ready for a quick trip around the world? Today, we will start at fourth-century Edessa, which was part of Syria then (it is Urfa, Türkiye today). Ephrem the Syrian (died in 373 AD) was known for his sublime ability to express profound theological truths in the language of poetry, so much so that he was called the “Harp of the Holy Spirit.” What I want to share with you today is how he described the way Joseph (the earthly father of Jesus) saw the radical identity-shift wrought by the Incarnation of the Word. This shows in Ephrem’s fourth Hymn of the Nativity. Throughout Ephrem’s poetry, he presents the theme of Paradox and Mystery to the readers, especially so since the readers are having to process the wonder of wonders of the Eternal becoming Finite, Godhead clothing itself with Human flesh, etc. So take a listen here:
“Joseph caressed the Son as a Babe; he ministered to him as God.
He rejoiced in Him as in the Good One, and he was awe-struck at Him as the Just One, greatly bewildered.
Who has given me the Son of the Most High to be a Son to me?
I was jealous of Your Mother, and I thought to put her away,
and I knew not that in her womb was hidden a mighty treasure,
that should suddenly enrich my poor estate.
David the king sprang of my race, and wore the crown:
And I have come to a very low estate, who instead of a king am a carpenter.
Yet a crown has come to me, for in my bosom is the Lord of crowns!”
Joseph recognized that the ennobling of his earthly profession—“who instead of a king am a carpenter”—could only come about by the Incarnation of the One who has become the Son of a carpenter. He was cognizant of the fact that he was related to King David by ancestral connections. He was acutely aware of the fact that his current fortune reflected none of the royal splendor and pomp, so much so that when he had to register the baby at the temple, all he could afford for the sacrifice “to present him to the Lord” as a consecration of the firstborn male were “a pair of doves or two young pigeons” (Leviticus 12:8; Luke 2:24) They were specific economic provision that YHWH made through Moses for the impoverished or for those from the lower strata in the economic scale in the Jewish communities. In other words, Joseph was a relatively poor carpenter. Yet, here is how Ephrem the Syrian captured the beauty of inversion of categories and identities. Unbeknownst to Joseph, the baby to be born would “suddenly enrich my poor estate,” not by conferral of material possessions or a bigger carpentry shop in downtown Jerusalem, mind you. Instead, being given the privilege of parenting the God-child, the eternal Son of God, the second member of the Blessed Trinity, Joseph will sing of this inversion of categories throughout his journey. His earthly lot remained the same, that of a wood-working man who, in the eyes of the cultural and economic elites of his day, did not amount to much. Yet, Ephrem sang of Joseph as “in my bosom is the Lord of crowns.” I don’t know about you, but these lines from Ephrem’s poem encourages me tremendously to not be preoccupied with my earthly “poor estate,” but rather to be excited about the Gift exchange that the Lord Jesus has established. He became that which he was not, namely human, so that we might become that which we are not, namely divine, as in reaching the apex of what it meant to be “like god” (Genesis 3:5). Could I encourage you—as we ponder the Hymn of the Nativity by Ephrem the Syrian—to think of this beautiful gift exchange, viz., the Eternal Creator of all, including trees, had to learn about wood-working from a humble carpenter in Nazareth, eventually to be hung on a tree that he had created for the sake of giving us an identity-as-gift: that of being called redeemed children of God, whether a carpenter, baker, banker, gig-worker, nurse practitioner, teacher or entrepreneur.
On “Crooked Table Legs” from Nazareth and Why Work?
Dorothy Sayers (1893~1957) is a virtually forgotten literary figure from twentieth-century Britain, although her friends such as C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot knew her giftedness and encouraged her to share her gifts with the rest of the reading public, so we are in their debt. One of the readings we read in the Gotham Fellows Program is her short and punchy essay called “Why Work?” and it remains a crowd favorite, and even if not, it certainly gets the fellows worked up! She makes this pithy and profound statement that the best way a Christian can serve her God is by giving excellence to the work itself: “If work is to find its right place in the world, it is the duty of the Church to see to it that the work serves God, and that the worker serves the work.” Sayers was convinced that in mid-twentieth century Britain, much of the Church was preoccupied with behavior correction as a proof of sanctification: do not be “drunk and disorderly in his leisure hours” and then foist upon the worker with the religious injunction, “come to church on Sundays.” Sayers took umbrage at such a reductionistic view, both of faith and work. All the church attendance notwithstanding, Sayers averred, the carpenter could actually be “insulting God with bad carpentry.” Put bluntly, the work produced by the worker mattered deeply to God because “our work is the expressions of ourselves.” Whether 30 seconds of an ephemeral TikTok video of an artisanal latte or a three-pointer from Steph Curry, these works express who we are, thus the apostolic dictum: “whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as unto the Lord” (Colossians 3:23). So Sayers clinches for her conclusion: “No crooked table legs or ill-fitting drawers ever, I dare swear, came out of the carpenter’s shop at Nazareth.” Sayers insisted that since Christ was the perfect embodiment of what Adam was supposed to be and do, his work was not flawed or deficient, nor products of indolence. Thus, no crooked table legs. I love it! Then she further carries her point. No one would believe that a drawer that does not close well could be manufactured by the “same hand that made Heaven and earth,” precisely because heaven and earth display such harmony and symmetry (for the most part, and creation groans inwardly, awaiting the day when the children of God will be revealed, as St. Paul reflects in a breath-taking fashion in Romans 8:18~21) of the Creator.
Work Well Done…Cheeseboards?
Let me conclude with a humorous aside of my own. Recently we had a Gotham 9 Christmas party, and this year, we had a white elephant gift exchange as part of it. I went to a store and bought two cheeseboards—one from my wife Miky and one from me—and this one had four markers that helped identify what cheese one is about to eat. Having been to one too many parties where I wondered and was too embarrassed to ask what cheese it was—gouda or cheddar or brie or Swiss—I thought this would be a good gift. Rather than go into all the details, I can say confidently that this was by far the most “fought after” item of the evening. That item reflected work well done, thereby creating the right type of desire. You know what I am bringing to next year’s white elephant party in December! The cheeseboard makers were working unto the glory and delight of their Creator, whether they realized it or not. For those of us who know the Creator in Jesus Christ, this is an awesome invitation: make the best cheeseboard possible!
Friends, thank you for indulging me with these reflections. It has been a singular honor to offer you some reflections that explore the intersection between our Christian faith and work. May the Lord of Christmas remind you of the greatest gift of all: namely the Incarnation of the Word who became flesh for us and for our salvation. May He work within you to bring some modicum of joy in your work, whether at home or in the office, whether remote or in person. Amen!