Jesus the Carpenter

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
With the Labor Day holiday upon us, I find myself reflecting on the fact Jesus spent far more of his life in ordinary labor than in certifiably religious work. Depending on how one reads the Gospels and does the math, Jesus spent 1-3 years in a ministry that began at the age of thirty. Thus, for most of his adult, Jesus lived and worked in a blue-collar world as a carpenter.

Today, a “carpenter” can mean anything from a day laborer to a skilled craftsman and small businessman. Jesus was more like the latter. Recent scholarship has concluded the Greek word tekton, translated in English Bibles as “carpenter” (Mark 6:3), would better be rendered “builder” or “contractor.” For one thing, wood suitable for construction was rare and very expensive in the Palestine of Jesus’ day. Most building was done with stone and brick. And most such work was found not in the tiny mountain village of Nazareth, but in the nearby metropolis of Sepphoris. In that bustling city, King Herod was always throwing up a new Roman theater or other government building.

In all events, Jesus spent most of his life as a “working man.” (Everyone knows teaching and preaching are not “real work,” so that doesn’t count!).

I believe much of the earthiness in Jesus’ teaching--the grounding of his truth in everyday life and pressing human need--came from his real world work experience. As he walked to and from work projects in Sephorris, he observed the farmers, shepherds, and landscapes that would populate his parables. On the construction site, he learned the importance of properly bidding a job (Luke 14:28-29) and how much more savvy good business people could be than the religious types holed up in Jerusalem (Luke 16:1-9).

During my teen and college years, I delivered newspapers, sacked groceries, mowed grass, mopped floors, and worked in a convenience store. But I’ve had this cushy one-day-a-week job in the Temple for a long, long time.

Fortunately, my dad spent his working life as a tool-and-die-maker. Though he died last year, he is with me still. Usually, when I am working on a sermon or lesson, I hear him whisper, “Do you really need that big word?” “Does the guy working at the plant need to hear that?” “In the real world where real people live, who cares?” The dad who shows up in the back of my mind to say such things, doesn’t always win the debate, but I can count on him to ask the hard questions.

Most persons serving in religious vocations come from working-class families. Whatever the reason, it’s a plus. The temptation is strong in religious work to keep one’s head in the clouds. It helps to have a dad and Jesus keeping one’s feet firmly planted on the ground.