My dad never got a chance to go to college. After a short stint in the Navy, he started work at my grandfather’s small family business—a metal plating shop in Kansas City, Kansas. Eventually my father ran this business, refinishing silver, chrome, nickel, and brass objects that antique dealers or collectors brought to him. Someone would bring him an old brass cash register or a tarnished silver tea set and he would carefully take it apart, clean it in mild acids, buff and lacquer it to a high gloss shine, and then reassemble everything. He was a craftsman in the fullest sense of the word.
I’m sure many of you are skilled at crafts—able to work with your hands to create, grow, refurbish, and repair different things. We all have certainly benefited from the skills of artisans, whether they work with wood, stone, electronics, or metal. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that we’ve always valued the fine art of craftsmanship. Why is that?
This topic was brought to my mind by the review of the book Craft: An American History by Glenn Adamson. For too long, the handmade products around us have been treated as second-class when compared to machine-made items. This has been an outgrowth of denigrating the traditions and talents of Indigenous people, African Americans, women, and the working class. We might have appreciated the woodcarvings or the quilts and baskets made by various artisans, but our fulsome praise has been heaped on the so-called titans of industry and manufacturing czars. This is due to a long pattern of denigrating “making” and elevating “knowing.” (In philosophical terms, it reflects a Cartesian dualism—named after René Descartes who said, “I think, therefore I am,” and thus valued intellect over manual work.)
This pattern is problematic on many levels, including social, racial, and economic. People who work with their hands likely move slower in their tasks and put a lot of personal attention to the end-product. They are not conveyor belts pumping out detritus for the marketplace; they are creators, giving caring attention to the details of their craft. And more than likely, they are in relationship with the people who benefit from their work. My dad had lots of regular customers whom he would talk with in his shop and who learned to trust his fairness as a businessman and his skill as a craftsman.
Jesus most likely trained as a carpenter. His healing miracles often involved a conversation, a prayer, and a gracious touch extended to set free a mute tongue or unstop deaf ears. He worked with his hands and all he did reflected the values of his heart and soul.
Over the past months, perhaps you have picked up a craft or new skill. Hopefully you’ve learned to slow down and to find beauty in creating, growing, and craftwork. As we continue to re-emerge and re-connect in the weeks ahead, let us value “making” over simply “knowing.” Let us strive to follow the example of Jesus the carpenter and of God the artisan; and may the Holy Spirit expand our knowledge through the precious, rich art of faithful handicrafts.
—Randy Bush