I Thought the Company Was a Covenant

My grandfather, my father’s father, worked for a particular railroad company from the time he graduated college until he retired. His entire career was spent working for that one company. My father worked for a particular petroleum company from the time he graduated college until he retired. His entire career was spent working for that one company. Just from my observation of the way this worked for both my father and my grandfather, I concluded that this is how one should choose to live their life. This was not pushed on me. It was not something that was harped on or even spoken about, really. I just observed the pattern and then conformed my beliefs and my values around these observations.

In college, I worked hard to make good grades, and graduated at the top of my class, all because I was focused on being accepted by the company of my choice. The whole time through college, I wanted to do everything I could to earn a spot at that company. I assumed that once I did that, I would then join the rest of my life to that company. Actually, I made a ton of assumptions that were not quite right. I assumed that the company would be as interested in keeping employees gainfully employed as I was interested in making the company successful. I worked crazy stupid long hours. Eighty to ninety hours a week was very common early in my career. I mean, physically in the office, eighty to ninety hours. One ridiculous time, the building shut down for a long weekend. I brought home this large UNIX workstation so that I could work from Friday morning, all through the night, all through Saturday, all through Saturday night, all through Sunday, all through Sunday night, and then most of Monday.

My work-life balance was completely nonsensical. There was no balance. It was all because I really thought that it was all about making sure the company was successful so that they could make sure that the employees were able to stay and thrive. But there were these things that happened that I couldn’t square with my beliefs about the way the world was supposed to operate. People were laid off. Divisions would be closed and people would lose their job. It took a long time, but I eventually realized that the world worked very differently than I had assumed all along.

It was wrong of me to assume that there was some sort of covenantal bond between me and my employer. A covenant is something I understand better now as a Catholic, and covenantal bonds were also very much a part of Israel’s culture as depicted in the Old Testament. A covenant is about a mutual self-giving to each other, and it’s permanent. It never ends. I tried to make work, my employment, that kind of structure. I would give myself to the company, and I expected the company to reciprocate indefinitely. We’re united for my entire career. But instead, the company and I actually entered into a contractual relationship. I give you this, you give me that, for as long as we both want to. Once one of us is done, then it’s over. No hard feelings, okay? That’s the contract that I signed. And that’s the relationship that I actually entered into.

I’m using that painfully gained lesson to highlight two important aspects of this Gospel. First, people will observe patterns and behaviors around them, and that will set the way they understand the world. Additionally, the covenantal aspects of Israel’s relationships with God and among themselves is something that can be hard for us to grasp in a contractually driven society. But to better understand God, we need to better understand covenant.

In John chapter 1, in the story of John the Baptist pointing to Jesus, John says, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” I can almost guarantee you that you hear those words very differently than the Israelites did when they were initially spoken. One aspect of that is that every year, the Israelites recalled their exit from slavery in Egypt with their Passover feast. In the temple, as a part of Passover, there were hundreds of thousands of lambs that were sacrificed on and around an enormous altar there. The blood of the lamb was sprinkled in expiation of sin. To help with this whole process, a river flowed through and under the temple, and that was used to keep things somewhat sanitary. Otherwise, it’d be a problem. So out of the side of the temple flowed blood and water during the Passover sacrifice of all these lambs. Here’s the thing. Later in the Gospel of John, John makes a point to say that blood and water flowed from the side of Jesus right as he was sacrificed, like a lamb, on the cross. And you need to understand the timing. As Jesus had died, and blood and water flowed from his side, that was happening right at the same time that the temple sacrifice was happening, and blood and water was flowing from the temple’s side. That connects Jesus to the Passover, to the sacrifice of the Lamb, and to the expiation of sin. “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.”

This is also wrapped up in the new covenant that Jesus institutes at the Last Supper. We don’t have a contract with Jesus. It’s not the kind of relationship where I give you this in exchange for that. It’s not like we say, “Okay, I’ll call you Lord, and then you forgive my sins.” It’s much, much better than that. God gives himself to us completely, and we give ourselves to God completely. It’s an eternal relationship. It’s not like a contract. There’s one particular element in this covenant relationship that I’m going to zero in on. At every Mass, right near the start of the Eucharistic liturgy, the priest says, “Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father.” And we reply, “May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands.” We’re talking about the Eucharist here. It is the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross that allows us to receive the body and blood, soul and divinity of Jesus in the Eucharist. And we have a covenant relationship with Jesus. Which is why we have the opportunity to join our sacrifice to his. It’s stunningly amazing. We bring to Mass our sacrifice — the things that are hurting us, the things that are not fair to us, tragic things, sad things, painful things. This is where they go. This is where that bad stuff takes on a whole new meaning.

Near the end of the Eucharistic liturgy, just before we receive the Eucharist, the priest holds up the Eucharist and says, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world.”

When people talk about participation at Mass, that’s what it’s about. We offer ourselves to God, everything. It’s a sacrifice. God offers himself to us, everything. It’s a sacrifice. It’s a deeply covenantal relationship. You matter. Your suffering matters. What you bring to the altar matters.

If you are still giving a job the vow it never signed, start by writing the two relationships. What you gave. Eighty hours. The weekend the building was closed. The assumption that they would keep you because you kept them successful. What they signed. Work in exchange for pay, until one side is done. Those are not the same document. Call the first one a contract out loud. The layoff, or the closed division, was not a broken vow. It was the contract ending.

Then take the vow back from the company and put it where a covenant actually is. Not in a speech at your desk. At Mass, when the priest asks that his sacrifice and yours be acceptable, bring the specific thing. The hours. The layoff. The belief that loyalty would be returned forever. That is the sacrifice this homily is talking about. God gives himself. You give the thing you had been giving to the employer.

Do not quit a job because a homily said the bond was a contract. If the work is harming you, that is a separate decision. The practice here is to stop treating the company as the permanent other party. One week, keep the hours inside the agreement you actually signed. The rest of you does not belong to them.

This is a pastoral reflection, not clinical care and not a substitute for it. If you or someone you love is in immediate danger, call 988 or local emergency services.
Drawn from a homily first preached in 2023.
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