"Work is love made visible."

On my way in to work this morning, as I crossed Grant Street on Sixth Avenue, I passed a young man unloading the back of a box truck and placing cartons on a dolly, and the weirdest thing happened.

I felt happy for him, because he was working. Suddenly it seemed to good to see someone work. I passed him and began glancing at the people walking up and down the street- most of them, I surmised, going to work. And I inwardly rejoiced at the goodness of work, the variety and multiplicity of ways in which we bless one another with our labor.

And I thought of - I may have even uttered - the line from Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet": "Work is love made visible." And I felt a touch of sadness for the countless number who work utterly without love, those for whom work and love have never been conjoined, those who have never imagined or been taught that the two things could be conjoined.

And I remembered what a great job I have, what a privilege it is to do what I do, and asked myself, "How can I work with love?" I may have even made it a prayer, "Please help me to work with love." I don't remember for certain. But if I didn't then, the question drives me to that point now.

Teach me, o God, to work with love.