I do not know whether James Krenov was a religious man or not.  A cabinet maker born in Russia, raised in and around America, educated in Europe, he certainly brought a passion, if not an obsession, to his craft that was close enough to religious, and his students and followers still revere him like a prophet. Today's reading comes from The Fine Art of Cabinetmaking.

Without a certain attitude to our craft, information itself is of little value.  It is what we do with what we know that matters finally: not only the results but also the doing itself.  After all, that is what we are left with, after the piece is done and has found its owner and we are back working again.  What some of us find is an enjoyment we can't weigh against money, recognition, or artistic aura.  By whatever term others call it, it is the feeling of doing something we want to do - and doing it well, be measures both honest and sensitive (p. 6).

And this is where we wonder whether Krenov was a religious man.  Though he is ostensibly talking about cabinetmaking,  the average Sunday sermon struggles to include that many Christian values.   Take the first line, "without a certain attitude to our craft, information is of little value.  It is what we do with what we know that matters finally."  Substitute "faith" for "craft" and you might think you were reading the epistle of James: "what good is it my bothers and sisters if you say you have faith but do not have works?  Can faith save you? ...faith, by itself, if it has no works, is dead" (2:14ff).  All the theological knowledge in the world cannot save a faith which is not lived.

But there's more.  Take this line: "what some of us find is an enjoyment we can't weigh against money, recognition, or artistic aura."  He draws from his craft something that allows him to be content whether he is rich with money or not, whether times are good and he is popular with recognition, or not.  He is able to be content in all of those circumstances.  Remind you of anything?  In Phillippians Paul similarly explains that "I have learned to be content with whatever I have.  I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty.  In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need" (4:12).  It is the commonly forgotten Christian doctrine of contentment.

Still there's more.  Look at the last line: "By whatever term others call it, it is the feeling of doing something we want to do - and doing it well, by measures both honest and sensitive."    Regardless of whether he would receive fame, money or power from it, Krenov was dedicated to the simple idea of just doing it well.  In a pragmatic society where results are emphasized and disposable consumerism is accepted as common place, even in the church, it is jarring to be reminded of a lifestyle that placed importance instead on just doing things - even the little things - well.  It should not be so jarring though, as it is a Christian value old and true.  Paul, again, wrote that "whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God" (1 Cor 10:31).  We once understood that, among other things, that goal meant seeking a higher, God-glorifying quality in all the different aspects of our life.  Medieval Cathedrals, for example, were the finest buildings around not (just) because the church had money to waste, but because the church knew that if they were going to build a building dedicated to God, that it had better be the best building they could build, one that would glorify God by it's quality.  Does God care about the building itself?  Of course not.  But he cares about the attitude with which we build it.  And so did Krenov.  It's a theology that flows from his cabinetry.  It's no wonder then that Jesus, like Krenov, was a carpenter.