Deplorable Professions

For years, I worked in advertising (my day job) and wrote books about Christian faith. But I didn't despise one kind of work and love the other.

Being of a theological turn of mind, I eventually came to see God not only in the "sacred" work I did, but also in the secular.

One evening, my work came under harsh scrutiny. My husband and I attended a lecture where the professor tried to explain a document issued by the Catholic bishops about the economy.

Mind you, the professor (I'll call him Professor Murray) wasn't confining himself to what the bishops had said. He threw in generous dollops of his own opinions.

Toward the end, he spoke against certain "morally deplorable professions." These were lines of work he disapproved of.

My witty husband, always spoiling for a fight, couldn't let it pass.

"Professor Murray," he said loudly, rising to speak with Chestertonian height and vigor. "I heard you speak of morally deplorable professions, and I am wondering if you could name one or two, as I fear I may be in one of them." (I knew it was a ploy; my husband's field was publishing, which usually comes off as good, proper, and right, whether it deserves to or not.)

Murray (who knew us) apparently didn't see it coming. We were way in the back and the auditorium was dark. Or maybe he just dismissed us as the usual cranks who turn up at university lectures.

Immediately he said, "Oh, well . . . the nuclear industry for one, and then of course, advertising."

My husband had no ties to the nuclear industry. But advertising, well, that was worth defending. Advertising was the creative field that employed his wife. Both he and I believe advertising is good work and worthy of my time and talents.

Rather than try a direct defense, my husband tried another tack. "I believe, Dr. Murray, you also said you were concerned that the bishops' message would not be sufficiently heard and appreciated by society at large."

Murray acknowledged he had said this.

"I wonder," my husband went on, "whether they should consider advertising?"

It brought down the house.

Where is G. K. Chesterton when you need him? Apparently, a kindly providence had brought the spirit of Chesterton into my life, just when I most needed his spirit of ferocious debate.

Well, maybe Chesterton would not be the perfect defender of advertising as a high calling. After all, he was a kind of socialist.

But Chesterton's debating spirit encouraged us to think we should speak up confidently on social issues.

A few minutes later, another teacher from that same university approached us. Apparently he was an instructor in the advertising department.

He thanked my husband for defending advertising as a worthwhile calling.

I see now that few people share Professor Murray's ideology. But even fewer people pause to reflect on the value of the work to which they dedicate their God-given abilities.