It’s Labor Day: Here’s Why I Don’t Want to Take the Day Off

By Nina Fondiller Woldin

Labor Day often feels like the bittersweet boundary line between summer and fall—a long weekend defined by barbecues, final beach trips, and end-of-season sales. Yet at its core, the holiday was established to recognize the dignity, contributions, and rights of the working person.

It was 10:30 on a Tuesday night when my phone lit up with a text from a coworker, asking if I could edit a page on our website. My workday was long over. No one expected me to log back on or resolve it before morning. And yet, I couldn’t just put the phone down. I found myself sitting on the edge of the couch, wrestling with a strange realization: it was actually going to take far more self-control to not do the work than to just open the laptop and fix it right then and there.

When you care deeply about what you build, the line between “duty” and “desire” blurs completely.

In Jewish tradition, the concept of work (melachah) is not merely a modern economic necessity or a secular duty. It is deeply woven into the spiritual architecture of Jewish life, offering a powerful blueprint for how we can view our daily labor with purpose, fairness, and gratitude.

The Jewish perspective on labor begins in Genesis. Creation itself is described as a work process—six days of divine action culminating in a day of rest. Humans were subsequently placed in the Garden of Eden l’ovdah u’l’shomrah—“to work it and to guard it” (Genesis 2:15).

Rather than viewing work as a burden, Jewish tradition framed honest labor as a way of partnering with God to complete an unfinished world. The Talmudic sages held work in extraordinarily high regard:

“Great is labor, for it honors the person who performs it.” — Talmud, Nedarim 49b

Even the great rabbis of antiquity were active craftspeople: Rabbi Joshua was a charcoal burner, Hillel was a woodcutter, and Maimonides was a practicing physician. Labor was seen as a source of self-respect and self-sufficiency, ensuring that one could live honorably within the community.

Long before modern labor unions emerged, Jewish law established stringent protections for workers. The Torah emphasizes the prompt, fair payment of wages and the ethical treatment of employees:

“You shall not withhold the wages of a hired laborer… You shall pay them their wages on the same day before the sun sets.” (Deuteronomy 24:14–15)

Employers are obligated to safeguard their workers’ physical well-being and treat them with intrinsic human dignity, recognizing the image of God (B’tzelem Elohim) in every individual.

This focus on worker protection directly connects Jewish ethical tradition to the spirit of Labor Day—honoring those whose effort builds society while ensuring their labor is never exploited.

You cannot talk about the Jewish view of work without talking about rest. The commandment to observe Shabbat (“Six days you shall labor… but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord”) gives labor its meaning.

Shabbat teaches that while work is vital, our productivity does not define our worth. It creates a boundary that prevents work from becoming an idol. By stepping back once a week, we acknowledge that the world can run without our constant effort—and we refocus on family, community, and personal renewal.

On Labor Day, standard gratitude often centers on having a day off. But I find myself cultivating gratitude for the urgency I felt that night—gratitude for work that feels too important to put down.

I am immensely grateful for the remarkable team I stand alongside every day. Together, we embody Jewish values not just in what we do, but in how we do it: with mutual respect, genuine collaboration, and a shared dedication to something larger than ourselves.

Our daily labor is focused on building vibrant Jewish engagement and educating the public to confront antisemitism. In a time when silencing voices has become all too common, we have also taken a bold step forward by launching a new publishing company dedicated to publishing books by blacklisted Jewish authors.

Beyond that work, I have the absolute joy of teaching virtual classes. I adore my participants—what started as screens and mute buttons has transformed into a genuine community. Over time, these participants have truly become my friends, and logging onto Zoom to see their faces, learn together, and share meaningful discussions is a bright spot I look forward to each week.

Restoring voices, reclaiming stories, teaching, and creating spaces where integrity and human connection drive every decision—this is the kind of work that makes late-night texts feel less like a chore and more like a calling.

This holiday, as we take a well-earned pause, we can look at our daily work not just as a schedule to keep or a paycheck to earn, but as a sacred responsibility—and a true privilege—to sustain and elevate the world around us.

Nina is the Managing Director of Chai Mitzvah and has worked in Jewish education for decades, creating student materials and programs for all ages, pre-K – adult. Her work has been published by Behrman House, Ktav, Kar Ben Publishing, Addison-Wesley, and Grolier. She created one of the first online Jewish education resource centers, Yourpage.org, which became part of Jewish National Fund’s website in 2003.