Work in Islam was never about dignity, creativity, or vocation. It was about minimum duty, not maximum flourishing. Islamic societies were structured around scarcity and survival, not abundance and creation. The desert birthed a religion of bare obligations: pray, fast, pay the tax, make the pilgrimage, and fight. Work, like worship, was reduced to the lowest threshold of obedience.
In Islam, the dignity of work is never a theological category, it is merely an economic necessity. Labor was synonymous with slavery, tribute, or spoils of war. Wealth came less from creation and more from conquest: raids, taxes on dhimmis, control of trade routes, and plunder justified by the Qur’an. Productivity was tolerated, not celebrated; the real honor went to the warrior, not the worker. A farmer or craftsman could survive, but he was never exalted. His task was not to transform the world, but to endure it.
By contrast, the biblical ethic of work begins not with scarcity but with creation. Genesis does not present man as a desert nomad scrambling for survival, but as a steward placed in a garden with the mandate to cultivate it. Work is not punishment; it is participation in God’s creativity. The Hebrew prophets thundered not against labor itself but against exploitative idleness, reminding Israel that honest work was worship. The Apostle Paul sharpened it further: “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat” (2 Thess. 3:10). Work became moral, spiritual, and communal all at once.