The Jonas Profit
How Two Goats and One Big Family Found Their Calling
PJ (Patricia) Jonas was bathing her children one day when her eyes fell on the list of ingredients in the commercial baby wash she was using. Surely all those petroleum based chemicals can’t be good for young skin, she thought, and she decided on the spot, “I can do better than this.” The family owned two goats which provided their milk and cheese, and within a few weeks, PJ was making soap for her family using goat milk.
It was quite satisfactory. Not only did she eliminate the unwanted chemicals, her homemade soap turned out to be especially beneficial for her husband Jim, whose hands chronically cracked and bled from exposure during his work day. But more would come from that homemaking innovation. In a few years, it would grow into a soap-making business producing nearly fifty thousand bars per year and employing and supporting her entire family. I visited the Jonases recently to learn more about this rather counter-cultural family and tour their “factory.”
When I pulled up the long gravel driveway on a sunny fall morning, PJ and the kids were out front, all of them neatly dressed, having posed for pictures while awaiting their morning visitor. “I thought I’d snap some pictures while they’re all cleaned up,” PJ laughed as she introduced herself. Meanwhile two little girls, their matching blue dresses wafting in the breeze, ran circles around us, as if to indicate that a newcomer is as welcome as the next-door neighbor around here.
This is the atmosphere of the Jonas homestead, a modest three acre farm resting among gently rolling hills near Louisville, KY, and home to two adults, eight children, seven milking goats, one buck, and the business they all operate together. Once we were situated in the living room, Jim joined us, and I began to get to know this delightful group of people.
“Front and center!” PJ called, and eight children instantly sprang from their seats, lined up in order, and one by one introduced themselves to me. Daughter Brett (13), sons Colter (12), Emery (10), Fletcher (9), Greydon (7), Hewitt (6), and the two little girls, Indigo (4) and Jade (3) standing at attention called to mind the Von Trapp family singers, but this was no rigid roll call. These children were obviously enthusiastic about their station in life and eager to share it with me. Most of them chimed in from time to time as the family story came out.
Jim and PJ married after they graduated from the University of Virginia where PJ earned a degree in engineering and Jim, a BA in economics and a masters in teaching. When Brett reached school age, they moved the growing family from New Jersey to Indiana for a more homeschool-friendly environment. PJ didn’t set out to become a business operator; when she started making soap, it was simply with a mind toward wholesome living.
Then a bum engine in the family van presented a budget crisis. Rather than sue somebody to recover damages, PJ made a few extra batches of soap and offered it for sale in the community. People liked it, demand continually called for more supply, and in 2008 Goat Milk Stuff (GMS) was officially born. Each of the eight children is responsible for certain tasks and receives a salary. “GMS has become more than just our family business,” PJ explains on the website. “It’s come to represent who we are and what we stand for. From raising and milking our Alpine goats, to producing all of our soaps, everything about our products was created solely by the ten members of our family.”
Lest anyone mistake this family for an odd anachronism, GMS makes full use of 21st century technology. Most orders come through the website and are shipped out by priority mail same or next day. PJ blogs regularly and maintains a Facebook fan page and Twitter following to communicate with customers, and the oldest three children have their own laptop computers for schoolwork, which they purchased using their soap salaries. The family does, however, recapture something from an earlier era that is worth revisiting.
The Christian doctrine of vocation came out of the European Reformation, but found its fullest expression in America. Today, vocation usually refers to one’s occupation or job, but that’s not the original meaning of the word. Vocation came from the Latin word for “calling,” and was strictly an ecclesiastical term. In the medieval church, only those who worked full time in the church – for example a priest, nun, or monk – had a vocation. They were viewed as having been called by God to carry out his work in the world, while the other occupations of life – farming, shop keeping, or craftsmanship, though valued as necessary to life, were considered “worldly.” They weren’t vocations.
The Reformation changed all that. In God at Work, culture expert Gene Edward Veith, Jr. explains how Reformation theologians, led by Martin Luther and John Calvin, asserted a revolutionary new take on work. Yes, they said, church workers have a calling, but laypeople too have callings from God that entail holy responsibilities. Individuals living out their vocations, they said, is one way God carries out his ongoing, purposeful work in the world. “The entire world [is] full of service to God,” Luther wrote, “not only the churches but also the home, the kitchen, the cellar, the workshop, and the field of the townsfolk and farmers.” He even went so far as to criticize monks for evading their duty to serve their neighbors.
This idea invested work with a whole new meaning and purpose and unleashed a flood of ingenuity and initiative. At the time, society was essentially hierarchical, with more-or-less fixed classes of people – peasant, bourgeoisie, noble, king, emperor – where one’s station in life did not change from generation to generation. But with the elevation of work to vocation – a means of serving God in the world, peasants became budding entrepreneurs. This eventually gave rise to a burgeoning middle class, as a large segment of the population came to embody what would later become known as the Protestant Work Ethic.
A New Economic Order
The phrase ‘Protestant Work Ethic’ wasn’t coined until the early 1900s when German economist Max Weber penned The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. Far from being a philosophy of greed, Weber argued, this new economic order, built by free and industrious individuals engaged in creative ventures, emerged from a religious and moral understanding of work. Citing the writings of Benjamin Franklin which emphasized hard work and frugality, Weber wrote, “We shall nevertheless provisionally use the expression ‘spirit of capitalism’ for that attitude which, in the pursuit of a calling, strives systematically for profit for its own sake in the manner exemplified by Benjamin Franklin.” Weber took care to note that, in keeping with Protestant understandings about the proper use of money, profits were regularly reinvested in the enterprises which produced them, spurring further growth and multiplying prosperity.
The Curse of Meaninglessness
The Protestant Work Ethic transformed Western civilization and spread to other points around the world, but today the concept is running aground. Retired social worker and author Carol MacAllister, while admitting she was taught the importance of hard work and was driven by it all her life, began to question it in her retirement.
“For me, the PWE means you have no worth (in society, your family and to yourself) unless you are productive each and every day and you get all your work done before you take time to play. The trouble is there never is any time to play because there is always more work to do. Right here, right now I am declaring a war on the PWE and the idea that a To Do List completely checked off at the end of the day is a valid reason to feel virtuous and satisfied with myself.”
Harvard Business Review author Dan Pallotta agreed, calling it a dysfunctional form of self-punishment, while Oliver Burkeman, of The Guardian said it’s “self-flagellatingly harsh,” counterproductive, and only makes life more difficult.
Well … yes. Divorced from ultimate meaning, work is ultimately meaningless. It’s just so much effort expended for … what? That’s the question that can’t be answered apart from a transcendent purpose, and it’s the reason why work apart from the understanding of vocation reverts to toil.
Interestingly, by the time Weber connected the dots between the doctrine of vocation and the rise of free enterprise, he had already begun to see this unfortunate consequence of detaching work from its religious moorings, lamenting as he concluded his book that the ouster of the religious underpinnings of the spirit of capitalism had led to a kind of involuntary servitude among impersonal, mechanized industry.
An Integrated Life
This is precisely where the Jonases can help us reestablish the connection between life, work, and living out vocation. Jim Jonas had never heard of the Reformation doctrine of vocation, but as he talks about what he does, it becomes clear that he lives it anyway. “When I’m out there making soap, I know one of these bars is going to be for a baby who’s got eczema. That baby’s miserable and doesn’t know why. All he knows is his skin hurts, and the poor child is screaming because he’s miserable, which makes the parents miserable.” Into this unhappy predicament, Jim finds satisfaction in serving God and these “neighbors” by creating a solution for their problem.
In God at Work, Veith says that vocation, when lived out according to its original meaning, encompasses all of one’s life and “transfigures ordinary, everyday life with the presence of God.” Marriage is a calling. Parenthood is a calling. And since the caller is the same God, the various callings complement, rather than work against, each another. The Jonas family bears this out too. “We don’t compartmentalize our lives.” Jim says. “Family time, work time, school time, church time, are all integrated.”
An understanding of vocation leads one not to ask, “What job will I pursue?” but rather, “What is God calling me to do?” The answers are as unique as the individuals who ask, but there is a satisfying answer for everyone who dares to ask.
Chaotic as it may get at times, with a large family and the demands of caring for animals and running a business, the Jonases obviously find satisfaction and joy in living out the answer they got. “God can do anything,” Jim says. “And I think he has something for each of us. It’s just a matter of finding out what that is. For us, it turned out to be soap.”
Only an outside-the-box Creator could think up a story like that.
This article first appeared in Salvo 15, Winter 2010.