Mgr Kevin Hale of Our Lady of Lourdes & St. Joseph, Leigh-on-Sea provides some very useful practical steps we can all take to balance our Mary and Martha sides.
In the gentle rhythm of today's liturgy, we are invited into ancient encounters that echo across time, drawing us closer to the heart of Christ. Picture Abraham beneath the oaks of Mamre, his aged eyes lifting to behold three mysterious visitors—divine messengers in human guise. In Genesis 18:1-10, we witness a sacred duty unfolding: Abraham's swift hospitality, a lavish outpouring of bread, curds, milk, and tender calf, served with humble reverence. This is no mere courtesy; it is a profound act of faith, welcoming the Lord Himself in the stranger. Through this, God blesses Abraham with the promise of new life—a son to Sarah, defying the barrenness of years. Hospitality here is holy work, a bridge between heaven and earth, where service becomes a vessel for divine encounter. Fast forward to the dusty home in Bethany, where Jesus steps across the threshold into the lives of two sisters, Martha and Mary (Luke 10:38-42). Martha, ever the gracious host, busies herself with preparations—perhaps kneading dough, stirring pots, ensuring every detail honors her beloved Guest. Her actions mirror Abraham's: a dutiful embrace of hospitality, rooted in love for the Lord. Yet Jesus, with tender correction, speaks not against her service but against the anxiety that consumes her. "Martha, Martha," He says, His voice a soothing balm, "you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."
Martha's fault lies not in her working hands, but in allowing her labours to eclipse the quiet listening at Jesus' feet, the contemplative gaze that nourishes the soul. Herein lies the liturgy's luminous wisdom, weaving threads from Psalm 15's call to upright living and Colossians 1:24-28's mystery of Christ revealed in us. We are urged to seek balance: the active life of service intertwined with the contemplative embrace of God's presence. Like Abraham, let us serve with open hearts, recognising Christ in every face we welcome; the weary neighbour, the forgotten stranger, the demanding child. In the act of service itself, we encounter Him, for as St. Paul reminds us, our sufferings and labours complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of His body, the Church. Yet without contemplation, without pausing to sit with the Word, to let prayer infuse our deeds, we risk becoming like Martha in her fretful state: productive, yet parched in spirit. This Gospel vignette also dismantles a lingering shadow from history: the false dichotomy of "faith versus works" posited by some Protestant reformers. Martha's story whispers a Catholic truth, profound and inviting: Works are not the enemy of faith; they are its flowering. Her service is commendable, a tangible expression of devotion, but it must spring from and return to the wellspring of faith, lest it become hollow toil. In uniting action with adoration, we embody the fullness of salvation: faith that works through love, as St. James echoes. This is the Catholic way, not opposition, but harmony, where every deed becomes a prayer, every prayer a call to serve. Dear reader, let these readings beckon you deeper into the story of Jesus, the One who dined with sinners, washed feet, and rose to redeem us all. In the Catholic faith, you will find not rigid rules, but a living relationship, a dance of heart and hands where Christ awaits in the Eucharist, in scripture, and in the community of believers. Embrace this balance today: serve boldly, listen intently, and discover the joy of a soul fully alive in Him.
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