My friend Deana Graham wrote about the contrast between a quiet, contemplative service at her church and her otherwise hectic life. She started her essay saying:

It was like any other day . . . . hope for a little more sleep in the early morning, try to remember the things the [children] need for school, run errands, go to a meeting at church, try to think of someone to keep the kids during the . . . service, grab a quick picnic lunch, enjoy the concert on the square, rush home, try to think of someone to keep the kids during the . . . service, pray that at least two of the three [children] will take a nap, take everyone to the pool, land a babysitter (Yeah!) for the . . . service, scrounge up a quick dinner, watch the girls take a quick spin in the "Barbie" jeep, drop off the kids, return two phone calls in the car . . . . until I arrive at church.

Your day probably isn’t just like Deana’s, but I’ll bet a lot of us could write about our days with the same sense of hurry and frenzy. I know I could. We have all the conveniences — air conditioning, cars, phones, cell phones, faxes, email, cable TV, washing machines, dishwashers, microwaves —and often we’re running ragged.

And sometimes — well, OK, often, —OK, most of the time — I get seduced by activity and productivity into thinking that the only way to really serve, the only way to really be really valuable to God, is to be doing something pretty much all the time. I mean, after all, last week we heard the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The hero was this foreigner who stepped in and acted when the locals just walked on by. Jesus ended the story by saying to his listeners, "Go and do likewise." Do. Be people who do things for God. Don’t just sit there, for Gods’ sake!

So a lot of us, myself included, so easily think that we’re not doing what we’re supposed to be doing unless we’re doing something. So, to prove our worth to God, or to other people, we do lots of stuff.

Luke tells us a story about doing this morning. It’s no accident that it comes right after the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. (Let’s pause for a moment to note that we’re already seeing something socially daring. No husband or brother is mentioned. A woman living without a man did not invite men into her home! So we are already shocked!) Martha is distracted by many tasks; she’s got to get the dinner together and fix the iced tea (sweetened, of course), and get the table set and be sure there aren’t any spots on the glasses and try to get the various dishes to be ready at the same time. Martha is my grandmother Bess, who loved to feed people but never sat down to eat with them.

And then there’s Mary, Martha’s sister. She was sitting in the living room at Jesus’ feet, soaking up every word. Now, we were shocked before, but we’re really shocked now! In my office I have a reproduction of a humorous gargoyle from the National Cathedral. It’s called "Shocked Clergy." It’s a little statue of a pious looking clergyman with his hand covering his mouth and a shocked look on his face. When we learn that Jesus is allowing a woman to sit at his feet like male disciples sit at the feet of their rabbi, we’re shocked!

And Martha is ticked. So she goes to Jesus and says, "Are you going to let her just sit there (where women aren’t supposed to be anyway) while I do all the work?"

Jesus says, "Martha, Martha." I love that. Whenever somebody starts off by using your name twice like that, "Martha, Martha," "Jim, Jim," you’re in for a mixture of affection and correction. Jesus says, "Martha, Martha, You’re letting all these little tasks worry and distract you. The important thing, the one important thing, is God. I’d much rather that we all made our own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches than that you let all your duties as hostess distract you from that. Mary stays where she is."

The problem isn’t that Martha was working, doing. God needs us to do things. We’re God’s body, God’s hands and feet. God needs us to be Good Samaritans. Jesus isn’t saying it’s better to sit and contemplate than to work. The problem is not in the doing; the problem is in the motivation, the intent.

When I got back from vacation last week, I called Mike Spring to see how his mission trip went. Mike and I were chatting, and I said something like, "Well, Mike, you were serving the Lord by serving the poor, and I was lying on the beach. I think you’ll have an easier time explaining yourself at the Pearly Gates." Mike didn’t miss a beat. "No," he said, "while I was gone, Martha [Mike’s wife] got some clarity about the need to be a reservoir for God, not just a stream." That really struck me. A reservoir for God, not just a stream.

I called Martha (who, ironically, was teaching me a "Mary" lesson), and we talked about how if you see yourself as a stream, as a mere conduit or pipeline of God’s living water, after it has flowed through you, you have none. You will have nothing left for yourself or for others, and you’ll crash. But if you are a reservoir, the water of life comes from whom you are, not how you function as a mere conduit. Water must flow from reservoirs; we must act, but reservoirs must also be replenished. There is a time to do the dishes, and a time to sit at Jesus’ feet.

I thought back to my conversation with Mike. I had just been joking around, but in doing so, I probably revealed something about myself. (You know, self-revelations have an annoying way of sneaking out when you’re just joking around.) I probably revealed something about my anxiety that I had not been earning my worth as a child of God because I was lying on a beach while Mike was on a mission trip.

So there I was, caught worrying about my worth as a child of God because I wasn’t doing something. It’s all about motive, intent, and if I do things to try to prove my worth as a child of God, rather than believing that God values me from the get-go, whatever I accomplish will never be a joyful offering to the Lord; it’s always going to be a pay off, and an inadequate one at that.

Folks, this is very important stuff. This deals with people who burn out in church work. They’re not attending to their reservoir, and they’re not giving as a joyful way of passing on the gift they’ve already gotten from God. Instead, they’re trying to prove that they’re worthy. It’s such an easy trap for all of us to fall into, but it’s so dangerous. Whether what we do for the church is a joyful offering to God or a grinding obligation that will burn us out is all about motives, intentions. As Donn Blosser, God bless him, keeps saying to the Vestry and me, we need to give out of our gratitude, not our obligation. In God’s eyes, the value of what we do is all about motives.

And the value of leisure is what we’re using it for. I need to look at my motives in lying on the beach. The Prayer Book has a wonderful prayer for "The Good Use of Leisure:"

O God, in the course of this busy life, give us times of refreshment and peace; and grant that we may so use our leisure to rebuild our bodies and renew our minds, that our spirits may be opened to the goodness of your creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP p. 825, #32.)

Was I there to rebuild and renew, refresh my reservoir, so that my spirit could be opened to God? Or, was I there for something else?

Now, different people have different personalities, and some lean more toward a contemplative life and some lean more toward an active life. I felt guilty for years that I’ll never think and pray like a monk, getting up at the crack of dawn and praying for two hours. It just isn’t going to happen. I’m at peace with that now. But those of us who lean more toward the active life need to examine our Martha lives of doing the dishes and ask whether we’re focused on the important thing or distracted from it. Productivity can be a great distraction, and unless we’re replenishing our reservoir, we’ll lose our way and burn out.

And if you are more of a Mary type, it’s important that you ask yourself whether you’re replenishing so that you can better serve, or whether you’re just sitting there, perhaps avoiding. The contemplative life can easily become self-centered and narcissistic.

I’d like to close with a prayer I discussed with Roy Brady this week. Roy has had a lot of contemplative time forced upon him by his illness, and he is dealing with it wonderfully and faithfully. It struck me as a good prayer for us as we reflect on the Martha and Mary aspects of our lives. It is a prayer for use in the morning. Let us pray:

This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready. Lord, for whatever it may be. If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently. And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus. Amen. (BCP p. 461)

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr. St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park, GA