To be perfectly honest with all of you, the implementation of  Beacons of Light has frequently put a spotlight on my inadequacies, at least for myself. I’m hopeful that most of you aren’t out there thinking about all the things I’m not great at, but I definitely find myself reflecting on them regularly. I’m sure that if the muckety-mucks in charge of all this were to read this they would feed me a line about how I’ll be fine, and I’ll get through it, and so on and so forth, but there’s times when I question whether or not I’m the man for the job. I bring this up not to go fishing for compliments and reassurance, but because I think there’s a powerful way that this connects to the lesson we learn from Our Lord in this week’s Gospel. 

Many people hear the difference between Martha and Mary and reflect on how Jesus is encouraging His more active disciples to slow down and pray more often. It’s a powerful and true lesson. But more specifically His discourse to Martha shows us something that we should be reminded of more regularly, namely that   we shouldn’t draw our sense of self-worth from the things we do, but rather we should rest  confidently in who we are and who God made us to be. Martha, like many of us, seems to draw satisfaction from her skills in hospitality and serving. She is taking care of the practical concerns of everyday life and the needs of     Jesus. In doing so, she may be missing out on wisdom that Our Lord wants her to receive.  But in addition to that, she might also be believing the lie that her worth is connected to how much she is able to serve.  
 
I know some of my own skills, for sure. But it’s a false jump to say that because I am a decent teacher, or I can speak some Spanish, or because I’m better at splitting wood and building fires than Father Jeff is, I am worthy of the Father’s love. I’m worthy of the Father’s love because He is a good Father, and He made me in His image and likeness. The same goes for all of you.

I reflect on this often while preaching at funerals because of the nature of gathering  together to mourn our departed loved ones. My great-aunt Deets, whom I loved more than  I can say, passed away two years ago. There were a great many things to be said about   why she was so awesome. She was a voracious reader, incredibly generous, and one of the best conversationalists I ever had the pleasure to know. But that’s not really why I, and so many others, loved her. We loved her because she was Deets. All those other things were incidental, and truly, they flowed forth from her identity as a beloved daughter of the Most High.  
 
It has been one of the true joys of my priesthood to see all the manifold gifts that you, the people of God, possess and place at  the disposal of the Church. But those aren’t reasons why I love you. I love you because you’re my people, and I’m trying to be a spiritual father to you as part of that equation. It’s not a transaction so much as it is part of the incredible cycle of God’s love being poured forth upon the earth in ways we never would have imagined on our own. This week, as we reflect upon the lesson of Martha and Mary, step back from the lies of attributive dignity and embrace the inherent dignity you possess as children of God. Sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament for five minutes and think about  the fact that God created you to be in a relationship of love with Him. Trying to be useful to God is a fool’s errand, and one that we all slip into by mistake from time to time. Reject that lie, and rest in the consolation of God’s unique and unrepeatable love for you.