"Distracted by Many Things" (Luke 10:38-42)

Everything but the Thing Itself

Sometimes when I sit down to write, I suddenly find myself with a craving for coffee. So I fix myself a cup. And as I take my first sip, I think maybe a little quiet music would help ease me into the writing process. So I start playing some music in the background. But something’s not quite right. Maybe I’m not in the mood for guitar. Maybe I’d like some piano instead? So, after trying another two or three albums, I settle on a selection of quiet piano music. Now what was I doing? Oh yes, writing! But maybe I’m not quite prepared for the subject. Maybe I need a little more inspiration. So, I open an internet browser and begin scrolling through the days’ headlines. Ooh! I see something about a new breakfast restaurant opening up nearby, and I find myself craving something to go along with my coffee. Maybe just a piece of toast and some jam. After all, I am writing. It’s not time for a meal.

You can probably see where this turn of events is taking me. I have sat down to write…and promptly done everything but write. I never make an overt decision not to write. I just keep preparing, or fine-tuning, until the thing itself—writing—has gotten away from me.

Maybe you know what I’m talking about. Have you ever unintentionally distracted yourself from what you needed to do? Our unconscious minds can be pretty clever. Maybe your task is to do some yard work, but you end up deciding you need new tools first. The trip to the hardware store evolves into an afternoon of trivial errands, and you never get around to the yard work. Or maybe you know it’s time to have a certain conversation with someone. You pick up your phone and wander onto Facebook to check up on the person to whom you’ll be speaking. Before you know it, an hour has gone by and you’re off somewhere else on the internet watching videos of cats and dogs doing crazy things.

Acedia

What is it that keeps us from doing what we are called to do? The earliest followers of Christ identified a deadly thought at the root of much of our distracted behavior. It eventually came to be known as sloth, but that word can be misleading. Today sloth is equated with laziness, with moving slowly and not getting things done. But what the earliest Christians have in mind is not a laziness of the hands, but a laziness of the heart. They originally called the deadly thought acedia, which comes from a Greek root that means “a lack of care,” and they recognized that acedia often manifests itself in busyness. Idleness is not the only path of avoidance. Another way to avoid what you need to do, is to do everything else.

In Christian tradition, sloth is not being lazy about work. It is being lazy about love. It’s a lack of care, whether through sluggishness or busy distraction.

Of Distraction and Diligence

I would imagine that most readers of today’s scripture, if they accused anyone of sloth, would accuse Mary. Martha certainly accuses her. Having welcomed Jesus into her home, Martha makes busy around the house, presumably preparing food and making sure everyone is comfortable—doing everything a good host would do. Her sister, Mary, just sits at Jesus’ feet. So Martha asks, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?” (Luke 10:40).

Jesus’ response capsizes Martha’s expectations and perhaps our own. Listen closely to how he gently chides Martha. He does not tell her that what she has been doing is wrong. He does not tell her that she should stop readying refreshments. His diagnosis has not to do with her hands, but her heart. “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted” (10:41). It does not take much work to imagine what thoughts are distracting Martha, because we’ve all been there. When we become resentful about how hard the work is, how little help there is, how long it will take, or how it will never get done, then we are distracted—and liable to become lazy about love, to become overwhelmed and dispirited, to say, “This is too much. No one cares. Why do I care?” Martha may be a flurry of activity and she may be doing things that need to be done, but her busyness is poisoned by sloth. She is not acting from love, out of care for others, but rather in a distracted spirit of self-concern.

In Christian tradition, the remedy for the distraction of sloth is diligence. If diligence sounds rugged and painstaking, like something you do with a white-knuckled grip and gritted teeth, it may help to know that its roots are in the Latin verb diligere, which simply means “to value” or “to love.” In other words, the opposite of sloth is not hard work but loving devotion. I am reminded that Jesus himself characterizes his way as gentle and humble (cf. Matt 11:29), and so I wonder if diligence is about simply doing the one thing that you’re doing, with love. “There is need of only one thing,” Jesus says (10:42). I wonder if diligence is about not being distracted, but just doing one thing at a time with love, trusting God with the result.

A couple weeks ago, the Lenten Bible Study group read the story of Martha and Mary, and we could sympathize with Martha because much of what she was doing, probably needed to be done. So part of me wonders if Jesus is not calling Martha to sit at his feet in the same manner as Mary, but rather to cook and to prepare diligently, which is to say, to do one thing at a time with love, appreciating that it may take a little longer, and it may taste a little rushed, and the presentation may be a bit skewed, but all of that is fine because her diligence is allowing others like Mary to rest and to learn at the feet of Jesus.

She Didn’t Always Work, but She Always Cared

This past week, I heard a story that exemplifies diligence. It’s a story about a woman who experienced much hardship but was able to do what needed doing because love was the reason. Love gave her strength.

When Fannie was just a child, the daughter of black sharecroppers in early twentieth-century Mississippi, she noticed some striking differences between the black and white people in her community. When she was in the field, she saw black folks working hard. When she went to town, she saw white folks spending money and enjoying little comforts and pleasures that she barely knew, such as eating cracker-jacks or drinking a soda. One day when she was thirteen, she observed, “White people have everything,” and then she asked her mother a freighted question: “How come we isn’t white?” Her mother answered, “You don’t understand now, but you will. There’s nothing wrong with you being black. If God had wanted you to be another color, you’d be another color. Don’t be ashamed of being black. Respect yourself as a child, and when you get older, respect yourself as a black woman.” A little bit later, her mother gave her a black doll. It was the only doll that Fannie ever owned.[1]

This little girl grew to become a pivotal leader in the Civil Rights movement. We all know about Martin Luther King, Jr., but fewer people know about the tireless Fannie Lou Hamer, who traveled across Mississippi and the South to encourage black folks to register to vote. For her efforts, she endured unspeakable trauma. One day after speaking to people on the streets, she was imprisoned without cause for a night, and the police officers forced two black inmates to beat her to within an inch of her life. Afterward, one of the officers raped her.

She had plenty of reason to stop, or to become bitter and wonder if it really mattered, but she did not. She cared too much for the dignity of her black brothers and sisters. For this reason, she worked hard. But she also rested and waited. She knew the joy of front porches, where one would sit and watch and talk and listen. She knew the joy of kitchens, cooking, tasting, sharing, eating. She was the antithesis of sloth. Not because she was always working, but because she always cared. Sometimes care sits and listens, sometimes it walks countless miles on a hard road.

When I look at someone like Fannie Lou Hamer, I see someone full of care. To begin with, she knew she was cared for; her mother made sure of that. As a result, she was inspired and empowered to care for others. I see in her someone who was diligent, not distracted, someone who could do the one thing she was doing, who could cook when she was cooking, who could sit when she was sitting, who could speak so honestly and inspiringly when she was speaking. Her life had its share of difficulties, but because she was cared for and because she cared, she never became lazy about love. Whatever she did, she did diligently—which is to say, she did it with love.

Prayer

Caring God,
Who proclaims,
“You are my beloved child,
With whom I am well pleased”—
When we are fatigued by our desire for results,
And would prefer distraction over diligence,
Direct us toward the gentle and humble way of Christ
…
So that we may not give up;
So that we may do small things
With great love. In Christ, our brother: Amen.

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[1] Carlton Winfrey, “Daughter of Civil Rights Icon Fannie Lou Hamer Honors Her Mother’s Legacy,” The Seattle Times, March 10, 2023; accessed at https://www.seattletimes.com/opinion/daughter-of-civil-rights-icon-fannie-lou-hamer-honors-her-mothers-legacy/, March 12, 2023; Diana Butler Bass on Homebrewed Christianity podcast, February 28, 2023; accessed at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUtjEgKi4D4&t=63s, March 12, 2023.