Catholic saint

Sharing a Feast Day with Saint Martha: Action, Anxiety, and the Better Part

/ chicoinematt

Editor’s note: Article originally published on July 29, 2025.

Every year, July 29th rolls around and I get to celebrate two things: my birthday and the feast day of one of the most relatable saints in all of Scripture—Saint Martha of Bethany.

Over the years, I’ve come to see Martha not just as a biblical figure who shares my birthday, but as a spiritual companion who understands my temperament, my wiring, and even my weaknesses. She’s a person of action, but also anxious. A hostess, a worrier, a doer, a disciple. And in many ways, she’s me.

Constant Motion and the Martha Mindset

Diagnosed with ADHD as a kid, I’ve always been moving. Fidgeting, bouncing, thinking ahead to the next thing. Even now, I find it hard to sit still. My kids inherited this gift too. Trying to get them to sit through an entire meal is like herding caffeinated squirrels.

So when I read the story of Martha bustling about the house while Mary just sits at Jesus’ feet, I feel seen. Martha isn’t lazy. She’s not uninterested in Jesus. She’s working, preparing, and hosting. She wants everything to be just right.

But Jesus gently interrupts her whirlwind:

“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part” (Luke 10:41–42).

It’s not a harsh correction. It’s a loving invitation to pause. To recognize that Jesus isn’t asking for a five-star meal. He’s asking for you. Not your perfectly arranged table, but your heart.

Prayer Isn’t a Checklist

If I’m honest, I still fall into the same trap Martha did. I love the order of devotions, the structure of routines, and the sense of checking off boxes. But I’ve learned, again and again, that when I turn prayer into performance, I risk missing the Person.

Saint Martha reminds me to prepare the home and the heart. But her sister Mary reminds me how to receive. Both are necessary. As Pope Francis put it in a 2021 homily:

“These are not two attitudes opposed to one another… but are two essential aspects in our Christian life… works of service and charity are never detached from the principle of all our action: that is, listening to the Word of the Lord.”

Martha’s mistake wasn’t serving—it was forgetting to anchor her service in love. And Jesus didn’t scold her because she worked too hard. He lovingly redirected her toward the One Thing that truly matters: Himself.

The Tension Between Trust and Doubt

One of my favorite Martha moments happens in John 11, after her brother Lazarus dies. When Jesus finally arrives, she runs to meet Him and says something I’ve whispered in prayer more times than I can count:

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21).

It’s honest and raw. The voice of someone who believes but still struggles. Been there? Me too.

But what follows is incredible. Martha, the same woman who once fretted over dinner, proclaims one of the most powerful confessions of faith in the Gospels:

“But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you… I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God” (John 11:22, 27).

Her faith grew in the soil of sorrow. Doubt didn’t disqualify her. It prepared her for deeper trust. That encourages me more than I can say.

Holy Order vs. Hollow Ritual

Order is good. But order without encounter becomes empty. I’ve had moments in my spiritual life where I went through the motions—saying the prayers, doing the devotions, hitting the marks—while my heart remained untouched.

Martha reminds me that external service should flow from internal receptivity. Our rituals are meant to lead to relationships. Our prayers aren’t performance; they’re presence.

Mary of Bethany shows us what it looks like to sit, to be still, and to listen. To place ourselves at the feet of Jesus. I’ve found it helpful to reread Luke 10 as a form of prayer. First imagine yourself as Martha, then as Mary. Where are you distracted? Where are you receptive?

Pope Francis said it beautifully:

“When ecclesial service is attentive only to doing… we forget the centrality of Christ. When time is not set aside for dialogue with Him in prayer, we risk serving ourselves and not God.”

That one hits close to home. I want to serve, but I want my service to be rooted in prayer. In presence, not performance.

From Scrubbing Floors to Scrubbing Souls

Martha is the patron saint of cooks, cleaners, and homemakers. I may not be much of a cook, but I can scrub a sink like a champ. My OCD tends to show up in my need for control and cleanliness, but even that God has used.

I worked fast food through high school and college. Helped my mom with her cleaning business. At the time, it all felt mundane. But looking back, I can see how God was quietly forming a friendship between me and this New Testament saint.

Martha teaches me that holiness isn’t just found in the chapel—it’s found in the kitchen. It’s found in laundry rooms and drive-thrus and carpool lines. God sanctifies the ordinary, if we let Him.

Image: Jesus, Lazarus, Martha and Mary | St. Botolph without Aldersgate

Martha and Mary, Ora et Labora

Saint Benedict’s motto for monastic life was ora et labora—pray and work. Not pray then work. Not work instead of prayer. But a life that is both active and contemplative. That’s the balance I want to seek. And that’s the balance Martha eventually found.

She reminds me that it’s okay to be the one who wants to set the table. Just don’t forget to sit down and eat with the Guest of Honor.

So today, as I celebrate another year of life, I’ll also celebrate a friend in heaven who gets it. Who knew anxiety, doubt, distraction—and still became a beloved disciple of Christ.

Happy Feast Day, Saint Martha. Teach me to love Jesus in the serving and the stillness.

Related Links 

Saint Martha- Disciple of Our Lord 

Martha, Mary, and Lazarus: Friends of Jesus

Martha, Mary, and the Heart of Discipleship: Putting God First

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Mary of Magdala: A Reflection on the Apostle to the Apostles

/ chicoinematt

By: Jackie Kierulf

Of all the beloved saints my maternal grandmother introduced us to, she didn’t have much to say about Mary Magdalene. Historically, this particular Mary is believed to be from Magdala, an ancient fishing village located on the Sea of Galilee in Northeastern Israel.1 Perhaps Mary Magdalene seemed too much of an outcast to acquaint us with. After all, how do you explain to a young child that Jesus had expelled several demons from a woman who then experienced tremendous healing and became a follower of Jesus? But Mary is no different from you or me, someone striving for holiness in a world that so desperately needs to know and live the message of God’s love and mercy.

Christ’s Appearance to Mary Magdalene after the Resurrection (1835) by Alexander Andreyevich Ivanov – Public Domain Catholic Painting.

A model of faith and true witness

Mary Magdalene, originally possessed by demons and healed by Jesus, was truly devoted to the Lord, financially supporting his ministry, and even remaining with him at the foot of the cross while most of the apostles fled and hid.

Mary had no doubt that the man who addressed her at the empty tomb on that Sunday morning was her Rabbi. She became an “apostle’s apostle,” tasked by Jesus to tell the others of his rising from the dead.2 Regardless of whether her fleeing by boat to the south of France, preaching and evangelizing, and living in a mountain cave, is true, Mary’s mission as the messenger of salvation began.

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What St. Kateri Tekakwitha Taught Me About Risking Everything for Christ

/ chicoinematt

Every year, there are a few saints who surprise me.

Not because I had never heard of them before, but because I finally slowed down enough to really learn their story.

That happened to me this past school year while teaching history to my third-grade class. We were studying the 1600s and the discovery of the New World, and part of that journey included learning about St. Kateri Tekakwitha. I had known she was the first Indigenous North American saint, but reading her story alongside my students gave me a much deeper appreciation for her remarkable witness.

Sometimes teaching is one of the best ways to learn.

Known as the “Lily of the Mohawks,” St. Kateri Tekakwitha was born in 1656 in present-day Upstate New York. She was the daughter of a Mohawk chief and an Algonquin Catholic mother. At just four years old, a smallpox epidemic claimed the lives of her parents and younger brother. Though Kateri survived, the disease left her scarred, partially blind, and orphaned.

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Saint John the Baptist: The Humble Harbinger to Jesus

/ chicoinematt

Every year on June 24, the Church celebrates the birth of Saint John the Baptist. That alone makes him remarkable. Aside from the Blessed Virgin Mary, John is the only saint whose birth the Church celebrates in the liturgy.

Yet John’s uniqueness began long before his birth.

The Gospel tells us that when Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth, the child in Elizabeth’s womb leaped for joy at the presence of Jesus (Luke 1:41). Long before he preached in the wilderness, baptized in the Jordan, or pointed crowds toward the Messiah, John recognized Christ. In a sense, the first person to acknowledge Jesus as the Savior was an unborn child.

John’s entire life would follow that same pattern. He existed to point beyond himself and toward Christ. Even his name reflected God’s plan. Saint John Paul II noted that the name John means “God is benevolent.” Through John the Baptist, God prepared His people for the coming of His Son and revealed His desire to save the world.

The feast of Saint John the Baptist is therefore much more than a celebration of an extraordinary birth. It invites us to reflect on the mystery of the Incarnation and on the man chosen to prepare the way for Jesus Christ.

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Saints Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea: Witnesses to Spiritual Renewal and the Dignity of Life

/ chicoinematt

The encounter between Jesus and Nicodemus, as recounted in the Gospel of John, offers a glimpse into the transformative power of spiritual rebirth through baptism. Nicodemus, a Pharisee, seeks wisdom under the cover of night. This darkness can be seen as symbolic of his initial lack of understanding or hesitation to fully embrace the truth of Jesus’ message. Yet, by approaching Jesus, Nicodemus takes the first step out of this spiritual darkness.

Their conversation centers around the concept of baptism—a second birth that ushers believers into the realm of the spirit. Through baptism, individuals shed their old selves, emerging as adopted children of God, free from the constraints of original sin. Nicodemus’s willingness to engage in dialogue, despite his initial reservations, demonstrates his openness to spiritual growth. He becomes a beacon of hope for all who seek understanding and a deeper connection with divine truth.

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Why Saint Nick’s Day is Awesome— Celebrating Generosity with the Ultimate Catholic Meme Collection

/ chicoinematt

G.K. Chesterton once wrote, “It is the test of a good religion whether you can joke about it.”

I certainly think that he would have (and hopefully you will) chuckle at the following joke:What do you call Santa when he has no money? Saint ‘Nickel-less’.

Today is Saint Nicholas of Myra’s Feast Day. It’s also the greatest Catholic meme day of the year. 🙂🥊👊

Thinking about Saint Nicholas (aka Santa Claus, yes he is real and I still believe in him. 🎅 🙏 🙂) puts me in a jolly mood and sparks one of the greatest gifts God has given me— my creativity.

Enjoy this Ultimate Saint Nick Meme Collection.

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From Uncle Wendell to Don Bosco

/ chicoinematt

By: Meg Naumovski

I grew up listening to stories about my dad’s Uncle Wendell.  At first, I remember thinking that this was some magical character my dad invented to entertain and inspire us, just the way my father seemed to be entertained and inspired by this man he adored. We would hear how when dad was a kid, he would follow Uncle Wendell around, entranced by his mechanical abilities to fix anything and entertained at the same time with his warm personality.

I imagined scenes of breezy late summer days in northern Ohio, white clouds in blue skies, soft lake breezes and the sound of Cicadas humming in the trees. I could picture a young version of my dad, blue eyes, tight blond curls, trying to make a whistle sound from his blade of grass (he always taught us this important skill as kids.) Little Glenn might have his freckled nose too close to the engine as he positioned himself “overseeing” Uncle Wendell’s work.  Maybe he tried to direct where he thought his uncle should connect a wire, and then I would recall some joke about how awesome “copper tubing” was, though I never quite understood what that meant. 

Many of the things my dad proclaimed to love about his uncle were the very things I loved about my dad. He was a handy man, an inventor, a jokester, and a craftsman.  As Dad would work in the garage, from a large project pile of scrap metal, wires, and other things that bewildered me, he whistled a tune that would float through the air, and his peaceful contentment was palpable. I would linger near him for hours at a time, just drawing or playing with dolls; whatever I could do to absorb any amount of his serenity.

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