Pentecost 6C (Luke 10:38-42)

Anyone who's spent time in an emergency room knows about triage—the medical practice of assessing urgent needs and addressing them in order of priority. You may have waited hours while sicker patients went first. Though frustrating personally, triage saves lives by ensuring the most critical cases receive immediate attention.

In today's gospel, Jesus introduces us to spiritual triage. When Martha busies herself with hospitality while Mary sits listening, Jesus declares that Mary has "chosen the better part." The priority isn't how well Jesus is being served, but whether both sisters are positioned to receive what he offers.

We cannot literally sit with Jesus today, but his teaching remains: our first priority must be sitting in silence, listening for the voice of the resurrection. This call to quietude takes precedence over our anxious activity.

When unexpected difficulties strike, our instinct is to resolve them immediately. We cannot—will not—sit with discomfort. Why? Because we lack the skills to do so. Our minds automatically spiral into "what if" scenarios. This is natural—we imagine worst-case outcomes hoping to protect ourselves from being blindsided. To escape this anxiety, we busy our bodies and minds. We research. We plan. We distract ourselves with action.

But consider this: worrying changes nothing. It only drains our mental resources and clouds our judgment. What if we practiced spiritual triage instead? What if we sat in silence first, grounding ourselves in God's presence before deciding how to act?

In this place of stillness, we develop the crucial skill of mental clarity. We learn to distinguish between what we can control and what we cannot. We separate realistic concerns from anxious delusions. Most importantly, we discover whether we have the inner strength to handle what lies ahead.

About three years ago, I faced a perfect storm: my job security was threatened while I was searching for a new home. I did what most people do—I Googled frantically, worried obsessively, and worked myself into a frenzy imagining various scenarios.

Thankfully, I recognized the need to sit in silence. For three hours, I simply listened.

What emerged was transformative. My real issue wasn't about solving every problem—some were beyond my control, others I could manage. Learning to distinguish between them brought immediate clarity. But the deeper revelation was this: my greatest fear wasn't the external circumstances but whether I possessed enough inner strength to handle them.
Acknowledging this fear in God's presence is in and of itself the source of resilience that had been available to me all along. Naming our deepest fears in the divine presence doesn't just point us toward strength, but becomes the strength itself.

While everyone's struggles are unique and complex, I've found that spiritual triage can be a helpful practice when we feel overwhelmed. Learning to clear the mind in God's presence doesn't solve every problem, but it can help us see more clearly what truly matters most and discover sources of strength we didn't know were available to us.
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If you're facing hardship today, remember Mary's choice. Sit first. Listen first. Let spiritual triage guide your next steps.
And know this: all of us at St. Agnes are here to sit with you and listen together. You don't have to practice this silence alone.