Martha Versus Mary
by Sister Regina O'Connell, CSJP
The story of Mary and Martha has had a special meaning for me since it was told to a group of us as young sisters by a professional storyteller. During my first 29 years as a Sister of St. Joseph of Peace, my ministry reflected Martha’s approach to life: always burning with energy, always doing something, never stopping to just be. Like Martha, I was constantly busy in those years, as a Guidance Director/Counselor in a small but vibrant Catholic high school in one of New Jersey’s larger cities.
I helped many students become the first in their families to attend and/or graduate from college. I sat with numerous teens over the years, trying to help them successfully navigate their way in the complex and often challenging world of adolescence. In many cases I succeeded in helping, but failures, too, were often a part of my daily world. I completed a second master’s program by attending night classes after school hours for several years. Like Martha, I was so busy that sometimes I felt I lost a part of me, Regina, the one God called to a special and enriching life with an incredible group of women – the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace. After leaving the world of secondary education, I explored several areas of ministry to try to find that same “fit” in ministry as I had enjoyed in school work for so long.
And so, this “Martha-want to be” struggled along until I found my calling as the Front Desk Coordinator for the Villa Marie Claire Hospice in Saddle River, New Jersey. My role there was not strictly a “Martha”one for me. True, I was kept busy answering phones, typing for the nurses, giving directions, welcoming visitors, and assisting staff in whatever way I could. Over time, though, I realized the most valuable aspect of the work I provided was my presence. The visible presence of a Sister of St. Joseph of Peace was a significant bridge between our sisters’ past and the many ministries at the Villa since it was first gifted to us and Holy Name Medical Center, to whom the Sisters gifted it in order to fulfill the dream of a free-standing hospice in Bergen County, New Jersey. I worked long and hard at being the “best presence” I could be for the patients, their loved ones, and the staff. As contradictory as that may sound, I loved my role and how I could contribute.
Then, one fateful day, it all disappeared.
My supervisor, who had begun to notice that I was having increasing difficulty walking and generally keeping up with the physical demands of the role “strongly encouraged and persuaded me” to listen to my body and take a medical leave for a little while to rest and recuperate in order to return. But the back damage I had suffered since my novitiate days and the fairly recent diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease (PD) prevented me from eventually returning to full-time ministry work.
The diagnosis of PD in 2006 was a defining moment in my life because it slowly closed the door to my “Martha life of full-time active ministry” and opened the smaller door of “Mary-like life of ministry of presence”. The day I received the diagnosis, my life felt over, until the doctor answered my question of “What do I do now?” with the words: “Go, live a healthy life. You should have a good twenty or thirty years left.” Knowing I now had a real “term limit” to life was both freeing and terrifying but led me to learn to trust more fully in God’s plan for me.
Just as God’s voice is often heard “as a tiny whisper,” so I was given small steps to show me a new path and call to ministry. Several friends of mine, who, like me, are enthusiastic quilters, began meeting weekly at our house for “lunch and stitching.” Everyone felt free and safe to share the real challenges of their daily lives. It was a very mutual exchange because many times they left saying: “Thanks, I really needed to come today.” As at the Villa Marie Claire, it was my presence and offering others time and space to gather and be that was making the difference in the lives of others. I began to feel “useful” again but in a “Mary-like” manner where being, not doing, made the difference.
Still, God was not finished teaching me this valuable lesson. This past February I went up to our community’s infirmary to recuperate from a very serious shoulder surgery. When I first arrived, I assured everyone I would be returning to my long-shared home and local community in nearby Hackensack, New Jersey, when I had recovered in a few months.
As time went on, however, I found myself listening, slowly at first, to a call to new life and ministry of presence with our retired and infirm sisters and staff here at St. Michael Villa. I’ve stumbled into some seemingly small but significant ways for me to be helpful to my sisters and staff here. Thus, my journey from “Martha to Mary” continues…. I am not at all certain of what the future may hold, but I do accept that I do not travel alone, and all God expects of me is to “show up and be present.”