BY JEAN P. KELLY

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.”

The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”

“POOR MARTHA, Martha,” I always think when hearing the Luke 10: 38-42. “I’ve been there, sister.”

For most of my life, any joy experienced when hosting guests in my home, my office or as visitors to my hometown was tempered by anxiety like that of the “burdened” sister in this biblical story. My idea of hospitality, like hers, was defined by social conventions, gender roles and a deep need to impress, to be liked, and to have my value confirmed even by people I did not know well. Often as the start time of any visit drew closer, innocent bystanders like Mary were sure to become collateral damage, victims of sharp-edged commands to help, directions to get out of my way, or other means of unwilling participation in a delusion that fussing over every detail was the best form of welcome. Unfortunately, most of the time family and friends either fueled the drama or hid from it. While deep down I ached with an appetite for the “better part,” I feasted instead on a smorgasbord of self-important sacrifice and aggrieved self-righteousness. Indigestion was guaranteed.

St. Benedict’s 73 guidelines each quote Scripture, then offer abundantly clear instructions for applying virtuous teachings, both within monasteries and without. They go a long way toward dispelling confusion, fear, doubt, and anxiety.

Until, that is, I experienced hospitality as a guest of a Cistercian monastery. Not only did I partake with monks in days of silence, solitude, and peace, but also found an acceptance that said I could participate in prayers–or not, eat meals or not, and walk without plan anywhere on the beautiful property save the cloistered area reserved for the priests and brothers. There life was ordered, and anxiety avoided, thanks to an ancient set of rules first written in the sixth century by St. Benedict.

Now as a lay member of St. Meinrad Archabbey monastery, I strive every day to embody this Rule of Life in my secular life, with special attention to cultivating a welcoming heart. Monks, sisters, and oblates of Cistercian and Benedictine religious orders have long been recognized for their hospitality, whether that means accepting any and all visitors to convents and monasteries, and for those living outside monastic communities, opening our hearts to everyone without judgment, even those unlike us. A central tenet of the Rule is to see Christ in everyone regardless of status, and to treat guests accordingly, just as Mary did: offering love, respect, and care that goes far beyond making the perfect meal or expecting credit for doing so.

Students of scripture know the Bible contains 300-plus admonishments to set aside anxiety, as in “fear not.” But examples of just how to do that seem sparse in comparison. Enter St. Benedict’s 73 life guidelines, each quoting Scripture, then offering abundantly clear instructions for applying virtuous teachings, both within monasteries and without. They go a long way toward dispelling confusion, fear, doubt, and anxiety. Chapter 53, The Reception of Guests, begins with the rule “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, who said: ‘I was a stranger and you welcomed me’ (Matthew 25:35).” The next paragraph, however, answers the big question of how: prayer. When greeting guests, members of a community are instructed to first come with visitors, pilgrims, and beggars alike “to pray together and thus be united in peace.”

Prayer is integral to Benedictine hospitality, a first step toward deeper discernment. Unlike Martha who assumed she knew how Christ desired to be treated, communities “come together” in prayer to consider what type of welcome most benefits both guests and hosts. This decision-making is informed by additional principles in The Rule, too, including ones teaching balance, restraint, obedience, detachment and humility.

For example, Martha’s triangulation of Jesus and her sister—instigation—is prohibited by Rule 69, which warns against both defending and criticizing others because doing so fosters contention in relationships. St. Benedict encourages individuals to focus instead on our own behavior, not that of others, always valuing harmony over entanglement in interpersonal disputes.

Rule 6 encourages restraint of speech, which makes authentic listening like Mary’s much more likely. Seated at the feet of Christ she was not only a humble student, she was by singular attention praying. This rule is a tough one for me because filling silences with words, even complaining about my plight, often alleviates anxiety if only momentarily.

Rule 5 characterizes obedience as detaching from both our own concerns and the opinions of others, which can require us to ignore social conventions and subvert our needs in favor of humble service to others. Martha’s ego led her to assume she knew what Jesus needed, despite all indications to the contrary. Her ideas about generosity were fixed by convention, not open to genuine encounter.

But I refuse to be too hard on dear Martha. She was, after all, the sister who welcomed Christ at the door. Through her example we can understand that one form of welcome requires action. Mary, on the other hand, modeled the importance of the contemplative life, a disposition requiring both meekness and detachment. Christ seems equally pleased with them both, demonstrating in this story the need for balance, even in hectic situations.

While I endeavor every day to follow the Rule of St. Benedict, I won’t pretend to have banished entirely anxiety from my usual dinner party menu or guest drop-in snack preparations. But I can say that unease and the need to please are never more than a side dish. For that I credit community, a patient, loving co-host who is my spouse. Together, before the doorbell rings, we pause preparations and pray. First we acknowledge the nearness of the Divine House Guest, already arrived in our hearts. Then we offer thanks for the opportunity to share that guest’s love with others, come what may. Only then do we get the party started.