In our relentless pursuit of productivity, we have made busyness our modern idol. We measure worth by output, success by things, and value by visibility. The perpetual hum of activity has become our national anthem, drowning out the still, small voice within that whispers of the better angels of our nature. We rush from task to task, accumulating achievements like trophies, yet often find ourselves spiritually bankrupt despite material abundance.

But what if we have been asking the wrong question entirely? What if the issue is not what we do, but how we do it?

The familiar story from Luke’s Gospel (Luke 10: 38-42) presents us with a deep message wrapped in domestic simplicity. Martha, the consummate hostess, bustles about her home preparing everything for the most important guest she ever received. Her hands are busy, her mind focused on the countless details that hospitality demands. Meanwhile, her sister Mary abandons all pretense of productivity and simply is present to Jesus—listening and talking to Him. When Martha’s frustration finally boils over, she appeals to Jesus himself: “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?” Surely the Teacher would vindicate her industry, her sacrifice, her obvious devotion expressed through busyness. Instead, Jesus offers words that have echoed through two millennia: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

What exactly is this “better part” that Mary chose? Surely it was not an escape from the legitimate demands of daily life. No. It was the spiritual part that manifests in genuine love of the other or what Abraham Lincoln would later call the “better angels of our nature”—that spiritual quality that transforms ordinary actions into meaningful offerings.

The better angels are love that serves unconditionally, compassion that feels deeply beyond the surface, forgiveness that heals old wounds, peace that calms troubled waters, understanding that bridges divides. These are spiritual qualities that transform everything we do. Mary embodied love in the simple act of listening. She demonstrated that the attitude of the heart matters infinitely more than busy hands. She chose calm over productivity, being over doing, presence over distraction.

Consider the mathematics teacher who approaches struggling students with patience rather than exasperation. The same lesson plan, the same material, the same classroom—yet when delivered with genuine care, understanding suddenly dawns in young heads. The difference is not in the curriculum but in the spirit that animates it. Think of the emergency room nurse who, despite working her twelve-hour shift, still takes time to hold an elderly patient’s hand during a frightening procedure. The medical protocol remains unchanged, but healing extends beyond the physical when touched by compassion. Consider the customer service representative who chooses to truly listen to a frustrated caller’s concerns rather than simply following a script. The company policies haven’t changed, but relationship is restored when someone feels genuinely heard and valued. And, lets not forget the parent who, after a draining day at work, sets aside fatigue to read one more, inspiring bedtime story to his or her child.

Jesus provides the ultimate example. He could have chosen to save humanity through divine decree, bypassing the messiness of human existence. Instead, He chose the way of incarnation—entering our world, experiencing our struggles, demonstrating through His life and death that love is a way of being. When He fed the five thousand, He didn’t simply multiply bread and fish, He was moved with compassion. When He healed the blind man, He didn’t just restore sight, He reached out to him tenderly, restoring his dignity. When He forgave the woman caught in adultery, He didn’t just pronounce pardon. He offered her a new beginning wrapped in grace.

This is not a call to abandon productivity or dismiss the importance of getting things done. Martha’s service was valuable and necessary—someone had to prepare the meal, arrange the seating, ensure the guest was comfortable. But this is a call to infuse what we do with meaning, to allow the better angels of our nature to guide us. 

In our hurried world, this remains a radical choice: to be present in each moment, to approach each task with love, to see each person as a child of God worthy of dignity and respect. This is the better part, the way of our better angels.

In choosing the better way, we discover that the better angels of our nature are not distant ideals but present realities, transforming everyday actions into acts of true worship.

—Fr. Hugh Duffy, Ph.D.