I am 8 months into a new call and I am exhausted.
Last August, I packed up 17 years of life in Chicago, along with a husband and two children, to begin a new chapter in San Francisco. Ten years of building the airplane while you’re flying it is not for the faint of heart and by the end of that decade, I felt like a screw that had been stripped. A sabbatical in 2019 granted some rest but, even more, gave clarity that my days were numbered. Even as I switched into a new role – my Holy Spirit "spidey senses" were attuning themselves to what might be next. The pandemic both slowed and accelerated this process, something for which I am oddly appreciative. Even so, the erosion I had felt was creeping back. If I stayed longer, I knew that I risked becoming a "bad" pastor – resentful, indifferent, or entitled. I could feel it in my spirit. The people deserved better than this, and so did I.
When I think about Martha, so busy busy busy with preparing a meal for all the guests, I have always felt a little bad for her. Why would Jesus admonish her when everyone else was just sitting around? As I return to this passage, I was reminded of a recent study about the cognitive load of women in heterosexual households. In cognitive psychology, cognitive load refers to the amount of working memory resources used. However, in the context of "household management," cognitive labor is also a gendered phenomenon: the invisible cognitive labor which entails anticipating needs, identifying options for filling them, making decisions, and monitoring progress are disproportionately held by women.
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