Proper 11 - 2025

Sermon for Proper 11, Year C
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty

Delivered on the occasion of the baptisms of Mary Allen Knowles, Titus Hardy, Lydia Jones, and Emerson Jones.

The Researcher and the Doer

I confess: I am a researcher. I love learning how to do things more than actually doing them. Whether it’s leatherworking (I’ve only made one thing), setting up a podcast (but never recording one), or even preparing a sermon—I get lost in the study, the planning, the gathering of ideas.

But at some point, the research must give way to action. The tools must be picked up, the microphone turned on, the words written and spoken. Otherwise, the preparation becomes its own end, and nothing is ever brought to life.

This tension between learning and doing, between sitting and serving, is at the heart of today’s Gospel.

We know this scene well: Jesus visits the home of Martha and Mary. Martha, the consummate host, is busy with preparations—making sure the meal is perfect, the house is in order, the guests are cared for. Mary, on the other hand, sits at Jesus’ feet, listening to his teaching.

When Martha complains, Jesus responds with what seems like a gentle rebuke: “Martha, Martha, you are distracted by many things; there is need (right now) of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part.”

At first glance, it sounds like Jesus is dismissing service in favor of contemplation. But that can’t be right—after all, just last week, we heard the parable of the Good Samaritan, where Jesus praises the one who instantly acts in mercy. So what’s really going on here?

Jesus isn’t condemning Martha’s work. Hospitality is holy. Preparing a meal, tending to guests, serving others—these are all acts of love. The problem isn’t the work itself; it’s the distraction, the worry, the way the work consumes her to the point where she misses the very one she’s serving.

Mary, meanwhile, recognizes that in this moment, the most important thing is to be present—to listen, to receive, to sit at the feet of the One who is the source of all service.

There is a time for action, and there is a time for stillness. A time to labor like the Samaritan, and a time to rest like Mary. The wisdom is in knowing which is needed now.

Baptism and The End of Self-Ownership

Today, we celebrate a special call to action, baptism—a moment when heaven and earth touch, when a child is claimed by Christ and welcomed into the Body of Christ. And in this sacrament, we see the beautiful interplay of being and doing.

Rowan Williams, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, once said:

“Baptism is not a private act of devotion but a public declaration that we are no longer our own. We are swept up into the life of God, and that life is always turned outward—toward love, service, and reconciliation.”

Baptism is both a gift and a call. It is the gift of belonging—of being named, loved, and marked as Christ’s own forever. But it is also the call to live into that identity—to do the work of love, justice, and mercy in the world.

Parents and godparents, you take on a sacred responsibility today. You are/have been the first teachers, the first witnesses of what it means to follow Christ. You will show these children/young adults, in word and deed, how to live as one who is loved by God.

And to all of us here: Baptism is a mirror. It calls us to remember our own vows—to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourself, to respect the dignity of every human being. We are not just observers today; we are renewing our own promises to walk this way of love together.

So where does that leave us—the researchers, the doers, the Marthas and Marys of the world?

Perhaps the invitation is this: to hold both stillness and action in tension. To know when to sit at Jesus’ feet and when to rise in service. To understand that our doing must flow from our being—that we cannot give what we have not first received.

Today, as we witness these baptisms, may we remember that we, too, are God’s beloved. May we find moments to listen, to rest, to be filled. And then, may we go forth—ready to serve, ready to love, ready to live as those who are no longer our own, but Christ’s forever.

Amen.