As I perused the readings for this Sunday, what jumped out at me was a line in Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: “I have become all things to all, to save at least some.” Hm. All things to all people. That sounds like a lot, Paul. I’m here to tell you that trying to be all to all is exhausting. And impossible.

Following Jesus around in the Gospel Reading is a little exhausting too. He spends the day preaching in the synagogue, comes home and cures Simon’s mother-in-law, and then spends the evening driving out demons and curing more sick people. He finally catches a moment’s peace when he sneaks out to pray, but Simon and the others come and get him. He suggests that they jump up and visit all the surrounding villages, and the preaching and healing begins all over again. Jesus is being all things to all people, and I’m tired just thinking about it. He can’t even take a little time to himself without being interrupted, and he doesn’t chide those who interrupt him either. Instead, he just keeps going, driven by his mission. “For this purpose I have come.”

This may seem like the opposite way to respond to Scripture, but what’s in me is to not be like Jesus in this. I mean, I’m not Jesus. Jesus actually is all things to all people, but I’m just me. Jesus lived his life so connected to God that he could move from prayer to ministry without being worn-out, but when I skip prayer to get more work done, I feel depleted. He had human limitations too, of course, but Jesus was the son of God, and I can’t help but to think that helped him to stay focused and motivated. Also, he had just a few years of ministry before he was arrested and executed, and he had things he had to do during that short time. I guess you don’t need to worry about burnout if you only have a few years to work. No wonder he was so driven. I, on the other hand, hope to have sustained and prolonged ministry over plenty of years, not followed by an early death. I’m not denying Jesus his humanity; I’m just feeling my own humanity, you know what I’m saying?

Lately, it seems like a lot of things are popping up about fatigue and burnout. I’ve seen memes complaining about how long this year has been, and the punchline is that it’s only January. I’ve listened to podcasts about boundaries and about eldest daughters and how we need to stop caretaking to the point of solving other people’s problems. I read that chapter again in Brené Brown’s book Dare to Lead about how loneliness can sometimes disguise itself as exhaustion (60-66). Burnout, exhaustion, loneliness, fatigue. What’s happening?

Honestly, it could be the weather. In my part of the world, we haven’t seen the sun for a number of days, maybe even weeks. It could be the post-holiday blues and blahs, that time after Christmas and New Years when we’re back to the grind of life and we’ve already run out of steam for our resolutions. And it could be that people are doing too much. I know — real life. It’s hard to really have self-care and rest, to allow a bit of hibernation when there are deadlines to meet and weekends full of things we have to do. For those of you who are parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles, adult children and nieces and nephews and grandchildren, there are people who need to be cared for. For people in helping professions, work and life are all about care. It’s a lot. And yet. And yet, we cannot be all things to all people. We are just ourselves.

I don’t have a remedy for this. I find myself pulled into this all-to-all space too sometimes. One thing that does help me is to remember that it’s actually not just me, that I’m one person in a community of people. That perspective kind of resets and restores my reality — and humility — in healthy ways. I sometimes have a tendency to fill in the gaps, so if there’s something that needs to be done, I jump in and do it. And the more I jump in to do things, the more people have the expectation that I will. However, then I end up doing what’s not mine to do, and, since I have my own stuff to do, that’s unsustainable. And unnecessary. As a community, none of us is all things to all people; we all have our part to play. This applies outside of religious life too. I think of people in caretaking roles, people looking after children or elderly relatives who may not have help from other family members. I think of people trying to do it all with work and family life. That’s a lot. Could there be some help, some support, so we don’t have to take on everything ourselves? We can’t do everything, and we’re not meant to.

Maybe Jesus could spend his short ministry years zipping around the countryside, preaching and healing and teaching. However, he also took time to pray. He enjoyed a good meal with friends. He also took naps. And the thing is, he didn’t do all the work himself. He gathered disciples for a reason. He spent time and energy instructing them in his mission and mentoring them while they practiced it, and then he sent them out. He knew himself to be in community with others, and he trusted his community to do their part. Maybe we could take a page from his playbook in this.

Not only did Jesus see himself in the context of community, but he understood that he was one with God. He wasn’t alone; he was sustained by God in all things. In fact, part of his temptation in the wilderness was seeing himself autonomously, as the one in power doing all things on his own. He pushed back hard against that temptation, though, so he began his ministry not alone but in deep communion with the Source of All Being, who was actually not separate at all but present with and in and through him.

I think it’s this last bit that I find to be the most helpful when I’m feeling the pressure to be all things to all people. Only God can be that. I know that God doesn’t expect me to be that. God calls me to serve in particular ways and contexts, to love the people in my life and to have compassion for people in need. Sometimes I’m in need too, and it’s okay to ask for help. And it’s okay to rest. God calls me to do my part and then enjoy a good meal with my nuns or my family, to laugh with friends, to take a nap. I’m pretty sure God is calling you to do the same.

Alone we cannot be all things to all people, but together we’re the Body of Christ. God is with each one of us, and God is present when we’re together. We may be small and incomplete, but we’re enough, because God makes us enough. I hope we can trust that, do what we can, and rest in God’s presence. For this purpose we have come.

For reflection:

• Have you ever noticed a tendency in yourself to try to be all things to all people? What does that feel like?

• How do you respond to to that? How do you work against the temptation to be all to all?

• What does rest and restoration look like, feel like, for you? How can you bring about more of that in your life?

• Maybe you could spend a few minutes with God and see what God has to say about all of this.
  
  
  

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Leslie is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Board of Directors of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, and meaningful conversations. And naps. Definitely naps.