LUKE 10:38-42 NRSV
Now as they went on their
way,
he entered a certain village,
where a woman named Martha welcomed him into
her home.
She had a sister named Mary,
who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to
what he was saying.
But Martha was distracted by
her many tasks;
so she came to him and asked,
"Lord, do you not care
that my sister
has left me to do all the
work by myself?
Tell her then to help me."
But the Lord answered her,
"Martha, Martha, you are
worried and distracted by many things;
there is need of only one thing.
Mary has chosen the better
part,
which will not be taken away from her."
***
It’s been a four-sermon week, two funerals, a Sunday
service, and this one for you. I did not know that was even possible. Chalk it
up to the things they don’t teach you in seminary. I had tried to take some
time off for self-care, but two, lets say, ‘untimely,’ deaths blew that out of
the water. In addition, church members and I had begun to paint the manse. I
thought I would take time to paint and think. Instead, furniture remains
stacked up in the living room, and painted over wallpaper is has made a
disaster of the kitchen. The stuff we moved into another room makes getting
dressed an acrobatic task of jumping over plastic curtain panels their metal
rods. I’ve been proud of myself for not falling over on it yet. The other morning
I caught myself way past mid-fall. A mirror was next to me and I had never seen
every muscle in my body work together at the same time. I didn’t even recognize
myself. I don’t really recognize myself in general right now.
In
seminary a friend said I was the one she knew who lived like a Mary. I was good
at missing class or chapel to go explore Atlanta,
or tend to a friend. I was the one who always knew the weather, because I had
spent time on a run my spiritual practice. I was the one who noticed the owl in
a tree, or the fuzzy caterpillar on the concrete sidewalk. Right now, I feel
like it’s exam week. My college roommates would tease me when I’d get this
stressed. I would be typing away at my computer and they would all of a sudden
start loudly sighing, saying, “woe is me.” I would have no idea that for the
last hour I had been sighing at my computer. It was their way of showing me my
stress, and reminding me that it’s just a paper.
I
think Martha had been sighing. She was busy in the kitchen and each task from
chopping vegetables to cleaning pots, was done with an angry edge of vigor.
Jesus, like other men of his time, had come unannounced and expecting to be
served. On top of that her sister is just sitting there listening to him,
instead of helping.
Recently,
I’ve been saying to God, “Really?, Really? Now really?” I was trying to do the
Mary thing, the self-care thing, the spiritual practice thing, but it seems as
though my vocation is trying to make me into a Martha. "Lord, do you not
care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?” Even writing
this sermon, I wonder, why does Presbytery give the sermon to its newest
member. I barely even know anyone. I’m still just now learning how the
Presbytery works in actuality. They said they wanted to get to know me, well
you sure are, maybe more than you intended. "Lord, do you not care that my
sister has left me to do all the work by myself?” I have been complaining. I
have been like Martha.
Yet,
Jesus keeps responding, “There is only need of one thing.” Jesus keeps
responding, Steve Kliewer said he’d write the liturgy. Jim Kauth drove here.
Ginger Rembold is preaching for me next Sunday. Roger Harworth told me I can
ask other pastors for help in emergencies. Congregation members send cards
daily. A pastor’s group in town sends texts and e-mails frequently. Dale and
Judy Wilkins stopped by with hugs, apples and Elk meat. Congregation members
and townspeople have invited me to dinner almost every other day. The leaves
are turning their bold and brilliant colors and the snow is falling painting
the mountains. I mean really, congregation members are helping me pull off 6
times painted over wallpaper. And mostly, I have never felt so surrounded by
prayer. It is unbelievable. Jesus has been in my house. He is sitting in my
living room telling of the kingdom, and I have been complaining in the kitchen.
I
wonder where we will be at this Presbytery meeting? Will we be in the kitchen,
getting things done, getting lost in parliamentary procedure, getting caught up
in how long a presentation is taking? Will we be worried and distracted by many
things? Or will we be in the living room sitting at Jesus’ feet? Will we choose
the better part?
Perhaps
its not an either or. This sermon had to be preached, we Presbyterians have to
meet, and Martha needed to make dinner, but maybe there is another way.
Maybe
it’s about opening up the floor plan, about allowing people to see and squeeze
into our tiny messy kitchen. Maybe it’s about opening up ourselves and opening
up our ideas of how things should be done, maybe its about allowing ourselves
to be served. Maybe we could invite Jesus and Mary into the kitchen, into the
busy work, into the chores and tasks that drain us. Maybe Jesus can chop the
vegetables, and Mary can clean the pots, and we can cook together while
listening to Jesus. Maybe on this weekend, as we go about our agenda, as we
discuss the mundane and the controversial, we can remember to invite Jesus in.
Maybe we can open up ideas of how things should be done and allow Jesus to show
us his way. Maybe we can allow ourselves to be served, as well as servants.
Maybe our complaining can turn to praising, and our meeting can turn to
worship, and our work become the better part, the only thing we need, that
which will not be taken away us.
