Readings: Luke 10:38-42         

What a homey story we read in the Gospel for today!  Jesus is visiting some close friends.  As friends will do when they have an important visitor, Martha was scurrying around preparing and serving a meal.  Mary, on the other hand, sat at Jesus' feet listening to him.  Most women, I suspect, immediately identify with Martha.  She complained to Jesus suggesting to him that he order Mary to help with the work.  He refused to interfere.  Instead he said to her, "Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things."   

He did not call her to task about what she was doing.  He accepted her service and hospitality.  Such things were important to him.  But she was 'distracted' with all the serving.  It was her distraction from what was important that caused him to respond as he did.  Her anxiety about all the details kept her from the most important thing, really enjoying the opportunity to be with Jesus, to spend time together, to talk, and to listen to one another.  She was missing out on the best part of friendship.  She was obsessed with 'doing' rather than 'being'.  

It is easy in our secular world to become distracted by many things.  We can be more interested in accumulating wealth or power than in being who we are meant to be.  And it is not wealth that is wrong.  It is being distracted by wealth that is wrong.  The accumulation of wealth can become our whole focus in life.  It can distract us from building relationships.  It can distract us from assuming our responsibilities.  As I speak to people planning a relative's funeral, I am struck by how often I hear regrets that they did not spend more time together.  They regret that work came first. 

There was a rather interesting article in the paper the other day about poverty.  It said that we grossly overestimate the problem of poverty in North American society.  There are not nearly as many poor people as we would imagine.  "The poor," it asserted, "have come to expect too much.  They should be provided with food and shelter, and no more."  Yet I see signs of poverty around me, even here in Mississauga, where our mayor last year bragged that there were only sixty homeless people.  This in a city where Food Banks are a way of life for many people, where we have people come in constantly for help to pay their rent, to put food on the table, to buy clothing.  So I find it difficult to reconcile what the article said with my experience.  Government policies give us little sense of the rights of people to expect a sense of dignity.          

All the same, it made an interesting observation.  As a society we have certain middle class expectations.  The poorest of us expects a certain amount of comfort, if not luxury, in our lives.  If our expectations are not met, we are discontent.  It makes us want more.  We become obsessed by things.  We become distracted by what we don't have.  Even the poor can be distracted by wealth. 

Material things, on the other hand, did not distract Martha, but rather what she was doing.  Are we ever distracted by doing rather than being?  Surely one of society's greatest distractions is connected with our role.  We are far more concerned with what we do than with who we are.  We are concerned with what our role is, or what we are contributing to society.  We define who we are by the importance of our job. 

At a workshop I attended, we were asked to introduce ourselves without saying anything about our work or family.  It is amazing how difficult that was to do.  Most people began to describe their hobbies.  I remembered the my experience when I went back to school after twenty-one years of teaching.  I felt as if I had lost my identity.  People looked strangely at me when I said that I was a student.  Those who find themselves suddenly unemployed are confronted with the same sense of loss.  Along with employment, no matter what work we do, comes a certain amount of prestige.  When we lose our job, we wrongly lose our sense of who we are.  We define ourselves by what we do, and by what we have accomplished.  Imagine introducing yourself without saying anything about what you do, or about your family, just about you.  Who are you?  What would you tell people about yourself? 

Defining by role can also be a way of discriminating.  I once took a friend to visit my uncle, the Brigadier.  I knew my uncle to be a snob of the first order, and so I warned my friend about him.  Wrong move!  I introduced him.  His last name is La Penna.  "Oh! Is that the French La Penna's?" my uncle inquired.  "I doubt it," my friend said.  "I come from a long line of Italian ditch diggers."  They could not wait for us to leave.  They were uncomfortable with him.  They thought that they knew everything about him that was important.  They had already made up their minds about who he was.  They were distracted about the most important things about him.  They never found out who he really was. 

Martha had a wonderful sense of service.  She was well organized, and enthusiastic, a wonderful hostess; but service, even sacrifice can be spoiled by self-concern and self-pity.  Good works can become a misery to the doer and a tyranny to others.  When what we are doing gets to the point that it distracts us then something has gone wrong and we need to do something about it.  We need to concern ourselves with being, rather than doing. 

"One thing is needful," Jesus told Martha.  Yes, we are to be servants in the world.  That is certainly the message of the Gospel.  That is certainly the call of discipleship.  Martha understood that call.  She understood it well.  What she did not understand was that the assignment begins at the feet of Jesus.  It returns us periodically to Mary's place of quietness and strength.  Mary knew that it was at the feet of Jesus that she would renew her strength. 

It is through the life of prayer that we get in touch and keep in tune with God.  We need times of quiet renewal in our lives.  It is through Word and Sacrament that we are renewed and revitalized.  From our worship we are sent out into our Monday through Saturday journey into the world to serve humanity.  There we transmit some small touch of divine love and power to despairing, suffering, lonely people. 

The Lord was coming to my house.  I wanted everything to be just right, so I scrubbed it from top to bottom.  I cleaned and polished until the place shone.  Then I laid the table with my best tablecloth.  I polished the silver and put out my best china.  There were candles and matching napkins.  Everything looked quite wonderful. 

When Jesus came into my house I greeted him at the door.  I lavished attention on him.  I made certain the conversation did not lag.  He seemed to be most appreciative of our time together.  But when he left, I realized that something was bothering me, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

Then a question arose from somewhere inside me. What did Jesus want from me?  Food?  Hospitality?  I wondered.  But then a second question, a more important one, came to me.  "What did he want to give me?  I felt sure he wanted to give me something.  But whatever it was, I didn't give him any opportunity to offer it.