The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
July 22, 2001

By
The Rev. Ann M. Smith

"My name is Martha. I have a sister Mary. The Lord was coming to my house for a visit. 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. Then I went into the kitchen and finished getting the meal. I know I didn't need to prepare so much food, but Jesus is a special guest. I finally got the meal on the table. It was a busy time. I could have used Mary's help. But she was intent on our visitor. At first I didn't mind. After all someone needed to be in there to make certain that Jesus was looked after. Mary is a good listener. But then even after I served dinner Mary sat there at his feet while I cleaned up. It just wasn't right somehow. Mary seeing herself as a student of the Torah is just not permitted.

Jesus seemed to be most appreciative of our time together. But after he left, I realized that something was bothering me – something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I remembered what he said when I complained about Mary's lack of help. He refused to interfere. Instead he said my name and told me that I was worried and distracted by many things. Well, of course I was distracted! There was just so much to do and Mary didn't help at all.

But then I couldn't help but think. I put myself out to make Jesus welcome in my home – good food, hospitality. But what did he want from 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. Maybe Mary was right after all."

"I'm Mary. People seem to think I live up to my name. It means obstinate. I don't see myself as being stubborn, but my sister Martha certainly does. She thinks I should be more lady-like. It's easy for her. Her name says it all. It means 'lady'. She is such a good hostess. In some ways it drives me crazy. Everything has to be just so. The other day our good friend Jesus came to visit. Martha spent the whole time he was there fussing about everything. She kept hinting that I should help, and maybe I should have done more. But Jesus is such a wonderful person. Martha never sits long enough to find about him. He talks about God in such a personal way. I love to listen to his stories. Martha thinks that I should keep my place. But I have learned so much just listening to him. I am glad that he didn't interfere when Martha complained to him about me. He said that I had chosen the better part. It is just that when I hear him talk about God there is such a yearning in me to know more. I feel as if I matter to God. I feel as if God is talking to me."

The visit of Jesus to the home of his friends Mary and Martha is such a homey story! It gives us a sense of Jesus, as he was with his friends, kind and insightful. He went beyond the norms of his day in accepting Mary's devotion and thirst for knowledge. He did not call Martha to task about what she was doing. He accepted her service and hospitality. Such things were important to him. But he knew that she was missing out on something important. 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'.

There are many distractions in our fast-paced world. Wealth or power can distract us. And it is not wealth that is wrong. However, 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. Often they have very little to say about who the person was or what the person meant to them in their lives.

Material things can be a distraction. As a society we have come to 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 can become obsessed. Even the poor can be distracted by wealth. They can become distracted by what they don't have.

Doing can become a distraction. In our society is not uncommon to be 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. It is difficult for most of us to define ourselves without thinking in terms of what we do. I experienced a total lack of identity when I went back to school after more than twenty 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. The conversation was over when I told them I was studying theology and planning to be ordained. 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? At a workshop I attended, we were asked to do exactly that. It is amazing how difficult that was for most of us. At first we had nothing to say. Then we began to describe our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, our intellectual pursuits. Even those of us who had known one another for a long time gained a new perspective as we discovered interesting things about one another, things that brought us into a closer relationship, that made us seem more human and approachable.

Martha had a wonderful sense of service. She was well organized, and enthusiastic – in short, 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.

"There is need of only one thing," Jesus told Martha. He was not saying that our call as Christians is not to be servants. We are called to servant ministry. That is the message of the Gospel. Martha understood her call to serve. She understood it well. What she did not understand was what Mary instinctively knew. 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.

Mary or Martha! The point in the portrait is not that it is better to be reflective than it is to be active.

The point is not merely that Martha was busy getting a meal and Mary sat listening to their guest. The point is that 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.