SUNDAY SERMON
HOSPITALITY
Pentecost
7, Proper 11, Yr C
July 18, 2004
Gospel: Lk 10.38-42
In 1987 in a suburb of Jerusalem I stood in a small house where a woman named Martha had welcomed Jesus into her home. The village was Bethany. I was in Israel traveling with my good friend, coincidentally named Martha, and some seminary faculty and clergy. As we approached yet another holy site, one of my professors called Martha and me aside and asked if we would be willing to give a meditation at the home of Martha and Mary. Literally with five minutes to prepare, we decided we would "be" Martha and Mary and have an impromptu dialogue.
What ensued was a spontaneous combustion conversation. I don't recall a word we said. I do recall there was humor and arguing, typical of any family scene. But afterwards people told us that while we had heard their laughter, we might have missed their tears. Something of the real-life personalities of Martha and Mary-and Jesus-had come through. That was the beginning of my getting to know these two women who figured so prominently in Jesus' life. I'm still getting to know them, especially Martha.
Now almost twenty years later I have given more thought to them because of the newly formed group here at Church of the Holy Communion. This group of youngish people has named themselves the Mary and Martha Guild; their purpose is extending hospitality especially to expectant couples and those with young children. And to my delight men are warmly invited and included in this group. Watch for their next potluck dinner on the last Sunday night in August. As their mascot, I wouldn't miss it!
Back to the gospel. I confess: I have idealized Mary. After all she is the one Jesus commends. She sits at his feet, hanging on his every word. She "chooses the better part." This is how I want to be. And yet I know more often I'm "distracted by many things." Important things and mundane things-all things that need doing: writing a birthday card, cleaning out the car, walking the dog, baking someone a cake, delivering MIFA meals, visiting someone in the hospital. Even if you are not an inveterate list-maker, most of us get distracted about many things.
Therefore, it is easy to hear this vignette and assume that Jesus loves Mary, "the spiritual sister," more and that he dismisses Martha and the practical duties which she performs.
In an effort to break into this story in a fresh way, I imagined myself writing Martha a letter.
I have a good friend who shares your name. Because of her I have tried to admire and understand and yes, to like you. Let me explain what I've struggled with especially in comparison to your sister, Mary. Sorry, because I know you're probably tired of that.
You are famous as the hostess, the planner, the chef, the clean-up crew all rolled into one. No time to sit down and enjoy your guests. In that story about Jesus coming to dinner, you get so bent out of shape with Mary and with Jesus that you blow them both out. You lose it in that scene, don't you? I agree it wasn't fair for Mary to do nothing. Still, I can't help but wonder if you didn't partly bring it on yourself. Couldn't you have made it a potluck dinner? Or invited fewer guests?
When Jesus said, "Martha, Martha, you're distracted by many things," and then went on to say Mary had her priorities right, it made me mad at Jesus. He didn't have to put you down that way. My guess is you were already feeling pretty put upon and left out. Am I right? Jesus seems to come off loving Mary, the "spiritual sister," more.
I'm a single woman; I've given dinner parties. Invariably the best conversation gears up when it's time to check something in the kitchen or on the grill. And it is so frustrating to have to do it all yourself.
Anyway, if you want to respond, I will be greatly honored. You see, I suspect that my questions are because I am more like you than I want to admit. Did you ever talk to Jesus about all this?
Shalom [Peace be with you], Mary Blair
Dear Mary Blair,
Thank you for your letter and I want very much to respond. You have zeroed in on so many of my reactions at that dinner party: feeling left out, feeling resentful, losing my temper. And I want to tell you how I got things sorted out. That night was a turning point. But first, some background.
Bethany, you recall, is only a couple of miles from Jerusalem. It's an easy walk. We are fortunate to have a guestroom and love to have visitors. In fact, opening our home to people, sitting for hours eating, drinking, talking in our courtyard brings joy to all three of us. I say three; you know I live here with my younger sister, Mary and our brother, Lazarus. I still think of him as our kid brother, although he's been a grown man for years. Because none of us is married, we have the freedom to share our home in ways that people with children do not.
Hospitality has become the hallmark of our life. But it was not always so. Some years ago we made a special friend who taught us about the beauty of hospitality and the importance of relaxing and enjoying our guests. The friend, of course, was Jesus.
He didn't have a home, other than ours, after he left Galilee. We became his adopted family. He came often during those three years, knowing his room would always be ready. Sometimes he arrived with a crowd of friends, men and women who traveled with him. Other times, alone.
The dinner party you wrote about was his first visit with us. I wanted it to be a special occasion in every way. I invited some of our friends from the village to join us and get to know him as we were looking forward to doing. I began my preparations in the early morning. Lazarus was gone all day, so he did nothing. Mary did help a little bit but food and flowers are not her thing.
About sundown, Jesus arrived with his group. Then others from the village began turning up. The courtyard buzzed with conversation, people eating olives and cheese before the main course. I was in and out to the kitchen and by the time they sat down I hadn't even met Jesus, much less heard a full sentence of what he was saying.
I remember going to wash the plates between courses because we didn't have enough and Mary asking me, "why don't you just let them eat the dessert off the same plates?" "They are covered in gravy," I said crossly. She left the kitchen and me to my thoughts. Anger formed a knot in my stomach. Here was Jesus at my home and I had not heard one story he was telling. Here was my sister not doing her share and Lazarus who seemed oblivious.
Then I realized I was angry with Jesus, too. If he was a just and fair prophet, he should see the injustice. He ought to do something about this.
That's when I lost it. I was clearing the dessert dishes and I blurted out, interrupting him, "Don't you care that my sister has left me to do all this work by myself?"
The room went quiet; my face flushed red. Jesus held out a hand to me, beckoning me into the circle. He said, "Martha, dear Martha, you are worried." "Yes," I nodded. "Distracted by many things." I nodded again. "But there is really only one thing that is essential, and Mary has chosen it."
Then I realized that I wanted to be there listening, too, and that was exactly what he was inviting me to do. Jesus drew me to sit down next to him, moving one of his friends to make room for me. It was as if he was saying, you belong here beside me.
In spite of my resentment and anxieties I felt affirmed, understood. I relaxed and listened spellbound the rest of the evening. Jesus' words calmed my heart.
It was a turning point. Since then I have truly been able to enjoy guests. Hospitality became the hallmark of our home. Jesus' words did not solve my external problem-too much work and others not always doing their share. But his words did deal with my internal problem-resentment and anxiety about it. And I learned that night that all of us need to make time for sitting down and listening to Jesus. That's what prepares us and restores us for the practical things of working and serving, whether it is in the kitchen or the synagogue or the marketplace.
Peace to you-Shalom, Martha
Dear Lord, Lover of our souls, head of every household, guest at every
meal,
Strengthen us like Martha for the many tasks you call us to;
Teach
us like Mary to sit at your feet and listen for your voice.
Give us cheerful
hearts in the face of tedious work;
Remind us of what is most needful.
In
all things grant us such an awareness of your love
For us, for children, for
the splendor of this world
That we may sing the praise of your name, Lord Jesus
Christ. AMEN.
Sermon
preached Pentecost 7, July 18, 2004, Church of the Holy Communion, Memphis by
the Rev. Blair Both.
Sources: Kenneth Bailey, Poet and Peasant: Literary and
Cultural Approach to the Parables in Luke; Margaret Hebblethwaite, Six New Gospels.