As Jesus and his disciples went on their way, Jesus 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."
Sermon by the Rev. Carole Horton-Howe
This story of Mary and Martha – especially Martha’s portion - reminds me of the Thanksgiving dinners that Bob and I hosted at our house for our family for decades. Early in our married life the family consisted of about 16 people which filled our little townhouse. As time went on, at its max, we had almost 40. We lost some family member along the way but there were marriage and births and friends that were like family. And we had a larger home, thanks be the God. Preparation for these dinners was over the top.
But it all actually started before we got married with the wedding register for gifts. This is the process of picking out china and crystal and silver and serving dishes and linen napkins and table cloths. Pretty things you want and that they tell you you’ll need. And then very kind people purchase these things for you as wedding gifts. And then, well, you have to use them. And they are so pretty and shiny, and your dinner guests ooh and aah at how lovely it all looks.
Days before Thanksgiving, I would shop for hours and then cook for days all the traditional Thanksgiving dishes. There were To Do lists, and lists of lists. Finally it was Thanksgiving day, with crazy busy last minute things to do, guests arrived to be served. Timing of keeping cold things cold and hot things hot was the most important thing in the world. Making sure that everyone was full and happy. It was a feast.
And then, hours later, the guests were gone and we were alone with piles of dirty pots and pans, plates and cups; a mountain of dirty table linens. But we had a system, and we were usually done cleaning up by about 1:00 A.M. The next day we were so exhausted, we didn’t move unless it was to get another Tylenol.
But that wasn’t the worst hurt. The worst hurt was realizing that I was so busy I hadn’t spent time with my people. I didn’t know how my nephew’s new job was going or who my niece’s best friend was in her new school or how my sister-in-law’s trip to China had gone.
So one year we switched it up. We used paper plates and plastic cups. And we made it a potluck. The plastic forks didn’t match. And we’re probably the only family in town eating Beef and Broccoli and strawberry ice cream for Thanksgiving. But we gained so much – time to listen, to laugh, to complain and commiserate – all things families do together.
So that’s a vivid illustration for me personally of this conflict of good that we hear in the gospel lesson today. Martha wants to honor Jesus by making sure that everything was prepared exactly as it should be, all the details attended to, all the lists checked off, all the food just right, all the drinks just right, And Jesus is like “look, I appreciate it. But I would take bread and water… and you.”
In trying to honor our guests with our actions, which we hoped we were those Thanksgiving and it’s a good thing to do that, we discovered that we really honored our guests much more with our attention. So at some point, if our impulse and the right desire to honor others by our actions interferes with our attending to them, then we are ripe for hearing Jesus words, “look the only thing that matters is for you to sit with us. That’s the only thing.” That’s the one thing.
So it’s a spiritual principal. It’s a call to discern spiritual balance. We do a lot for our families, for our neighbors, for our parish. So many of you do so much. You have such giving beautiful hearts for serving others. But if and when our commitment to practicing the serving side of our Christianity interferes with our prayer life, our reflective life, then we’re out of balance.
And that’s when we hear Jesus saying, “I would like to share with you a word, I would like to listen to you. I would like to hear about your hopes, your needs, your confessions, your desires. And I want to speak to you. I want you to hear from my word through the inspired scriptures.”
Holy Scripture originated in and is grounded in God through Jesus, for us and for our learning. The lesson this morning from Genesis – how sobering is that? Don’t we need to hear this story and picture Abraham frantically around arranging hospitality only to be brought up short by the news from the messenger that Sarah will have a son?
The Psalm this morning is a powerful one setting out the criteria of righteousness to which we might aspire for ourselves and look for in the leadership of others.
We get to hear the rich theology in the Colossians of Jesus as the earthly image of the invisible God, the fullness of God, the first fruits of the new creation. All these really warrant our attention.
But prayer is especially important. That we do not sacrifice our prayer life is important especially as Episcopalians. One of our core principals is the concept that our faith is shaped through our praying. Anglicans have long embraced the idea “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi,” which simply means, “praying shapes believing.” You will become in belief whatever you give your prayerful heart to.
Our hunger for a deeper, richer, ongoing life in communion with God demands that we be able to hold in tension things that often seem to be contradictory. Any attempt to be with God, whether in the course of our prayer, in worship or the course of our daily lives has to be lived in the light of some sense of paradox:
God is within us and God is around us.
Jesus is with us and Jesus has ascended into heaven.
God’s kingdom has come and the kingdom is still to come.
These are the paradoxes of our life with God. The paradox of prayer is this: we perform these acts of worship that are not actually for us. We do these things for God but we are the ones who are changed. We offer songs of praise, prayers of thanksgiving, we chant the ancient psalms and it is we who are moved to joy.
Holy actions and holy attentions -- both are important. It’s a paradox, this Mary-Martha story, that we can live with and not let ourselves be bothered or dismayed by it. We are at times both contemplative Mary and servant Martha. And -- we have to attend to the first things first. This week as I prepared for this sermon I heard not “Martha, Martha” but “Carole Carole.” Jesus also calls your name. And adds a beautiful invitation for you, “choose the better part. Stop and be with me in prayer.” Amen.