Married to Amazement

Proper 11C; Luke 10:38-42; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC July 17, 2016

Jim Melnyk: “Married to Amazement”

If you’re at all like me, over the years you have heard many sermons on today’s gospel lesson from Luke.  Most of them probably begin with extolling the great virtue of Mary, who sits at the feet of Jesus in quiet contemplation and admiration, listening to the Master as he speaks about the coming kingdom of God.  We hear how it was a scandalous act that Mary should be sitting at Jesus’ feet, and how open Jesus was to flaunting religious rules and cultural etiquette.

And while it’s probably historically true that women did not receive formal training in Torah in the first century, it’s a Christian fallacy that rabbis could not or would not speak with women, nor that woman might learn about the scriptures informally.  We hear about Martha’s frustration and Jesus shutting down her complaint toward her sister. 

And finally, after hearing all that, we usually hear that all too clichéd addendum by the preacher: “But we need our Martha’s, too!” After all, we don’t want to talk women out of the kitchen, do we?

And once again, like last Sunday, we need to find a way to hear today’s lesson in a new way.  We need to let go of our twenty-first century ears, and even attempts to listen solely with first century early Christian ears.  We need to try to tune our ears and eyes to what first century followers of Jesus – especially first century Jewish followers of Jesus – would have heard and seen.  We need to “see” what is going on in today’s passage with eyes that would have been looking on – not decades later, but in the midst of what sounds like a busy dinner party hosted by Martha and Mary.

And so we can try to immerse ourselves in the scene – hear the bustle in the kitchen as Martha tries to oversee the cooking and the table-setting, perhaps wiping her forearm across a sweaty brow and drying her hands on an apron.  We can smell the meat cooking over an open fire and the bread baking.  We can picture young children running about and getting in the way much as they do today when we’re trying to pull a party together.  We can imagine the frustration growing in Martha as she oversees it all on her own.

And then we notice Martha’s younger sister Mary sitting near Jesus, her imagination captured by his storytelling and passion.  We may find ourselves getting caught up in trying to hear what Jesus is saying – what it is that has Mary so enraptured – and just when we think we’re almost able to hear the conversation and BAM!  In bursts Martha – hands on her hips and a scowl on her face – “Jesus, don’t you care at all about me?  I’m stuck doing all the work.  Tell my sister to get her lazy bones back in the kitchen to help me get this meal on the table!”  "Martha, Martha,” Jesus replies, “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."  Please note that Jesus does not add, “But we need our Martha’s, too!”

As I try to imagine what’s going on with Martha, I see her as someone caught up in a pattern of living – someone who feels like she’s been rowing against the tide most of her life – and it is so tiresome.  I can imagine her thinking words similar to those of poet Anne Sexton:

           

“I am rowing, I am rowing

            Though the oarlocks stick and are rusty

            And the sea blinks and rolls

            Like a worried eyeball,

            But I am rowing, I am rowing.”

Martha knows there is more to life than what she is experiencing in the present, but she lives her life rowing against the tide – always worried and distracted by many things and unable to stop.  She finds those who can – those who can see past the distractions – people like her sister Mary – as one more frustrating distraction in her own life.

Mary, I think, senses something greater in her presence that day – she senses Presence with a capital “P.” – and she longs to be a part of that Presence – she longs to understand the Presence that is Jesus in all its fullness.  Unlike Martha, Mary may be thinking something along the lines of what the poet Mary Oliver says about her own life:

           

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life

            I was a bride married to amazement.

            I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

            I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”

           

As followers of Jesus we need to do more than just visit the world.  As Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s father used to tell him – and ++Michael loves to repeat often, “Michael, you were put here on this earth to do more than just use up oxygen.”  We’re here on this earth to take the world in our arms – we’re here on this earth to be a bride or a bridegroom to amazement – we are here on this earth to live fully in the presence of Christ and share that experience with everyone who finds themselves too distracted – too anxious – too overwhelmed by the craziness of this world – feelings that are all too real for most of us these days.

The trouble is, I suspect, that all too often we feel like we’re rowing against the tide with rusty oarlocks and heavy seas surrounding us.  How are we supposed to find Presence with a capital “P” in the midst of our all-too-busy lives and the constant hammering away of the 24 hour, seven days a week, news cycle and the seemingly endless political campaigns that more closely resemble the World Wrestling Entertainment Network than a class in Citizenship 101?  How do we find Presence with a capital “P” in a world suddenly running amok with violence?

Our call as baptized Christians to follow Christ and to be Christ in the world through active, hands-on, ministry was made clear in last week’s Parable of the Good Samaritan.  But when life in general, or even our work of ministry – as vital as it is – becomes a distraction from knowing and following Jesus, we need to step back and take a breath – we need to put down the oars for a bit and contemplate the vastness of the sea around us and the fullness of God’s presence in the midst of it all.  The hard work of ministry is balanced by our willingness to be still in the midst of the Presence – balanced by our willingness to just be.

Rather than all of us needing to be "Marthas," I'm willing to bet we all have a bit too much Martha in most of us already. We go about with tiny computers on our belts or in our pockets or purses. We're constantly bombarded with emails, and texts, and news, and ads, all telling us what we need to do and when we need to do it – telling us what we need to think or believe to be on the right side – telling us what we need to buy to be successful and live up to the world’s expectations.

The Good News is that God in Christ gives us permission to – no – rather God longs for us to be more like Mary. We can do that, even if it's only a few minutes here and there at first. And once we get even the slightest hand on carving out some time to simply rest in the Presence, we can learn to be better at it.  As Julian of Norwich once wrote, “The best prayer is to rest in the goodness of God.”

Perhaps an easy way to start is to take home today’s bulletin insert and make a commitment to spend 5-10 minutes a day this week sitting with Mary and Martha, or another passage that speaks to you from today’s readings – or perhaps even a verse or two from one of your favorite psalms. God will stop with you even in the midst of all the craziness of your lives.  

Take the time to quiet yourself and place yourself in the setting and pay attention to all that is happening – not just around you, but in the passage as well – and then purposely let it go – put it down – or shut it out.  Let your breathing relax, and then feel your heartbeat relaxing with you.  Know that you are in the presence of the Holy One. Then simply ask God, “How do you want to help me be more like Mary this week?”