Luke 10:38-42
Now as they 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 be her many tasks; so she came to Jesus 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.” Jesus said to 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.”
I was inspired by a Mary Oliver quotation this week while I was stewing about this morning’s sermon. Maybe you saw my hint about it on social media yesterday. The quotation is short and sweet:
“It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”
Her name, Mary, of course, and her namesake in this morning’s Gospel seemed like something worth paying attention to. And many of us have heard this bit about Mary and Martha…
Jesus has been pretty busy at this point in Luke’s version of the story, as we’ve heard in the last few weeks. He’s been working hard to prep his disciples to go out into the world to cure the sick, proclaim the good news, cast out demons – all of which they have done. Jesus, himself, has been casting out demons, preaching and teaching, healing and traveling from town to town and from place to place for all of the above, as well.
And today he gets to “a certain village,” which we assume is a place called Bethany because we know, from John’s Gospel, that that’s where Mary and Martha lived with their brother Lazarus. And since John’s Gospel also lets us know what good friends they all were – Jesus, Lazarus, Mary and Martha – I like to think Jesus showed up at Bethany and was welcomed, warmly, by Martha because it was a safe place for him to rest; that maybe it was a home away from home; that, at least, it was a place where he was among friends and away from the strangers and strange places he’d been visiting until then.
And Martha’s working hard to welcome her friend. Probably preparing food. Maybe making up the guest bed. Perhaps fetching water, wrangling the kids, filling lamps with oil, borrowing things from the neighbors, and whatever else a First Century homemaker did to make a guest feel at home.
And all of this while her sister Mary is just hanging out with Jesus in the living room. So Martha asks for some help from Jesus to get Mary off her butt and to help a sister out. But Jesus surprises Martha – and maybe Mary – and probably whoever else was listening, because Mary wasn’t doing what she was supposed to be doing according – not just to Martha – but according, too, to the social standards of the day. While Martha was filling her First Century shoes as a servant to the men, Mary was bucking the system, hanging out with Jesus, spending time with the guys, presumably, and NOT serving, but sitting; NOT doing, but being; NOT distracted by a litany of tasks, but dedicated to listening to her teacher.
And that was perfectly fine with Jesus – and as it should be, as far as he was concerned.
So I appreciate this reminder from Mary, of Bethany. And I appreciate the one from Mary Oliver, too, that “it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” And I’d like to be a little bit more like them both, because sometimes I take the ‘serious’ bit too seriously – especially as your Pastor and as a preacher in this place a lot of the time.
Don’t get me wrong, this is serious business, following Jesus and living lives of faith in this world, broken as it is. And I think this might have been some of Mary Oliver’s point. But paying so much attention to the broken parts of it all are – and have been – tiresome in recent days, months, and years. And I suspect you’ve felt that, too.
I’ve been banging the drum of anti-racism a whole heck of a lot around here – and I worry sometimes that that gets old. I’ve been waving a proverbial rainbow flag of acceptance, welcome and inclusion for our LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters too, and I realize that’s more work for some of us than it is for others. And we are bombarded with the horrifying reality of school shootings, abortion debates, wars, insurrections, and political divisions, too.
I’m always working to encourage generosity and sacrifice where our financial resources are concerned. I’m forever looking to engage more and more of us in opportunities to get our hands dirty around here and out in the world. And so much of what I feel called to preach and teach from one week to the next is set up as a “holy challenge.” I realize I use that phrase a lot. I’m not apologizing for it. I think it’s faithful. I believe it’s what Jesus calls us to. I’m certain it makes us better and that it makes the world look a little bit more like the Kingdom of God.
But it can be tiresome, like I said… overwhelming… exhausting...
So, I wonder – and worry sometimes – that you might leave here feeling tired … or like there’s always more – or too much – to do … or like you, or we, will never be able to do enough or to get it right or to meet the many needs of this broken world.
In other words, our spiritual lives can feel and be a lot like Martha – racing around, distracted, worried, busying ourselves with everything there is to do and pointing fingers at anyone and everyone who’s not playing along or helping out or doing their part.
So this morning, I feel like the Marys – Mary Oliver and Mary, from Bethany – and Jesus, too, might be telling me to sit down and shut up.
“It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”
It is a serious thing – and it’s enough – just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world. And to acknowledge the gift of that.
Just sit down, shut up, and be still. Just be here and be quiet. Just hear these words. Just take this sacrament. Just listen to God’s promise and hope. Just accept this forgiveness, receive this mercy, and relish this grace, in all of its glory.
And just know that God is God – even and especially of the broken parts. And trust that God’s promise to redeem it all is a sure, certain, serious thing – for your sake, for mine, and for the sake of the world.
Amen
