Joel D. Kline
August 31, 2003
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
When studying the Scriptures, we can sometimes learn as much about the writer’s intent from where a story is placed as we do from its actual words. I wonder if that’s not the case as we consider the story of Mary and Martha, the two sisters whom Jesus comes to visit. Luke places that story in tandem with the familiar story of the Good Samaritan, a story that highlights the call to take the risk of actively responding to those in need. At first glance the Mary and Martha story appears to contradict the message of the Good Samaritan story, as it extols the sister who sits at the feet of Jesus, listening and learning from Jesus, while cautioning the sister who busies herself with a great deal of activity.
What’s going on here? Why place these stories side by side? Could it be a way for Jesus to underscore the interconnection between the twin commandments, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and you shall your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27).
For most of us, our identity is closely aligned with what we are able to accomplish, with the tasks we perform. “What do you do?”—It’s a primary question we ask of one another, as we begin to develop relationship with each other. In our society, who we are depends a great deal upon what we accomplish. Is that not a key element in this Labor Day weekend, as we celebrate our work, our accomplishments, our life’s activity?
It is not simply a “secular” celebration. In the Christian life, do we not place a premium upon this call to action? Does not Jesus invites us to move away from the sidelines and enter into the fray of Christian discipleship—to take up a cross, to do the things that make for peace, to feed the hungry and visit the sick, to break down barriers that divide, to engage actively in acts of compassion and loving kindness? Indeed, many of us who have embraced the life and experience of the Church of the Brethren have done so because of its focus throughout history upon putting our faith into action. We are a people who have heard the call to discipleship, and as a result, most of us are far more comfortable with the “going and doing” aspects of faith than we are with the “sitting and listening.”
But perhaps, by telling these two companion stories, Jesus is reminding us that we need both kinds of times in our lives; we need times of “going and doing” and we need times of “sitting and listening.” We are called to active and compassionate service in the world around us, and we are called to spend times in quiet, listening to and for the Voice of God. Sitting at the feet of Jesus without ever getting up and embarking upon paths of service is pointless, and serving without sitting and listening is powerless and directionless.
Through my years in ministry, this truth has become increasingly apparent to me. Our acts of service lose steam when our connection with God is not as strong as it ought to be. Our “lasting power” increases as we deepen the personal dimensions of faith, as we spend time simply being in God’s presence, reflecting, listening, waiting for God. This kind of sitting and listening is every bit as important in the Christian life as are our acts of going and doing.
Still, there’s something about the story of Jesus’ encounter with Mary and Martha that doesn’t set right with us, isn’t there? Perhaps it’s because so many of us find ourselves in the role of Martha. Indeed, when the world is divided between the Marys and the Marthas, I rather suspect most of us come down on the Martha side. And what would we do without Marthas in the church, those individuals who see a need and enter into the fray?
Peter Gomes, pastor of Memorial Church at Harvard University, reminds us:
We all know the Marthas, those hardworking people without whom any movement or occasion would starve; churches especially thrive on their Marthas. Who will do the coffee hour? Martha. Who will do the washing up? Martha. Who will feed the visiting choir? Martha. Who will see that child care is provided? Martha. Who will change the flowers? Martha. Who will drive the youth group to its diversion, and who will put on the reception or cope in a volunteer capacity where there is no professional around to do the work? Martha.
Yes, we understand Martha. After all, we live in a world where busyness is something of a status symbol, is it not? If we’re busy, we’re important; if not, we’re almost embarrassed to admit it. Martha was busy—wasn’t she? —doing the very kind of things Jesus had just commended in the Good Samaritan story. Wasn’t she providing the sacred art of hospitality to unexpected guests, to Jesus and perhaps some of the disciples as well? Wasn’t she expressing her willingness to serve? Wasn’t she offering her best for Jesus?
Yet here is Martha, coming out on the short end of the stick! Or so it seems. But could it be that it is not Martha’s activity to which Jesus reacts, but her priorities, her sense of what’s most important in life? Could it be that the Marthas of the world are so busy doing good and necessary things, so preoccupied with tasks that need to be accomplished, so committed to their giving, that they do not take the time to realize how frequently and deeply they themselves stand in need? Could Martha’s work—and ours—sometimes be an excuse for not examining our lives, not questioning what we hold as the “first things,” the most necessary things, in life?
There is a revolutionary character to prayer that many of us miss. Prayer is not simply idling away our time, selfishly pursuing our own needs, avoiding the critical hurts and struggles of the day. No, prayer is relationship; prayer is that which nourishes and empowers the soul for deeper interaction with the world. In an article entitled Prayer and Peacemaking Henri Nouwen asserts:
The invitation to a life of prayer is the invitation to live in the midst of this world without being caught in the net of wounds and needs. The word prayer stands for a radical interruption of the vicious chain of interlocking dependencies leading to violence and war and for an entering into a totally new dwelling place. It points to a new way of speaking, a new way of breathing, a new way of being together, a new way of knowing, yes, a whole new way of living.It is not easy to express the radical change that prayer represents, since for many the word prayer is associated with piety, talking to God, thinking about God, morning and evening exercises, Sunday services, grace before meals, sentences from the Bible, and many other things. All of these have something to do with prayer, but when I speak about prayer … I speak first of all about moving away from the dwelling place of those who hate peace into the house of God … Prayer is the center of the Christian life. It is the only necessary thing (Luke 10:42). It is living with God here and now.
Mary apparently understands prayer, connectedness with God, to be at the center of life. And so she eagerly sits at the feet of Jesus, yearning to draw strength and sustenance from Jesus. Might it be that Mary has asked Jesus a question, and is now quietly listening for an answer? Or perhaps Jesus is teaching the Twelve, with Mary simply edging close enough to hear. We are not provided with much detail, but this much is clear—Mary is involved, listening intently, taking it all in, sensing that something new is breaking forth in her world. Rather than being bound by the social customs of her day that would have restricted a woman’s role to that of serving, Mary chooses to take the stance of a disciple as she sits at the feet of Jesus.
For far too long we have heard—and even taught—that the only disciples were the Twelve, all male. Yet the Gospels periodically provide names of women disciples as well—women who were just as included by Jesus in the inner circle. Any hierarchy between male and female disciples apparently was created by the church in the days after Jesus, not by Jesus himself. In fact, when Martha asks Jesus to tell Mary to get up and help her, Jesus reminds Martha, “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42). But in years since, that’s precisely what the church has all too often tried to do—take the role of disciple away from Mary and other women followers of Jesus, and reserve that role for men alone.
Jesus invites Martha to discipleship as well, but Martha is so intent upon accomplishing what she has decided needs to be done that she cannot take the time to also sit at the feet of Jesus. The sadness in her story is not that she is stuck doing housework, but that she is “distracted by her many tasks.” Instead of defining for herself the work before her, Martha’s work begins to define, and limit, Martha. As a result, Martha becomes embittered, irritated with Mary because Mary’s not helping her, and quite likely—though the text does not spell it out—equally annoyed with Jesus, who appears to be unsympathetic to her. Haven’t you had times of similar annoyance as well? For those of us in ministry, it’s tempting to complain, as did Martha, “Lord, tell those others to join with me. I have so much to do—sermons to write, activities to plan, justice and peacemaking to embrace, people to counsel, meetings to coordinate, expressions of encouragement to share, classes to teach …” The particulars on your list may differ, but you know what I’m talking about. And before we know it, a critical and carping spirit, a spirit of self-righteousness, overshadows the joy of serving God and neighbor.
How crucial that we find the balance between “going and doing,” on the one hand, and “sitting and listening” on the other. This story does not suggest that work is unimportant, nor that the many tasks of ministry before us should be ignored. But Jesus’ words to Martha do remind us that our work ought to flow forth from our centeredness in God. In effect when Jesus cries, “Martha, Martha,” he is urging her—and us—to let go of the burden of obsessive duty.
Even now, can you not imagine Jesus inviting the Marthas of the world to relax, to learn to bask in the gracious gift of God’s love, to begin to experience the only necessary thing? And what is that only necessary thing? Is it not allowing ourselves to encounter a face-to-face, transforming experience with the Lord of life? Is it not finding our dwelling place in God and embracing a new way of speaking, a new way of breathing, a new way of being together, a new way of knowing, yes, and a whole new way of living?
On this Labor Day weekend, let us celebrate the gift of work, the gift of creative energy, within us and among us. But let us not lose sight of the truth at the heart of the gospel—that we are not defined simply by what we accomplish. Much more, our identity comes as we embrace the good news that we are God’s beloved sons and daughters, created in the very image of God, transformed and empowered as we sit at the feet of Jesus.
Spirit of life and love, come among us, filling us with compassion and grace, with justice and peace.
Spirit of life, empower us to walk in the paths of Jesus, to live for the glory of God our for our neighbors’ good, to love God with all our heart and soul and strength and mind, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Spirit of compassion, grant us eyes to see your presence in each person, in all creation. Set us free to live and proclaim the promise of a new way of living—life in the realm of God.
Spirit of grace, draw us close to you. Quiet our racing minds and confused hearts, that we might sit at the feet of Jesus and consider what’s most important in life.
Forgive us, God, our times of restless living and unwise choices. Grant us your heart of peace and serenity, supporting and upholding us in the midst of life’s turbulence and life’s challenges.
Gracious God, hear us now as we pray for those walking through the rushing waters of grief and loss. Comfort them, Spirit of life, in the days and months ahead, that they might draw upon the strength and encouragement of one another, of their faith, and of the church community.
And hear us, God, as we hold before you those struggling with health issues …
God, on this Labor Day weekend we thank you for jobs and careers that enable us to use our gifts, serve our neighbors, and respond to our calling. We pray for those who are unemployed and are seeking positions, and for those who find their work less than satisfying.
Holy God, hear our prayers for peace in our world. We yearn for that day when swords are beaten into plowshares, when bombs are transformed into instruments of healing and wholeness, and when justice marks all our relationships. Spirit of life, fill us with power and grace to walk in the ways of peace. We pray in the name and spirit of the One who came among us as Prince of peace, Jesus, the Christ. Amen.