Mary sat at Jesus’ feet, listening to his words.She was poor and a woman and so couldn’t read, and even if she could Jesus didn’t write his teachings down—so for her and for most people, you had to get while the getting was good.There was no iPod to download Jesus’ words to listen later while jogging or mowing the lawn.She couldn’t TiVo it and catch it at her convenience.In her day if someone worth hearing was speaking, you’d better be there and focus.And Jesus wasn’t just someone worth hearing…he was a friend—an honored friend.And so she focused and listened.
In contrast to the quiet of most minutes experienced in 1st century Palestine, our minutes are filled.Many homes, cars, businesses, (even my own office), have music or TV or internet streaming going on continually, so mostly our minutes are filled with words...words on a screen, words in the air…so many words we stop listening.It becomes white noise in the background of our lives.
Words…words…words.We have politicians’ words—some of which are not connected with the facts or even reality at times to the point where we need the evening news to do a “Reality Check” on them.We have judicial words, hearings —“vapid and hallow” to discover the inner agenda of a potential judge.Words can reveal…words can also hide.We have advertisers’ words marketing to us wonders—medications and products that can’t deliver much and we mostly don’t need.We have words delivered by TV evangelists, charlatans, cooks and crackpots…and…yours truly.I figured out that if you have been here every Sunday this year you have been barraged with forty-two thousand of my own “vapid and hallow” words in the sermons alone!We have words delivered by twitter, Facebook, blogs and blackberries… to the point where the disease of the age is “continuous partial attention.”We’re doing so many things at once that we are not paying attention fully to any of them.We’re not focused.
Francis of Assisi is reported to have said: “Preach the Gospel at all times—if necessary use words.”Even the quiet deed-filled, bird-loving, passionate and sacrificial Francis had to use words to say that.We are stuck with words.
More than that, we are stuck with a talking God—Deus loquens—a God who speaks and creation happens…creation, including humans, created in God’s image, and charged with the task of speaking names for all creatures.Language, words, have powerful life-transcending capabilities, opening new worlds to us.We speak of God’s intention and communication to us as God’s Word (with a capital W).“May these words become to us the Word of God” we pray after the Gospel reading.
It was that Word that Mary was receptive to while sitting at Jesus’ feet.She loved her friend Jesus and focused upon his words.She sensed his words made a difference—forever and eternally.Martha violated her own attempts to provide hospitality by focusing, not on Jesus, but on Mary, and complaining.The essence of the gift was ruined.As her anger swelled within her, she winds up triangling Jesus—putting pressure on him to solve her problem with Mary.Instead of listening to Jesus’ words, she tells him what to do.Jesus, probably with a knowing smile on his face, tells her to loosen up a bit and focus on what is good and needed at that point.
This story has provided ample sermon material in the fight between those who see the Christian life as doing—loving neighbor (as the Good Samaritan story just before this text emphasizes) and those, on the other hand, who see the importance of being—listening to God’s Word and loving God.There is this tension within us between productivity and relationship, practices and presence, the active life and the contemplative life.It seems this story is a compliment to the Good Samaritan story immediately before this happening in Luke’s Gospel.Lest we think, based upon that story, that loving our neighbor is all that is important, this story of Mary and Martha comes down on the side of listening, studying, loving God.
Bishop Frank Griswold, now retired from the Chicago Episcopalian diocese, writes about taking a spiritual retreat to a distant city.There he was going to take a week and pray, meditate, and get some direction from a spiritual friend.He brought along a whole stack of books, just in case God didn’t show up in his prayer time…you always have to have a back up.
And a back-up was needed because in his long hours of silence and prayer nothing much happened, he was feeling depressed and useless, and so he went for a walk. On this walk he passed a soup kitchen that served a couple of meals a day.The spiritual director suggested he go there the next day and do some volunteer work.
Eagerly he stepped forward to volunteer the next morning only to hear that he couldn’t help until he’d been checked out—interviewed by Sister Pat who ran the kitchen.“But you can help this morning.You can have some pancakes.”It was then that he realized that they thought he was a guest, a homeless person in need of a free breakfast.As he sat with some of them afterwards and read magazines, the regular guest knew something was up, as they shouted at him “Why are you staring at us that way.”He left even more depressed.
The spiritual advisor that night suggested he ought to tell them who he is next time and so back he went.He walked into the kitchen and asked to help and they said “Great.You can wash the dishes.”He was glad to be of use.He met Sister Pat and after the dinner rush they talked outside.A man hung around them on the edges, looking for an opening to enter their conversation.
Finally, he asked the question, “Are you a Michelob man?” he said. And I said, “No, I prefer white wine.” But that didn’t stop him for a moment; he continued on and he said, “You’re the man from Chicago with the gift of words.” And I thought, “How does he know anything about me? How does he know I’m from Chicago?” So I was stopped dead in my tracks. Sister Pat spoke to him, and he turned out to be a man named Patrick.
The next morning he woke up realizing that it was his last day.He had to visit with Patrick once more, not even fully realizing why himself.So he went to the kitchen early and sure enough as he was washing dishes Patrick stuck his head in the window frame with his dirty dishes and said, “Frank! Good morning! How are you?”His heart leapt with joy.Someone knew who he was!After breakfast he followed Patrick outside.“Patrick, I just have to tell you how important it has been for me to meet you.” And he turned with this broad smile on his face-said, “Frank, I want to thank you for all that you’ve done.”
In his doing, Frank had focused—paid attention—just enough to honor the presence of Christ in Patrick.
Mary and Martha is our daily struggle…or better yet our daily rhythm.We do as Martha did…we be as Mary was.But our lives are more than an alternating toggle switch between doing and being to the point where we wind up singing…“do be do be do…”
In the end, it is a both/and—a matter of focus—paying attention.In our serving or in our listening, the good, needful thing is to pay attention.Bishop Griswold found Christ in his doing…his service to others.How is it that you pay attention to Christ’s presence everyday?What practices or rituals attune your heart to sense and listen?
“You shall love the Lord your God…and your neighbor as yourself.”
