Sermon July 21, 2013 Luke 10:38-42 Colossians 1:15-28
Gracious Lord, bless the speaking and bless the hearing, that your Word may take root in our hearts and bear fruit in our lives, for the healing of the world you so love, and to the glory of your holy name, Amen.
The other day, I was out and about just before sunset, so I decided to head down to the beach along Puget Sound and get another glimpse of the sun disappearing behind the Olympics. While I was walking to the shoreline, a couple was ahead of me with a blanket in tow. They walked on ahead, and I soon found a beach scattered with people of all ages and many ethnicities, fishing along the shore for pretty rocks, reading, chatting, dancing in the sand, tiptoeing along the washed up logs, everyone just hanging out, waiting for the sun to set. I walked along the beach for ten minutes and pretty soon discovered that other couple again, now lying down wrapped in the blanket with a log for a pillow, with some sort of liquid bubbling in glasses alongside. The young couple seemed to have done this before, since they were in a spot where they could see the sun set directly in front of them, like a big screen TV that boasted colors no electronic device would be able to capture. Who needs a television when you can watch birds over the water, ferries and tugs and sailboats making their way up and down the Sound. The sun glinted finally on the rolling waves and set behind the hills, illuminating the Olympics from behind and filling the sky with those lavender and orange colors as it does. The young couple continued to imbibe and watch the rest of the show.
Then I turned in the other direction to see two friends, sitting on a log, both of them with their smart phones out, totally immersed in whatever was going on that little screen. Just clicking away. I immediately felt the instinct to check my own phone, so I got it out, to see an update from facebook and whatever else was flashing at me and demanding my attention. After a few minutes updating myself to the news of the virtual world, I looked back over at the young couple in the blanket, and they were now taking pictures with a smart phone, too, and I just had to laugh. No more sentimentalizing the situation for me! Here we all were, connected to people thousands of miles away through ubiquitous electronic waves, and yet, somehow we were also disconnected from what was in front of us- the living, breathing, strikingly beautiful world. If there ever was a metaphor for what it means to be distracted in the 21st century, it’s that little screen that tempts drivers and pedestrians and kids and adults to escape into virtual reality and in effect makes us disconnected, not fully present, to the world around us. Distraction is a constant temptation.
Today’s Gospel lesson is, like last week, probably familiar to you: this little four-verse story about Mary and Martha is one of the more widely known stories in scripture, probably because it resonates across time and space. Martha busies herself with the obligations of hospitality- cooking, cleaning, serving, etc., while her sister plops herself at Jesus’ feet, “hanging on every word,” as one translation reads. Martha is bitter that she has been left alone to do all the work, and tells Jesus to tell Mary to help her. He responds, “Martha, Martha…” and he tells her she is distracted and that Mary has chosen the better part that won’t be taken away from her. In some sense, this story is about hospitality, which was so important in Jesus’ cultural context. When I was in the Middle East, I stayed with a host family, because it was common that they just had an extra room to host people. Houses were built that way, because that’s just what you did- hospitality, even today, was a core value. And so Martha is actually doing what is expected of her. She is preparing a space for her guest.
I can actually relate to Martha here, and maybe you can, too, especially if you are the oldest sibling in your family, who had some responsibility for making sure things got done- dinner on the table, dishes washed, clothes laundered, etc. I know that I can be very busy taking care of things, or taking care of other people. When I have guests, I have a tendency to get up and fuss about with things, I don’t even know why. So I relate to Martha here. Things need to be done, and it’s unfair for only one person to do all the work, right?
But you notice that Jesus doesn’t say, Martha, you need to stop being so hospitable. He doesn’t even chastise her for being a “busy-body.” No, Jesus says, Martha, you are distracted. The things you are doing you do out of worry and cause you to be distracted from what’s in front of you. Jesus’ issue is not that Martha is doing work, but that her busyness and her sense of duty or obligation is distracting her from what is important in that moment. Her anxiety led her to do be consumed by her work, rather than allowing the work to be a natural outpouring or gift. Her bitterness was a signal that something was amiss- rather than telling Jesus to make her sister shape up, she was invited to lay her down her anxiety, to stop doing, and start being.
What her sister chose was not lack of hospitality or laziness; Mary chose relationship. She chose to be present to the One who was in front of her. And that relationship wouldn’t be taken away from her, it wouldn’t go away. We know that relationships, conversations and fellowship can profoundly effect our lives, filling us with a sense of purpose and belonging. And Mary’s relationship with Jesus would stay with her even after her guest left, it would bring forth wisdom and love in her heart, and bear fruit in her life. What Mary really chose was relationship over worry, presence over distraction.
I believe that God desires to be in relationship with us, invites us to set down our worries, and to sit in that gracious presence, and be filled up in love for service to the world. God invites us to be present to God, to ourselves, and to others as a primary means of ministry, of bringing healing and love to the world. I was talking with a friend the other day and she was telling me about a friend of hers who had died a few years ago, and she said, “he was such a present person. I remember thinking, I wish I could be that present to people.” Maybe that’s the issue at hand: a hospitality of presence, being with another person in body, mind, and spirit, welcoming their fullness into the space. And frankly, it’s about being present to ourselves, too; to our emotions, to our own pain, to our own desires and fears. Just simply awake, aware, in touch with.
The Christian monastic tradition calls this sort of “presence” contemplation. Literally contemplation means to be in touch with, and a contemplative orientation is one of noticing, welcoming, and listening. Everything from a contemplative walk where one fully takes in the beauty of creation, to contemplative listening sessions, where conversation is interspersed with periods of silence and reflection, to contemplative worship, like the Taize services we had during Advent, where simple, repetitive songs helped God’s voice sink into our hearts. Contemplative prayer is a time when we consent to be present to God, and to ourselves, and we listen to the still, small voice that whispers among all the other voices of distraction and worry. And we rest finally when we are in touch with Christ-in-us. As the second reading from Colossians says today, Christ is in you, and through contemplation we find out that this is indeed true- we are meant to bear fruit, to be God’s hands and eyes and voice in the world. Our action in the world results from this contemplation, this time of being in touch with God and others and ourselves- being leads to doing acts of mercy and love, service and justice, risk and radical welcome. Jesus’ life flowed out of relationship with “the Father.” Jesus “did” a lot, but what he did emerged from who he was. Doing came first from being, rather than doing as a substitute for being present. Jesus lived a life of communion with God, and we are invited to sip from this, as well.
All of us are Martha- all distracted and worried and living out of a place of preoccupation with things that don’t primarily matter. And we know that. At least I do every time I pull out my smart phone while the sun sets over Puget Sound and whenever my mind races off in worry about the past or future. But all of us are Mary, too. We are all here in this place, in the shadow of this astounding rock face, seeking peace in a frantic world, lifting up prayers that we can verbalize and prayers that lie deep in our guts and sighing and in our tears, and we sit at the feet of Jesus, trying to glean some wisdom about this life. We are Mary when we carve out time in the midst of the chaos to sit in prayer with the One who loves us, in silence or with devotions or through scripture, and choose relationship over worry. And we certainly are Mary when we look in the eyes of people who share this journey with us and recognize the Christ-light in them. In our relationships, grounded in God’s love, the body of Christ grows, for the healing of the world God loves and wants to make whole again.
I was saying goodbye to Stuart and Dorothy Lundahl the other day, and he said, “Inge, you have been a blessing to us, but we have been a blessing to you, too.” Through this relationship, I have been strengthened for my vocation, for service in the church as an ordained pastor, and I have seen the ways this congregation is growing and becoming new even in the midst of transition. We have both been blessed to be a blessing, as I continue to back to seminary and on the path to ordination, and as you continue hosting interns and participating in evolving ministries here at Greenwood and 132nd. I am so grateful to have been with you, and I know that the Holy Spirit is with you, doing her mysterious work. My prayer is that relationship with God continues to strengthen this congregation and build you up in love for the sake of a hungry world.
For the chance to sit at Christ’s feet with fellow sojourners, I say thanks be to God, Amen.
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