I wonder what happened after Jesus left.
I’ve always thought Martha got shortshrift here, being an
inveterate Martha myself, and also being a pastor in churches
which have counted on Marthas to serve the coffee and put on
the bake sales and fix the roofs (there can be male Marthas,
you know) and prepare the bread and wine for communion.
Probably many of us have had difficulty with this passage,
struggling to sit and listen to the words of Jesus but knowing
the plants need watering and the wash needs doing and the lawn
needs mowing and the windows need washing.
But the real question of the passage is not what sort of
Mary can you be or what Martha activities can you successfully
put off, but what happened in that house after Jesus left.
Think about it.
The guest was anticipated:
· The house was cleaned.
· The lintel was swept.
· The pillows were fluffed.
· The tea was made.
The guest arrived:
· The people were welcomed.
· The guest was ushered in.
· The hospitable words were said.
· The tea was served.
And somewhere in there, the guest spoke of wonderful things,
and some, including Mary, sat and listened, but one, Martha,
noticed that his throat was dry and his teacup was empty, and
she went to fill it. And while she filled it, she noticed that
his pillow needed plumping, and she wondered if he was hot and
needed a fan, or if the window shade should be pulled. And she
kept moving. But as often happens in those situations, she kept
moving, but she didn’t like it, so she complained.
And then came the dreadful words: Mary has chosen the better
portion.
I wonder what happened after Jesus left.
Despite many years of worrying about our Martha-ness,
hospitality is really not the focus of this parable.
Jesus is.
The story is really not about Mary or Martha, it’s about a
messenger who is so captivating, ....and a message that is so
exciting, ....and a mission that is so inspiring, ....and a
hope that in God’s love all seems possible, ....that all else
pales by comparison.
I don’t know about where you grew up, but in the house I
grew up in, and in the place I now inhabit, those who don’t do
their share to make things go smoothly when guests come have
lots to answer for after the guests leave. And in first
century homes, sure there were bound to be shirkers, but even
shirkers had much to do when the guests left. And if Mary
really heard the message she was sitting for, she would have
much to do to make amends with Martha after Jesus left.
Because if she really heard the message, and she did because
Jesus told us she did, what she heard was this:
If you love God, you live a life that includes compassion,
humility, doing for others, and self-sacrifice.
This passage is not about taking time away from necessary
labors.
It is not about priorities.
It is not about who has chosen better or about putting first
things first.
It is about the barrier-breaking love of God for humankind,
it is about evangelism,
about really hearing the good news,
and about responding to the
love of God in Jesus Christ, not because you’re told to, but
because that message is so powerful and so captivating you can’t
help it.
THAT’s what happened to Mary.
Mary Sarton, a contemporary writer, said, “You convert someone,
if you do so at all, not by saying something powerful but
by being something irresistible.”
Friends, that day, Mary saw something irresistible in Jesus,
and she sat down. She listened. She was captivated. She was
converted.
And we are asked to do the same.
Sit down.
Listen.
Listen again.
And then act differently because you heard the message.
This is not about simply me-and-Jesus my friend.
This is not Jesus the lovely carpenter, loyal companion, winning
speaker, or even Jesus the healer.
This is not really even about Jesus the man, and yet it is all
about who Jesus the man was.
This is about Jesus the way Paul writes about him in Colossians:
Son of God,
image of the invisible
firstborn of all creation
for in him all things on heaven and on earth were created
through him and in him.
Before all things; all things hold together.
All the fullness of God is pleased to dwell in him
and God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things
the mystery that has hidden throughout the ages
who makes us holy and blameless
the riches of glory
the fullness of God.
Friends, if we truly hear and believe the stories in scripture,
we will be set on fire with a love for God as Jesus expressed in his
life and ministry who God was.
Now, I know that we are not a people who live with our hearts set
on fire very often. We Presbyterians are God’s frozen chosen; we do
things decently and orderly, and some of us are Garrison Keillor kind
of people as well–we don’t show our faith in fiery ways easily.
And after all, there are priorities; there are tasks to be done;
there are people to be welcomed and tea to be made and dishes to be
washed. And it's easy when there are conflicting priorities for
things to get washed down and diluted and unclear and blah.
Amos spoke to such a situation. Amos is an Old Testament prophet,
but the vision Amos presents is a remarkably Christ-like one. And for
the people around Amos, life was full of possibilities; there were
many choices. They weren’t looking for a savior. Life was
relatively easy. And that had made religion lightweight, an option
to be chosen on a nice Sabbath morning, and ignored the rest of the
time.
What is it about us that turns faith into frivolity when things
go easy?
Robert Henderson: “In North America Jesus has been so reduced,
truncated, romanticized, or perceived as part of the self-fulfillment
ethos, that we have a very difficult time understanding what he is
about or what we are to be about.”
Amos was calling the people back to faithful worship, awe-filled
wonder, compassionate caring, and equitable life lived in community.
Amos is speaking to us.
“See, I am setting a plumbline in the midst of my people; I will
never again pass them by.”
Amos may well have been the first Calvinist. Right worship is
filled with awe; daily living is governed by simplicity and generosity;
life is lived with concern for the common good, and compassion for
others is the order of the day. THAT is why it matters what Mary
did after Jesus left.
That is the plumbline Amos presents.
When the people strayed, when false doctrine called, when the
temptations of the world beckoned, when hedonism and selfishness
seemed the order of the day, Amos saw a plumbline. A swarm of
locusts, a fire, and a plumbline.
A very simple thing, is a plumbline. A string and a weight.
And gravity on the weight holds the line firm and a straight line
is formed. The engineer builds or draws or plans his line comparing
it to the plumbline. The plumbline just abides there, as a
comparison, a measure, a goal, a line.
A standard.
And for us, Jesus is the plumbline.
That plumbline is not rigid; it can bend.
That plumbline is not righteous; it can envelop in love.
That plumbline is not closed; it invites.
It is held captive by the mysterious magnificent gravitational
pull at the center of the universe, just as we are held captive by
the barrier breaking love of God in this day.
But the plumbline, that plain simple line with a weight at the
bottom of it, is also an unfathomable mystery. Grace, splendor,
sacrifice, holiness, great wisdom and holy folly. Both the most
mysterious and the most commonplace of all. The most simple and
the most complex. Jesus is the plumbline for our lives.
The message of Jesus is simple and direct, but following that
life creates a lifetime of richness in trying to live life by the
plumbline, held by the gravitational pull of the love of God
reaching out to us.
Compassionate caring.
Concern for the common good.
An appropriate, no, an awe-filled sense of the mystery and
majesty of God.
A God-given life.
What did Mary do?
They probably washed the dishes while Mary told Martha what
she’d heard Jesus say so Martha could share in it, and then they
gave away all the left-over food to the hungry.
Amen.