Sermon Title: "Mary, Mary, Quite Contemplative"
Date: July 18, 2010
Minister:  The Rev. Charles Ensley

Lesson:  Luke 10:38-42

Here’s the scenario:  You’re putting on a dinner party for some special guests.  There are two of you in the kitchen.  The other person may be your spouse, partner, parent, sibling, child, boyfriend, girlfriend; it doesn’t really matter who.  You’re working away to meet the dinner deadline.  The doorbell rings.  The other person goes to answer it.  Time passes—5… 10… 15 minutes.  He or she still hasn’t come back into the kitchen.  There are things yet to be done.  Where are they?  You go out the kitchen door through the dining room into the living room, and there they are, gabbing away with your dinner guests, oblivious to you and the duties they’ve neglected in the kitchen.

This is almost what happened so long ago to Martha and Mary when Jesus came to visit.  Except in that case, instead of talking to Jesus, Mary was found sitting at his feet and listening to him teach.

Now this may sound all fine and good to you, regardless of what poor, harried Martha wasn’t getting any help with in the kitchen.  But there was something very out-of-place about this scenario.  First, sitting at Jesus’ feet, or any rabbi’s feet, was a natural learning position, but not for women.  Men learned and listened; women didn’t.  Second, women were supposed to serve.  That was their role in society in that era.

So Martha, a little incensed that her sister Mary, quite contrary by deserting her in the kitchen and now sitting transfixed listening to Jesus’ teachings, says, “Hey, wait a minute!  Do you think it’s fair, Jesus, that my sister is sitting in here with all the guys while I’m left alone in the kitchen to prepare this big meal?”  For, in truth, Jesus rarely traveled alone but with his disciples, so we might presume they too are sitting around listening to their Master while Martha was back in the kitchen cooking for all of them.

Jesus sighs, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.”  And in a paraphrase by Eugene Peterson in The Message, he says, “One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.”

Now I imagine Martha might well have been embarrassed by this reprimand, given in front of others, no matter how gently Jesus may have said it.  She thought she was working on the main course in the kitchen.  And now Jesus says he’s giving the main course in his teachings.  He’s implying that while the taste and goodness of the food will vanish, what anyone learns from Jesus’ teachings will not.

There are all sorts of risks in preaching on this five-verse text, not the least of which is the possibility of offending the women (and men) who do the hands-on work of ministry, especially, but not only, in the kitchen!  Twenty years ago, the U.S. Catholic bishops, in a footnote to the first draft of their pastoral letter on women, pointed out that eighty-five per cent of the work of the church was done by women, none of them, of course, ordained then or now.  Even today, in a time when women are ordained in many Protestant churches, the kitchen work is still most often done, or led, by women, and they might wonder about the meaning of this story and the message it delivers about the value of their efforts.  One might wonder about the conversation in the church kitchen while cleaning up after coffee time or communion on a Sunday morning after worship when this passage is read.

It is possible that one might read this text and identify themselves as the Martha type—busy, organized, goal oriented, moving forward, getting the job done.  Or as the Mary type—quiet, contemplative, solitary, and simply sitting there meditatively.  Which one is better?

Who said it has to be either/or?  Why not both/and?  This story of Jesus at the home of Mary and Martha teaches us that Jesus blesses both sides of our personality.  The Christian life involves times of frenetic activity.  But the Christian life also involves times of quiet meditation.  In fact, I think many of you could testify that the harder you work at being a Christian, the more tough assignments you take on, the more desperately you need times of quiet and reflection, times like this service of worship.  You are not here working at being a Christian right now; you are listening to me.  You are reflecting upon your life and the demands of the gospel.  You are at rest. 

None of the eight people who worked in the Concert Hall yesterday sewing blankets show up only to work at mission projects.  The same is true of those who cook and serve at Christian Outreach in Action each month.  They are not just Marthas.  They are also Marys—sitting in worship, not exactly sitting at the feet of Jesus, but listening to Jesus’ gospel and what it asks of them.  And then responding to it.

Do you know how I keep the names of these two women straight and their particular attributes?  People frequently ask me how I remember so many names.  It’s all about name association.  What was the sister Mary?  Contemplative, quiet, listening.  Isn’t that how we also think of Jesus’ mother Mary—the Mary who “treasured all these words [about the infant Jesus’ future] and pondered them in her heart”? (Luke 2:19)  And Mary Magdalene, from whom Jesus cast out demons, then became as loyal a follower as any of his male disciples.  In every gospel account Mary came to the garden early on Easter morning, both to mourn the loss of her Master, but in Martha-type actions to ensure that his body was properly prepared for burial.  In my favorite account of the resurrection, it was to a woman, Mary Magdalene—not his male disciples—that Jesus made his first risen appearance on Easter. (John 20:11-18)  That says as much to me about Mary’s faithfulness as she knelt quietly weeping in the cemetery, as it does about Jesus’ treatment of women as equals in a time and society which did not.

There are only two other places where the sisters Mary and Martha appear in the Gospels.  In John 11:1-44, when Jesus is summoned to their home in Bethany to find their brother Lazarus has died, Jesus treats both women with compassion.  Here, Martha takes the active role in first going out to meet Jesus as he approached.  Mary remains quietly in the house.  Martha goes to her and says, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.”  Martha, no longer busy in the kitchen, recognizes Jesus’ role as the Messiah.  “Mary came where Jesus was and saw him and knelt at his feet,” just as she did in today’s gospel account.

In John 12:1-8, six days before the Passover and thus a week before the crucifixion, Jesus again comes to their house.  This is the only recorded house that Jesus repeatedly visits in the Bible.  Presuming he had no home of his own, Mary, Martha and Lazarus must have been special friends where he could feel at home.  True to form, Martha served, and Mary took fragrant ointment and once again knelt to anoint Jesus’ feet and wipe them with her hair.

It sounds as if Martha must do what Martha is gifted to do, and Mary must do what Mary is gifted to do.  Both are valid, then and now.  In fact, the Greek word for Martha’s service—diakonia—is the word from which we get deacons—those who serve in the church.

We are the continuation of what Jesus taught, and what both Mary and Martha learned and did.  We are the body of Christ.  The 16th century Spanish nun and contemplative St. Teresa of Avila said, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours…  Yours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ looks out on a hurting world; yours are the feet with which he goes about doing good; yours are the hands with which he is to bless now.”

As I reminded you in last week’s sermon, there are two messages over each of our sanctuary doors in the narthex.  Coming in, it says, “Enter to Worship.”  And as you leave, it says “Depart to Serve.”  As Jesus said to last week’s questioning lawyer, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:37)