This passage always resonates. I am an older sibling and my own sister is a beloved friend: we have our differences, but value them (and each other) more than when we were teenagers. However, rather than setting up yet another set of rivalries about the contemplative/active life, Jesus seems to be inviting deeper integration in those habits.
The texts were: Genesis 18:1-10a; Colossians 1:15-28; Luke 10:38-end
Alice Walker once asked: ‘Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister?’
Sisterhood is more complex than that.
From Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women to Jane Austen’s Bennet sisters, writers have explored those bonds: at best, the loyalty and incomparable depths of friendship; at worst, the rivalry and clashes of temperament.
In the Dashwood sisters Austen gives us “Sense” in Elinor’s earnest and serious character; and “Sensibility” in Marianne’s romantic and impetuous nature. Over the course of the novel, they learn more about themselves and they come to value each other’s differences.
In today’s gospel, we glimpse sisterly differences: Martha who’s welcoming, practical, out-spoken; Mary who’s more introspective, attentive, eager to listen.
We learn from John’s Gospel that Jesus loved these sisters, and their brother Lazarus.
Jesus enters this house, the home of his friends. Peace comes to this household.
He’s made welcome by Martha. There is time for hospitality.
Mary sits at his feet. There is time for learning.
One sibling adopts the role of host; the other the posture of the disciple.
One is distracted; the other sister, attentive.
In this household, there is a moment of revelation and of encounter.
The usual habits and tasks of the domestic routine are disrupted.
Martha speaks: resentful, fed up or anxious about all that needs to be done. Hasn’t her guest, her friend, her Lord noticed that Mary’s left her to it?
And in a phrase that’s past the lips of many a brother or sister: Tell her. Tell her to help.
And Jesus answers.
He doesn’t chastise her. He speaks her name with concern, tenderness and may be even a hint of challenge.
Martha, Martha!
He names the worries and distractions of the work she’s doing. The word Luke uses for “tasks” is diakonia - it’s a word which would have resonated with his hearers beyond hospitality and the realm of ‘women’s work’ to include forms of ministry and service.
This is important work and it isn’t to be done alone. As one scholar puts it: ‘The worries and pressures of ministry are substantial: ensuring people have enough food, shelter, health care, companionship. Jesus is not belittling Martha’s situation. He is, rather, establishing priorities’.
Jesus is reminding Martha of the importance of attentiveness. To pay attention is to give our whole selves over to receptive.
Pay deep attention, says Jesus. Pay attention to God; to that pulse of love.
Such attentiveness enables us to be more alert to the needs of others.
To pay attention increases our capacity to be attentive.
Sometimes, this passage gets read in a way which exaggerates the potential sibling rivalry, but setting up a hierarchy of inferior or superior occupations - that the contemplative life is to be preferred to a life of service or practical action.
Elsewhere in the gospels, Jesus criticises the host for being distracted from the main thing - because they’re more concerned about the status of the guests or proper ettiequte than anything else.
As host, Jesus is saying, there need of one thing; that is to attend to her guest, her Lord.
Hospitality and learning go together.
And perhaps there is a challenge or potential danger for Mary too. She has chosen the better part - to listen to her Lord. Yet to flourish as a disciple, she in turn will also need to speak, act, serve or come to the aid of another.
Jesus is inviting Mary and Martha into an integrated pattern of life. There is a time and place to be receptive; to listen and learn. There is a time and place to ask questions, to engage and be challenged. There is a time and place to contemplate, to be still; and to mirror that attention in faithful, fruitful acts of service.
Mary and Martha will work out their own callings, together. In the light of this encounter with their beloved friend and heavenly Lord, they’ll learn to value each other, and their differences.
There are lessons for us too, as brothers and sisters in Christ.
At our PCC last week, we pondered two sets of questions: firstly, where have we encountered Jesus, seen God at work in the Spirit; and secondly, what is our heart’s desire, what do we long for?
To answer those questions we have to be attentive: attentive to our selves and our community; and we also have to be attentive to God.
Sometimes the biggest threat to such attentiveness is busyness. When we try to do more and more, without the capacity to be fed or to reflect, we lose focus. It becomes draining and makes us anxious.
This is too much for the contemplative heart and the activity itself becomes a burden we resent.
When we talked about traces of God’s grace on Thursday, we were being attentive: naming the freedom of stepping into new territory; naming the fear and hope of going outside our comfort zone.
When we talked about our heart’s desire, we were attentive we talked about the needs of our community, our schools and university; we expressed a longing for our fellowship to go outwards; for confidence in expressing our faith, for others to find joy in this place.
This double attentiveness is rooted in Jesus, the one who is God with us. The one who helps us name our distractions and our need to do ministry, together; The one who gives us permission to enter into a stillness and silence; learning, contemplating and praying.
Such attentiveness releases joy and brings new life and hope.
The story of Abraham and Sarah being hospitable to the mysterious strangers is full of attentiveness: in listening and responding, in refreshment and promise. It reminds us that when we are attentive to ordinary, earthly human encounters, we might also glimpse something of heaven.
For the earth is the Lord’s. By the power of the Spirit we are to open our eyes to see the possibilities, our ears to hear the cries, our hearts to respond with compassion.
Just as Jesus teaches Mary and Martha that they need to listen and question before they serve, so the Sprit teaches us to be attentive to the small things; to focus on what really matters.
Christ is God with us: the one in whom all things have been created; the one in whom all things are held together.
Christ is the image of the invisible God; the one in whom the fullness of God’s love and power was pleased to dwell. In the frailty of our flesh, he reconciled all things to Godself.
That peace was made possible by the cross: a meeting point of all our human cries of despair and the fullness of God’s mercy.
Here and now we are called to be channels of that peace and reconciling love.
At this Eucharist, love bids us welcome; bids us sit and eat.
Love is our host.
In bread and wine, the mystery of love is made fully known to us. We are united in Christ’s body, given new life in the Spirit and called to share the good news of God’s fullness with the whole of creation.
Within our community, there will be many Marys and Marthas: rather than being fractious siblings, let us be brothers and sisters who find common purpose; teaching each other to breath deeply in prayer; encouraging one another to be joyful in service.
Let us pray that we might be attentive to the light and love of God in our worship; and to that light refracted in our world.
© Julie Gittoes 2019