Be Still

  Sunday, July 17, 2016

38Now as [Jesus and his disciples] went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. 39She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. 40But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” 41But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” – Luke 10:38-42

Listen to today’s sermon here:

Oh, Martha.

We know how it feels…to be bustling around in the kitchen with no one to help and no one taking notice. We know how it feels when the cares of the world are channeled into anxious energy. When we keep ourselves busy to keep from being present to things that are outside of our comfort zone. When we bang the pots and pans, run faster than we need to, and make a flurry of activity to passive aggressively indicate to others around us that we need help. No? Just me?

Jesus’ meal at the home of Mary and Martha might very well have been Christmas dinner with my extended family growing up. There are some who consistently do the cleanup work and others who at least many years found respite in the other room. Though complaints were sometimes made about those who weren’t helping, truth is only so many people could be in the kitchen and none of us who were there were about to give up our spot. And though I shouldn’t speak for others I suspect those who weren’t as much in the kitchen were often more present to relationships and keeping company others who were feeling left out. But over the years it became about proving something. Identities became ingrained. The Marthas were the doers and the Marys were too in the moment to be bothered.

Churches, too, like our families, are full of Marys and Marthas. There’s this often-quoted statistic that in a lot of volunteer organizations, especially churches, that 20% of people end up doing 80% of the work. I don’t know how true that is or how you define what the work of the church is in a quantifiable manner. The fact is no matter how healthy a congregation is, people engage at different levels and in different ways and often live out their faith in ways we never see as a community. But what if we paused at that statistic and instead of trying to fix what is we gave thanks for it instead. Thanks for the people who work hard on behalf of the congregation, people who don’t work as visibly but who are drawn to the presence of Jesus in this place and come to participate. Thanks be to God for a community of people who serve with different gifts. A Mary-like pause to recognize the presence of Jesus in our community.

The thing is there’s nothing wrong with hard work. There’s nothing wrong with providing generous hospitality which requires pushing around a few pots and pans and stepping away from some of the good conversations. But when Martha triangulates Jesus into their long-standing sisterly argument about who does more around the house, his suggestion that Mary has chosen the better part is not so much about seated mediation at the feet of Jesus always being better, but that she has found in the present moment the way she might connect with the presence of the divine. Jesus might very well have invited Martha to do the same from the kitchen, to find in her work of hosting the presence of Jesus with her.

Today is not so much about working vs contemplating, nor as many churches have used it about not spending enough time in Bible study or prayer (not that many of us couldn’t probably use more of those). I think it’s about what Abraham and Sarah recognized in the three visitors to their tent – the presence of God visiting us in our homes and in our daily living, in the ordinary things of life, like water, bread and wine.

Like Martha we are much distracted from that presence by the cares of our world. We continue to be overwhelmed by the tragedies we cannot help but grieve for on the news. I wonder that we don’t sometimes keep overly busy because we cannot take in the presence of evil, hurt, and pain in this world. Just in the last month has been Orlando, the killing of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile and others, the retaliatory attack on police, now another major tragedy for France, the third in 18 months, instability in Turkey, violence worsening again in South Sudan and Congo. Add to that our own pain and grief over devastating losses, I wonder if it isn’t easier to channel that energy into busy work or anger against our brothers and sisters, easier to be a Martha in order not to have to bear the pain of that.

This is the time for action in response to a world falling apart, though the world has always been falling apart from the beginning. But to take action without an awareness of the presence of divine love risks our action becoming one more way to set up an us vs. them dividing line. The good vs. bad just like Martha vs. Mary. I think for our action to stand on solid ground, to be productive and helpful, for our action to be capable of being sustained over the long-term and for it to be generous toward our neighbors and ourselves, for it to build connection rather than creating enemies, we must pause before, within, and after our work to recognize what is always true whether we recognize it or not: the presence of the divine in our midst, the way in which Jesus stands among us, the way that God holds us and our worries, holds our friends and our enemies, holds us living and those who have died. Whether we are prone to keeping our hands and feet busy or whether we are capable of finding frequent pauses for meditation and contemplation, Jesus has promised to be present with us through the waters of baptism and through the power of this meal we share.

And because I suspect too many of us have strong Martha tendencies, because we live in a Martha world, because our broken and hurting world needs action that is rooted in a deep awareness of divine love, and because we desperately need a deeper awareness of God’s presence here in this place and with us always, I invite you now into a Mary-like pause, a few moments now to sit at the feet of Jesus before we go on to the hymn of the day, to honor the presence of Christ, our guest at this meal we are about to share. I will offer some guidance that you may follow or not, followed by a time of silence:

Find a comfortable seated position for yourself, perhaps with both feet solidly on the ground that supports you. Close your eyes if you feel comfortable doing so.

Take a moment to become aware of your body. The feel of your back against the pew, the air on your skin, the feel of your clothing.

Bring awareness to your breathing. Notice the movement of your whole body as your lungs fill with air and empty again. You can slow and deepen your breath if that is helpful.

Imagine a place where you feel safe and comfortable. Notice what is around you, how it looks, and feels, and sounds.

Bring an awareness to God’s presence with you in that place. Perhaps you can see it, or hear it, or feel it but trust that it is there.

As you become distracted or worried allow those thoughts to come and see if you want to lay those things down at the feet of Jesus allowing them to be held there until you need to pick them up again.

And hear God’s invitation to stillness and silence in the words of psalm 46:

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

[Silence.]

Amen.

-Pastor Steven Wilco