TRINITY SERMONS
Trinity Presbyterian Church
Rev. Craig Hunter
July 19, 2010
Our
scripture passage from Luke's gospel today opens with Martha inviting Jesus
into her home. I imagine the Middle
Eastern hospitality that Martha offered Jesus has not changed all that much in
the two thousand years since the time of Jesus.
Presumably, Jesus was offered a seat on a couch or cushions on the
floor, and refreshments were offered.
Quite ordinary, really, and maybe that is why we are in danger of
missing the significance of the setting.
Throughout the Bible, and in Luke's gospel in
particular, the primary locus of hospitality was around the table. That is where fellowship is formed, that is
where dividing lines of hostility are broken down. Jesus eats with Zaccheus
and salvation comes to his home. Jesus
eats with the men on the road to Emmaus, and in the breaking of the bread, they
recognize him. God commands Peter to eat
with Cornelius, and in their fellowship divisions between Jews and Gentiles
fall apart. Everytime
we gather around the communion table, we are reminded of Christ, the host of
our fellowship and the giver of all that is good. There is, in other words, something about
eating together that is holy, something about it that is uniquely
boundary-breaking and community-forming, and our story from Luke this morning
sits in that deep tradition. For that
matter, so does the potluck the hospitality committee is hosting this
afternoon.
Shifting
our focus off the setting itself, we find Jesus and Mary and Martha -- Jesus
speaking about who knows what, Mary listening attentively to him, and Martha
busy in the background. Perhaps Martha
was busy preparing something to drink and cooking something to eat. Maybe she had to keep an eye on the kids, who
were excited by the presence of a distinguished guest. In any case, what exactly Mary was doing is
not clear, only that she was quite busy doing it.
When
I think about Martha in the kitchen getting things ready, I am reminded of my
94 year old grandmother. Her mother died
when she was about 8 years old, and as the eldest of three children living on a
farm, she soon became responsible for cooking the family meals, taking care of
various farm chores, and helping to raise her two younger siblings. Later on, as a teenager, she was sent to live
and work as a servant girl in a rich couple's home. Those early years set the trajectory for the
rest of her life. For as long as I have
known her, she has been a busy-body, gardening, sewing, cooking, etc. Until two or three years ago, she still
helped out with the yard work at my parents' home. Even today, she does alterations for some of
her roommates at her assisted living facility.
And when she comes to visit me here over Christmas, no sooner has she
arrived than she has taken over my kitchen, moving things around, stocking the
refrigerator, and generally causing havoc with my sense of organization. For the most part, I make way and let her
take over.
Throughout
my life, she has always baked cookies for me.
My favorite are the butter cookies she makes
with chocolate chips stuck on top -- umm, umm, good! She would always bring some with her when she
came for a visit, and if possible, leave some behind. I remember her sending me care packages at
seminary, filled with an assortment of different things, including her
trademark cookies, which I would generously share with my friends --
generously, but not too generously.
Experts may very well agree that there are tastier cookies than the ones
my grandmother makes, and I might even agree with that myself some days. But as I have grown older, I have
increasingly come to realize that the cookies are not just about the cookies
just as the bread and the juice we share on communion Sundays is not simply
about the bread and the juice. There is
something else baked into those cookies, you see, just as by God's grace there
is something else present in the communion bread and juice, and that something
is not an ingredient that can be purchased at the grocery store. In theological terms, we call that something
a sacrament, but I can think of a simpler term.
I
bet you all have known a few Marthas yourselves,
people who share love with their cooking or their sewing or their woodworking
or whatever. I certainly hope you have.
You
can understand, therefore, that when I think about Martha in those terms, when
thinking about Martha calls forth the image of my grandmother, then I get a bit
testy when I hear Jesus' rebuke of Martha.
"You better watch what you are saying to my grandmother,
Jesus." Or
rather, to Martha.
Now
maybe he is saying that the contemplative life, as exemplified by Mary, is
superior to the life of routine of the life of action. Maybe he is saying that what happens in the
kitchen is not as important as what happens in the sanctuary. Maybe he is saying that we are at our best
when we are able to be still and detach ourselves from the activities of every
day life.
Maybe
he is saying that, but I don't think so.
That doesn't go down well with the example of my grandmother. It didn't go down well with John Calvin,
either, our theological godfather, who criticized those who claimed that this
passage proves the superiority of the contemplative life over one of active
service. Even the example of Jesus' life
witnesses against such a dichotomy between contemplation and service, for Jesus
himself both had an active prayer life, going off by himself to pray, and was
engaged in frequent healing, teaching, serving, helping. In my understanding of the Christian
tradition, in other words, any dichotomy between mission and worship is a false
one, and any privileging of one over the other is misguided.
If
we look more closely at the text, we see that Jesus doesn't criticize Martha
for doing what she is doing. Indeed, he
doesn't criticize her at all until she attempts to use him as a club to beat up
on her sister. And then what does he
say, what is the content of his rebuke?
"You are worried and distracted by many things." In other words, Christ seems to suggest, what
is wrong is not what she is doing but how she is doing it -- "worried and
distracted by many things."
Worried
and distracted by many things. I don't
know about you, but that seems to describe a lot of my life. All too often, worried and distracted by many
things is how I go through my days.
Almost as soon as I get up in the morning, my mind races ahead, thinking
about what I have to do that day, worrying about whether I will be able to do
it or do it well. Even when the day is
done and I finally come home, my mind still mulls over what just happened, how
it varied from my hopes or expectations.
I don't seem to let go of things very well. I distract myself with a movie or on the
internet, and sometimes, before I know it, I've become so caught up in my
worries and distractions that I have failed to make the time to do the things
that really feed my soul. Even worse is
when I get distracted or worried for so long that I forget what those things
that really feed my soul even are.
The
problem of being worried and distracted by many things is not unique to Martha
of course, nor to me. I have known my
fair share of couples whose lives are filled with a whole host of
responsibilities --- there are the children to pick up from school and take to
their soccer practices, there is the extra work demanded by a career that feels
increasingly under pressure, there are the groceries that must be picked up at
the store, the lawn that must be filled, the overdue dentist's appointment, the
uncle that awaits a telephone call, the list goes on. And over time, if they are not careful, the
worries and distractions may slowly drive the couple apart, keeping one from
really listening to and paying attention to the other, until suddenly years
have gone by and not the worries and distractions are all that really keep them
together, they don't even know how to enjoy each other's company any more even
if they wanted to.
Worried and
distracted doesn't just describe some individuals and couples, however, it
increasingly seems to describe our society as a whole. We don't call it "worried and distracted
by many things," though, we call it by another name -- multitasking. We
watch television while eating dinner and in the process we fail to fully taste
what we are eating -- which, in some cases, may not be such a bad thing. We talk on our cell phone while we drive,
leading to accident rates comparable to drunk driving. Students text or surf the internet while in
class, and fail to fully hear or understand what they are being taught. I'm sure there are several other
examples. All the trends seem to be
towards more multitasking as we seem to be more and more obsessed with being
plugged in to the internet or to our social networking. And while those things are not bad in and of
themselves, all the studies show that multitasking, in whatever form, simply
does not work. Instead, it only leads to
impaired performance. According to one
study I read, only 2.5 percent of the population can really multitask without
impairing their performance. (see
http://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/30/only-a-few-can-multi-task/) Everyone else is just deluding
themselves. Indeed, another article
summarizing studies stated, "There is not good evidence that students
today "must" multitask. But
there is good evidence that multi-tasking is seldom a good idea, if you really
care about what you are working on."
"In fact, college kids who report being chronic multitaskers
are actually somewhat 'worse' than their peers at some basic components of
cognitive control." (see
http://voices.washingtonpost.com/answer-sheet/guest-bloggers/data-shows-kids-shouldnt-multi.html).
Worried
and distracted can sometimes even describe the ministry and worship of the
church. If one is not at least a little
bit careful, one can become lost amidst the Sunday school classes and the
committee meetings and the garden project or countless other things. These things are valuable in and of
themselves, and at their best they provide means by which we can listen to
God's voice, but at their worst one can become so focused on the project
itself, or on the institution of the church, that one fails to listen for the
Spirit upon whom the church is built. I
occasionally noticed this phenomenon at General Assembly two weeks ago, but
that is a story for another time.
Similarly, I recall a friendly argument with my best friend a few years
ago about worship style. He argued that
pastors must adapt to the limited attention spans of younger adults and preach
shorter sermons. For those who might
hope I would adopt his recommendation, I'm afraid I will let you down. While I cannot dismiss the validity of his
concerns, at the same time, it seems to me, our short attention spans are part
of the problem, part of the spiritual problem of our generation. Or, more broadly speaking, of the human
condition.
Looking
again at the Biblical text, note that Jesus doesn't simply rebuke Martha -- he
implicitly gives her an invitation as well.
An invitation to let go of the worries and the distractions, to let go
of the idea that these worries and distractions and multitasking really adds up
to much in the long run anyway. There is
need of only one thing -- to pay attention to what you are doing, to be present
in the moment, to listen for the echoes of God in whatever you are doing,
whether it be cooking dinner or hugging your spouse or
Jesus
issues that same invitation to us, and like Martha, we would do well to accept
his invitation. We would do well to
discipline ourselves to be better listeners, to let go of our incessant
multitasking and the anxiety that drives it, to make a habit of paying
attention. To a large degree, that is
what prayer is, after all -- a deeper listening. And as Christians, we can't follow Christ
very well if we don't listen for the voice of God's Spirit.
I feel it
here in our worship Trinity sometimes, often, usually, at some point during the
sermon. There is a quality of holy listening,
a pregnancy, when the air seems heavy and the space between the words
especially deep. Some would say such
moments are when the preacher has the congregation in the palm of his or her
hand, but I would say it is in those moments when I, when we, feel ourselves in
the hands of someone bigger than ourselves, when that silent listening has
become sacramental and something holy has been baked into it. Indeed, this is one of the most important
aspects of our worship. You will not
likely remember many of the pastor's sermons in the long run, but perhaps
without entirely being aware of it, if our worship is faithful at all, you are
being trained in the posture of listening.
What
would it be like if we took that posture, that sacramental listening, out into
the world? What would it be like if we
listened through the sound of a breeze through the leafy limbs of a tall tree
to hear the presence of God, what would it be like if we listened through the
hug of a friend to hear the comfort of Christ, if we listened through the smile
of a stranger to hear God's delight?
I think the
world needs such people, the world needs such listening. The world needs people who are really present
in it, who really pay attention to it, who drink deeply of the joy and the
delight and the mystery, and yes, even the suffering that comes with
creation. The world needs such
listening, because I believe it is through such listening that God heals the
world. It is only when we stop and pay
attention, when we recognize that we really have need of only one thing, namely
God's grace, that we are really able to share that grace with others and be
healed by it ourselves in the process.
The
world needs such people and we need to be them.
For just about the saddest thing I can think of is to miss the show, to
look back on one's life and not remember living it, to have blundered blindly
through a life and a world that is alive with constant whispers of God's
grace. As is said in the Hindu religious
tradition, "The winds of grace are always blowing, but you have to raise
the sail."