at the First Congregational Church of Stoughton

United Church of Christ

The sub-heading in the Bible for today’s reading is, “Jesus visits Martha and Mary.” Fairly innocent, sort of like a diary entry, but, oh, the ramifications are many.

We have all grown up with parents telling us not to do certain things with certain people at certain times because it’s “just not done.” Girls did not call boys for a date. There was no kissing on a first date. Men didn’t wear hats in restaurants. Horses sweat; men perspire; and women “glow.” And so on. We have all lived according to an ever-changing code of social conventions, and rules are made for breaking.

In first-century eastern Mediterranean culture, unmarried women did not keep company with men, and the disciples of a rabbi were always male. Today’s reading stands both of those conventions on their respective heads.

Martha welcomed Jesus into her home, the home of two unmarried women. There is no male head of the household. Martha, as a propertied woman, is one of those who supported Jesus and his mission. Jesus and his (male) disciples traveled extensively from village to village, and convention called for his followers and supporters to provide food and shelter. But here Martha violates a social convention that said unmarried women did not entertain men in their home. The context of the story even implies that Jesus was there to stay the night as a guest.

Martha’s sister Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet.” When a man does this, it indicates the relationship between the disciple and a teacher or rabbi. Mary violates convention by assuming a traditionally male role. Both women risk their reputations when they open the door to Jesus and then they go beyond that in their desire to learn and to be taught.

Given these conventions and the radical way in which Jesus and the sisters dispense with them, we can assume a few levels of tension built into this story: Jesus is in the home of two unmarried women and Mary has taken a position reserved for a man.

What would the neighbors say if they knew?

What might it be like to be Martha? We think that Martha might just be too busy. Well, I think we all know something about “busy.” Those of us working two jobs to pay the bills know about busy. If you’re a mother with small children, you know about distractions. If your kids play sports, you know about busy times two.

My friend Ira Bluecoat says that sometimes, we are human “doings,” not human “beings.” The lesson today is about being in the presence of God, not about being too busy or being a high achiever. After all, Jesus and his disciples were always busy, going or arriving, teaching and preaching, showing us the way to God. Should a distracted mother experience God any less than a monk living in quiet contemplation?

Luke tells us that Martha was “distracted,” not “too busy.” She inadvertently put up a barrier to being with Jesus. What kept her in the kitchen? Was it the culture or a stereotype? Was it the pressure to provide hospitality? Or is the truth buried in her name? The Aramaic root for “Martha” means “mistress of the house.” In any case, she listened to a voice other than that of Jesus.

We have attended dinner parties where the host or hostess is never seen. They keep themselves in the kitchen, churning out the food throughout the evening. When the last of the dessert is served, they finally appear with a glass of wine in hand, exhausted. What have they been up to all night that was more important than their guests? Distractions! Maybe it was that same pressure to provide perfect hospitality that Martha might have felt. But something kept them away, to everyone’s regret.

Martha had wanted to be with Jesus just as our dinner hosts had wanted to be with their guests. She could have invited Jesus and Mary into the kitchen with her. They could have combined her dinner preparations with Jesus’ teachings, a perfect resolution to her problem, but she didn’t do that.

John Ortberg, in his brilliant book, God Is Closer Than You Think¹, writes about being covered with “the dust of your rabbi.” Disciples followed their rabbis so closely that the dust kicked up by his feet clung to their clothing and got into the very pores of their skin. It means wanting to be with your rabbi everywhere all the time. You wanted to learn from the rabbi how to be a rabbi yourself. We can sit at Jesus’ feet when we pray. We can sit at Jesus’ feet while we drive to work too, or while taking the kids to their hockey game. Jesus invites us to live in his presence continually, to get close to him, and to get dusty.

It’s the one thing needed in our lives, and we can choose it.

Now consider this: In one house, in separate but adjoining rooms, we see examples of what it means to be human and divine.

Martha’s distractions could have been caused by anxiety over the mere presence of Jesus in her home, or by her need to be the perfect host. Something has made her choose to be too busy; we don’t really know what. But she’s just like any of us. And like any of us, she asks Jesus for help. She’s doing the best she can. She’s fully human and her intentions are good.

Mary, on the other hand, has chosen a different path with her unprecedented decision to become a disciple. Without saying a word, she has taken her place at the feet of the Lord, a unique opportunity for a first-century woman. Mary exhibits an intuitive sense to be in the presence of God. Her intention to help Martha is also good, but as Jesus pointed out, Mary has chosen “the better part.”

So Martha, human; Mary, the disciple reaching for the divine: Is it any coincidence that they are sisters? The two go hand in hand, don’t they? Two sides of the same coin. In construction, you “sister” two joists by bolting one to another for added strength. I’m guessing Martha could finish Mary’s sentences, and vice-versa. They probably shared clothes. They definitely relied on one another. The distance between distraction and disciple, from human to divine aspiration, is vanishingly small.

Mary shows us that anyone can sit at the feet of the Lord. Jesus welcomed her in spite of society’s pressures. There are no rules about who can or cannot live in God’s presence or who can serve as a disciple of Jesus. There’s no one more willing to break down artificial barriers to God than God. We all have our quiet moments to be with Jesus. And we all have many more moments when we’re “in the kitchen,” so to speak. What if we all chose to be with Jesus even in those moments? What would our days be like then? We might end up covered in the dust of our rabbi. Would we really mind very much?

May all the people say, Amen.