Atom“Keeping First Things First’
“But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part,which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42
Ah…the familiar story of Martha and Mary…we know it so well. Most of us could tell the story if asked, “Do you remember the story of when Jesus visited his friends, Mary and Martha?” We also are prone, I believe, to hear this story and think of the Marthas in our lives, or to consider, “Am I a Martha?”
One of the Marthas I think of when I read this story has always been my mother-in-law, Addy. It’s not so easy to be a Martha now that she has marked 80 years, but the hostess gene still runs strong in her. I remember summers when the family would gather for the Polk County Fair, and Grandma Addy would open the storehouse to us: fresh-baked sweet rolls, just-picked raspberries on pancakes and ice-cream. And…because anytime the whole family gathered was a “special occasion,” that “saved-in-the-freezer-for-just-such-a-time-as-this” hunk of lutefisk,” with lefse and a side of Swedish meatballs.
It is how Addy loved us. She cooked and cleaned and then cooked some more. But sometimes the load got heavy with a house full of people and sometimes, in enjoying each others’ company, we forgot to lend a hand. And then she would let us know. She would come to the living room and say, with a bit of an edge to her voice, “Hey you guys in here, if you want to eat supper, I could use a little help in the kitchen!”
Addy would probably knew well how Martha felt that day Jesus came to dinner. Wonderful smells filled Martha’s kitchen. There was baking bread and cooking stew; there were fresh flowers for the table. Martha wanted things to be just right for her special guest and his friends. It wasn’t often that Jesus dropped by and she wanted this meal to be special. From the moment she had heard he was coming she had been cleaning and preparing the house. The floors were swept, the linens aired, the furniture dusted. She had even dug out her best plates and cups from the cupboard where she kept them. And then there was the meal. Martha had risen early to go to the market for fresh meat and produce and then had hurried home to grind the flour and prepare the oven for baking.
For Martha, it was a service of love. She had learned early on that loving someone meant taking care of their needs. Her mother had taught her how to cook and sew and clean, and how to be the gracious hostess and provider that her peoples’ customs called for. Martha had learned her lessons well. And good thing, too, for when her parents died, it was left to Martha to be head of the household and provider for her younger sister and brother. And she did a fine job. Many a neighbor had said to her over the years, “Martha, I don’t know how you get it all done!” No doubt about it: Martha knew how to work. In fact, she knew little else. It was her way of caring.
But she had to admit that sometimes she got tired. And sometimes, more often than not lately, she found herself resentful and angry that some others in the household didn’t see the same need for hard work that she did…like right now when they were entertaining important guests. Who knows where Lazarus had disappeared to…and Mary…Mary had been fine help right up to the time Jesus arrived. But after their greetings, when Martha had returned to the kitchen to finish the meal preparations, Mary had stayed with their guests. Martha gave her the look that said, “I need you,” but Mary ignored her and plopped down on the floor next to Jesus, leaving Martha to tend to the rest of the preparations. Martha retreated to the kitchen, but as the meal cooked, she began a slow burn. Didn’t anybody else care about this meal that she had so carefull prepared? Didn’t Mary care? Didn’t Jesus care? Just last week she had heard him say that loving your neighbor meant taking care of them. Hadn’t Mary heard that too? Shouldn’t she be helping?
Finally Martha her burn reached a boil. She marched into the room, looked right past Mary and right at Jesus and said, “Don’t you care, Lord? Don’t you care that my sister isn’t helping me? Tell her to help!”
We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Felt overworked, under-appreciated? Done our best to take care of those entrusted to us and felt stretched to the absolute limit of our physical and emotional endurance. Maybe you’re a “Super Mom,” working outside the home to help the family live the good life…or because you enjoy using your gifts in the workplace…but then returning home to find the chores of home and family waiting for you.
Or, maybe you’re a stay-at-home Super Mom: full-time caregiver and chauffer, trying to meet the physical and emotional needs of your family as well as give them every opportunity to develop their own gifts by taking them to piano lessons and basketball practice and dance class.
Or you’re Super Dad. In this day and age of changing family structures, you’re still motivated to be the bread-winner for the family, but also take your turn at cooking and cleaning, getting up at night to tend to the baby, doing home repairs in your spare time, coaching squirts hockey, building the props for the school musical.
Maybe you’re a Super Grandparent. You’ve raised your family, worked long and hard, but now you find yourself compelled to help your kids get on their feet, and also take on endless volunteer projects because there are never enough volunteers to get the work done. You find yourself stretched to the limit and beginning to resent the kids and the neighbors who call on you.
Not to leave our young people out here, our “super kids”…trying to be all the things your parents and friends expect you to be: a good student, a good athlete, a good musician…kind to others, faithful in church, helpful, respectful, and clean. And sometimes you’re just not sure you can be all those things to all those people.
Or maybe its work. If you work in human services, you know that sometimes the work is like bailing the lake with a five-gallon pail. You work day and night, binding up the wounds of your patients. You stay after school to tutor another student. You squeeze one more desperate person into your schedule after closing hours and long after your family expected you to be home. And those of you who volunteer for the summer ball program or the scouts or at the nursing home have the same feeling. You know what it is to feel overdrawn, used up, burned out.
And dare I mention the church? I got to chatting once with a family that hadn’t been to church in a long time. I knew that they had been very active at one point, but it had been years since you had darkened the door. “What happened?” I asked. “Pastor,” they said, “We got tired. We were on church council; we were youth group advisors; we taught Sunday school and had a small group meet in our house. Then, one day, when someone stopped to ask us to lead another group, we decided we’d had enough. Where were the others? We needed help.” Like Martha.
Mary knew she should have been helping. She had learned that it was the proper thing to do, especially if you were a woman in Jewish society. And she had been helping until Jesus came. But then she had had the compelling urge to be near him, to listen to him, to drink in his presence – a presence which made her feel alive and important. Jesus had that way about him – of making everyone who came near him feel as if they were the most important person in the world. The way he talked about life and about God…it made her feel good. It gave her energy for work around the house and in the neighborhood. But not right now…not when he was here. This was too precious.
Even so, she felt guilty when Martha rushed into the room and demanded that she come and help. She started to rise to her feet, expecting Jesus to agree with her. After all, hospitality was a high calling among her people, and it was important to get the meal on the table so all could be nourished by it. Martha had worked hard and she certainly needed Mary’s help. It was the right thing to do.
But Jesus’ words stopped her before she could rise from the floor. “Martha,” said Jesus, in that patient, compelling way that he had. “Martha, you are worried about so many things. They are urgent things to be sure, but they are distracting you from the one thing which is needed…”
I have to say here that much as I hate to admit it because I know what Jesus said, when I hear this story I feel sorry for Martha. I think a lot of us do. We know how it is. We talked about this lesson at staff this week and we kind of sheepishly admitted that we wish we could find a few more Marthas. And those of you who are Marthas and Martins around this place, you know how it is. Much as we hate to admit it because we know what Jesus said, we feel a bit resentful of Mary. She should have been helping.
Wasn’t Martha was doing a good thing? She was busy serving Jesus. Don’t we learn that following Jesus means serving? Being busy? It isn’t cleanliness that is next to godliness; it’s “busy-ness.” “Busy-ness” for the Lord. Poor Martha. Lazy Mary.
But notice that Jesus does not say that what Martha is doing is wrong…only that Mary has chosen something “better”…which might be better translated as “more lasting.” “Mary,” says Jesus, “has chosen that which is “more lasting,” that which cannot be taken away.”
“Martha, there will always be guests. There will always be people to serve. There will always be meals to prepare and dishes to wash. There will always be chores to do, work to finish, people to tend to. There will always be more to do than you can get done, more to give than you have to give. Even your wonderful efforts on my behalf will not last. But what will last is you and me. My love for you. And your love for me. Take time, Martha, to listen. Take time, Martha, to be refreshed. Take time, Martha, so that I can serve you.”
In the reading that immediately precedes this one in Luke’s gospel – the story of the Good Samaritan—Jesus teaches that serving God means serving your neighbor, sometimes the neighbor that we don’t particularly like. “Go and do,” says Jesus. This week’s reading follows hard on it heals reminding us that if we are going to be any good at “going and doing,” then we need to first need to “sit and listen.” We need to allow ourselves to be served by Jesus. Our well will run dry unless Jesus who fills our wells. “Love one another,” says Jesus, “as I have loved you.” “We love,” says the apostle John in his letter, “because God has first loved us.”
The key to avoiding burnout in your family, in your job, in your volunteering, in your serving, is to let Jesus serve you first. How? By sitting at Jesus’ feet. By worshipping – regularly – as we are here…gathered in the presence of God’s word and sacrament, gathered to be renewed by Jesus’ promise and his presence.
Let Jesus serve you first. How? By gathering with a small group of friends or neighbors to reflect on God’s word for you. Bible study isn’t meant to be a chore, you know. It is meant to be a rest stop to refresh us for the journey. We hope to offer many such rest stops during the coming year. Be sure to consider one to refresh you.
Let Jesus serve you. How? By setting time in your schedule for a few moments to fill you spiritual tanks…a few moments in a quiet place before your day begins or before it ends, to drink from God’s word, to ponder a few thoughts from a devotional book, and to draw strength from a prayer conversation with your creator and friend.
“Dear, dear friends,” says Jesus, “there will always be work to be done. The world I have called you to has many needs. There are chores to do, people to be tended. There will always be more to do than you can get done, more to give than you have to give. Even your most wonderful efforts on my behalf will not last. But what will last is this: You and me. My love for you and your love for me. Take time to listen. Take time to be refreshed. Take time, friends, so that I can serve you. It is the one thing that is needed.” Let us pray…
Page 1 of 1 comment pages