Even the Pastor

9^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, July 21, 2013

Genesis 18:1-10a; Psalm 15; Colossians 1:15-28; Luke 10:38-42

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Nancy, Hannah and I have been traveling over the last few weeks.  
As a part of that travel, we were in a number of restaurants, restrooms and rest areas.  All places, where one goes to find “rest” of some sort.  You might imagine that these were places of peace and quiet, but virtually none of them were.  The rest areas were filled with people coming and going from their summer vacation travels.  The restrooms were humming with people and noise, mothers corralling young children, shouts to “wash your hands” or “hold my hand”, the sound of flushing and drying and water running louder made the chaotic scene louder than you might imagine.  I didn’t expect complete quite at these way stations, because they are by nature the very places where people zip in and out on their way to somewhere else.  They aren’t meant to be places where we STAY.  So the noise of people getting done what needed to be done was appropriate.

Restaurants, on the other hand, are places where people sit and spend some time.  Whenever we were shown to a table for a bite to eat, we settled in to stay for a little while.  It felt good to be out of the car, and have someone wait on us.  The days were hot, and our drive was long.  So, a little peace and quiet would have been appreciated.  Most restaurants weren’t that quiet either.  Most had music piped in that negated any possibility of a quiet conversation.  Nancy and I both commented on how difficult it was to actually have a quiet conversation in most any family restaurant anymore.  The music was just too loud.  It wasn’t long after that, that we began to notice music in almost every public place we entered, stores, bathrooms, gas stations, airports, elevators … if it was a public space, there was almost always noise piped in. 

When I talked about this at the clergy Bible study this week, those gathered said that that was their experience as well.  Our culture just can’t stand stillness.  Even standing at the gas pump, you are subjected to ads running on the screen.  There’s no more standing there contemplating life at the pump.  Now I can’t confirm this, but one gentleman assured me that there was a video screen with the sports page running above the urinals at Zebb’s!  “I kid you not!”  He said.  I couldn’t believe it.  What’s going on in our culture, if you can’t even go to the bathroom without being bombarded with information? 

We have lost the ability to be still.  We live in a culture that relies on cell phones that can take pictures and post to Facebook within seconds after something happens.  We live in a culture where one text demands an almost immediate response.  My nieces and nephews tell me it’s not polite to ignore a text and answer it later.  One of the men in our clergy group said that if his son texts him and he doesn’t respond within ten minutes, his son will call him and ask what’s wrong.  There is an increasing need for constant stimulation and a growing habit of reacting in the moment that permeates every aspect of our lives.  Why are we bound to this constant barrage of noise, information and busyness?  Why can’t we be still?

Jesus enters a village and is welcomed into the house of a woman named Martha.  She must have been a rather unusual woman, because typically the man of the house would welcome a guest.  Instead, Martha welcomes Jesus into “her house”.  Perhaps she had money, or a business of her own.  Something a bit countercultural in her time, but not unheard of.  A Woman’s domain was in the home.  The woman of the house ruled there.  It made sense that Martha would be the one to provide for the needs of the guest.  She would bring him a drink and some bread to eat.  She would be sure the house was clean and ready for a guest to stay overnight.  She would have the table set and clean linens on the bed.  She would be the one to sweep the floors and shake out the rugs.  There was likely a lot to do, and depending on the size of the household, Martha might have had to do most of it herself. 

So when Martha comes in and finds Mary, her sister, sitting at the feet of the Teacher, she’s a bit miffed.  There’s a lot to get done!  “Get up and get busy, lazy bones”, she might be thinking.  “Sitting at the feet of the Teacher is a man’s place, not yours!  Get up and help me get this place in order!”  So Martha calls out to Jesus, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?  Tell her then to help me.”  But Jesus doesn’t do the culturally correct thing. Instead of berating Mary for hanging out at his feet and allowing her sister to do all the work that the women were supposed to do, Jesus tells Martha to slow down.  He tells 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 from her.” 

When I’ve read this passage in the past, I’ve always felt that Jesus was berating Martha, chastising her for being so busy.  Maybe it’s because I empathize with Martha.  I like to be busy. I like to do a lot of different things at the same time.  I enjoy having my hand in a bunch of different pots.  I easily get caught up in the possibility of new ideas.  I love that about myself.  I see myself in Martha.  I know how hard it is for me to slow down, and so Jesus’ words sting in my ears.  They make me feel ashamed. 

            But what if Jesus isn’t using that “too bad for you” voice that I hear in my head?  What if Jesus isn’t calling me “an idiot” like the gremlins inside me do?  What if Jesus is using the voice of compassion and longing, and saying something along the lines of “those tasks need to get done, but they can all wait.  Won’t you come join us while I’m here visiting you both?  Nothing is more important right now, than our time together.  I miss you.”  Now, that changes everything, doesn’t it?  That’s not shame, that’s love … and isn’t that how Jesus usually works.

Jesus knows that we need Martha’s in our midst, or nothing would ever get done.  Martha’s can invite Mary’s into work.  We need Mary’s too, to remind us that our souls need the living water that feeds us for ministry, that we have to fill our spiritual buckets at the feet of Jesus’ feet.  Mary reminds Martha to put aside the distractions and noise of the world so that her soul can be refreshed.

Perhaps what Jesus is doing in this story, is giving us permission to put down the pots and pans, to lay down the broom, to hang up the dish towel, in order to just be with him.  Jesus is inviting all of us to turn down the volume, maybe even turn OFF the volume for a while to listen to the voice of God that calls out to each of us in quiet.  Not necessarily in silence, but in internal quiet and calmness.

Just recently, I have been realizing how busy I’ve become.  I think it’s a result of several things that are going on at once.  Since I became rector here last year, I’ve been keeping track of how many hours I work.  It’s a part of my Letter of Agreement.  It was designed to help the vestry and I keep an eye on my three-quarter time status.  I have trouble NOT working when I think things need to be done.  It’s been five years since we wrote our mission and vision statements.  It’s prudent to review those kinds of documents every five years or so to see if they still hold true.  The vestry began that process this spring.  My decision to begin the CPE Supervisory program has heightened the need for me to prioritize what I do here at St. Stephen’s.  The vestry is helping me do that.  Elaine and I have both compiled a list of “tasks” or responsibilities that we do in our work.  For a month, we also kept track of the time we spent on different aspects of that work. 

All of this information has been coming in while the vestry and I have been looking at our mission and vision, and for me, while I am reclaiming a habit of intentional regular self-reflection.  I am realizing how my busyness is not only affecting my family, but how it is also affecting the way I am able to relate to all people.  I have become overcommitted … to the point that everything is an interruption; so busy that I don’t have time for the things that really matter to me in my ministry … people, all of you.  Things like talking with you about things you care deeply about, taking time to listen attentively without worrying about whether it’ll keep me from getting through my “to do” list that day, visiting those of you who are sick and homebound, or taking time to meet our neighbors on Thorndale Terrace.  It’s not possible for me to really “be” with people if my mind is always being tugged in several directions at once.  I realize that in a new way now, thanks to Martha and Mary.

At my heart, I am a contemplative.  The practices of that tradition have grounded me for many years, but even a pastor can be distracted by the noise of our culture and be lured into the trap of choosing to “do” rather than “be”; even a pastor can stray into the realm of always “being Martha”, and miss Mary completely … even when Jesus is sitting in the middle of the room.  Even a pastor can find herself taking on more than might be healthy, forgetting that doing more doesn’t make any of us look better to the diocese.  It just makes us all look busier and less available to one another.

As I look toward my sabbatical next summer, and the work that is beginning for me in the CPE program that I have begun, I am reminded how very important our spiritual lives are … individually and corporately.  This is God’s church, and we can only know how God might wish us to serve by listening, by creating a place of stillness within so we can hear God.  It is only a healthy spiritual life that can allow us to dance to the music of God’s call; so that we recognize when God is calling Martha into authentic service within us and when God is calling Mary to nudge us into drinking deeply from the living water that Jesus offers.  They are both there … in each of us.  I am thankful for the partnership I have with the vestry of St. Stephen’s, and for the life in Christ that is shared here with all of you.  It is that spirit … nurtured at the feet of Christ … that will guide us and form us.  For that, we can be thankful.

Amen.