Luke 10:38-42
Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. But 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." 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."
I must admit to being somewhat ill at ease when it comes to today’s passage from Luke. I thought about avoiding it entirely and preaching on one of the other lessons from the lectionary but was drawn back to it. I do realize that the Bible isn’t there to make me feel comfortable. It may be comforting at times but it’s not always comfortable.
To understand this passage we have to look a little more closely at the context in which the gospel writer, Luke, places it. Jesus is on the road to Jerusalem, where of course he will be tried and executed as a criminal by the powers that be. Immediately preceding this passage, a lawyer asks Jesus about how he can go about inheriting eternal life.
Jesus talks about loving God and loving neighbor. In other words, Jesus talks about relationships and how important they are. On this journey to Jerusalem, Jesus is trying to teach about what it means to be a disciple. What it means to follow. Then Jesus ends up telling the lawyer, and the rest of us, the parable of the good Samaritan in which a stranger, a hated stranger at that, does good toward one who is injured along the road. It’s a tale of doing good deeds and taking action when others have not done so.
Then we reach today’s passage in which Jesus stops by at his friends’ home, the house of Mary and Martha. We know from other passages that Mary and Martha had a brother, Lazarus, but he is not mentioned this time through. While at their home, Mary sits at Jesus’ feet and listens to his teaching while Martha busies herself with all that goes into hosting a beloved guest. When Martha complains to Jesus that Mary isn’t really helping out at all, Jesus takes her down a peg in telling her that Mary has made the wisest choice, which is to sit and listen to him. He seems to belittle Martha for all her busyness in the process.
Those who make their livings commenting on the Bible have pointed out that Luke has a particular emphasis throughout his gospel on hearing AND doing. So this passage this morning must be read in that light. And that’s why its proximity to the story about the good Samaritan is so important.
Certainly the Samaritan is a doer. He stops to help an injured traveler and does a lot for him: providing care there at the roadside, transporting him, paying for his continued care and so on. It makes us wonder how that story can immediately precede this one about listening?
It precedes it because both are important. You can’t have one without the other: it’s listening and doing. It’s not either or. Jesus lays it all out here one, two, three: be in right relationship with God and neighbor, do good works, and listen with all your heart.
So why would such a story make me ill at ease? Well, of course, what makes me uncomfortable is that door over there. [pointing at the kitchen door] That door and thousands upon thousands like it across Christendom. And all the hours that are wracked up behind those doors. And all the doing that happens that’s just like Martha’s busying of herself.
No preacher in his or her right mind is going to get up this morning and, using this text, tell people to stop all their good works, whether it’s in the kitchen, at the coffee hour table, in the food pantry, at the homeless shelter or anywhere else for that matter. Too much good comes of all the doing that goes on in churches just like this one that to misinterpret this passage would be a major mistake. And I don’t believe that Jesus was saying that either.
But Jesus was making a point with Martha that day. And once again, we have to look at context to understand. A woman’s place, in that day and place, was definitely not at the feet of a teacher. A woman did not get the benefit of a teacher, none-the-less one of Jesus’ stature. He had his disciples for that, always men. But Jesus always made a point of speaking with women, something unheard of in his time. And Mary, in sitting at his feet, was breaking convention along with him.
Jesus was not discounting the work that Martha was doing. He was saying however that Mary had seen an opportunity that is rarely afforded her and took it. And she was rewarded for her decision with Jesus’ affirmation of her choice.
Taken together, the parable of the Samaritan who helps his fellow traveler, along with the story which took place in Mary & Martha’s home, brings us back to Luke’s emphasis on hearing and doing. We need both.
We need to listen: by studying scripture, by attending worship, by conversing with each other, and by all the other ways that we can listen in the broadest sense of the word. And we need to act: we need to be doing the good works that all that listening calls forth from us.
And of course, all of this springs out of the right relationships that Jesus set forth with the lawyer: to love God with all one’s heart, soul, strength, and mind and to love your neighbor as yourself. From there we move into the listening and doing that is so important.
Don’t think that what happens behind those doors isn’t important. Or if you do, don’t try to use today’s passage as your excuse for the way you think. Our calls are clearly to listen and to act.
Power of Powerlessness
2 Kings 5:1-14
It’s the little words and the small people to which you sometimes have to pay attention. Without them, things usually turn out differently. Take this morning’s reading from 2nd Kings for instance.
Naaman was a great and mighty warrior in the kingdom of Aram, which is where Syria now is. He was commander of the king’s army, we’re told. Yet, there was a ‘but’ in the introduction to him. That little word ‘but’ makes all the difference in the world. Because in spite of all his power and strength there was that ‘but’ which was, of course, that he was a leper. Yes, even though he commanded hosts of men in the Aram armies, he suffered from leprosy. That ‘but’ or ‘though’ or ‘yet’ can make all the difference.
Now leprosy in the Hebrew Bible is different from modern day leprosy. Then it was essentially any disease of the skin: boils, eczema, dry patches, such as what I have here on my right hand ring finger. Any of those and more would make someone a leper. This is not to downplay the importance of the disease but to clarify. So Naaman suffered from some form of leprosy, making him unclean.
At the end of the day, after removing his armor and battle finery, he was reminded that he was a leper just by a quick look at his body. However the disease took its course, it no doubt left its ravages on what was likely an otherwise perfect specimen of a body. That was the ‘but,’ the small word that changed everything for Naaman.
But there, right in Naaman’s household, was one of those small people who can make a difference. A slave girl, from Samaria of all places,, that little country also known as Israel, whose name isn’t even recorded and who serves his wife, tells of a prophet back home who could cure Naaman. She makes this bold claim because she knows the power of her God and truly believes in it.
So Naaman, in all his power, does what people of power do; he goes to other people of power, in this case his king. He asks for permission to seek out this prophet and the king does what any king would do; he writes to his fellow king, again, power seeking out power. The slave girl, whatever her name was, is forgotten by this point and we’re dealing on a whole new level now: power to power.
Of course the King of Israel thinks this is some trick when Naaman comes to see him with the letter. He reads the message that the King of Aram has written and concludes that Aram is picking a fight with them, probably a fight that Israel can’t afford to have right now. He does what any good king would do: he rips his clothing in frustration and grief, something you did in those days.
Now when a king rends his garments, it makes the evening news. It’s big news in fact. And word of the rending gets through to Elisha, the very prophet about whom that nameless slave girl was referring. Elisha, nonplussed by the big boys and their games, gets word through to the king to send Naaman to him and he’ll take care of the whole thing.
So off Naaman goes, with all the gifts he has brought with him and his fine chariots and undoubtedly a platoon of soldiers without whom he never travels. Have you ever noticed that? People of power tend to travel with their power surrounding them so that it’s unnoticeable. Naaman was no different.
He gets to Elisha’s and expects this Israelite man of God to come out, bowing and scraping to do magical incantations over his scarred body. Instead Elisha barely notices his presence. He sends out a servant, again someone without a name, to give a message to Naaman. That’s it.
And to top it off, the message is to go and wash in the Jordan seven times. How insulting can you get? They’ve got rivers in Syria, Naaman says, fine ones in fact; rivers that make the Jordan look like a muddy old creek. Why should a person, a warrior, as important and powerful as Naaman lower himself to washing in a podunk river like the Jordan? Really!
Again, the small, nameless people come into play when Naaman’s servants, who have seen the ravages of leprosy on their boss first hand, persuade him to give the Jordan a try. They’re in the neighborhood and what does he have to lose after all? Naaman relents, listens to these people who probably know him better than anyone, and bathes in the Jordan. Naturally, his skin is not only restored, but he’s better than a kid again. He now has the skin of a young boy, we’re told, which is a far cry from leprosy.
This story hangs on that small ‘but’ at the beginning because it builds in a tension between the military power and physical might of Naaman versus his powerlessness against the disease he lives with each and every day. The power of Naaman versus the wisdom of a nameless young slave girl. The kings of Israel and Aram providing a side story of power at the very top versus the almost nonchalant demeanor of the prophet Elisha. The mighty rivers of Naaman’s homeland versus the muddy trickle of the Jordan. Power versus powerlessness runs through this story from start to finish.
How does that make you feel, on this fourth of July, living in one of the most powerful countries in global history? I know it makes me stop and think a little. Who has power these days and who are the powerless ones we should be listening to? What about our own personal power and how do we use it? Who do we listen to when dealing with our power? Do the powerless, nameless people around us have a voice? Do we allow them to be heard?
Of course, there are far too many examples of powerless, nameless ones in our society: the homeless person, the immigrant, the youth, to name a few. Do we listen to them for their words of prophecy and healing? Sure, we most likely acknowledge them and recognize their worth as children of God. Do we go that extra step though to seek out whatever wisdom they may bring to a situation?
When it comes to immigration or homelessness, for example, do we really look to those who are immigrants or homeless for their voice about how to solve those huge problems of our culture? Remember it was a nameless, powerless slave girl who pointed Naaman to Elisha and his eventual cure.
It’s the little words and the small people to which you sometimes have to pay attention. Without them, things usually turn out differently. Take this morning’s reading from 2nd Kings for instance.
Naaman was a great and mighty warrior in the kingdom of Aram, which is where Syria now is. He was commander of the king’s army, we’re told. Yet, there was a ‘but’ in the introduction to him. That little word ‘but’ makes all the difference in the world. Because in spite of all his power and strength there was that ‘but’ which was, of course, that he was a leper. Yes, even though he commanded hosts of men in the Aram armies, he suffered from leprosy. That ‘but’ or ‘though’ or ‘yet’ can make all the difference.
Now leprosy in the Hebrew Bible is different from modern day leprosy. Then it was essentially any disease of the skin: boils, eczema, dry patches, such as what I have here on my right hand ring finger. Any of those and more would make someone a leper. This is not to downplay the importance of the disease but to clarify. So Naaman suffered from some form of leprosy, making him unclean.
At the end of the day, after removing his armor and battle finery, he was reminded that he was a leper just by a quick look at his body. However the disease took its course, it no doubt left its ravages on what was likely an otherwise perfect specimen of a body. That was the ‘but,’ the small word that changed everything for Naaman.
But there, right in Naaman’s household, was one of those small people who can make a difference. A slave girl, from Samaria of all places,, that little country also known as Israel, whose name isn’t even recorded and who serves his wife, tells of a prophet back home who could cure Naaman. She makes this bold claim because she knows the power of her God and truly believes in it.
So Naaman, in all his power, does what people of power do; he goes to other people of power, in this case his king. He asks for permission to seek out this prophet and the king does what any king would do; he writes to his fellow king, again, power seeking out power. The slave girl, whatever her name was, is forgotten by this point and we’re dealing on a whole new level now: power to power.
Of course the King of Israel thinks this is some trick when Naaman comes to see him with the letter. He reads the message that the King of Aram has written and concludes that Aram is picking a fight with them, probably a fight that Israel can’t afford to have right now. He does what any good king would do: he rips his clothing in frustration and grief, something you did in those days.
Now when a king rends his garments, it makes the evening news. It’s big news in fact. And word of the rending gets through to Elisha, the very prophet about whom that nameless slave girl was referring. Elisha, nonplussed by the big boys and their games, gets word through to the king to send Naaman to him and he’ll take care of the whole thing.
So off Naaman goes, with all the gifts he has brought with him and his fine chariots and undoubtedly a platoon of soldiers without whom he never travels. Have you ever noticed that? People of power tend to travel with their power surrounding them so that it’s unnoticeable. Naaman was no different.
He gets to Elisha’s and expects this Israelite man of God to come out, bowing and scraping to do magical incantations over his scarred body. Instead Elisha barely notices his presence. He sends out a servant, again someone without a name, to give a message to Naaman. That’s it.
And to top it off, the message is to go and wash in the Jordan seven times. How insulting can you get? They’ve got rivers in Syria, Naaman says, fine ones in fact; rivers that make the Jordan look like a muddy old creek. Why should a person, a warrior, as important and powerful as Naaman lower himself to washing in a podunk river like the Jordan? Really!
Again, the small, nameless people come into play when Naaman’s servants, who have seen the ravages of leprosy on their boss first hand, persuade him to give the Jordan a try. They’re in the neighborhood and what does he have to lose after all? Naaman relents, listens to these people who probably know him better than anyone, and bathes in the Jordan. Naturally, his skin is not only restored, but he’s better than a kid again. He now has the skin of a young boy, we’re told, which is a far cry from leprosy.
This story hangs on that small ‘but’ at the beginning because it builds in a tension between the military power and physical might of Naaman versus his powerlessness against the disease he lives with each and every day. The power of Naaman versus the wisdom of a nameless young slave girl. The kings of Israel and Aram providing a side story of power at the very top versus the almost nonchalant demeanor of the prophet Elisha. The mighty rivers of Naaman’s homeland versus the muddy trickle of the Jordan. Power versus powerlessness runs through this story from start to finish.
How does that make you feel, on this fourth of July, living in one of the most powerful countries in global history? I know it makes me stop and think a little. Who has power these days and who are the powerless ones we should be listening to? What about our own personal power and how do we use it? Who do we listen to when dealing with our power? Do the powerless, nameless people around us have a voice? Do we allow them to be heard?
Of course, there are far too many examples of powerless, nameless ones in our society: the homeless person, the immigrant, the youth, to name a few. Do we listen to them for their words of prophecy and healing? Sure, we most likely acknowledge them and recognize their worth as children of God. Do we go that extra step though to seek out whatever wisdom they may bring to a situation?
When it comes to immigration or homelessness, for example, do we really look to those who are immigrants or homeless for their voice about how to solve those huge problems of our culture? Remember it was a nameless, powerless slave girl who pointed Naaman to Elisha and his eventual cure.
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