In the Name of the Living God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
“Martha, you are anxious and troubled by many things.”
Of course, Martha isn’t alone, is she? Not to pick on anyone in particular, but, as I look out from this pulpit I can sense that many of you are anxious and troubled by many things. And, I certainly know that your preacher is anxious and troubled by some things. So, it turns out, if we’re willing to be truthful today, all of us are anxious and troubled about at least some things, if not indeed many things.
So, what I’m about to ask you shouldn’t be hard at all. I want you to be yourself and enter this story as Martha. I ask you to do so now. Enter the story as Martha.
Now, in the immediate setting in which this anxiety and troubledness manifests itself, it would be all too easy to say that Martha is basically – and somewhat rightly – upset about all the work that goes into hosting someone special, while her sister Mary (not to be confused with Our Lady, the Blessed Virgin) is dawdling by sitting at Jesus’ feet, doing nothing of value in Martha’s eyes.
But I don’t think that’s what’s going on at all, actually. Martha’s behaviour, her little fit, if you will, is simply a symptom of something deeper. Outbursts usually are.
I remember early on, when Malacy and I were first married, she came home one afternoon after a long shift at the hospital and had a fit – I mean a real old fashioned, textbook hissy fit – supposedly about me not putting my coffee cup in the dishwasher when I was finished.
On this side of that fit, with a little marital experience under my belt, and from a little reflecting on my own fit throwing from time to time, I now know that her anger was not primarily about a coffee cup. There is no way a person could have been that worked up about a coffee cup. She was troubled because something else was going on, something under the surface. In case you’re wondering, however, I do now put my cup in the dishwasher (on occasion).
What I’m trying to say is that when we’re anxious and troubled about things – when we’re worried and tense – we tend to blow up easily. And, when it all comes spewing out, we’re usually upset about something other than what immediately provoked us.
Jesus’ reply, therefore, isn’t so much a rebuke of the immediate situation – in other words, it’s not really to reprimand Martha for having a hissy fit – as much as it is a commentary on Martha’s soul. “Martha, you are anxious and troubled” – never mind what just happened – “you are anxious and troubled, and I know it.”
We don’t know what it was. Was the root cause of her trouble and anxiety money? It often is. Was it her health? Was she worried about a loved one? Was she anxious about some situation in her family? Was she upset about Brexit, or was she mad at Trump or Hillary? We simply don’t know.
But what we do know is that Jesus stopped what He was doing, looked her square in the eyes and said, lovingly, I believe, “Martha, you are anxious and troubled, and I know it.”
And I have no doubt that He is doing the same to you and to me right now.
And this is a precious, beautiful thing. And it’s precious and overflowing with love, because Jesus knows that we are anxious and troubled by many things. And He cares! And we are precious to Him!
My dear friend, Bp. Ed Salmon, often told a story about the time he was on his way to mass one Sunday morning, and when he stopped at a traffic signal for a red light there was a homeless man sitting on the corner sort of slumped over and staring at the ground. The Bishop motioned for him to come over to his car, and when he approached the window – just as the Bishop went to reach in his pocket for some money – he realised that he left his wallet at home. Feeling awful and now late for mass, he told the man that he’d left his wallet and would go home after church to get it and come back.
But, do you know what the man said? The man said, “Don’t worry about. It’s not about the money, sir. I just want to say thank you for looking at me.” Thank you for looking at me!?! In that exchange, you see, the real value wasn’t in a potential monetary exchange, but in the priceless power of being recognized in the midst of his troubles and anxiety. And so it was for Martha. And so it is for you. And so it is for me.
And because He’s looking at us, we need to do that “one thing needful.” Look at Him.
I was reading an online article this week in The Daily Telegraph about Royal Airforce Veterans over the years, and the writer noticed that the many of the people he interviewed “talked as if they’d won the wars but acted as if they’ve lost them.” I thought it was a great phrase. I know a lot of Christians like that; I look at one in the mirror every single morning.
Many of us talk like Jesus won the war, but we live like he didn’t. And we behave, moreover, like He couldn’t possibly be interested in our troubles and anxieties.
But, He turned to her – with a heart of love and blessing – and said, “Martha, you are anxious and troubled by many things.” And He continued, “Martha, there is only one thing needful.”
And when He looks at us with His eyes of blessing and love and we look back and open ourselves up to His mercy and love – in other words, when we sit at His feet like Mary – our lives can change, fears can disappear and anxieties can wither away.
If you have Jesus, you have the one thing needful. If you have Jesus, you have everything.
He is the answer yesterday, today and forever.
I asked you, at the beginning of this little exercise, to enter the story as Martha. Now, I’ll ask you to try something else; leave the story as Mary.
Sermon preached by the Rev. Charleston D. Wilson
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota Florida
9th Sunday after Pentecost
17 July 2016