balance

Are you a Mary or a Martha?

Yes or no?

A night in Madrid, two years ago: before the rain we made our way into a restaurant with singing waiters, opera-singing waiters. We were all crowded into a large room where they served the meal and also sang to us. We listened as we sat at our tables. Or in my case, as I tried to capture in a photo the scene before me, to the point where I was distracted from what was happening right around me. 

Suddenly I found myself being addressed in song, by the soprano singing the aria right in my ear. I looked up, cast aside my phone and gave her my attention. I did not sing the tenor’s response. But I did look, listen, and pay attention. So if you want an image of that moment you will have to listen to me. There is nothing on my phone to capture, share, or post it.

What would it have been like if both sisters had missed the moment, that moment when the son of God, the source of all being, the one in whom and through whom all things are made and all redeemed, was in their home, at their table. Right there.

Martha was still trapped in ordinary time. Mary was transforming into a disciple. Sitting at the feet of the rabbi like a rapt pupil she was becoming a teacher herself. An apostle, a messenger, a bearer of the word.

Am I a Mary or a Martha? Yes and no. Sometimes, there is work to be done.

Sometimes, there he is, right in front of me, with something to teach me.

Can I hear it? Am I paying attention, ready? If the Messiah comes to dinner tonight, how will I treat him? As an extra guest, at a place at the table set aside for a stranger, or the center of the celebration? The one who in fact feeds us.

Amos talks about a day of hunger, a day of famine, that is not a day without bread, but a day without hearing the Lord’s word, the word of life. The feast of the Word is on the table before us, today, as it was for Mary and Martha.

Whatever our righteous occupations are, there comes a moment when we need to see what is really before us, to hear the word of life, and to take in our true sustenance.

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Am I saying that a Madrid opera singer was the Christ? No, but I am saying that you can see in the moment the image of God in the stranger and in the strangest moments if you are ready for them

It may be that to meet Christ in the present moment will involve someone greeting you or you helping someone unexpectedly.

Or it may be greeting each other in peace, and recognizing in each other, the image of God in which you are both made,

And also enjoying and receiving and acknowledging the presence of God in communion with each other, in the sharing of the communion bread and the communion wine.

Have you seen Jesus my Lord? And were you paying attention?

None of this is to imply that we should all become contemplatives, or all activists. Indeed one of the most famous monks of the twentieth century, a member of an intensely contemplative order, was also a well-known activist, although his work with other activists tended to take place in writing or in meetings. 

And a well-known activist, indeed more than one, was deeply contemplative. I was thinking of Thomas Merton and Daniel Berrigan. Who are you thinking of? 

Indeed that is what the Benedictine way, the way of balance, is all about: ora et labora, work and prayer. Daily sustenance, maintenance, fixing the plumbing, doing the dishes, yes, and, yes, singing praise to God and becoming lost in wonder.

Indeed we do not need to choose between two routes or poles in our spiritual and religious life. We may find ourselves oscillating between them, or favoring the wrong approach at the right time. It is easy to hide from action in false contemplative behavior, as easy as it is to hide in action when we need to sit ourselves down and listen to what the Lord is saying.

Will l listen to what the Lord is saying? The psalmist invites us to join the song:

Psalm 85.8-13

8 I will listen to what the LORD God is saying, *

    for he is speaking peace to his faithful people

    and to those who turn their hearts to him. 

10 Mercy and truth have met together; *

    righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

11 Truth shall spring up from the earth, *

    and righteousness shall look down from heaven.

These are words of comfort. Much more than the psalm appointed for today. Today the psalm appointed as a response to the words of the prophet Amos is a denunciation of wrongdoing and a contrasting call to truth, and to trust where trust belongs, and to thanksgiving and praise.  

Psalm 52

Why, O man of power, do you boast all the day long :

 of mischief done to him that is faithful to God?

You have loved evil, and not good :

 to tell lies, rather than to speak the truth.

But God will destroy you utterly :

 he will snatch you away and pluck you out of your dwelling,

   he will uproot you from the land of the living.

As for me, I am like a green olive tree in the house of God :

 I will trust in the goodness of God for ever and ever.

I will always give you thanks, for this was your doing :

 I will glorify your name before the faithful,

   for it is good to praise you.

Those first verses are pretty harsh, denouncing wrong behavior and slanderous words. The psalm is comparing the proud tyrant who trusts in wealth and wickedness to a wayward plant. In the garden of God there are upstarts that he will uproot like so many weeds. And then there are those like green trees, verdant and robust, who listen to what the Lord is saying and do what he commands.

Listen and do. Both contemplate and act. Sit at the feet of Jesus and learn. And when the time is right, speak out, do justice, love mercy, and always, always, walk humbly with our God.

O God, heavenly Father, your Son Jesus Christ enjoyed rest and refreshment in the home of Mary and Martha of Bethany: Give us the will to love you, open our hearts to hear you, and strengthen our hands to serve you in others for his sake; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. 

(Collect for the Feast of Mary and Martha of Bethany.)

© 2025 John Leech

July 20th 2025, Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 11 Year C

Amos 8:1-12, Psalm 52, Colossians 1:15-28, Luke 10:38-42

 

Are you a Mary or a Martha?

Are you a Mary or a Martha?

Yes or no?

A night in Madrid, two years ago: before the rain we made our way into a restaurant with singing waiters, opera-singing waiters. We were all crowded into a large room where they served the meal and also sang to us. We listened as we sat at our tables. Or in my case, as I tried to capture in a photo the scene before me, to the point where I was so distracted from what was happening around me that suddenly I found myself being addressed in song, by the soprano singing the aria right in my ear. I looked up, cast aside my phone and gave her my attention. I did not sing the tenor’s response. But I did look, listen, and pay attention. So if you want an image of that moment you will have to listen to me. There is nothing on my phone to capture, share, or post it.

What would it have been like if both sisters had missed that moment, that moment when the son of God, the source of all being, the one in whom and through whom all things are made and all redeemed, was in their home, at their table. Right there.

Martha was still trapped in ordinary time. Mary was transforming into a disciple. Sitting at the feet of the rabbi she was becoming a teacher herself. An apostle, a messenger, a bearer of the word.

Am I a Mary or a Martha? Yes and no. Sometimes, there is work to be done.

Sometimes, there he is, right in front of me, with something to teach me.

Can I hear it? Am I paying attention, ready? If the Messiah comes to dinner tonight, how will I treat him? As an extra guest, at a place at the table set aside for a stranger, or the center of the celebration? The one who in fact feeds us.

Amos talks about a day of hunger, a day of famine, that is not a day without bread, but a day without hearing the Lord’s word, the word of life. That is the table set before us, today, as it was for Mary and Martha.

Whatever our righteous occupations are, there comes a moment when we need to see what is really before us, to hear the word of life, and to take in our true sustenance.

© 2025 John Leech

© 2023 John Leech

baked beans

I checked with my mother about this story. 

One time early in their marriage my mother wanted to prepare a fancy meal for my father, but the pot roast got burned in the oven. 

He told her, “Honey, I’d just as soon have baked beans.” 

He only needed one thing – which was, I think, her company.

But, she said, he really did like baked beans.

Jesus says to Martha you only need one thing. Sounds like one dish, maybe. No need for a fancy meal. Let’s just be together. 

But he goes on to say: Mary has chosen the good portion, and for that reason it will not be taken away from her.

Attending to the guest is the heart of hospitality. It is the best part of being a host.

And that is the part that Mary has chosen. She will listen to what the Lord is saying.

What is going on here? She is feasting on the Word – the host for that feast is Jesus.

We become what we are called to become as we attend to what the Lord is saying, and allow our actions to come out of that centering place, that Word.

“Organizations journey toward their image of the future” (David Cooperrider). For the church our image of the future must first and last be an image of Christ, of the fulfillment of his word in the world. 

That fulfillment is his prophetic kingdom come to be.

 

JRL+

2013 July 21
Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

family reunion

Summer time people often travel - to back home. They may go to new and exciting places. Quite often, though, they go where they are known: where they know the people, and know the place, and know where they fit - or used to fit - in that landscape and that group of people. It's you, they say, and so it is - if you want it to be. May be you don't - could be painful. May be you do: it could be, after all, a place and a people where you fit, and fit well. That well-come may be just what you need.

If it's been a hard year, if you lost your job, if illness means you cannot do that work anymore, if you cannot be to someone what you once were, it comforts to know that you are known. For yourself, hopefully.

For yourself, in God's eyes, for ultimately who you are. Ultimately who you are at the end of things is the person God meant you to be, the person God saw all along, knew you could be - if you want to be, if you let it be, if you let God be the one who makes it be: the one who made you redeems you, fills you over-top with gifts that spill over into the lives of those around you. Because you are not the only one coming home, you are not the only one who needs that welcome.

In fact you are one of the family - the welcoming family, that God calls into being, that God calls together from place to place, from time to time, in little groups of two or three, or family gatherings.

Maybe it's just a favorite uncle and you, meeting for a drink and a little something to eat - or a great gathering of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Long forgotten and daily familiar - and brand new, first time here, just gathered into the family, the family gathering at this time, at this place.

Make them welcome - (especially) if they are strangers - strangers to you. For many have been entertained by angels unawares.

Under the oaks of Mamre, an Old Testament trinity of Abraham and Sarah and their long-suffering silent servant provide hospitality to three strange visitors.

It's a test of sorts - or a celebration. Depending on how you look at it.

It's a feast, in Abraham's eyes. Go prepare a calf, they tell the servant. Make cakes of meal and oil. Serve them. Water for their feet? A bit of rest, a seat in the shade - the shade of the trees, the oaks of Mamre.

The meeting place, already ancient then, no doubt, of humans crossing paths in the middle of a strange new land.

It's a land of promise to Abraham - and a promise comes.

It's a promise of comic hope, to Sarah - and she shouts in surprise with laughter, greeting the news - the strangers bring: how do they know? Is it just a blessing - a guest's wish? Or more? - They say: your wife is going to have a baby. We shall see.


Martha, Mary, sisters of Lazarus. They greet a greater One than these Three.

And they welcome him - according to custom, as it would be, having Abraham's example before them - and overcoming custom, as one of the sisters takes a man's place - or a disciple's place - at the foot of the Master, Teacher, Rabbi.

Tell her to come help me...

Martha, Martha, my dear. Don't you worry. Don't fret yourself or her. All will be well.

All manner of thing shall be well - and she has chosen the better part: better because the Lord is with her, with her now, and all these things shall be looked after -


Come sit with us, Martha, for a moment - let the dishes soak. Let my feet remain unwashed (yes even the Master's feet) - for a moment.

Let's refresh each other in a greater hospitality: the hope, the love, the great gifts of God.

And then, let's get on with the feet washing, the bread making, the dishes, - and the plowing, the sowing, the harvest - and the baking, again.

But for now - together - Martha and Mary and Lazarus and all - together - be at peace.

The Lord is here.



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