Growing up I loved going over to other people’s
homes for dinner. The
church I grew up in had opportunities for eating together all the time,
especially during the summer. Once a week the entire church was invited to come
to what we called a “House Eucharist.” On Wednesday nights we would gather
around the Lord’s Table in someone’s home, then we would gather around the
host’s table to eat a potluck meal. I loved these meals so much that often I
wanted to go early because I wanted to stretch out the fun! Of course, I was
told by my mom that we could not show up early to a dinner party. For a while I
accepted that we could not come early, as one of those “because I said so” type
edicts that parents are allowed to make.
I gathered from our typical time of arrival that
the unofficial rule for getting to a dinner party, at
least in the South, is to show up about 10 minutes later than the stated start
time.
One day when I felt particularly impatient and felt particularly perturbed at this 10 minute rule, I asked my sister, the Grand Pu Bah of etiquette, why it was that we had to show up late for dinners. After asking the question, I expected to hear some old wife’s tale, a superstitious explanation, or a history lesson that linked to an ancient tradition, but instead she just said, "If you show up 10 minutes early to a party you are likely to see the host and/or hostess in their underwear running around with the vacuum in one hand and the chicken casserole in the other." I was speechless. Of course, now that I have hosted a few dinners of my own my sister’s words sound awfully familiar. Does this sound familiar to any of you? I can start prepping at dawn, but if I’m hosting an event at 6:00 in the evening from 5:45 to 5:59 I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I am occupied with many things.
One day when I felt particularly impatient and felt particularly perturbed at this 10 minute rule, I asked my sister, the Grand Pu Bah of etiquette, why it was that we had to show up late for dinners. After asking the question, I expected to hear some old wife’s tale, a superstitious explanation, or a history lesson that linked to an ancient tradition, but instead she just said, "If you show up 10 minutes early to a party you are likely to see the host and/or hostess in their underwear running around with the vacuum in one hand and the chicken casserole in the other." I was speechless. Of course, now that I have hosted a few dinners of my own my sister’s words sound awfully familiar. Does this sound familiar to any of you? I can start prepping at dawn, but if I’m hosting an event at 6:00 in the evening from 5:45 to 5:59 I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I am occupied with many things.
“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.”
Mary has chosen the one thing, but what is the one thing? Is it just letting others do all the “Martha” work?
When I was in seminary my classmates and I would
get together nearly every Friday night to cook dinner together. It was a great
time of fellowship, fun, and food. My very good friend Susanna almost always
volunteered to head up the cooking often working for hours on a meal for her
friends. I had the habit of coming over right as all the hard work was done and
asking, “Can I help?” Susanna would just look at me and say, “Nope.” So I would
sit around with others, eating, drinking, and carrying on in fellowship. One
time I confided in Susanna that I felt guilty that I didn’t help more with
cooking meals. She turned to me and smiled explaining that she loved cooking
meals for others, as it helped her to focus on one thing: serving her friends
through creating something delicious that brought us all together. When I heard
this I realized I was worrying about many things, whether I was helping, my
guilty feelings, what others thought of me, instead of focusing on one thing.
“Seth, Seth, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Susanna has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
I wonder about the meal we share in together every week at the Lord’s Table. Do we get distracted by many things? I know coming in this morning I was a bit nervous with Evan out of the country. Am I getting everything set up “right”? Are the flowers right on the altar? Did I turn on the sound system? Can I get everything checked off my list so God will show up? This last question makes me think of last week’s story of the Good Samaritan.
The priest and the Levite pass by the bloody man in the ditch, as it was part of their sacred responsibility that they not dirty their hands by touching an unclean person. They are following their duty, but they are missing the opportunity to serve someone in need. This week we hear of Martha who is fulfilling her “household duties” to host someone by completing her chores. With Martha we might be thinking, if I can just get all this completed, then God will love me. If I do exactly what a minister is bound to do, then God will love me. If we pray just right God will be worshipped.
Mary paints a picture of true worship. Mary is unbusy, she is present, and she is open. There is nothing on her to-do list except this moment of sitting with God. She becomes completely consumed with simply being with Christ. In this conversation she receives the words spoken by Jesus being completely open to what God is speaking in her life.
Certainly preparing for worshipping God is
important. The flowers, the candles, the hymns, and the readings are all part
of how we show our posture of praise. BUT, and this is a big but, if we become
busy with completing these many things, then we miss one thing: that God is
sitting with us right now and all we are asked to do is listen. This morning Jesus invites us to sit at his feet, to let go of the many things (the grocery
lists, the Monday morning meetings, the chores around the house), to marvel
at the beauty of this place, and to be together as God speaks in our hearts.
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