Sunday, July 20, 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
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 really liked the Netflix series Orange Is the New Black. If you don’t know, it’s a women’s prison drama loosely based on the experiences of a Connecticut woman named Piper Kerman. Kerman had grown up in a privileged home, but through a series of very bad decisions, exacerbated by addition, she ended up in prison.
In addition to the wonderful writing and acting, the show has a really great theme song. Composer Regina Spektor sings of the monotony of prison life at a break-neck, rock ‘n roll speed. But about halfway through, the tempo slows significantly, as she invites the listener to “Think of all the roads. Think of all their crossings. Taking steps is easy. Standing still is hard.”
I’ve never been good at standing still. I like projects and answers. I like to work. I like to be busy. I like the feeling of productivity and accomplishment. A great deal of my self-image is tied to what I produce. And when I don’t produce, I can feel lost.
But I’m also self-aware enough to know that this addiction to busyness is very often about avoidance. It’s about steering clear of fear. And so, I make my days full because I don’t really want to “think of all the roads… (and) all their crossings.” I don’t want to seriously consider the complicated and fleeting nature of life. I don’t want to stand still – even though I know from my own experience that it is in standing still that I am more prone to hear the voice of the Lord.
One day, Jesus was invited to the home of his best friends - siblings named Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. And in that household, Martha was in charge of the kitchen. And on this day, with company coming, Martha needed to turn out an impressive meal. Maybe she liked the challenge. Maybe, like me, Martha got some of her identity from what she created; from what she produced.
Now, on any other day, her sister Mary would have been in the kitchen with her, acting as sous chef. But on this day, Mary wasn’t in the kitchen. Instead, she was lollygagging in the parlor with all the men folk. In fact, she was acting like a man, sitting at the feet of a rabbi, learning from his wisdom – something that only men did. And stranger still, the Greek language used here implies a kind of intimacy in Mary’s action. The word construction suggests that Mary sort of wrapped herself around Jesus’s feet; not wanting to let him go.
Now, I suspect that all of this really rattled Martha, who knew the rules; and who also had a job to do. So, Martha was simmering like a tea kettle. She bustled in and out of the room, slamming the plates down on the table and sighing dramatically. Martha wanted someone – anyone - to ask her what was wrong. But no one did. And, of course, that even made her even angrier. Finally, when she couldn’t take it anymore; when no one was picking up on her nonverbal clues, she did the unthinkable. She brought the dinner guest right into the middle of a family argument. Instead of just whispering in her sister’s ear: “Get off your butt and get into the kitchen” she addressed the guest of honor directly: “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left all the work to me? Tell her to help me!” But Jesus answered her: “Martha, dear Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; (but) there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”
A common way to interpret this story is to say that Jesus is making a clear distinction between a contemplative life, which is superior, and a life based in activity. He even calls the contemplative life “the better part.” And so, preachers will often laud Mary and chide Martha, as if the sum total of Christian duty is to sit around and think about Jesus all day, while the work is left undone and the whole world goes to hell.
But that interpretation is problematic for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that the story that directly precedes this one is the story of the Good Samaritan. And the story of the Good Samaritan is all about doing the right thing – not just thinking about it.
So, if contemplation over action is not the point, then what is it? Well, notice that Jesus never actually chides Martha for being busy. Somebody has to make the meal. Instead, Jesus takes notice of Martha’s state of mind. He changes the tense mood in the rooms by calling her name twice. This implies a kind of tenderness and understanding. There is no judgment in it. And then he speaks directly to her need: “Martha, dear Martha,” he said to her, “you are worried and distracted by many things.”
The Greek word for “distracted” has the connotation of literally being pulled apart or dragged in different directions, like one is being drawn and quartered. And when I get like that; when life and its worries start to pull me apart, then as much as I love this work, there is no joy in it. I can’t keep my focus. I don’t remember my purpose. I am prone to being overwhelmed or angry or depressed. And I sure can’t hear the word of the Lord.
So, Martha’s problem was not that she had a job to do or that she was busy or that she liked to work. My problem is not that I have a job to do or that I’m busy or that I like to work. My problem, on any given day, is that my dedication to busyness can easily distract me and disconnect me from what it is I actually need. And what I need is to sit at the feet of Jesus and hear his life-giving words spoken to my own troubled heart.
And I think that what is true for individuals can also true for institutions. How often does the church collectively listen for the voice of Jesus? How often do we take time or make time for that? Instead, we analyze and organize and strategize. We dive in to the busyness of budgets and buildings and endowment figures and membership rolls and search processes and growth projections and key indicators. There is nothing wrong with any of these things, but they must be balanced against something Jesus called “the better part.”
I once read that at Old South Church in Boston – a venerable UCC congregation if ever there was one, every Board meeting, every committee meeting begins with 30 minutes of prayer and Bible study and human connection and believe it or not: sometimes even communion! Well, I didn’t believe it at first, so I emailed their now former Senior Minister, the Rev. Dr. Nancy Taylor. She was gracious enough to offer to speak to me on the phone, so we made an appointment. When we spoke, Dr. Taylor told me that at first the very idea of wasting 30 minutes on worship when there was so much work to do was a tall order indeed. But she persisted. And once it took hold, she told me that people began to clamor to serve on these boards and committees, because they began to understand, in a visceral way, the Martha and the Mary of life: the connection between worship and work; between stillness and purpose.; between action and contemplation.
This week is going to be whatever it will be: stressful, busy, burdensome, challenging. We can’t really change that. But we can change. We can choose “the better part.” We can make time to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen closely to his wonderful words of life.
So, I thought it would be good for us to practice this morning. We’re going to take a few moments to actively listen for the Lord. After the hymn, we will all be seated and we’ll be quiet together. It will last about three minutes, so settle in. You have no other assignment other than stillness and an open heart. We will close the time of silence by singing the first verse of the hymn again, while remaining seated.
And this is what I hope will happen: if we’re feeling anxious and worried, that we will know the everlasting arms under us. I hope that we will be able to breathe - deeply. I hope that our shoulders will relax and our brains will quiet down. I hope that we will hear Jesus say to us: “All is well. Peace be with you. Be not afraid.”
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