St. Martha: Dragon Tamer

64547315_10162014537730634_2345616991944966144_nI saw this picture on Facebook this week. As you look at it, do you see that the plates are all upside down? All but one. Do you see it? Supposedly, as soon as you do then all the plates will look like they’re right side up. It worked for me. Now whenever I look at it, they’re all right side up. Perception is weird, isn’t it?

Oddly enough, this silly optical illusion reminded me of the story of Mary and Martha. To be honest, I’ve been struggling with the story all week. Here’s another story from the life of Jesus that’s supposed to teach us how to be good disciples. It seems pretty straightforward, rght? But as in the case of so many of these “simple” stories, they get more complex the more we look at them.

I found myself flipping back and forth between Martha and Mary as the focus of the story. If I focused on Mary, the picture looked one way. But if I flipped it around and thought about Martha, the picture changed completely. Back in the day, when women were still fighting for their place in in seminaries and in pulpits, I was all about Mary. She was the role model for all of us who had chosen “a better thing” than the traditional roles society had assigned to us. Jesus himself said so!

Nowadays I find myself a lot more sympathetic to Martha. And I have to say I’m also more critical of Jesus, who seemed to be perfectly OK with coming into Martha’s house and enjoying her hospitality with no regard for the work involved. He could have grabbed Lazarus and said, “C’mon, bro; let’s do the dishes and give Martha a rest.” But with his words releasing Mary from domestic duties, he kinda threw Martha under the bus. So like my feelings for the older brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, I want to say to Jesus, “Wait a minute, that’s just not fair!”

What’s in Your Spiritual Gifts Inventory?
I do still like that image of Mary siting at the feet of Jesus. The truth is I’ll never be a Martha. On the spiritual gifts inventory, my score for ‘hospitality’ is way down on the list. But I have learned that hospitality is a spiritual gift. And there was a time I know that I had that wrong.

Beatrice was a member of one of my former congregations. She always made the coffee and set out all the accoutrements for coffee hour on Sunday. I noticed she always did this during worship time. One day I asked her about it and she said she really enjoyed doing this work by herself down in the kitchen. I wince when I hear myself telling her that it was more important for her to be upstairs in worship. I had just thrown another Martha under the bus. Although I still hear Jesus whispering in my ear, “Yea, but there’s still need of only one thing.” You see how I flip back and forth: upside down; right-side up?

Finally, it dawned on me. Why does it have to be either/or? We don’t have to portray shutterstock_516056926Martha, as is done so often, as a pinch-faced shrew glaring at her sister from the kitchen and whining to Jesus about all the work she has to do. Nor do we have to think of Mary as a silent figure in this story, one who, as the saying goes, is “so heavenly minded that she’s no earthly good.” In fact, we can recognize that we’ve each got a Martha and a Mary in us. This goes for the guys, too; maybe you could call them Matt and Marty.

We might lean one way more than another. But both are important. Marthas (or Matts) get things done. They’re the people who answered “very true” to statements on the spiritual gifts inventory like:

  • When presented with a goal, I immediately think of steps that need to be taken in order to achieve the desired results.
  • I am a take charge person. When others follow my direction, the goal or task will be completed.

We need people like that in our homes, communities, and churches. But we also need the contemplative Mary (or Matt) to teach us to nurture our spirituality, to be still and listen for God’s “still, small voice,” and to imbue our daily lives with a sense of the sacred. Together these two ways represent a holistic way of discipleship.

god_bless_those_who_serve_those_who_wait_cushion-ra8611baef83b4dfaa30b93dfb9834745_i5fqz_8byvr_307But What About Jesus?
But I’m still troubled by this story. We still have the 
problem of Jesus chastising Martha. His words are completely at odds with what he says 12 chapters later. When the disciples get into an argument about which of them should be considered the greatest, Jesus says: “The greatest among you should become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. Who is greater, the one who sits at the table or the one who serves? Isn’t it the one who sits at the table? But I’m among you as one who serves.”

I have to wonder why Luke didn’t say that Jesus then got up to help Martha serve. I mean, what’s going on here?

Now, being a bit of a Mary and liking to read and learn and contemplate, I came across some intriguing things in my travels through various commentaries about Martha and Mary.  For one thing, I was reminded that we need to really read what the text says and not what we might assume is in it. For example, there is no mention of the preparation of food. It’s assumed because for many, that is – and was – women’s work. Of course, this took place in the kitchen, we assume. But it’s not there in the text.

There are those who believe that the house of Martha and Mary was actually a house church and that both women were church leaders. This idea is supported by the fact that in other places, the word in verse 40 (the NRSV says Martha was distracted by her many ‘tasks‘), is διακονίαν, which has been translated as ‘ministry’ for men and as ‘service’ for women. But even Google Translate calls διακονίαν ‘ministry!’ So, it would not be out of the realm of possibility that Martha‘s role was that of an early form of a deacon.

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It’s also not out of then question to see – as we do in other places in the New Testament, written long after Jesus’ death – attempts to restrict women’s activities to traditional ways of serving. In this interpretation, some see Mary described as taking the better part because she passively sits and listens.

Others see both Mary and Martha as church leaders. And Martha’s annoyance with her sister is her anxiety about all her ministerial duties (something anyone involved in the church can relate to) and feeling like she was not getting enough help (also something anyone involved in the church can relate to). What’s the true story? It’s hard to know for sure. There are many differences in the earliest manuscripts of Luke.

So this simple little story stirs up a lot of questions. What this says to me is that we should not take these accounts at face value, that we should dive more deeply into the story behind the story. And when a simple account like this one engenders so much angst among interpreters, preachers, and general readers – we should pay attention. There’s probably something else going on here.

And when we do dive in, we should then crawl around in the story and explore, not only what this translation says, but what other translators have said. How does a word or phrase shift the meaning?  Where else does a character appear? Two friends shared that they had spent some time doing just this by comparing Martha’s appearance here in Luke with her role in John 11 (the raising of Lazarus), where she is hardly a caricature of the over-worked housewife. They also advise checking out information about the town of Bethany, known as a place for healing and hospitality on the way to Jerusalem, which gives even more nuance to the story.

“Yes! I believe that you are the Messiah, the One who is coming into the world.”
worship2014-08-03rev-40-638In the John passage, Martha gives one of the most complete confessions of faith by anyone in the gospels, right in the midst of her grief at losing her brother. She also shows a bit of anger at Jesus’ not getting there in time to save Lazarus, her thoughts about resurrection, and a very practical caution against opening a tomb because of the stench. We see that Martha is a strong character, complex and layered and rich. So is Mary. So is Jesus.

I can envision Jesus listening to Martha as she complains about her lack of help. So when Jesus says, “Martha, Martha,” I don’t hear chastisement.  I hear a connection between two people who know each other well. Jesus knows her anxiety, her distracted emotional state and says, in effect, “I’m listening.” In saying her name, Jesus communicates to Martha, “I hear you, I see you, I’m with you.” Then his words confirm her state of mind: “You’re troubled, distracted, anxious.” He proceeds to remind her about what is most important for that moment, just as we all sometimes need a reminder of when to be a human doing and when to be a human being. But first, he listens.

Maybe we need to sit with this scene just a little longer instead of cutting right to the part about Mary. I mean, who doesn’t appreciate being heard, even if there will also be a word of counsel about what is needful for this moment?

By fleshing out biblical characters like Martha, we do ourselves a favor. For in crawling around in her story, we find connections to our own. We don’t settle for cliched advice like, “Don’t be such a Martha!” Because it’s perfectly OK to be a Martha. Just as it’s OK to be a Mary or a combination of both.71DHHMKDZTL._SX325_BO1,204,203,200_.gif

Now, July 29th is St. Martha’s Day, so our celebration is a little early for this disciple who is the patron saint of cooks, homemakers, servants, waiters and waitresses, single laywomen, butlers, dietitians, innkeepers, and travelers. That’s a lot of us! And here’s a tidbit I just learned. The cover of the original 1931 Joy of Cooking was illustrated with an image of St. Martha taming a dragon.

What’s This About a Dragon?!
There’s a legend that Martha eventually moved to a village in France, where it just so happened that a monstrous beast was a constant threat. It is described as a great dragon, half beast and half fish, greater than an ox, longer than a horse, having teeth sharp as a sword, and horned on either side, head like a lion, tail like a serpent. The story goes that Martha, holding a cross in her hand, sprinkled the beast with holy water, which subdued it. While it was rendered harmless, she placed her belt around its neck, and led the tamed dragon through the village.

Obviously, it is a fanciful legend. But it endears Martha to me even more as a strong, faithful, courageous woman, providing a ministry of hospitality and church leadership. July 29th is her day. I just might go out looking for some dragons of my own to tame. Or maybe I’ll make a casserole to share. Either way, it will be in loving memory of Martha.

Amen

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Luke 10:38-42

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks. So she came and asked, Jesus, “Don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me.”

But Jesus repliued, “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.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Action Item for Dismantling Patriarchy in the Church

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I am indebted to my colleague Pastor Dawn Hutchings from Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Newmarket, Ontario for an additional item for my presentation, “Dismantling the Religious Roots of Patriarchy in Christianity.” 

In her sermon for Advent 1, “Shady Ladies, Forgotten Stories, and Images of God: Casualties of Our Advent Lectionary,” she gives us permission to “tinker with the lectionary” in order to allow the women of our Bible stories speak. So, for instance, you could forego the focus on John the Baptist this Sunday in favor of Elizabeth and Mary. Her challenge to “Tinker Away! Tell the Stories!” has given me a new addition to my list of action items. 

Here’s the list I put together for the workshop at the Parliament of the World’s Religions: 

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And here’s the new one: 

  • Lift up the stories of our foremothers in our sacred texts – even when it means tinkering with the lectionary to do so. Consider taking a season like Advent to intentionally seek out and tell these stories. As Pastor Dawn challenges, “Let this Advent be different. Invite the women of the gospels onto the stage.”

Amen!

P.S. I’m happy to add more action items. Send me your ideas.

 

 

 

 

The Problems with Christ the King

317144649_87257a186f_zIt was 1925. Pope Pius XI was troubled by the political climate he saw around him. Dictators, such as Mussolini, Hitler, and Stalin were exerting alarming authoritarian power in Europe. Concerned about rising nationalism, as well as the decreasing authority of the Church, Pius introduced a new day onto the Church calendar, the Feast of Christ the King. By doing this, he was hoping, in part, that the nations would see that the Church has freedom and immunity from the state and that leaders of the nations would see that they are bound to give respect to Christ.

Now I’d venture a guess that Christ the King Sunday hasn’t been a particularly meaningful day on your own personal calendar. It’s probably mostly recognized as being the last Sunday on the church calendar. And I’ll confess that this is a difficult Sunday on which to preach. Christ the King seems to be an archaic remnant of a bygone time. As I look back, most sermons I can remember began with the caveat: “Now I know we live in a democracy, so it might be hard to get the idea of being subject to a king.” In fact, one Sunday I showed a clip from Monty Python and the Holy Grail to illustrate this difficulty. When Arthur reveals himself to a peasant as his king, the peasant replies, “Oh, King, eh, very nice. And how d’you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers! By ‘anging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society?”

You see the problem? And there are other problems with the day (I know, this is more than you ever wanted to know about the history of Christ the King, but bear with me, I am going to get to the good news).

Words Matter
As you’ve gotten to know me, you may have learned that inclusive language is very important to me and whenever I’m here I ask if we can we use The Inclusive Bible for our scripture readings. I’m a firm believer that words matter, and that includes the words we use in church.

In fact, I was part of a panel at the Parliament of the World’s Religions earlier this month on “Dismantling the Religious Roots of Patriarchy.” And #1 on my list of action items was: Use inclusive language for humanity and expansive language for the Divine in church publications and worship materials.

The Trouble with Reign of Christ
So from that perspective, Christ the King is a problem. Many churches have switched over to the gender-neutral title: Reign of Christ. But that doesn‘t solve it either. Patri-archy isn’t simply a gender issue. It’s about hierarchies of power, of one group over another: white over black, straight over gay, privileged over poor, etc.  And in light of our growing awareness of these issues, we’ve also begun to question our old under-standing of a God who is ‘up there’ somewhere reigning ‘over us’ – embracing instead the realization of the presence of God all around us and within us.   

Words convey meaning about all kinds of things, not the least of which is what we believe about God and about ourselves. So it’s not just the matter of cleaning up language pertaining to humanity. It’s also about evaluating our language about God – paying attention to imagery that is exclusively male, as well as hierarchical and triumphalistic. Christ the King Sunday is a perfect storm of these concerns – and some have chosen to ditch it altogether.

A Work in Progress
But I’m not big on throwing out words and images just because they’re not working for us anymore, at least not throwing them out without an attempt at transforming them. I have to admit, results have been mixed. Some years ago at First United, in an attempt to highlight the creative power of Christ throughout the universe, we called it the ‘Culmination of All Things in Christ.’ But one clever wag thought it made Christ sound like the Terminator (imagine ‘Christ the Culminator’ with an Arnold Schwarz-enegger accent), so that was the end of that. Then we tried the ‘Cosmic Christ,’ ‘Christ the Alpha and Omega,’ and finally settled on ‘Christ the Anointed’.

So it’s a work in progress. But an important one as we continue to navigate the language of the church of the 21stcentury in the midst of the issues of our day. For as Pope Pius worried about the political climate of his day, so we worry about ours. The assaults on human rights, constitutional law, and Mother Earth herself are seemingly endless and threaten to overwhelm us.

The Empire of God?!
Which brings us back again to this dilemma over Christ the King and its companion, the Kingdom of God – because language really does matter in the face of oppressive regimes.  “Basileia tou Theou”(Greek for Kingdom of God) was the main preaching point of Jesus’ teaching: the kingdom of God is like this; the kingdom of God has come near; the kingdom of God is within you. But “basileia”is being interpreted in some interesting ways these days: reign, realm, even regime of God. Many New Testament scholars are calling it the “empire of God” – the rationale being that Jesus’ main agenda addresses his major antagonist, the “empire of Rome.”

Others aren’t so enamored. Theologian John Cobb, who describes the “basiliea tou theou” as a counter-culture that is based on the values that were rejected by the political, economic, and religious establishments of Jesus’ day. He prefers to call it the “divine commonwealth.” The Inclusive Biblecalls it the kin-dom of God.

As much as I can appreciate the rationale behind “empire of God,” I have a hard time translating that to Christ the Emperor. I’m much more attracted to “kin-dom” or “divine commonwealth” because they get us away from feudal or empire language and broaden out into a more cosmic, interconnected vision – like that of the “divine milieu” of early 20thcentury scientist-priest Pierre Teillhard de Chardin.

In the Divine Milieu
In this “divine milieu” Christ is described at various times as the Total Christ, the Cosmic Christ, the Whole Christ, the Universal Christ or the Mystical Body of Christ. For Teillhard, Christ is not just Jesus of Nazareth risen from the dead, but rather a huge, continually evolving Being as big as the universe. In this colossal, almost unimaginable Being each of us lives and develops, like living cells in a huge organism.

With the help of all the human sciences as well as the scriptures, Teillhard shows how we – the cells and members of the Body of Christ – can participate in and nurture the life of the Total Christ. He shows how, thanks to the continuing discoveries of science, we can begin to glimpse where that great Being is headed and how we can help promote its fulfillment. In a spirituality like this, the power of God is not a coercive power like that of a king, but a persuasive power that beckons us forward into the way of Christ, whose task it is to transform this fragmented world, through love.

If that sounds too far out, remember that even in a spirituality of the divine milieu, the cosmos includes all the mundane, down-to-earth stuff we wrestle with each day, including the work of peace and justice. We never sit back and expect God to come and fix things for us. A while back, I got a call from a local high school student who needed to interview a Christian for her paper on world religions. One of the questions she asked was how do you live out your faith in your daily life. That might seem like a no-brainer for a pastor; after all I get paid for being a professional Christian. But after giving that smart-alecky answer, I gave my real response. I said that I’m called – as every Christian is – to follow the wisdom of Christ in everything I do: what I eat, where I shop, who I love, how I respond to those I find hard to even like, how I vote.

Then the next day I was part of another conversation about how to counter the fear- mongering that too often passes for political discourse these days and the fear that people understandably feel in the midst of a violent world. What could be our message, our talking point that we could spread in a unified way and make a difference in the world? In other words, how could our understanding of Christ have an impact on issues of political, environmental, and cultural import?

Now, make no mistake, I am not talking about “bringing the world to Christ.” The story of the young missionary killed by tribespeople on a remote island hundreds of miles off the coast of India should be a cautionary tale about what Christian mission should not be.

I’m talking about how we translate our understanding of the Cosmic Christ, Christ the Alpha and the Omega into action in the world. And I’ve come to one conclusion. One word: compassion. Maybe you think that’s too simplistic and unrealistic.  But I’ve recently returned from a gathering of 10,000 people from all over the world and from 220 distinct religious groups – whose abiding practice is compassion, as defined by The Charter for Compassion, which was adopted in 2008 and endorsed by more than two million people around the world. It says:

“The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the center of our world and put another there, and to honor the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.”

This is the ethic of the divine milieu, the kin-dom of God. This vast universe that is the body of Christ is alive and we are part of it, growing and evolving in awareness and faith. And while such an immense reality may seem to big to include our concerns, our own individual concerns or the struggles of immigrants or the conflicts within nations, the truth is that in this commonwealth, each cell matters, each person matters, each hope, fear, dream, joy matters. This is the message we take with us on this final Sunday of the church year. So do not be discouraged. As you go out as prophetic witnesses to the peace and justice of the kin-dom, know that you are loved by a Love unbounded by space and time or by titles and political systems. Bigger than any king or queen or president, power or principality. This is the reality to which we cling and from which we take action.  

Amen