Sunday, July 21, 2013

Sermon for Sunday, July 21, 2013

Luke 10:38-42 

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

 

Hanging on my refrigerator, next to the school phone numbers and my “Don’t Mess with Texas” magnet, is a photo of my grandfather. It’s black and white, from around 1953, and in it my grandpa is wearing a ruffled apron and holding a spatula. It must be a Sunday morning, because he’s wearing the apron over a shirt and a tie. He’s standing by the stove, apparently cooking breakfast, and grinning from ear to ear. 

Every time my mom comes to visit she comments on this photo, because, as she puts it, this was surely the one and only time my grandpa was ever in the kitchen, much less in an apron. You see, in spite of this photographic evidence, he was neither a chef nor even an amateur cook. My Grandpa Bill started his career pumping gas as a service station attendant, and then he moved up to car mechanic at Lindstrom Oil. The year I was born, he bought the town hardware store. For the next 15 years or so, my grandma ran the cash register up front while Grandpa remained quietly in the back, fixing chain saws and lawnmowers, and cutting glass for windows. 

There were no aprons involved in this kind of work. And no one would mistake my grandpa for a feminist or someone interested in challenging traditional gender roles! In fact, he is rumored to have once said that he didn’t need to buy one of those automatic dishwashers, because he already had three of them in the house: a wife, a mother-in-law, and a daughter. 

So why do I keep this photo of my grandpa in a ruffled apron on my fridge? Because that image is so out of character, so unexpected, and so far from the role my grandpa played in my family, that seeing it makes me stop and smile every time. It grabs my attention. 

In this way, seeing my grandpa in a ruffled apron is a lot like seeing Mary of Bethany--a woman—sitting at the feet of Jesus. It’s an image that is so out of place, so unexpected, and so far from the role that women played in Jesus’ time—it demands one’s attention.

Now, the story of Mary and Martha is one that, like the Parable of the Good Samaritan, is so familiar I’m afraid it may have lost some of its punch. This brief but powerful scene has become domesticated (pardon the pun) through a long line of women’s Bible studies which ask “Are you a Mary or a Martha?”, and by sermons which proclaim “Blessed are the balanced” and encourage us to be both Mary and Martha, in just the right amounts.

Don’t get me wrong: these are good and timely messages. Who doesn’t need more balance in her life? Who doesn’t need to be reminded at times to stop all the running around and just sit in the presence of Our Lord? But it is precisely because we’re so accustomed to interpreting this story as an epic struggle of Martha vs. Mary; of service vs. contemplation; or of doing vs. hearing the Word, that we may miss out on the absurdity of the whole scene. 

What’s so absurd about this story? Let’s take a look again: 

Jesus stops at a certain village, and lodges with two sisters. While he is at their home, perhaps after dinner, he begins to teach the folks that always seem to gather when Jesus is in town. Martha remains busy with the chores, while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet. Mary, a woman, sits at his feet. Mary, a woman, who should be busy caring for the household, sits at his feet. Mary, a woman, who should be busy caring for the household, sits at the feet of Jesus like a man. 

Are you with me? This wasn’t just absurd. It was downright shocking! Sitting at the feet of a teacher or a rabbi was a role reserved exclusively for men. Seeing a woman in that position was, well—a little like seeing my grandpa in a ruffled apron, standing over a stove. It demands our attention. 

Mary is clearly out of place, by the standards of her context. But even more shocking in this scene is the fact that Jesus doesn’t tell her to get up, to get busy, to get back to work, or to get in her place. Instead, he actually affirms her choice, telling Martha: “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” 

And what a choice it was! Be assured: this was one heck of a bold and risky move. Martha was likely not the only one in the household that day who looked down her nose at Mary, seated like a man, on the floor at Jesus’ feet. Martha just happened to be her sister, and therefore felt free to say it!  

I’m not necessarily saying that Jesus was some kind of gender-bending trendsetter in 1^st Century Palestine. But what if, instead of being a lesson about balancing prayer and service, the story of Mary and Martha is about Jesus praising Mary for being completely unbalanced? What if Mary’s choice to sit at his feet, going against all norms of hospitality and breaking with the traditional gender roles of her day, is an example of the kind of all-in, shoot-the-moon, audacious devotion Jesus wants from his disciples? 

Remember, this entire chapter of the Gospel of Luke has been about how hearing the Word and then doing it is bound to tick some people off. At the beginning of chapter 10, Jesus sent out the seventy on a mission like “lambs in the midst of wolves”, asking them to take nothing with them—no purse, no bag, and no sandals. And if, on their journey, any town should turn them away? Jesus said, “Go out into the streets and say: ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you.” Go, says Jesus—and never mind what other people say. 

Then, in the Parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus tells a very earnest lawyer the story of a priest and another holy man who, concerned about appearances and cultural expectations, refused to help a man in need. But a Samaritan—an outcast, who had no reputation to lose anyway—ends up helping the wounded man in the ditch. “Go, and do likewise!” says Jesus.

Both of these scenes, which immediately precede the story of Mary and Martha, make the point abundantly clear: if you want to follow Jesus, you will have to go...go out of your comfort zone. Go outside the box. At times, you may have to go beyond the boundaries of your family’s or your culture’s expectations of you.

And then, when Jesus gets to the sisters’ house, we see Martha ticked off because Mary did just that: she left. She left Martha to do the work. She probably even left the dishes in the sink! She left the traditional woman’s role in the household and took a new place. In her time and place, Mary risked much in order to boldly sit at the feet of Jesus and become his disciple. 

Some scholars believe that this scene, as absurd as it is, remained in the Gospels because early Christians were struggling with the role of women in the church. Were they to be helpful accessories, or vital parts of the mission? Hmmm….not much has changed in 2,000 years, eh? 

As a woman in ministry, the story of Mary and Martha demands my attention. It makes me consider all the faithful women who have served Jesus before me, who risked much to follow God’s call, redefining roles, defying expectations, and paving the way for me to be standing here today.

I give thanks for the many women who attended seminary, earning divinity degrees with no chance of actually being ordained. 

I give thanks for my home pastor, Emlyn Ott, who was called as an unmarried woman to be the first “lady pastor” in Stillwater, Oklahoma, and who I’m told for years endured parishioners parking at the end of her street at night to be sure she wasn’t having wild parties or dating any of the church members.

I give thanks for deaconesses and lay preachers, for pastor’s wives, altar guilds, WELCA circles, Sunday school teachers, Bible study leaders, and all the other women whose faithful service and bold witness slowly changed the church’s attitudes about women.

I give thanks for my Grandma Goldie, who worked in a hatchery by day and as a switchboard operator by night; who ran the cash register and the rest of the business at the family hardware store (and probably tied that ruffled apron around my grandpa’s waist to teach him a lesson!) Her tremendous devotion to Jesus planted the first seeds of faith in my heart, and I’m pretty sure she would be thrilled to see that her grand-daughter is now a “lady pastor.”

I give thanks for all of these women—and the many others—who challenged expectations, crossed boundaries and redefined roles, risking ridicule and persecution, all for the sake of serving Jesus Christ. But most of all, I give thanks for the privilege of serving Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, my comforter and my teacher, the prince of peace and true bread from heaven, the alpha and the omega. A place at his feet is the best seat in the house! Amen!

Sisters and brothers in Christ, fellow disciples: Jesus said there is need of only one thing: to hear the Word of God, and to do what the Lord requires. The call is not the same for everyone! But God is still speaking. And where the Lord calls, the Spirit equips—in spite of protests or the expectations of others, and in spite of the world’s worries and distractions, Jesus invites you to sit at his feet. This is truly the better part—and it will not be taken away from us. Amen.