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All of the gospels, whether Matthew, Mark, Luke or John were written by men who had either been eye witnesses to Jesus as he lived and breathed and taught and died and rose again, or they were associates of the men who were eye witnesses to the same. And when evangelists set down to write the gospels two things are certain. The first is becoming more difficult for a facebook culture to understand. The evangelists were not posting updates as things were happening. “Oh, Martha just came out and yelled at Jesus” (insert appropriate emoticon). No, this was not how the gospels were compiled. Some discernment was involved.
The second thing is that the evangelists did not make up the gospels, so you do not have the writer in his garret developing a character, let’s call him Jesus, and composing all sorts of existential situations for him to grapple with. We believe that the events recorded in the gospels are true and did happen, and so we believe that on a given day, in a given place, Jesus did enter the home of a woman named Martha.
In light of discernment and truth telling we have to ask ourselves, what is so important about this episode in Martha’s house that allowed it to be included in Luke’s account of the life of Jesus? Unless we discover that I fear that we won’t ever get beyond passing off this little gospel for anything but an unsatisfying comment on contemplative and active spiritualties.
But to go any deeper, one more thing is necessary. We already have discernment, and we have truth, and now we need the right perspective. As with all the events that are recorded in the gospels, you must not underestimate the lens through which the evangelists looked back on everything that happened in the life of Jesus, and that lens is the resurrection. Everything that Jesus did, every place that he went, every word that he spoke, is now seen, cannot help but be seen, through that awesome (and in this case, the word is appropriate) moment in history when a man came back from the dead.
If Jesus was laid in the tomb and never came out, if there was a grave that you could visit, remains of a body that you could venerate, what would you care about the gospels? Could you credit the story of the virgin birth; could you believe the account of our Lord’s baptism? Is the transfiguration credible? Is it possible for Jesus to have walked on water, calmed a storm, given sight to the blind, or made the lame walk? What about Lazarus? Can Jesus forgive your sins? What would you make of everything that Jesus taught? All that he did and all that he said would look different wouldn’t it? Take Caligula or any number of Roman emperors who claimed to be God. It’s universally agreed, they are all really, really dead. Nobody takes any one of their claims of godhead seriously; history has counted many of them as madmen. Jesus claimed to be God. Yet, something happened that convinced his friends and converted his enemies and then billions of followers for over two thousand years that he was telling the truth; that he is God. What happened was the resurrection. It is because of the resurrection we have the gospels that we have. And whether you recognize it or not, it is because of the resurrection that you have now found yourselves sitting here at the feet of Jesus? Now, having sat at Jesus’ feet, we find we are disciples.
It was common for rabbis to be welcomed into people’s homes and for followers to sit at their feet in order to learn. However, we must remember that kind of discipleship has never been passive. Disciples have long sat at their teacher’s feet to debate and question, to ask the how and why of things, to think, to talk, to reflect, and internalize the teaching of their master. Jesus’ disciples were always asking: explain that parable to us; teach us to pray; what did you mean when you said you must die; you can’t die. So there was always some wrestling going on, and as I was reminded this week, God loves and blesses wrestlers: to wit, Jacob. So, learning is not just for learning’s sake. If you sit at the foot of a rabbi it is so that you can learn to be a rabbi too. I went to seminary, sitting at the feet of priests, so that I could be a priest too. Some of you went to sit at the feet of attorneys so you could become attorneys. You went to business school to become people of business. You went to art school to become artists. There is some great part of study that is an anticipation of being equipped to go and do likewise.
And so it is with you and the Lord. If you are like Mary you will attend to every word that Jesus has said to you. But you will not have listened just to add more items of knowledge to your already overstuffed brain. You sit there to be equipped to go therefore into all the world taking what you have learned, and inspired and strengthened by the Holy Spirit, to bring Christ to bear wherever you may find yourself. If you sit at the feet of the living Christ, isn’t it so that you can learn to be a living Christian?
If you are like Martha, perhaps you wish to not attend to anything Jesus has said, to busy yourself with many other things, and to stand over and above Jesus presuming to instruct him on what he is to say and do next.
The thing that Jesus says in the face of two sisters who once approached him in two very different ways is that one has a concern with many things that are passing way. Where is Martha’s house today? Where is her kitchen? Where are her guests? Where is she? And to the other Jesus says that what she has chosen can never be taken away from her. Mary chose to attend to Jesus, and you might very well ask, where is Mary? Presumably, in a place and with a person that endures even beyond the grave. And mercifully, we see that Marthas are not necessarily destined to be Marthas forever: read the account of her brother Lazarus’ death to see the transformative power of the living Christ, not only on the dead, but even on strong and willful personalities.
Being Jesus’ disciple could seem very irksome if you think of it as adding more items of knowledge to your bag. Rather, think of this your discipleship as being refreshed from the deep, sparkling well of truth which is Christ himself. Discipleship in this way does not stuff our already overstuffed minds; does not place burdens upon us that are too heavy to bear. Rather, it refreshes us with new understanding and wonder, and teaches us in meekness and lowliness of heart to go therefore and to share what we have learned with a needy world consumed by many things. To love it and to give ourselves for its service in the name of the one true living Christ who will come again to make all our many things new.