Sitting
Genesis 18:1-15; Luke 10:38-42
July 18, 2010
A true tale - as all of my tales are - even if the details are not exactly accurate. In my first pastorate, a four-church charge in the dried-out coal mining mountains of Western Maryland, it was suggested that I go visit a certain older couple in one of the churches. I found their humble abode sometime around the noon hour and was welcomed in. Food was spread out over the table and they invited me to eat with them, sandwiches, if I remember correctly. After talking with them about 15 minutes, the husband looked at me and asked quite earnestly, “Who are you?”
A few minutes of embarrassment on the part of all of us was survived. I discovered two things. This couple had just celebrated their 50th anniversary and were both 66 - do the math! Not unusual for this region on the edge of Appalachia. Secondly, I had just experienced the kind of hospitality - the love of strangers - that our Biblical stories recall, but which we seldom see practiced anymore.
When you are intentionally homeless as Jesus was, often leading around more than just twelve disciples, where you are going to stay for the night and eat is a real significant problem. In the first century, there were often wandering bands of religious types going from village to village and frequently they were not welcome. Early histories comment that these groups were sometimes a little shady. Fortunately for Jesus and company he somehow had become acquainted with Mary and Martha and Lazarus of Bethany, so when he came into town there was a place for him to lay his head, and perhaps for many of his followers. Martha’s frenetic behaviour may be due to the fact she was hosting many more than one guest.
This is a pretty brief story. Mary is sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to his teaching. Martha suddenly vents her frustration with her sister and actually tries to blame Jesus. A basic rule: you do not get anywhere blaming Jesus. “Jesus! Are you blind that you don’t see my sister letting me do all the work? Tell her to get out here and help me out.”
Jesus could handle it, however, “Martha, Martha.” “You’re all worked up over too many things when one or two would more than enough for most people. Mary has figured out her job and I am not going to take it away from her.” End of story, no rebuttal from Martha. No smirking from Mary. No snickering or clearing of throats from the probable throng of disciples being served by Martha. We have spent two thousand years figuring out who was right and if I am not mistaken, some of the most vigorous conversations during coffee hours have been about the various merits of the two sisters. And be not mistaken, I have yet to hear anyone take up Mary’s side. Not too many of us know how to be a good Mary, but we all know what a Martha takes. We’re stuck with the drift of this passage and with centuries of interpretation that Mary had chosen the best part, but we don’t buy it. Go ahead, blame Jesus.
Abraham was just sitting there in the heat of the day when he saw three men standing outside his door. He knew these guys were not lost, they had found him. Abraham not only was not going to take any chances, he knew intuitively that this was an opportunity. These were human beings and with no other place to go, he hastened to receive them and showed us what hospitality entailed. Water was to be brought to wash their dusty and aching feet. They were given a seat under the shade of a tree, while he fetched a morsel of bread for them to eat. “Do as you have said,” they simply replied. It only takes three verses, but how long does it take you to bake bread from scratch? And the last time you went out back to select the right calf for the banquet, remember, it did take a while to lead it back to the kitchen, have the cooks slaughter and cook it up. Finally, Abraham as the patriarch presents them with this sumptuous meal, fit for the gods, eh? Cakes baked by Sarah, fresh beef, curds and milk, and throughout the meal he stands at their side and watches them eat. How properly hospitable!
These stories have been honed down to the briefest of words, so there is no telling how long these three guys sat in the shade before being fed and we don’t know everything that Abraham was doing in the interval. He was in charge of the arrangements and made certain it all happened, yet I hope he came back during the cooking of the calf to engage in some conversation. As usual, we are teased by too little information. Their first question is not a tease, however, “Where is Sarah your wife?” Did Abraham drop the name?
She’s in the tent, he replies - “where she belongs” I can hear a chorus mumbling right now. “I’ll come back next spring for sure,” the Lord said - no mistaking now who it is - “and Sarah will have a son.” Sarah was exactly where she belonged - in the tent, but eavesdropping on every word at the door. She was merely 89 and laughed to herself. That is supposed to mean no one heard her, but the Lord hears our inner thoughts and asked bluntly, “Why did Sarah laugh and say how can I bear a child when I’m this old?” Better watch what you think, even when you are being the gracious host.
“Is anything too hard for the Lord?” Note that Abraham is completely out of the story. Sarah denies that she laughed, as would all of us, scared to death by someone who heard you think. “No, but you did laugh” was the last word for the time being.
Here are two stories of hospitality. The hosts are gracious without a doubt, and apparently provide all a guest would need and expect. In some ways, Abraham and Sarah, Martha and Mary are not too different from the Good Samaritan in the immediately preceding verses of Luke’s Gospel. They provided for the physical needs of their guests in an environment we would likely characterize today as rugged and even hostile. Granted, the Good Samaritan is not reported engaging in lively conversation with his guest in the inn. In both cases there is an edginess in the conversation. Martha confronts Jesus and he gently remonstrates with her. The angel, the Lord, unveils an unusual promise and is questioned at least inwardly by Sarah. Again, the Lord is gentle, but insistent that this is the way it’s supposed to be. Perhaps Martha and Sarah were not such good hosts in the end, almost wasting their opportunity to serve God directly and face-to-face by their comments and opinions.
An important part of hospitality was almost forgotten: guests need to be more than fed and watered, they yearn for the nourishment of human companionship, of conversation, of being accepted as someone who is worth listening to. The three men under Abraham’s tree wanted to see and talk with Sarah, and Jesus found Mary a fruitful listener. The visitors who step into our sanctuary require our hospitality, our love for strangers, and that means in the first place listening to them and welcoming them. Coffee and cookies help, but they are optional. On second thought, never spare the cookies.
Fred Craddock once suggested that if we asked Jesus which example we should follow - the concrete ministry of the Good Samaritan and Martha, or the quiet Mary sitting at her guest’s feet - Jesus would probably answer, “Yes.”
Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan