July 20: The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

I have never been one to wake up and remember much from my dreams. My husband could fill the first 15 minutes of any morning with a detailed account of the multiple dreams he has had the night before. He’s learned it’s better to tell me about those only if there is already a cup of coffee in my hand.

Although I am short on stories to tell in the early morning, I, like most people, do have a few recurring dreams. There’s one about being on a merry-go-round where the horses turn into dragons that I have had since I was a kid. It’s not a bad dream. They are cute dragons and it’s a lot of fun. There’s the one that I started having during pregnancy where instead of having a baby I deliver a litter of puppies to my great delight.

And then there are the ones that I dread. There are ones where I replay a time when I have been absolutely a horrible human being, having done what I ought not to have done.

Please don’t think that I have done anything that would lead to incarceration. It’s not that bad. I have a dream playlist that in detail plays footage for me of times that I have been mean, just plain ugly.

And then there are the dreams where I relive some hurt. Sometimes a redemptive ending is added on, sometimes not.

Waking up from these dreams is humbling. But on the mornings that I start the day to one of these memories, I have to pause. I take a minute to check myself to see if I am in situation where I’m about to add to the playlist and my dream has been a warning, a preemptive course correction. Or is there a situation in which I am being way too hard on myself, is there someplace that is hurting so much I feel ashamed, and I need to recalibrate and remember myself loved.

Have compassion on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask.  

That’s what we prayed for in this morning’s opening collect.

Have compassion on us Lord whether we are starting this day in need of a course correction or a recalibration.

Our Old Testament reading today is from Amos and it’s tough, very tough. Amos, who was just minding his business as a herdsman, was called on by God to deliver some damning words.

Amos lays out a list of ways that the people have failed to show compassion to the poor and worse still have profited from deceiving them.

Amos, unlike some other prophets does not offer a course correction option. There is no off ramp.  God is going to act and it’s going to be bad. Feasts will be turned into morning. Everyone will be wearing sackcloth and be bald headed. Then we come to the part of the prophecy that is soul crushing to me.

God will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread or water, but famine of the hearing of the words of the Lord.  The people will wander searching for God and they will not find him.

The people Amos is speaking to have forgotten the command in the Hebrew scriptures that in last week’s reading Jesus called in the parable of the Good Samaritan…

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.

The people Amos is speaking to have instead in the words of today’s psalmist …

Failed to take God for their refuge, their place of belonging

and trusted instead in power and money,

relying not on the Word of the Lord, but on wickedness.

They lost their place of belonging by forgetting to whom they belong.  And without remembering to whom they belong, they will run to and fro, seeking the word of the Lord, but they will not find it.  They will not find him. They stopped seeing the belovedness of all of God’s people and find themselves feeling lost and alone.

But God, who is compassionate and merciful, does not leave us lost. God continued on with Amos and the people of Israel. God continues on with us.

Today’s Gospel is likely familiar to many of you. Mary and Martha.

Some of us have been told be a Mary, not a Martha.  Sit and listen to Jesus and stop sweating the small stuff. And honestly that is not a bad message to hear from time to time. But I don’t think that message does justice to Martha.

Imagine that over a dozen guests arrive at your house possibly without any advance warning. What kind of tasks would be ahead of you?  Martha hasn’t just welcomed any guests; she’s welcomed Jesus and the disciples. Of course there is work to be done.

I think we often assume that Martha was running around cleaning up or preparing food. And maybe she was. But her tasks could have included so much more. “Many tasks” translates to “much service” in the Greek word used, diakonia. Throughout the New Testament, this word, diakonia, often means ministry including eucharistic service and proclaiming the word. Maybe while she was in the middle of preparing the table people were arriving at the house to meet Jesus and she was doing crowd control. Maybe people showed up with a sick loved one hoping to be healed. Maybe the disciples were asking her for snacks while she was trying to make a meal. Whatever Matha’s “much service” was, there’s nothing to indicate it was trivial, busywork.

And while Martha was doing the work, she was alone, or at least she felt alone. Mary was with Jesus, sitting in the presence of God’s word, while Martha was doing the heavy lifting.

How long did Martha plug away at her service before she spoke to Jesus, asking him if he even cared that she had been left to do the work alone? What was rattling around in Martha’s head… Don’t I matter Jesus?  Doesn’t my work matter?  Do you see me here?

Finally, Martha looks at Jesus and says, “Tell her to help me!” Don’t leave me here alone to do this work.

Jesus stops and he says her name  – twice. Some people hear this repeat and hear it as a tsk, tsk.  Martha. Martha.

But what if it was this: Martha. Martha. Giving her a minute to take a breath. Giving her a chance to pause and listen. Giving her a chance to remember herself, remembered herself loved by God. Just imagine Jesus saying your name to you.

And Jesus acknowledges Martha’s hurt and anger, you do have a lot on your plate, there is “much service” in front of you. But you need only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part.

What part of the one thing has Mary chosen that Martha has not?  What is the one thing? Martha had forgotten herself loved in the midst of feeling alone in her “much service.” Unseen, forgotten, lost from the presence of God’s word.

Mary was sitting there, right there in Jesus’ gaze, seen by him, loved by him, knowing she belonged right there.

Would Martha have felt alone in her work if she had remembered herself seen and held in that kind of love while she was at it?

Is this the One Thing that Jesus is talking about?

knowing God’s love, knowing it with our heart, strength, mind and soul, knowing this so deeply we are able to love ourselves and others

Walter Brueggeman says compassion constitutes a radical form of criticism, for it announces that the hurt is to be taken seriously, that the hurt is not to be accepted as normal or natural but is abnormal and unacceptable condition for humanness.

God sent Amos to say just this to God’s people in time where there was great pain, as it was then and as it is now. When we turn away from those who are hurt, worse yet turning away from those we ourselves have hurt, it will be as if God is absent from us. And as God’s people we know that God’s absence is like being without oxygen, an unacceptable condition for a human.

Jesus says this too to Martha. He doesn’t dismiss her for complaining. He sees her hurt and holds it in love and offers her a place to put that pain.

Have compassion on us Lord in our weakness, when we fail to show your compassion in this world to each other and to our own selves.

Have compassion on us Lord when we forget that you are the only one thing we need and the only one thing that will never be taken away.

Amelia McDaniel