Sermon 17 July: 'Mind full, or mindful?'

In our earlier 'thinking about' section in worship, many smiles as bowls of M&M's were passed around the pews...
M&M = Martha and Mary!!

1st READING: Psalm 15
2nd READING: Luke 10:38-42

SERMON ‘Mind full, or Mindful?’
Let’s pray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our
hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

There’s an old poem – a poem by A. A. Milne, he of ‘Winnie the Pooh’ fame.
It’s a classic tale, in verse, of  someone who’s a wee bit distracted, and it’s called:
‘There was an old sailor my grandfather knew,’
which I’m going to read now for your delectation and delight.

There was once an old sailor my grandfather knew
Who had so many things which he wanted to do
That, whenever he thought it was time to begin,
He couldn't because of the state he was in.

He was shipwrecked, and lived on an island for weeks,
And he wanted a hat, and he wanted some breeks;
And he wanted some nets, or a line and some hooks
For the turtles and things which you read of in books.

And, thinking of this, he remembered a thing
Which he wanted (for water) and that was a spring;
And he thought that to talk to he'd look for, and keep
(If he found it) a goat, or some chickens and sheep.

Then, because of the weather, he wanted a hut
With a door (to come in by) which opened and shut
(With a jerk, which was useful if snakes were about),
And a very strong lock to keep savages out.

He began on the fish-hooks, and when he'd begun
He decided he couldn't because of the sun.
So he knew what he ought to begin with, and that
Was to find, or to make, a large sun-stopping hat.

He was making the hat with some leaves from a tree,
When he thought, "I'm as hot as a body can be,
And I've nothing to take for my terrible thirst;
So I'll look for a spring, and I'll look for it first."

Then he thought as he started, "Oh, dear and oh, dear!
I'll be lonely tomorrow with nobody here!"
So he made in his note-book a couple of notes:
"I must first find some chickens" and "No, I mean goats."

He had just seen a goat (which he knew by the shape)
When he thought, "But I must have boat for escape.
But a boat means a sail, which means needles and thread;
So I'd better sit down and make needles instead."

He began on a needle, but thought as he worked,
That, if this was an island where savages lurked,
Sitting safe in his hut he'd have nothing to fear,
Whereas now they might suddenly breathe in his ear!

So he thought of his hut ... and he thought of his boat,
And his hat and his breeks, and his chickens and goat,
And the hooks (for his food) and the spring 
(for his thirst) ...
But he never could think which he ought to do first.

And so in the end he did nothing at all,
But bask on the shingle wrapped up in a shawl.
And I think it was dreadful the way he behaved -
He did nothing but basking until he was saved!

So    many    things.
So many choices,
so many tasks and responsibilities.
In the end, the poem about our sailor is a warning that could come
straight out of a management training manual:
it demonstrates the dangers of being so distracted by tasks,
that you end up attempting to do too many things at once, with the result that,
at the end of the day, or week, or year,
all you’ve actually succeeded in doing has been to chase your tail.

Rule One of management:
if there’s a list of tasks, prioritise,
and no matter what occurs during the day,
come back to that task -
rather than beginning something else then leaving it,
starting another job, and leaving it...and so on.
The theory goes that by following this principle,
at the end of the day, or week, or month, even if you’ve only managed
to complete just one job on the list,
at least one job has actually been completed...
and, it will also be the most important of all of the tasks,
Job done.
Cross off item from list.
Move to next job.

Focus and prioritising is important.
And last week,
and this week,
while we’ve had two very different stories,
both, in their own way, share a common theme:
about practising hospitality.
Last week, it was the good Samaritan –
who, in his encounter with the man on the Jericho road,
enlarged a traditionally held understanding of what it was to be a good neighbour.
In providing comfort, help, and unstinting kindness
to someone seen as a traditional enemy,
the Samaritan demonstrated a radical hospitality:
hospitality at its extremes.
Hospitality which Jesus tells his listeners, that they must ‘go and do likewise.’
They are to practise active hospitality.

In contrast, our text this morning, placed as it is within the home
of Martha and Mary, is a more intimate and comfortable domestic scene.
A beloved friend arrives and we see, in the sisters,
two different responses to this arrival.
Martha, surveying the scene, makes the choice to head off to the kitchen:
pots to put on,
and people to feed...
‘People’, because this is not just a cosy meal for
three... there’s also the matter of feeding his 12 mates,
the disciples, who’ve also come along.
There’s work to be done.
She disappears,
but, I suspect, even as the disciples and Mary gather around and listen to Jesus,
you can still hear noises just out of sight:
chopping of veg,
hiss of food being put onto hot skillet,
clatter of dishes being gathered to feed the hordes.
So many things.
So many choices:
what to serve,
where to seat everyone,
is the wine okay or should she just quickly nip down to the market?
Where are the chickpeas for the hummus –
does Jesus actually like hummus?
And, is she right in remembering that Judas is gluten-free?
And...why is Mary being such a slacker?
Surely she should be helping?
It’s not fair.
It’s not right!
...and the pots and pans in the kitchen crash and clatter a little more noisily,
accompanied by heavy sighs.
...until, in the midst of all the things she has on her plate,
Martha snaps and marches into the other room –
points accusingly at Mary,
and drags Jesus into the domestic drama that she’s in the midst of:
‘Don’t you care, Jesus? 
Tell Mary to come and give me a hand, Jesus. 
It’s just not right’
In one fell swoop she’s managed to successfully do several things:
first, it’s a classic piece of triangulation.
Instead of directly communicating with the person she’s having a difficulty with,
her sister, Mary, Martha brings another person into the equation, Jesus.
In a sense, it’s pretty passive-aggressive behaviour:
he can sort it, because, surely, Mary will have to listen to him.

Second, it’s also a classic case of public shaming:
rather than quietly come and ask Mary for help,
Martha bursts in and points the finger at her in front of everyone...
in front of their beloved friend.
And third, in doing both one and two, she loses sight of her primary task:
that of being hospitable.
Through both triangulation and public shaming,
she puts the honoured guest into a socially awkward situation:
‘Lord, don’t you care?’

So many things.
Too many things.
And Martha’s mind is full of them all.
She is no longer mindful of the initial task.
And Jesus looks at this harried and harassed friend and yes, he does care.
As he looks at her with love and pity,
he knows her so well, that he sees what’s really going on,
what’s really occupying her oh-too-busy mind.
Instead of rebuking her, there’s a kindly repeat of her name:
‘Martha, Martha...’
So many things...
too many things...
unnecessary things that caused her to lose focus:
‘You are worried and upset about many things’
says her friend,
‘but only one thing is needed.’
That one thing is to remember to keep focused upon him –
to remember that the choice she made had initially been based around
her love for her friend,
and to care for him in the most practical way she knew how:
to feed him – and his friends.
To break bread together,
to share food and friendship together...
He indicates Mary, sitting at his feet –
Mary, whose love for her friend has been shown
in spending time with him,
listening to him.

Now, before we go anywhere else with this reading, it’s important to note
that Jesus isn’t playing action and reflection off against one another:
it's not a competition.
As we saw last week, Jesus is very much about encouraging active engagement –
‘go and do likewise’.
In this story, however, Jesus is demonstrating that reflection is also needed...
and whether it’s action or reflection,
what’s important is to not lose sight of what it is you’re doing,
and why you’re doing it.
Or, to flip it around:
of what it is you’re not doing, and to go and do it.
And at the core of both being and action:
is the motive of love –
last week, hospitality shown in love of neighbour;
this week, hospitality shown in love for God.

There are days, weeks, months, when we feel overwhelmed by all the things:
so many things –
too many things.
Our minds, so full, that they’re buzzing.
Days, weeks, months,
when it feels like we’ve just somehow lost the plot.
In our gospel text today,
Jesus moves from the house of Martha and Mary,
out of the page,
and into our homes,
our hearts,
our oh-too-busy minds.
And in loving care and kindness,
says our name – twice –
and reminds us that there is only one thing needed:
to focus our hands,
our hearts,
our minds...
on him:
to love him –
and from that love, everything else will flow.
Food will go on the table,
stories will be heard...
However we entertain Jesus in our heart’s home,
however we welcome him in,
we meet with him in love:
what we do, or how we are is an expression of that love.

We come back to M&M’s –
because at some point you knew I’d have to get another chocolate reference in!
M&M – Martha and Mary:
different, yes, in the way that they responded to Jesus.
And we need both Martha and her practical gifts,
and Mary and her more mystical gifts.
But, like the M&M’s – though different, yet, inside, what fills them,
and the way they choose to respond to Jesus,
is – or should be – love:
which focuses upon the one thing, the greater thing –
responding to, and being in, God’s presence.
There’s an old saying that recognises this:
'hands to work,
and hearts to God...'
because, Lord knows, we need both fed spiritually and physically,
in order that we go and do likewise to those we meet and welcome
into God’s hospitable kingdom.

How would we react if Jesus chapped at our door, wanting to visit with us?
And actually, he does...
Would we think of physical hunger that needed to be fed,
and rush off to our kitchens?
Would we hunger to hear more at his feet,
just in case there was something else we might
just need to know, before we went out and followed him?

...So many things.
Too many things.
And only one is needed.
However we respond to Jesus’ invitation to welcome him in,
whether in action, or contemplation,
let us choose the better part:
which is, to focus our eyes on Jesus -
to be mindful of him,
in all we think, and do, and say... this day, and every day. Amen.