Anxious and Troubled?

This Sunday's gospel reading about the visit of Jesus to the home of Martha and Mary generates more than its fair share of popular opinions from people who hear it. Understandably, many people empathise with Martha, feeling that she unfairly got the short end of the stick from Jesus and that Mary got off like a Goody Two-shoes.

To be clear: Jesus did NOT pass judgement on Martha's acts of service themselves. That would not be consistent with Jesus' description of himself as having come to serve, not to be served, and his mandate to the apostles in the Gospel of John when he washed their feet at the Last Supper. 

Listen again to what Jesus actually said: "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled..." Other English translations use words like: worried, bothered, upset, distracted, fretting, fussing. In a nutshell, Martha's preoccupation with fulfilling society's expectations of the perfect hostess, and her resentment at Mary's disregard for these expectations, meant that Martha didn't hear a word that Jesus was saying. Houses in Jewish Palestine of the day were not large. Jesus, who could teach thousands, would have been audible anywhere in the house and Martha would have been able to hear Jesus if she had only chosen to listen. 

We have a soft spot for Martha because each of us can so easily identify with her resentment, a resentment that must have built up so much that she actually interrupted Jesus with an accusing question: "Master, do you not care that my sister has left me to do the serving alone?" Martha wasn't only resentful towards Mary, but even towards Jesus himself whom she saw aiding and abetting Mary's 'laziness'. If her brother Lazarus was present with the men that day she was probably resentful towards him too. But instead of going quietly to Mary and whispering in her ear for some help, she brashly 'goes to the top', interrupting Jesus while he is teaching. That made such an impression that the story made its way into the gospel tradition. What Jesus taught there that day did not even get recorded.

Resentment is probably an 'under-confessed' and under-repented 'sin'. The reason for that is that it is almost always fully justified in our minds. "Darn right I'm upset! Didn't you see what he got away with? Didn't you read what she said? Why don't more people step up and (... fill in your hobby horse here)?"

This Sunday's gospel is an opportunity for a mini examination of conscience. What resentments have I been carrying? In the home, with my spouse, my children, my neighbours, my work colleagues, my Vincentian confreres? A good place to do this exercise is setting aside 15 or 20 minutes and sitting at the feet of Jesus.

The Good Samaritan - a Vincentian Take

For a good part of my life, Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan left me feeling very conflicted and burdened with guilt. On the one hand, I obviously did not want to be identified with the priest and the scribe. On the other hand, imitating the good Samaritan presented itself as involving heroic sacrifice that I doubted I am capable of. It was only relatively recently that I started gaining a certain insight into the words of Jesus: "Go and do likewise."

Clearly, Jesus cannot be asking us to slavishly look on the road for victims of robbers, and take them to a motel or hospital. What we are called to imitate is not the precise actions that the Samaritan did, but what he felt in his heart that energised him to take appropriate action: he was moved with compassion, literally, filled with pity, and then he just knew what he had to do, not because of a law or prescription, but because of his heart. Interestingly, this is exactly the same Greek word used to describe what Jesus felt when he looked at the crowds and was "moved with compassion" because they were like sheep without a shepherd.

Sheep without a shepherd

Saint Mother Teresa of Kolkata presents a wonderful modern day example of someone whose life was driven by her compassion. A very different take on where compassion can lead you can be found with Saint Dorothy Day whose heart was filled with compassion for workers and their families who were at the mercy of ruthless employers, and corporations who were out to maximise profits for shareholders no matter the cost to their workers. As Vincentians we can find great inspiration in the model of compassion offered to us in Blessed Frederick Ozanam, our founder. He manages to blend the best of both Mother Teresa and Dorothy Day by his example, firstly, of direct care and compassion for the poor, but also in educating the society of his day regarding the root causes of poverty, and the unjust circumstances keeping the poor in their poverty, and making them ever poorer.

Like the Good Samaritan, and Jesus himself, Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day and Frederick Ozanam did not approach their life's work as a burden demanded by any law or prescription, but as the natural outflow of hearts filled with compassion. Now Jesus tells us: "Go and do likewise."

A Prayer of Oscar Romero

 

Curated from Bread for the World

This poem was composed by Bishop Ken Untener of Saginaw in November, 1979.
It draws inspiration from St Oscar Romero and now known as A Prayer of Oscar Romero.

A PRAYER OF OSCAR ROMERO

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything,
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders;
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future that is not our own.

Amen.