My New Testament professor in seminary had a problem with nativity scenes. New Testament scholars can be a little touchy when you mix and match stories from the different gospels. Professor Good hated it when nativity scenes showed wise men and shepherds adoring the Christ child because wise men are found in the gospel of Matthew only and shepherds are in the gospel of Luke.
And Professor Good would likely say if you’re going to preach about Martha and Mary as they appear in John, best not to bring up the Martha and Mary in Luke. They appear in different contexts and do different things in the two gospels, so tell one story or the other. But I’m not going to do that this morning… Following the rules is not one of my strong suits… I’m going to mix it up a bit this morning.
Mary and her sister Martha do appear in two very significant and different scenes in the gospels and those scenes are in two different gospels: the gospel of Luke and in our reading today from the gospel of John. But Mary and Martha are a special case, I think because though Luke tells a different story about them than does John; the characters of Mary and Martha in both gospels are consistent -- you just know that Luke’s Mary and Martha could be none other than John’s Mary and Martha.
In Luke’s story, which is depicted in the stained glass window just behind me, Jesus has come to the house of the Mary and Martha for a meal. Upon his arrival, Mary joins her guests, sitting at the feet of Jesus to hear him speak and teach while her sister Martha continues rushing about to get all in readiness for the meal they are to serve.Martha gets a bit peeved with her sister and complains to Jesus about Mary’s laziness, and her seeming indifference to the strict codes regarding hospitality in the ancient world. But Jesus takes Mary’s side, telling Martha that she is too distracted by too many things and that Mary has taken the better part in spending time with her Lord. Jesus says to the sisters, rather enigmatically, “There is need of only one thing.”
If we consider, like we’re not supposed to do, according to the Scripture scholars, that the story continues in John’s gospel, we begin to see more clearly what that one thing is. In John’s gospel which Deacon Liz just read to us, we learn a bit more about Martha and Mary – and it really must be the same Mary and Martha. And here in John we learn that they are from Bethany, a village just a mile or two from Jerusalem. John tells us also that Mary and Martha have a brother named Lazarus, whom we learn is ill and subsequently dies.
John’s gospel is the favorite gospel of many – it’s deeply spiritual and theological. In it Jesus gives long, poetic speeches and discourses that outline for us his own true nature as son of God and son of man. He tells us at length about the inextricable nature of his relationship to the father; and he preaches and teaches with the authority than can and does come from his father, the One God of Israel. But sometimes, John’s gospel can be a little wordy, and little windy. You get a lot of speechifying as we say down south, and not as much action.
But not in today’s reading. In today’s reading from John’s gospel, there is movement and action. There is sharp dialogue, there is life in all its disappointment and despair and there is death in all its grittiness. Things that we recognize and can identify with – and there is something new, there is resurrection to new life.
Notice a few things about Mary and Martha and Jesus in our gospel reading today. One of the first things we hear about Jesus in this passage is not too complimentary. When Mary and Martha send word to Jesus that their brother, whom, they point out, Jesus loves, is ill, Jesus does nothing.
He doesn’t rush to his side; he doesn’t offer some miraculous cure. Instead he stays right where he is. Jesus seems to think that this illness of Lazarus’s is not that serious, certainly not fatal, or that’s what he somewhat cryptically tells his disciples. Then we learn that Lazarus is dead and Jesus heads to Bethany to console his friends. Martha rushes out to meet Jesus. Now we know from Luke that Martha is the mouthy one. She’s not slow to complain when something bothers her, when someone doesn’t live up to her expectations, be that someone her sister or her Lord. She tells Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” You can hear the frustration and disappointment in her voice. You know Martha is thinking, “You should have come when we called. You could have prevented this. The hurt I feel is your fault, Lord.”
Now notice Mary. She doesn’t come out to meet Jesus, not initially, rather, she stays right where she is. We see the same emotion in Mary as we saw in Martha, but as siblings often do, she expresses it quite differently. Martha, the mouthy one, rushes out to tell Jesus that he could have prevented what happened to their brother. But sullen Mary, stays at home and refuses to even greet Jesus, much less speak to him of her disappointment.
But Mary is too moved by her sorrow to stay silent, and when bidden by her sister, she too goes to Jesus, and as she did in Luke’s gospel, she kneels at his feet and tenderly, sadly admonishes Jesus in her sister’s own words, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Jesus is deeply moved by Mary’s grief and the sorrow of the other mourners and he too begins to weep as they lead him to Lazarus’s tomb. So, moved is Jesus that he cries aloud and the mourners comment, “See how he loved him!”
And then, we hear some of these same mourners say what we know everyone must haven been thinking, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Jesus is still deeply moved when he gets to Lazarus’s tomb and he shocks the sisters by telling the assembled mourners to take away the stone that covers the mouth of cave where Lazarus lies. Martha, again the mouthy one, says to Jesus, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.” Or as the King James version puts it, “Lord, by this time he stinketh.”
There’s the reality and the grittiness of death in the ancient world, in a nearly tropical Mediterranean climate. And there’s Martha, unwilling to sugar-coat what she feels and what she sees going on about her. And then Jesus performs a miracle, greater even than the healing of the blind man, and Lazarus is restored to life. An important miracle is this raising of Lazarus. It prefigures and foreshadows the even more amazing resurrection that we know is to come.
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But notice Mary and Martha and their relationship to their Lord, to our Lord. The sisters call upon their Lord when their beloved brother lies ill. And as many of us can attest, our inscrutable Lord and God does not come when called and he does not preserve the life of a loved one. As the noted preacher Barbara Brown Taylor has written, God doesn’t always come when we call, proving only that God is not our minion to be ordered about by the likes of us. But when their Lord disappoints them, Mary and Martha let him know of their disappointment and their sorrow. Martha rushes down the road to tell Jesus, “You could have showed up, you could have prevented this.”
And Mary, though initially too angry and sorrowful even to call upon the Lord, eventually comes to the same conclusion, “If only you had been here… If only…”
And then notice Jesus. He doesn’t prevent the death of Lazarus nor the suffering of his sisters, but he joins them there. He joins them in their pain and their grief and the grief of all those present. It is his grief that is so real and so moving that others are convinced, “See how he loved him.”
And though he refuses to prevent the family’s tragedy, he does not abandon them in their suffering, rather Jesus joins them in that suffering, and in the end he redeems their loss. He restores life to Lazarus and he engenders faith and hope amidst the loss and despair.
The example Martha and Mary set for us is an example of intimacy and honesty. They do not shy away from telling their Lord of their hurts and disappointments, even their disappointment in him. I wonder how often we are quite so honest, so up front, so real with God? Martha and Mary do not admonish themselves for feeling as they do. Rather they take those feelings to their Lord. They risk Jesus’ anger, perhaps his admonition, and say to him, “You let this happen. “Why didn’t you keep me from feeling this way?”
Mary and Martha are deeply disappointed in Jesus, and I think because they are so upfront and honest about it, this disappointment doesn’t cause them to lose their faith. Ironically, their emotional honesty, the depth of their despair which they do not hide but rather lay at the feet of Jesus, their emotional courage seems to bolster their faith. And Jesus doesn’t fix their feelings, he doesn’t make them go away. Instead, he joins them in their grief, he shares their sadness and hurt and disappointment – and he redeems it.
Because that’s what our God does. He does not save us from the hurt and pain and sadness that we know is part of this life, rather he redeems it and offers us not a carefree, easy, safe mortal life, but an eternal life with him. A life of intimacy and trust and faith and endless hope.
Remember back in Luke, Jesus told the sisters, “There is need of only one thing.” That one thing is not a perfect, pain free, life of ease on this earth. Such a thing doesn’t really exist anyway. The one thing we need is the redemption of Christ, the life eternal that we are given by Christ from the cross.
As Lent draws to a close, and we begin the cycle of liturgies that call us to join Jesus in his suffering and sacrifice, I offer you one final Lenten challenge.
Be honest with your God. Tell the truth about how you feel. Make your prayer an honest prayer. If Jesus who is our Lord God as well as our very human brother can take the cross, he can take what crosses you bear. If he is willing to suffer and die in such a way, not to abandon his own grisly fate, then I assure you, he will not run away from your suffering.
Rather, he is waiting to join you there; willing to go with you as far as you will let him, willing to be as close to you as you will allow. And willing to offer you the one thing you need: salvation in the world to come, redemption unto eternal life.
© The Rev. Mark R. Collins
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