A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, July 22, 2007
Luke 10:38-42
The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out. But God knows I have tried.
Over and over, we hear that hoarse whisper. We can’t help it. It’s where we live. Some of us awake to the sound of the sea’s pronouncements. Some of us spend our summers getting as close as possible to these pronouncements. Over and over, we hear that hoarse whisper. We’re not sure what it is. It might just be waves crashing upon the shore. It may only be the sound of a whitecap enfolding itself back into the depth of the sea.
Like Annie Dillard writes in her book Teaching a Stone to Talk, we “cannot quite make it out.” We are trying. Over and over, we are trying as we hear that hoarse whisper. But, we can’t quite make it out. Even when we have gathered together this summer to hear that hoarse whisper in Kettle Cove, we can’t quite make it out.
We’ve gathered there a couple of times in the early morning hours. Before we could be “distracted by [our] many tasks,” we came to Kettle Cove to read the Bible. To hear those pronouncements. Over and over. Our attention has not been focused on the work that we need to do – but to listen.
In this way, we are not like Martha. Martha is the one that has invited this important guest into her home. Martha is the one that is distracted by her many tasks. And though we’re not sure what these tasks are, we assume her stress has something to do with the preparations of the meal. But, it doesn’t actually say in the text what has Martha so distracted. Maybe it’s the meal. Maybe it’s this unexpected guest that has just arrived from away. Maybe it’s her many tasks, though we cannot quite make it out. It doesn’t say. We can imagine what they might be. But, we only know that Martha is distracted by these many unnamed tasks.
Sitting in Kettle Cove, we are not like Martha. It seems that we are more like Mary “who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.” At least for a moment, we are not worried or distracted like Martha. We are sitting like Mary at the Lord’s feet straining to hear that hoarse whisper that might come from the pronouncements of the sea or somewhere in our sacred text. And like Annie Dillard: we “cannot quite make it out. But God knows [we are trying].”
Maybe we are more like Mary than like Martha in these early morning Bible studies in Kettle Cove. Maybe in our attentiveness to hear that hoarse whisper, we are claiming that space at the feet of the Lord. Maybe when we escape the many tasks that distract us, we are more like Mary. Maybe. Or maybe Martha never goes away.
God knows, those unnamed tasks still distract us even when we are trying to listen. Even when we are straining to hear that hoarse whisper. Those many tasks do not disappear. Maybe this is why we cannot be more like Mary. Even when we are sitting by the feet of the Lord, we are still distracted by the many tasks that require our attention. Even when we are more like Mary, Martha is still there. Martha reminds us that there are things that we must do. There is service we must offer. There are needs that need to be met. There is action that we are not yet taking. There is ministry that needs to be done. There are friends to be welcomed and guests to serve. There are…
And to our active hearts, Jesus soothes, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
“There is need of only one thing,” he says. There is need of only one thing? Like Martha, we are indignant. What do you mean there is only need of one thing? There are too many tasks. It’s not possible that there be “need of only one thing.” But that’s what Jesus said. And what’s more, it’s the better part.
Mary’s choice of this one thing is the better part – as she sits “at the Lord’s feet and listen[s] to what he [is] saying.” She is disciple. Even though Luke would never call her this, Mary sits in the position of a disciple. By her very posture at the feet of Christ, Mary reveals her “zealous readiness to learn.” In that posture, she is ready to listen to everything that Jesus is saying. She is ready to listen to those pronouncements. She might not be able to make it out. But, God knows she will try. God knows that she will try. Mary says it in her posture what Annie Dillard says in words:
At a certain point you say to the woods, to the sea, to the mountains, to the world, Now I am ready. Now I will stop and be wholly attentive. You empty yourself and wait, listening.
Like Mary, Annie Dillard empties herself of the many tasks that distract her and waits, listening. Like Martha, she still has her concerns. She worries about how human activity has affected the created world. As we build cities, dam rivers and pluck away the weeds, Martha’s irritated question distracts Annie Dillard in the same way that it distracts us, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?”
And yet, somewhere between Martha’s question and Mary’s posture, Annie Dillard empties herself and waits. And listens. “Now I am ready,” she says. “Now I will stop and be wholly attentive.”
When do you stop? When do you listen for that hoarse whisper? When do you become wholly attentive without being distracted, worried or troubled?
“There is only need of this one thing.” This is what Jesus wants for us. Not to be distracted or worried, but to stop. To stop and be wholly attentive. To stop and empty yourself and wait. To stop and wait and be ready for there is “only one thing” needed. And this one thing is the “better part.” This one thing – this better part – is simply to find those sacred moments when you can “sit at the Lord’s feet and listen to what he is saying.”
It might happen in Kettle Cove or in Davidson Lounge. It could happen at home or with friends. No matter where it happens, it has to the be the right space where you get to that certain point to say, “Now, I am ready.” Now I am ready to really listen to the Word of God.
Find your own posture that reveals your own “zealous readiness to learn.” Your own posture to listen – really to what it is saying. Really listen as you would to the sea. Really listen and wonder what this text pronounces. You don’t have to have it all figured out. But, you have to be ready because this is the better part. This is the only thing that is needed. This is the part that “cannot be taken away.” It will always be with you. It will change how you see the world and how you act in it if you can find your own posture to listen. Not just to the preacher or the minister or the one who went to seminary. But to listen to what you hear in the pronouncements of our sacred text. To dare to open the Bible and read. And pray and read. And read and pray. And listen.
Listen. Empty yourself and wait. Annie Dillard was 28 when she began to listen. It was that year that she published her first book of reflections about her listening. Dillard listened to the sea. She listened to the trees and mountains. She found her posture and she sat and listened. Listened not only to nature, but to the Word of God.
You can hear it echoed in her writings that are “so saturated with [the Bible’s] cadences and images, that it is simply at hand, unbidden, as context and metaphor for whatever she happens to be writing about. [Dillard] does not … use Scripture to prove or document; it is not a truth she ‘uses’ but one she lives.”
Even when she cannot quite make it out, Annie Dillard is listening. And she doesn’t shy away from the context and metaphor of Scripture. She understands its awesome power. For Dillard, reading the Bible in church is like allowing
children [to play] on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. … [W]e should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares: they should lash us to our pews.
Are you ready to listen to something like this? You only have need of this one thing – and you might need a crash helmet, a life preserver and signal flares to get through it. Are you ready? Are we ready to strap on our life preservers and listen to the pronouncements around us? Are we as brave as Mary to listen? To actively listen to that hoarse whisper? To listen actively context and metaphor?
Are we really ready to listen for the truth that will cause us to live?