We must seek God first. Only then can everything we do be through God, with God, and in God.
Homily for the Memorial of St. Martha on July 29th, 2020.
Mary and Martha
Note: Sorry for the (very late) posting of this homily.
Nearly every time I read this weekend’s Gospel, I find it incredibly frustrating. Martha is trying to be a good host, but she’s struggling to get everything done. She is obviously frustrated that her sister Mary doesn’t come to help. I feel her pain, as it seems many hosts across the country do. I must admit to you all, I have a subscription to Bon Appétit magazine. When I got tired of reading German theologians arguing about whether “People of God” or “Body of Christ” was a better image of the Church in seminary, (pro tip: it’s both!) I switched to lighter fare like Bon Appétit to give my brain a little break. From this scholarly journal, I’ve learned that hosting a dinner party or the holidays is on the same levels of stress as a root canal. If I remember correctly, the Christmas issue last year had a multi-week plan of attack for how to host a stress-free Christmas party for family.
What I’m getting at, I suppose, is that hosting people who come over to your house is hard. I’ve seen the trouble people go to when they invite us priests over, and it’s truly humbling. If I invited God Himself over for dinner, I can only imagine how perfect I would try to make the menu, how sparkling the appliance would be, how stuffed into closets all my junk would be. Like Abraham in the first reading and Martha in the Gospel, I’d be running around like a crazy person trying to get it all done. I read this passage, and I just want to give Martha big hug and say, “I feel you, Martha.”
But that’s not what Jesus does. Not even close. Instead he tells Martha that Mary has chosen the better part. She’s too anxious and worried about things, Jesus says. Jesus simply wants to share himself with his friends: the serving can wait. Jesus isn’t concerned with how clean the house is; he isn’t concerned about whether the lasagna is a bit burnt or whether the steak is medium-rare as opposed to medium (although I personally want to believe he does care that it isn’t cooked any more than that…); he isn’t concerned about the toys that the kids left out. Jesus wants us. When Jesus enters under our roof—as he does every moment of our lives, but in a special way at Mass—, Jesus simply wants us. He wants us to open the doors of our hearts to him. He wants us to listen to him. He wants us to follow him. He wants us to leave behind our concerns for the world—even for just a moment—and be with him.
You may have noticed, though, that I said Jesus is with us every moment of our lives. If he wants us to simply be with him when he is with us, and he is always with us, then how could we ever get anything done? Fantastic question. That is why the Church is so concerned about what Catholic do with their lives! In every action we take, Christ is with us. Every action, then, should in some way be oriented toward God. St. Josemaría Escrivá wrote that, “there is something holy, something divine, hidden in the most ordinary situations, and it is up to each one of you to discover it […]. There is no other way. Either we learn to find our Lord in ordinary, everyday life, or else we shall never find him.” (as quoted in The Navarre Bible: Standard Edition: Saint Luke’s Gospel, pg. 112)
We cannot avoid being a bit like Martha in our modern times, but the Lord reminds us to remember to imitate Martha’s sister Mary and stay close to Him. This is easy to say and hard to do, but nobody ever said living the Catholic life was easy: Jesus even promised us that it wouldn’t be! Then, though, he revealed to us the richness of his glory and his deep generosity. In return for living our lives as his disciples, Jesus promised us the Kingdom of Heaven, and that promise is worth everything we have, everything we are, and everything we might ever do.
Note: This was written and preached for the weekend of July 20-21, 2019. It was published online on August 14, 2019.
Today’s Readings:
July 21, 2019
16th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year C
Genesis 18:1-10a; Psalm 15:2-3, 3-4, 5; Colossians 1:24-28; Luke 10:38-42
Reflection for the Fifth Sunday of Lent / Year A
Last summer, a friend of mine died. It was unexpected. I was chatting with him on Friday night, and on Saturday morning his kayak overturned and through a tragic—and heroic—series of events, he died. (Story in: Local Paper, National Catholic Register; Obituary) I will admit, I wasn’t as close to Brian as his family or the seminarians who attended school with him, but he was a friend, and it stung me when he died. I was surprised, shocked and confused. I couldn’t help but wonder: Why? Why has God taken this great young man away from us, from his family, from the world? Why didn’t God reach out and grant him a little help getting to shore? Why?
I think that this is maybe a little like how Mary and Martha felt when Lazarus died. They knew that Jesus could have prevented Lazarus from dying. It says so right in the Gospel: “Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’” But then Martha says something that shows her extreme depth of faith in Jesus, “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Martha has not asked Jesus to raise Lazarus, but has simply expressed her trust that Jesus will do what is best. This reminds me of the episode at the Wedding of Cana, where the Mother of God’s last words in Sacred Scripture have the same sentiment: “Do whatever he tells you.” She does not tell Jesus what to do, but simply places her trust in him to do what is best. Like the Mother of God, Martha, and later Mary, both express this deep trust in Jesus.
The crowd does not share this faith. They ask, “Could not the one who opened the eyes of the blind man have done something so that this man would not have died?” The Gospel said that Jesus became “perturbed” by this—Jesus was upset, unsettled. Some translations go so far as to say he was angered. Jesus then goes to the tomb and calls Lazarus forth. Lazarus, who after four days in the tomb was expected to be rotting, was alive! Jesus had planned this from the beginning to increase the faith of his followers. It was a trial for Martha and Mary, but because of their faith, they also grew in true hope.
Deacon Andrew, Brian’s brother, talked about hope at his brother’s memorial Mass. As I sat there listening, in awe of the fact that he was able to compose himself better than I could compose myself, he said that “[h]ope is not sentiment or wishful thinking, it is the habit by which we long for a good, stretching forth for a future good not yet attained. We would not reach out for a good unless it existed and was truly possible. We have hope in eternal salvation and for the reunion of our loved ones because it is indeed possible. Although not a given, and not easy, the Lord makes it possible, and that is why we have hope.” Doesn’t this sound like the Gospel story today? This trial was not easy for Martha and Mary. They desired for Lazarus to be with them. They knew that with God anything was possible. While those who are close to us who die do not typically rise from the dead, we can hope to be reunited with them in eternity.
But for this to be a legitimate hope, we must remember that to meet our loved ones in Heaven, we must actually get to Heaven. In hell, we are cut off from God and we become closed in on ourselves. (See CCC 1033-1037.) Some say that “hell is other people,” but that is not true. Hell consists of eternal separation not only from God, but from other people. The difficulty in getting to Heaven is why we must have hope in order to get there. Hope is necessary when there is something in between us and a good. Martha and Mary had hope that Jesus would bring good out of the situation, even though Lazarus was dead. The Mother of God had hope that Jesus would bring good out of the situation, even though the wine had run out. Deacon Andrew and his family had hope that his brother had fought the good fight, and been filled by the spirit sufficiently that he could reach Heaven. Furthermore, they have hope that they will live sufficiently good lives that they’ll get to see him again in Heaven after their time in this world in complete.
Hope is a gift given to us by the Holy Spirit. (See CCC 1817-1821.) If we do not allow ourselves to be filled by the Spirit, we will not be able to have true hope. The prophet Ezekiel and Paul both talk about the Spirit filling us today. Paul writes that we must follow the Spirit, not the flesh. We must allow the Spirit of Christ to fill us, he writes. This Spirit gives life to us in many ways. It gives us the life of virtues, and it gives us many spiritual gifts every day. God, through His Holy Spirit who lives within each one of us, gives us innumerable gifts each and every day. In this way, He supports us in our spiritual life. Through Confession, the Spirit acts in a special way and raises us from spiritual death—something far greater than a simple bodily raising from the dead. But even this is promised to us in Ezekiel. Speaking through the prophet Ezekiel, God promises to open the graves of his people and send out his Spirit, so that we may live and know that He is Lord.
So how do we open ourselves to this Spirit?
It is simple, but also extremely difficult. We must develop a personal relationship with God. To do this takes time. We must pray daily: perhaps we could say a daily Rosary, meditate daily on the Scriptures, or spend some time in private mental prayer every day. We must attend Mass frequently. While attending Mass on Sundays and Holy Days is good, this is one thing where more is better. Consider attending Mass during the week some time. We must us the Sacrament of Reconciliation regularly. Reconciliation forgives us our sins and raises us from spiritual death. It restores our relationship with God that becomes lost and clouded by the dirt and grime of sin. We should study our faith, especially in regards to Jesus Christ and the Gospels, Mary the Mother of God and the other saints, as well as the many devotions and practices that have been developed over the years to help us all grow in our faith.
After experiences of death, of personal suffering, and of confusion, I have always found my faith a comfort. My relationship with God grows stronger through each trial, because each trial forces me to recognize that I cannot do this without him. We are all called to be friends with God, to be filled with his Spirit. We are all called to have faith and hope in God. When we have even a little bit of true faith, we can move mountains.
So let us continue to build our relationship with God every day, and allow him to help us, especially by the use of the Sacraments.
Today’s Readings: Ez 37:12-14; Ps 130: 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8; Rom 8:8-11; Jn 11:1-45