The Better Part -- Last Sunday at United Presbyterian Church

Luke 10:38-42

July 21, 2019

            Two statements. Both are true.

            In the last weeks, I have thought of nothing but this sermon.

            In the last weeks, I have thought of everything but this sermon.

            I have both avoided thinking about it at all costs, and I have spent hours ruminating on it. I have denied that it was coming, and I have worried that it was coming too fast. I have done a million other things than write it, and I have written it and rewritten it in my head.

            All of these are true. And now that we have come to this moment, even as I stare at the words on the page, I still cannot quite wrap my head around the truth that I am standing here in this pulpit, in this church, in the midst of this beloved congregation and preaching my last sermon as your pastor.

            Everything I have been doing these last weeks has been necessary. Everything has been needed. I have had to pack. I have had to finish up projects. I have had to complete to-do lists, and I have had to say my goodbyes to different people in different settings. But in hindsight, much of it seems like a distraction. It was easy to be distracted from the real and necessary work of preparing for this moment.

            In our passage this morning, Martha is distracted. As you know from the other times that I have preached on this passage, I bristle when we come to this particular story in the lectionary. Not because it is not a good story. It is. But I have said it before, and I will say it again; I think most interpretations of this story give Martha a raw deal. Too many portrayals of her make her out to be shrill and shrewish.

            “Jesus! Don’t you see that I am doing all the work around here and my lazy sister, Mary, is just sitting there?! Make her get up and help me!”

            And those same interpretations make Jesus’ words sound scolding and condescending at best, disparaging at worst.

            “Martha, Martha. You are distracted by many things. But only one thing is really needed right now. Only one thing is absolutely necessary right now. Mary has figured it out. Mary has chosen the better part. You should be more like your sister, Mary.”

            But I don’t think Jesus was scolding Martha. I don’t think he was chiding her or trying to treat her as some wayward child. I think, and I realize I could be wrong but let’s assume I’m not, that his tone was gentler and kinder than we read, interpret, or give him credit for.

            “Martha, Martha. You are so distracted by things that ultimately don’t matter. But what does matter is right here in front of you. You have this time to sit with me, this time to learn from me, this time to be with me. That is what Mary is doing. Now you do it too. That is the better part.”

            Mary was distracted. But she was also fulfilling her role in that household and her role in that context and culture. She was supposed to tend the house. She was supposed to show hospitality to guests. She was supposed to prepare food and drink and make sure that everyone was taken care of. But what she was supposed to do had gotten the better of her. While she was doing what was necessary, she had lost sight of what was important.

            It is easy to get distracted by all the things we think we need to do. But what really matters is something else. What really matters, the better part, is being here; being together; being in this moment now. I don’t want to miss this moment now. I don’t want to rush through this sermon, worried and distracted by all the other things I think must be done immediately. It is this moment that matters. And it is this moment that is the better part.

            Last night at Sue Winterringer’s house, we were remembering my first night in Shawnee. I was staying in her house. She and Jim were away. Mary Ann met me when I got into town, showed me where Sue lives and helped me get settled. She also took me to lunch at Chicago Street Deli and bought me a cookie. Talk about what matters! But about 2 am I woke up thinking I was having a heart attack. It turned out instead to be a gall bladder attack, but I didn’t know that yet. All I knew was that I was alone in a strange city, in a strange house and I didn’t know where the hospital was. It all turned out okay. In fact it has become one of my favorite stories to tell. It has become one of many stories from my time here. Like my first Christmas Eve service when Zach set his bulletin on fire, and Phoebe, Mary and Mary Ann rushed over and put it out. Thankfully, I did not actually see that happen. Or do you remember the Advent at the old church when Phoebe and I sang a duet together? Or how about the first time Brent came to see me and came to church with me on Sunday morning. I will never forget Amybeth’s reaction to this handsome guy visiting her pastor. I will never forget how warmly she welcomed him, and the very knowing look she gave me. Do you remember when Alice and I would put a stripe of purple in our hair every Sunday of Advent? Or the many different ways we would find to celebrate Pentecost? Or the different projects we would give all of you to help us accomplish? Do you remember the letters we had everyone cutting out for weeks to create the titles of Advent and Christmas carols? I will never forget Bill Weaver patiently cutting out letter after letter on Sundays before church. If your name is not mentioned, please know that it is not a slight. I could share stories and memories about each one of you, but we would be sitting here for hours.

            A phrase I often hear when it comes to work and to life is that 85% is just showing up. I know that I have not always been the most organized administrator. I know that I haven’t stayed on top of every idea I’ve had or brought every creative impulse I’ve known to fruition. But I hope that I have shown up. I hope that I have shown up for you when you needed me. I hope that I have shown up, because you all have certainly shown up for me and for my family.

            You have shown up for all the plays and musicals and band concerts. When Phoebe got the lead in Sound of Music, we had an entire Presbyterian row. 

            You have shown up for me when one of us has been sick. The night before Pauline’s funeral when I got a stomach bug or food poisoning or some alien took over my body and I was down for the count, Beth showed up with anti-nausea medicine and comforting words. When I went through a divorce and our lives fell apart, you showed up with love and compassion – for me, but even more so for the kids. I’ll never forget Wanda walking into my office when I was having a bad moment and just giving me a hug. I needed that hug. She showed up and you have shown up. You have shown up for me. You have shown up for Phoebe. You have shown up for Zach. You have shown up for us.

            And when Brent came into our lives and made everything right again, you showed up for him. You showed up with love and welcome and excitement, even though I think many of you realized that eventually we would come to this day. You never faltered in your hospitality and in your kindness.

            For almost eight years you have shown up for me. You have taught me that the better part is to not only be in the moment, but to be in the moment with kindness and love. So I hope that I have done the same for you. I hope that I have shown up for you when you have needed me, and even when you haven’t.

            My second Sunday in the pulpit was the 10^th anniversary of September 11. I won’t say that it set a precedent necessarily, but it did push me to take on tough things in my preaching. And I have. I know that I have pushed you. I have challenged you. I know that I have preached some tough sermons over the years. I know that I have called us out in those sermons. But I preached those difficult sermons; I preached those touchy topics and hard passages, because you gave me permission to. I was never afraid or worried, as I have been in other churches, that I would be chastised for preaching a sermon that pushed us to see ourselves in a less than glowing light. I can only thank you all again and again, because serving you has made me a better preacher and a better pastor.

            But what I am most grateful for, what I am most thankful for, is that over and over again you have shown me grace. You have not only shown me grace, you have embodied it. You have been grace when my sermons fell flat. You have embodied grace when I’ve forgotten to do something. You have shown me grace when I have messed up or missed the mark. You have been grace to me at all moments, because you are a gracious group of folks. You have shown me grace when I haven’t been able to show it to myself. I can never thank you for that enough. When I find myself in difficult situations, dealing with difficult people, I tell myself to remember grace, to remember all the times it has been given to me, and that makes those frustrating situations a little easier to bear; and it makes me remember that the frustrating person in front of me is really just another child of God, needing grace too. I learned that here, in your midst, at your feet. I am so grateful.

            The better part that Jesus spoke about was not that Mary was the better sister or that Martha shouldn’t do what was expected of her. The better part Jesus spoke of was in recognizing that some moments require letting go of everything else and just being. Jesus was in their home, and everything else could fall away. They needed to be with him. They needed to just be in his presence, at his feet, learning, listening, with him. That was the better part.

            So let us just be in this moment. Everything is changing, it is true. I am leaving. My house is now in a moving van. I won’t be in this pulpit anymore, and life will go on for all of us in new ways: in good ways, in exciting ways, but not together. But for this moment, we are together. We are worshipping with one another as we do every Sunday. We are lifting up prayers and singing hymns and giving thanks. In this moment we are together and that is the better part.

            (a moment of silence)

           But as this moment passes and we move forward in time to new moments, let us remember that what keeps us going, that what gets us out of bed, that what gives us purpose is hope. We do not lose hope. We do not lose hope when things change. We do not lose hope when we say goodbye. We do not lose hope, because God does not leave us. God does not forget us. God does not abandon us. God is with us now, in this moment, and God is with us in the next moment and the next and the next. God is calling us into the future. God tells us over and over again that the future is in God’s hands. And those are good hands to be in. So we move forward with hope and we move forward with love. That is the better part.

            Thanks be to God. Amen.