Month: July 2025

What is best for us

On By millardscook1 Comment

A Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost at

The Episcopal Church of the Holy Spirit

in Greensboro, North Carolina.

Martha, Mary and Jesus by David Lindley

There is an old saying in Latin, “The corruption of the best is the worst.” It seems sad to apply it to Sacred Scripture, but the truth is that over two millennia, Christians have done some horrible things with Scripture. More often than not, the problem arises when certain texts are taken out of their proper context. We call this “proof-texting,” or sometimes “cherry picking.” Disconnected from a context that gives meaning and nuance, such texts are used to justify almost anything. How sad it is to see something beautiful and constructive—created to give life, hope, and courage-used to tear down, destroy, and diminish others.

I can not think of a single text which has been more horribly misused that the passage from the Holy Gospel according to Saint Luke giving the account of the conversation which we heard today between Jesus and Martha.

What is the proper context?

The first thing to take into consideration is that Jesus and Martha know each other well. If Jesus actually had a “home away from home,” it would be the home of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus in Bethany. When he is with them, he is not a guest, he is family.

They have been so loving, so gracious, and so welcoming, that they have provided Jesus with a refuge-with a place to rest, recover, and heal from the unceasing demands placed on him.

With these beloved friends, he is able to be himself, and he does not have to worry about what anyone is going to think or say about him. What an amazing and rare thing in his life. What an incredible blessing they have given to him!

Over a period of years, the four have come to know each other very well. As a result, they are open, honest, and vulnerable to each other. They are so comfortable that they do not mince words. They say exactly what they think and feel. There is no pretense. As in most families, they have no doubt shared the same thought, or opinion more than once! Thus, I doubt that Martha said anything to Jesus in this conversation that he had not heard more than once, perhaps many times, perhaps hundreds of times.

In my own reflection on this passage, over many years, I have come to imagine that there is a clear birth order. Martha comes across to me as the oldest child, Mary, as the often-forgotten middle child. Lazarus, I think, must be the baby. Only son of the family, he has two older Sisters. I can relate to that. And thus, thinking of my own family, I can see what that means.

The oldest child so often has an exaggerated sense of responsibility. They sometimes struggle with perfectionism. They want everything to have a kind of order, to be done in a certain way, and to not have any loose ends.

Normally, this is a quite good thing. It inspires them to take the extra step, to go out of their way, and to do things rather than asking anyone else for help, because they have learned that “if you want something done right, you do it yourself.”

The eldest child often takes on a quasi-parental role, and sometimes becomes a second mother, or father. It is not so much about control as it is a desire to have the younger siblings do what is right, what is just, what is fitting. They want to be proud of their siblings, and have others be proud of them too!

So, I would not be at all surprised if Martha had often complained about Mary as being “irresponsible,” “out of touch with reality,” and a “dreamer.” She does not like that Mary does not listen to her, proves to be independent and autonomous, and “just does what she wants.”

I am not even going to start on how both Martha and Mary view the baby of the family! Poor Lazarus—drowned with love and with expectation at the same time.

This conversation is different, though, from many others. In listening to Martha—and Jesus is a very good listener—he realizes that Martha is not in a good place. Words that may have previously been made with humor are now spoken harshly. Martha is angry and unhappy. She feels overwhelmed, unappreciated, and discouraged. Jesus gets it and says to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.”

Jesus acknowledges her hurt, her confusion, and the out-of-control feeling that she has. He takes her seriously. So seriously that it is as if asks her, “what is really going on here?” “What is this really all about.”

But then Jesus goes a step further by suggesting that Martha is making a mistake focusing outside herself. Rather than worrying about Mary, or Lazarus, or about supper, he invites her to understand just what it is that has caused he to reach this boiling point.

That is the only way for her to move forward.  If she wants peace in her own life, in her own mind, in her own heart, she will have to do the hard work of examining her own conscience. What does Martha need? I suspect that is something which she has never been asked before. I imagine that she is taken by surprise. And yet, what amazing possibilities emerge from this invitation.

I personally think that this passage only makes sense when I see what happens in the Eleventh Chapter of John. The account of the “Raising of Lazarus” provides a fascinating bookend. Here we encounter a more mature, more thoughtful, and more insightful Martha. It concludes with one of the greatest affirmations of faith that we find in the New Testament. Martha concludes her honest remarks to Jesus by confessing that in him she finds the very presence of God—”She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah,[g] the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

The problem is that others, reading into this passage, have chosen to pit Martha against Mary in a kind of competition to see who is better! It is almost like asking, “who is the favorite child.” They interpret
Jesus words to Martha as a kind of put down. He is telling her what it what and putting her in her place! Even worse, the passage has been used over the centuries to suggest that the Marys of the world are holier than the Marthas. It was used to suggest that Mary is a contemplative and Martha is apostolic. So, the cloistered religious has a “higher calling” than the one who is “working in the field caring for those in need.” How many have been hurt and wounded by this distortion of Holy Scripture.

Jesus remark that “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” seems to have a clear meaning to me. Mary has chosen what is best for Mary! Let her be. You do you and let Mary do Mary! I think that he is also, subtly, encouraging Martha to find what is best for her, and to go for that.

The ultimate point of all this, is don’t make comparisons. Martha can’t judge Mary, and Mary can’t judge Martha. This is not a blanket statement about holiness, or the lack thereof. In this world, and in our Church, we need Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. Each has a unique, valuable, and essential role to play. We need to stop making judgements about them, about what they have to offer, and about how important and significant their calls are. Odious comparisons always create wounds. Someone must be superior, someone has to be inferior, and that never accomplishes anything good.

When I was a college student at Appalachian State University in Boone, in the early 1980’s, I encountered the amazing music of Nancy Honeytree-a Southern Contemporary Gospel Singer. In one of her most beautiful songs she had this line, “He has chosen me to bless me, and to lead me into what is best for me.” Now that is good news. What Jesus is saying to every Martha, to every Mary, to every Lazarus, and to each of us, is–do not worry. I have chosen you to bless you! Trust in me, and I will lead you into what is best for you!

Summary in English and in Spanish

Todos luchamos por dar sentido a lo que estamos llamados a ser y llegar a ser. El proceso de discernimiento nunca es fácil, porque en parte, no nos conocemos realmente bien a nosotros mismos. También puede suceder a menudo que otros intenten ayudarnos, pero si no tienen cuidado, nos darán consejos que nos muestran qué opciones son las mejores para ellos, no para nosotros. A veces, incluso instituciones, como las Iglesias, pueden hacer lo mismo sin querer.

El famoso relato de la conversación entre Marta y Jesús proporciona una visión fascinante de cómo puede desarrollarse esto. No tengo ninguna duda de que Marta ama a su hermana María. Y, sin embargo, no respeta las decisiones que María ha tomado en su propio intento de responder a la llamada de Dios en su vida. Marta está segura de que sabe lo que es mejor para María y se siente infeliz cuando María no hace lo que ella le pide que haga. ¡Tal vez ella es sobreprotectora, tal vez es controladora, tal vez simplemente tiene ideas de lo que María debería hacer!

Jesús, sin embargo, realmente tiene el mejor interés de María en el corazón. Porque ama tanto a Marta como a María, escucha a Marta, escucha lo que ella tiene que decir y luego la desafía a dejar de lado sus propios deseos y anhelos, y a permitir que María siga el camino al que Dios ha invitado a María.

Debemos tener cuidado con una cosa. El consejo que Jesús da a Marta y a María es un consejo destinado a Marta y María. No debemos cometer el error de aplicar los detalles de ese consejo a nuestra propia vida o a la vida de los demás.

Jesús nos invita a encontrar “lo que es mejor para nosotros” y a decir sí al llamado único de Dios hacia nosotros.

We all struggle to make sense of what we are called to be, and to become. The process of discernment is never an easy one, because in part, we do not really know ourselves well. It can also often happen that others try to assist us, but if they are not careful, they will give us advice that shows us options which are best for them, not for us. At times, even institutions, such as Churches can unintentionally do the same.

The famous account of the conversation between Martha and Jesus provides a fascinating insight into how this can play out. I have no doubt that Martha loves her Sister Mary. And yet, she does not respect the choices that Mary has made in her own attempt to respond to the call of God in her life. Martha feels sure that she knows what is best for Mary, and is unhappy when Mary does not do what she asks her to do. Perhaps she is overprotective, perhaps she is controlling, perhaps she just has ideas of what Mary ought to do!

Jesus, though, truly has Mary’s best interest at heart. Because he loves both Martha and Mary, he listens to Martha, hears what she has to say, and then challenges her to let go of her own wishes and desires, and to allow Mary to follow the path to which God has invited Mary.

We must be careful of one thing. The advice that Jesus gives to Martha and to Mary is advice intended for Martha and Mary. We should not make the mistake of applying the specifics of that advice to our own lives or to the lives of others. Jesus invites us to find “what is best for us” and to say yes to God’s unique call to us.

“El Obrero merece su salario,” “The Worker should be paid.”

On By millardscook1 Comment

Pentecost 4C—Proper 9, July 6, 2025

The Episcopal Church of the Holy Spirit

in Greensboro, North Carolina

In the Spring of 1985, I completed my first year as a Seminarian for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Charlotte at St. Mary’s Seminary and University in Baltimore Maryland. For me, it was the first year of a five-year program. The intellectual formation program for the Roman Catholic Church was an intense one. For those who, like me, had earned a bachelor’s degree, there was the requirement of completing one year of philosophy before beginning the four-year study of theology.

Since I had, to this point, studied philosophy, and a few basic classes to give an overview of the faith, I had not yet benefited from any of the classes which would later be so useful to me—such as Scripture Classes, and homiletics or preaching classes.

The custom was for each Seminarian to be given a summer assignment. Since I had earned a B.A. in history, with minors in French and Spanish from Appalachian State University, the decision was made to put my Spanish to use.

And so, I found out that I was to serve that Summer as Director of the Greensboro Vicariate Migrant Ministry Program. I lived at Our Lady of Grace, here in Greensboro, but during the day, worked out of Holy Infant Church in Reidsville. I was to travel the back roads of Rockingham, Guilford, Davidson, and Randolf counties, with an occasional visit to Stokes County.

On one level, it was a completely different world. I had never known migrants or spent any time with them. And yet, they were engaged in various forms of farm work. That, I knew all too well, having been raised as a farm boy on Old Beech Mountain on the borders of Avery and Watauga counties—and on the border of Carter and Johnson counties in Tennessee.

I quickly came to understand that these migrants, and occasionally migrant families, did not have easy lives. They invited me to their homes and were quick to share with me whatever they had. I was shocked to see the living conditions—especially those of the single men—and to hear the stories of their meager pay and bad working conditions. I saw with my own eyes the places where they worked, and the run-down shacks they were given to live in.

 Oddly enough, they took all of this with the most amazing spirit. I almost never heard a complaint from any of them. Although they missed Mexico and the Central American Countries they were from—El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua, they were very happy to be in the Piedmont of North Carolina, working hour after hour under the scorching sun. They were working to send money home to their families, and to save for a better future for themselves.

Each Sunday, I worked with Priests, from across the Vicariate to organize a Spanish Mass in the afternoon—after all the English activities had concluded at Holy Infant. Usually, following the Eucharist, there would be a feast—provided by a different parish from the Vicariate. Normally, I contacted the Priest who was coming, and the parish preparing the food about a week in advance.

About the third week that I was there, I contacted the Priest who would be coming the following week. He was very kind and gracious. However, he quickly took me by surprise. He did not really speak Spanish, he told me, but was willing to celebrate the Eucharist to the best of his ability. But, he would not preach. That, he felt, was beyond his ability, and he just did not have the time or the energy, on top of everything else that he was doing in his own parish, to try to prepare a sermon in Spanish.

He would come, he told me, under one condition. And that condition was that I would preach! I nearly had a litter of kittens right there on the spot. I hastened to tell him that I had completed one year of philosophy. I had not studied Scripture, I had not had any preaching classes, I had not even studied church history, for goodness sake. I was young, inexperienced, and really quite clueless. I had never preached, and was not honestly sure how to even go about it!

He told me that he was well aware of all that, and that none of that mattered. It was not about me, he said, but about the migrants. They deserved to have someone speak to them in their own language, which they would be able to understand, and to hopefully give them some words of encouragement and hope.

It quickly became apparent that his mind was made up. If I wanted a Spanish Mass, that was the price to be paid for it. I told him that I would try, that was all I could promise. He hastened to assure me that would be more than enough.

I agonized, prayed, read the readings a dozen times, and, in the end, wrote up a page or so. I was a nervous wreck. I was not afraid of the migrants, and felt very comfortable with them, but I was afraid that, as a preacher, I would be a failure!

Now I had heard many sermons in my life. I had a childhood full of Southern Baptist ones, and numerous ones in the five years that I had been a member of the Roman Catholic Church. But, it had never been me who was trying to preach—and in Spanish, no less. Talk about feeling completely “in over my head.”

Finally, the day came, and there I stood in front of the congregation for my first sermon! Interestingly enough, the Gospel passage was the very one we just heard the Deacon proclaim to us, from the tenth chapter of the Holy Gospel according to Saint Luke—the account of the sending out of the seventy.

As I looked out at the attentive congregation before me, something completely unexpected happened. It was as my eyes were opened to a completely new and different reality! I suddenly realized that those words I had just heard:

See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, `Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, `The kingdom of God has come near to you.’”

Words that the people in front of me had taken literally! They left everything behind them to travel, with great difficulty, and some danger, to a new country, to a new culture, to a new place to work. They were honestly like lambs, and some knew firsthand what it was to work for wolves. They had to accept whatever conditions they found the cost of even finding work. I was overwhelmed by the realization that they were amazing people of faith. They somehow trusted that God would be with them, would help them, and would provide the essentials that they needed to survive. Wow! And I suddenly realized that I was not sure that I had that kind of faith or trust.

Rather than having powerful words to share with that congregation, they ministered to me. Their own witness inspired me, challenged me, and encouraged me to view solidarity with the poor, marginalized, oppressed, and exploited to be at the very core of what it means to be a follower of Jesus the Christ.

There was a single line from that Gospel passage that was like an arrow, piercing my heart, “El obrero merece su salario!” “The laborer deserves to be paid!” That line has stayed with me all these years. It was really, my first introduction to the concept of “liberation theology,” of “social justice,” and of the theology, later to be so powerfully articulated of a “just living wage,” by John Paul II.

That one line, “the worker deserves to be paid,” was like putting on a new pair of glasses and finally seeing something important which I had never really seen previously. It would be easy to focus on a theology centered on heaven, and the things to come. Jesus, though, challenges us to combat injustice and oppression in the here-and now.

Are there hungry persons among you, feed them. Are there naked persons among you, clothe them. Are there sick persons among you, care for them. Are there people in prisons, and nursing homes, and hospitals, visit and comfort them!

And, in that moment, I came to understand that I would never forget that first sermon, that I would never forget the faith of those brave migrants, and that somehow I really wanted to work with them, for them, and to help, in whatever small way I could, to make their lives better.

My dear friends, some have been reluctant to speak of the good news which the Gospels share with the poor, the oppressed, the exploited, and the marginalized. Some of those who benefit from the status quo are quick to accuse those who speak out of engaging in partisan politics. And yet the Gospel of Jesus Christ will not be bound or limited by politics.

It is no accident that among those who first became followers of Jesus were many who were poor, destitute, looked down on, and marginalized. Even in the watch in the courtyard during the trial of Jesus, those gathered to watch made fun of the accents of Peter and the other disciples. They were poor fishermen from the middle of nowhere. They were not wealthy, powerful, well-educated or cultured. They spoke like country bumpkins, had calloused hands, and may have smelled like hard workers. And yet, they were the very ones Jesus chose to proclaim the good news!

In these difficult days which we face as a state and as a nation, I pray that we will not forget the hungry, homeless, and the marginalized. I pray that we will stand up for those who live in fear of harassment, deportation, and of abuse. If we do, I know that in loving them, in caring for them, and in attempting to meet their basic needs, we will also minister to Jesus, who has sent them to be our guests.

Summary of the Sermon in English and Spanish

El primer sermón que prediqué se basó en este pasaje del Evangelio de Lucas. El sermón fue en español. En el verano de 1985, yo estaba sirviendo como Director del Programa del Ministerio Migrante de Greensboro, trabajando en la Parroquia Santo Nino en Reidsville. El sacerdote que vino a celebrar la Eucaristía en español me dijo que solo vendría a presidir si yo accedía a predicar. Fue una experiencia aterradora, y me sentí completamente desprevenida e inadecuada. Sin embargo, al final, no pude decirle que no a Dios, y estaba dispuesta a al menos intentarlo.

Fue una experiencia que transformó completamente mi comprensión del ministerio y de la fe. En las personas reunidas ante mí ese día, encontré una mayor fe y confianza en Dios de lo que jamás había visto. En lugar de tener palabras poderosas para compartir con esa congregación, me ministraron a mí. Su propio testimonio me inspiró, me desafió y me animó a considerar que la solidaridad con los pobres, marginados, oprimidos y explotados está en el centro mismo de lo que significa ser un seguidor de Jesús el Cristo.

Esa frase, “el trabajador merece su salario”, me ha acompañado todos estos años. Sería fácil enfocarse en una teología centrada en el cielo y en las cosas por venir. Jesús, sin embargo, nos desafía a preocuparnos por la injusticia y la opresión en el aquí y ahora. ¿Hay personas con hambre, dales de comer? Están allí desnudos, vístelos. ¿Hay enfermos, cuídalos? ¿Hay personas en prisiones, hogares de ancianos y hospitales, visítalas y consuélalas?

¡Esta es la buena noticia de Jesús para todos nosotros hoy!

The first sermon which I preached was based on this passage from the Gospel of Luke. The sermon was in Spanish. I was serving as the Director of the Greensboro Migrant Ministry Program in the summer of 1985, working out of Holy Infant Parish in Reidsville. The Priest who came to celebrate the Eucharist in Spanish told me that he would only come to preside if I agreed to preach. It was a frightening experience, and I felt completely unprepared and inadequate. However, in the end, I could not say no to God, and I was willing to at least try.

It was an experience which completely transformed my understanding of ministry, and of faith. In the persons gathered before me that day, I encountered greater faith in and trust in God that I had ever seen. Rather than having powerful words to share with that congregation, they ministered to me. Their own witness inspired me, challenged me, and encouraged me to view solidarity with the poor, marginalized, oppressed, and exploited to be at the very core of what it means to be a follower of Jesus the Christ.

That one line, “the worker deserves to be paid,” has stayed with me all these years. It would be easy to focus on a theology centered on heaven, and the things to come. Jesus, though challenges us to worry about injustice and oppression in the here-and now. Are there hungry, feed them. Are there naked, clothe them. Are there sick, care for them. Are there people in prisons, and nursing homes, and hospitals, visit and comfort them!

This is the good news of Jesus to all of us today!