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Today we heard the story of Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus and the daughters of Simon. We see Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus and Martha scurrying about in the kitchen preparing a meal for their special friend and guest.
Have you ever been asked if you are more like Martha or more like Mary? Are you a worker or a contemplative, perhaps? And which do you think Jesus prefers? Or does Jesus invite us to be both; to serve and to sit, to work and to worship, to hold all things in love?
This is what I want to talk about today. I have read many commentaries and listened to many sermons that say Mary did what Jesus wanted by sitting at his feet and listening in rapt attention, while Martha was running around in the kitchen, overwhelmed, and complaining about not getting the help she needed to prepare for Jesus’ visit.
Often the interpretation is that Jesus admonishes Martha and says she should sit down with Mary and listen; that listening to Jesus and being at his feet is more important than preparing a meal.
But that’s not exactly it. What if this story is not about choosing sides, but about choosing Jesus; again and again, wherever we find ourselves? It’s true: Martha is distracted and overwhelmed, frustrated that her sister isn’t helping, and so she pleads with Jesus to send Mary into the kitchen. Martha genuinely believes that her work is more important than Mary’s simply sitting and listening, and she wants Jesus to see that too.
I understand Martha’s impulse. I know what it’s like to feel torn between doing the tasks that need doing and being fully present with those in front of me. I know the urge to point out someone when I believe they aren’t pulling their weight. I know how easily my mind can slip into my to-do list, even when I truly want my heart to rest in the Kingdom of God. And yet, Jesus’ mercy is large enough to hold all our distractions, and to draw us gently back where we belong.
Have you ever felt distracted during worship? Maybe even during a sermon like this one? You suddenly remember you forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer, or you start mentally rewriting an email, or wondering if your phone is actually on silent.
I’ve been there, more times than I can count. But even in those moments when we are distracted, mercy meets us. Worship isn’t about getting everything right or having laser focus the whole time. It’s about returning, again and again, to the God who is already here.
Even a wandering mind can find its way back to love, sometimes all it takes is a deep breath and a little nudge from the Holy Spirit.
I remember once, years ago, I was in the sacristy right before a big feast day service. I was fussing over candles that wouldn’t stand straight and a Sanctus in the Altar Book that was out of place. I was so absorbed in these details that I almost overlooked an acolyte standing quietly nearby who simply needed reassurance that they knew what they were supposed to do.
In that moment, Jesus nudged my spirit: the candles and the Altar Book were important, but the person standing in front of me was even more so. That was my Martha moment, and my invitation to sit at Jesus’ feet right there in that quiet conversation. That day, mercy found me in a soft word and a moment of presence.
In the same way, Jesus invites Martha out of her anxious busyness into rest and trust in the presence of God, with great tenderness. Jesus reminds her that true life in God’s Kingdom calls us to be fully present, to the beauty, wisdom, and love that stand before us in the person of Jesus. His mercy doesn’t shame her; it calls her by name, and gently calls her back to what truly matters.
Jesus says, “Martha, Martha, you are distracted by many things.” He says her name twice to show his affection and to fully get her attention. There are only two people in the New Testament that Jesus calls by name twice. The other is Peter, another close friend. In the Old Testament, when God calls people by name twice: “Moses, Moses,” “Job, Job,” “Abraham, Abraham” it is always out of affection, a gentle way of saying: stop, listen, come back to what truly matters. God is showing mercy. In that double calling of Martha’s name, we hear a double portion of mercy.
Jesus is showing Martha that Mary’s heart is fully turned toward him, while Martha’s attention is divided, caught up in her tasks and in judging what Mary isn’t doing. At its core, this story is about focus. Where our attention goes, our hearts soon follow. And the mercy of God is always calling our hearts back, again and again, to the One who matters most.
Life in God’s Kingdom invites both action and reflection: to serve with our hands and to listen with our hearts. Both are sacred when rooted in love. Our relationship with Jesus is the foundation, and from that place of love, mercy holds everything together, weaving stillness and service into one seamless, holy offering.
Preparing a meal can become a form of prayer, a quiet act of worship, or it can become a source of stress and resentment. The difference isn’t in the task itself, but in the heart behind it. That’s the holy shift: mercy transforms the ordinary into something sacred.
But here’s the thing: sitting at Jesus’ feet can also become a distraction if our minds wander away from what we came to do. To show you what I mean, let me retell the Mary and Martha story with a twist:
Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and tried to listen to what he was saying. But Mary was distracted by many things; so she said to Jesus, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left us to prepare the meal? Tell her to come and sit with us.” But the Lord answered her, “Mary, Mary, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Martha has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
Do you see what changes? Mary could just as easily have been the one distracted, even while sitting at Jesus’ feet, and Martha could just as easily have chosen the better part; serving with joy, free from worry and resentment. The point is not the task; it is the focus of the heart. Mercy does not weigh tasks but measures the heart.
So what matters most is not whether we are sitting at Jesus’ feet or serving his dinner. What matters is why we are doing what we are doing, and the focus we carry in our hearts. Are we free from hidden resentments? Are we acting out of love? Are we aware that Jesus is right here with us? Is our heart open to mercy in every small act?
Here at Epiphany, the mantle on the fireplace in the Fireside Room says, “They prepared the supper, and Martha served.” The stained-glass windows right back there in the corner depict Mary and Martha (though Martha is currently out on a much-needed holiday getting a few touch-ups, and Mary will follow soon)! The placement of both the fireplace mantle and the stained-glass window were intentional. The fireplace is in what used to be called the Altar Guild Room, a place for the ladies (yes, only ladies back then) to gather, mend linens, stitch new vestments, have their business meetings, and prepare for worship.
The stained-glass windows are just outside the sacristy, where the flowers are arranged and the silver is polished and prepared for the service.
Both the window and the fireplace mantle remind us of the quiet, faithful service of the Altar Guild. Unlike Martha, our Altar Guild members do not complain! They certainly don’t grumble about those who prefer to sit in Bible study instead of ironing purificators. I can honestly say that the people (men and women) who serve in the Altar Guild today do so with gratitude.
They find joy working behind the scenes, preparing the linens and the sacred meal for all of us. Their focus is on God. They remind us that humble tasks are holy when done with love. They remind us that mercy lives in the hidden corners and quiet labors of the church.
The people who serve at the altar during the services each week: vergers, acolytes, Eucharistic Ministers, priests, musicians, and others, do so out of love for God and love for neighbor. Last week a parishioner told me that serving at the altar was the most important part of her spiritual journey here at Epiphany. I have to agree. People sometimes ask me when I worship because I am working at church on Sunday.
My answer is always the same: I always worship. On many of the chimeres that the vergers wear is the seal of the Vergers Guild of the Episcopal Church. It says Servitas in cultu et cultis per servitatem; “Service in worship and worship through service.” That is exactly what I feel as I serve at God’s altar. Do I get it right every time? No. Am I never distracted? Of course not. But God is merciful.
When I remember God’s mercy, I can be merciful with myself and others too. I can refocus my attention on the liturgy and on worshiping God and in being in God’s presence.
We come to the altar imperfect, but mercy meets us there. And in a few moments, we’ll gather at this table, where we are both Mary and Martha. We come as guests to be fed, and as servants to help feed others. Here we find that our worship and our service are one and the same: an offering of love to God and each other. Here, mercy makes our offering holy.
When we give our full attention to God, whether through quiet contemplation or humble service, we live in the Kingdom of God right here and right now.
We abide in mercy, and mercy abides in us. If you get distracted this week, I invite you to pause when you notice it, even for just a breath, and pray, “Jesus, turn my heart back to you.” May we remember that we are always welcome to begin again, no matter how busy or scattered we feel. God’s love and mercy wait for us in every pause, every breath, every turning back to abide in God’s presence.
May we keep our hearts turned to Jesus, in service and in stillness. And when we wander, as we surely will, may God’s mercy draw us back, again and again. May all we do be rooted in mercy, and crowned in love.