Nevertheless She Persisted: St. Martha's Profession of Faith

Today is the feast of St. Martha, that woman so often maligned as NOT having "chosen the better part" because she insisted on the tasks of hospitality while Jesus was in her home. She is portrayed in Luke 10:38-42 as a querulous, busy woman, who complained that her sister Mary was not helping with the tasks of serving the 13 guests who had suddenly appeared in their home.

But that is not all we know of Martha in scripture. In John 11:19-27, the first choice for today's Gospel at Mass, she runs to meet Jesus, who has finally come to see Lazarus, having learned he has died.

First, she scolds the Lord with "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."  However, she continues with "But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you." She is setting the stage for the possibility that Jesus could raise Lazarus from the dead. Why? Because she believes.

After an exchange during which she assures him she believes that Lazarus will rise on the last day, Jesus says to her:

"I am the resurrection and the life;
whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live,
and anyone who lives and believes in me will never die.
Do you believe this?"

Never one to hold back, Martha replies with a strong and unequivocal profession of faith: "Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God,  the one who is coming into the world."  Recognize the words of this exchange? They are paraphrased in the final two verses of the popular hymn by Suzanne Toolan, "I am the Bread of Life."

It's no wonder the Church chooses this reading for the Third Scrutiny for those entering the Church as catechumens. This is not just about the raising of Lazarus, but about the power of faith in Jesus Christ.

It's time we rehabilitated our vision of Martha and realized that to see her as the too-busy complaining sister is reductive of her significance. She was a woman unafraid to step out of her culture's preferred subservient role for women to confront a man when she felt it was warranted. Indeed, she is the poster-child for today's "Nevertheless she persisted" meme.

In the medieval world, she was portrayed as the saint of Christian service, but also as a strong force in defense of truth, sometimes shown with holy water and an aspergillium. The French legend still celebrated in Provencal today that she tamed the man-eating dragon Tarasque, which she then led around on a thin chain like a pet, is a vision of a woman of power. Legend even has it that Jesus Christ himself came down to celebrate her funeral Mass.  

Today, on her memorial, remember the woman who stood up to Jesus and boldly told him it was his fault her brother had died, but that she believed Jesus could do anything. What a model of faith - and persistence - for today's doubtful world!

The Good Shepherd and the "Different Drummer"

When I was in high school, I liked to think of myself as intellectually superior. It's one of the hazards of being young. It was the 60's - and on TV, I saw that young people were pushing the envelopes of lifestyles and thought. Even though I lived in a small town far from Hippie havens, I wanted to be that too. Also, I was the nerd kid who wore glasses, never dated until Junior year prom. I was the kid reading The Lord of the Rings during freshman study hall and getting weird looks. I was the kid taking 5 subjects instead of 4. I was going to college.  I didn't (and still don't) do chick flicks.

During that time, I thought Jesus was for sentimental people who weren't smart enough to know better.  (I was raised mixed Protestant with a large dose of Unitarian, seasoned with after-dinner discussions of existentialism with my stepfather, a former minister.)

My personal motto was from Henry David Thoreau: "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."  I believed I was meant to do that. I was special. I was different. I abhorred mediocrity and my greatest fear was that I would be "ordinary." I did NOT want to be a sheep.

In college, I continued that. I quickly found a relationship with a like-minded young man (who later became my husband) took as many courses as possible each semester, participated in anti-war protests, went to rock concerts and blues bars, spent lots of time in libraries, read voraciously, spent hours in record stores looking for non-mainstream music. We almost never partied. We were serious students. We went to graduate school and the intellectual distance between me and those from my small town widened. I continued to follow the beat of the "different drummer." We were part of the intellectual elite. We were also unchurched.

Fast-forward to 1986. I had, in the meantime had married my young man, who, not incidentally, was an inactive Catholic. Following the usual formula, I promised to raise any children as Catholics. By 1986, my oldest was in preschool and my latent memories of Protestant Sunday School kicked in - I figured it was time to get my boy in.. and I wanted to learn what he would be learning. Next thing you know, I was in the RCIA and joining the Church. The Shepherd had found a lost sheep. (I had a clear vision of a sheep-hook reaching out and grabbing me at one point early on!)

What I found was a Church (and a Jesus) far different from my expectations. I learned to love the parish community - people of all backgrounds and abilities. I learned that it was OK to be a sheep, if I was in the right flock. I learned that my role on earth was to cooperate with God's grace in "building the kingdom."  I learned about the Social Teaching of the Church:  the dignity of EVERY human person, passion for the poor and downtrodden, advocacy for those who have no voice, opposition to injustice... and I learned that the Christian life was not for milquetoasts or intellectual lightweights. (In the personal hardship of the years that have followed, this has only been reinforced.)

I have learned over the years that Jesus Christ is the different drummer in today's culture. That to be Christian is to be truly counter-cultural. In a world where beliefs about life, marriage, and sin are now regularly challenged by the media, the mainstream culture, politicians and those who make laws, we who follow the teaching of Christ and his Church have become the ones who are seen as outside the pale. Others see us as having antiquated beliefs that must be changed. Pretty much they misunderstand those beliefs - and have beliefs from mainstream Christian churches mixed in with those of conservative, intolerant right-wing Evangelicals who have re-written Christian belief as a political agenda. Readers are, no doubt, familiar with all the issues, as hardly a day goes by when some of them are not in the news.

Today, many years out of high school, I can honestly say that I still follow a different drummer. However, he's not some abstract intellectual ideal. He is a living being, who came as a carpenter from Nazareth, who died and rose for our sins, who loves us unconditionally. He is the Good Shepherd who seeks his lost sheep (as he did me) who must weep at much that he sees in today's world. Our vocation, as his disciples, is to weep, too. But also to follow and be faithful, to likewise seek the lost sheep, even in the face of opposition and adversity. We are sheep, but we also are followers who must take up our cross and follow Jesus Christ to Calvary and beyond, who are called to preach, teach and baptize in the name of the Shepherd. Jesus Christ IS my different drummer - and I follow him gladly...

After the Whale

In the first reading for this weekend, we encounter a totally cooperative Jonah, freshly released from the belly of the whale and finally off to do God's work without further protest.

Pieter Lastman - Jonah and the Whale

Jonah, who first ran, then tried to sail away from God's will, is now the willing mouthpiece to announce the destruction of Ninevah if its inhabitants do not turn away from their sins. Rather willingly, they immediately give up their ways and God does not destroy them. Somehow, Jonah, who was so reluctant a prophet, was totally convincing.

This weekend, no doubt, many of us will hear homilies about the need to repent and believe in the Good News, the message of Jesus, who has just appeared in Galilee following the death of John the Baptist.

But what of willingness to evangelize others?  Jesus, ultimately, will hand that to the disciples as their mission when he leaves earth at his Ascension. How many Catholics today are more like Jonah, ducking and mumbling, "Anyone else but me, Lord!"?

Truth be told, the best evangelizers are the people who have known the belly of the whale - the hopeless, terrorizing suffering of  "three days and three nights" in the dark (Jon. 2:1) before seeing the light of day again. People who have gone through the dark times in life and again have seen the light are often most willing to tell their story and of the God who saved them. Of course, the three days/nights parallel the three days of Jesus' own Paschal Mystery.

Those who have suffered in life make good evangelizers, but so do people who allow themselves to suffer with Christ by immersing themselves in the Easter Triduum. If you look out at the assembly of those who are willing to be there for all of the Three Days, you will usually see those active in service of others in the parish, through teaching, charity and other action. They are also the people who are most likely to regularly attend Sunday Mass, because they know what it means when the Church says that each Sunday is a little Easter. Their frequent participation in the sacrifice of the Mass strengthens their connection to Christ and to his message - and to their mission to proclaim Christ - and the joy of salvation.

These are the truly engaged parishioners - and they are most willing to take on the role of prophets and evangelizers.  So, where do we find the faithful witnesses who can become our best evangelizers? Look first for those who have their own stories of suffering... and look among those who fill the pews during those celebrations that others feel are "optional." Those who know that really know God.  Listen to them - and provide them with opportunities to testify to their faith in the parish and the community. They are a gift.

Opening the Door for God’s Grace through the Sacrament of Penance

Sometimes, if you open a door, God will walk into your life and change it. I had that experience 14 years ago: I went to confession and a huge blockage in my life was resolved. Actually, the confession itself was nothing special, but what happened immediately afterward was. In fact, it changed the course of my life and was a clear sign for me that God is alive and active – and that all you have to do is open the door and let God in.

As a convert, I came to the Church initially because I felt my two sons needed me to help them understand the faith they would be learning about. My experience of the RCIA and of the parish rapidly became for me much more than that. I was soon an active volunteer in music, liturgy, catechesis and an active part of a very vital community.

Several years later, I was divorced. I had been out of the workforce for several years raising my children and the only job I could find was working as a secretary in a diocesan office, even though I had an M.A. in English and two additional years of graduate school. After a few years, with the support of the priest I worked for, I began studies for a Masters in Pastoral Studies, emphasis in liturgy. After graduation, it should have been easy, but jobs for liturgists who don’t play the organ are few. In addition, an unfortunate change of supervisors drove me to apply for any job that looked reasonable, secular or church. Although I had several interviews, nothing worked out. I was underemployed, disliked my job situation and was experiencing severe financial stress. Frankly, I became depressed.

Then I began to hear a voice in my head: “Bloom where you’re planted,” it said – at random times. Now, as a former English major, I abhor clichés – and never use them willingly. I knew instinctively that voice was not mine. I was frankly annoyed, but the voice was rather insistent.

About that time, I had an unsettling experience. Unexpectedly, I was asked to provide music for an Ignatian retreat for diocesan deacons, but when participating in one of the guided reflections, I saw the faces of three people who had recently died, and for whom I had a lot of unresolved grief. That upset me greatly and prevented me from going forward with the meditation. God, the retreat master explained, was apparently trying to tell me something through these people. I needed to journal, pray and listen, he advised. A month later, I made my Cursillo, out of a strong sense that I really needed to be there, despite the fact that I was having some major health issues

It was during the weekend that it happened. We had a communal celebration of the Sacrament of Penance. I made my confession to an elderly retired priest whom I knew very well, who occasionally assisted with Masses at my parish. Father Richter was a fine priest of the old school, kindly, but not particularly creative with the sacrament. My brief confession was pretty much pro forma – I remember vaguely expressing regret for my bad attitude and asking for God’s help. He assigned me three “Our Fathers and a Hail Mary” for my penance.

After absolution, I started to walk across the chapel back to my seat. Halfway there, that annoying voice again in my head: “Bloom where you’re planted.” For the first time, I confronted the voice: “I can’t bloom where I’m planted, God! I hate where I’m planted!” I thought. “THEN PLANT YOURSELF WHERE YOU CAN BLOOM!!” I was stunned. It was so obvious – yet I had never even considered looking for work outside of the city where I had lived for the past 19 years, where all my friends – and my sons – lived.

What followed was an intensive job search. Eventually, a job opened up – a parish that was seeking a liturgy director unexpectedly also needed a director of religious education and it turned out I was actually qualified for both, so a joint position was created. I had found my way and I knew that it had not been on my own.

Would it have happened without that moment when the grace of the Sacrament allowed me to open up the door to God? Probably. God will always find a way. However, now I know better than to dismiss the notion that sacraments do what they say they do. By removing what was blocking my vision and forward progress in that moment, God had provided me with a way through that allowed me to follow His plan for me.

I used this story in parent meetings for First Reconciliation when I worked in the parish. It is my witness to the gift that sacrament can be in our lives. I know that God will sometimes use the openness and vulnerability that we can experience through Penance to open us to His will.

That day as I celebrated the sacrament, I had unlocked a door in my heart and left it open, just for a moment. God took that opportunity and walked in – not to fix the problem (I still had a lot of searching, discerning and waiting to do) but to allow me to hear God’s will for my life: “Leave your country and your people and go to the land I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1) I may not have found the promised land, but I found my vocation, through the grace and guidance of God.

This is a Catholic Blog Day post. Please visit this page to see links to other posts for today on the topic of Penance.