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July 17, 2022“A woman whose name was Martha welcomed him.” (Lk 10:38)
Today we enter with Jesus into the house of Martha, where we will meet her sister Mary, and perhaps also her brother Lazarus. On July 29th we celebrate the feast of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, hosts of the Lord which, until just last year, was for the universal Church, St Martha’s day. On February 2nd, 2021, Pope Francis decreed that St Martha would henceforth share her feast day with her siblings, Mary and Lazarus. Signed by Cardinal Robert Sarah, prefect of the Divine Worship congregation, the pope's decree said that “in the household of Bethany the Lord Jesus experienced the family spirit and friendship of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, and for this reason, the Gospel of John states that he loved them.” “Martha generously offered him hospitality, Mary listened attentively to his words and Lazarus promptly emerged from the tomb at the command of the One who humiliated death.”
Cistercians, Camaldolese and Benedictines have traditionally honored the three siblings together. This may be because of the strong witness of the Fathers to the hosts of the Lord, in combination with Benedictine emphasis on hospitality. St Bernard famously used the siblings as an analogy for different ways of serving within a monastic community, or for different modes of service for a given person according to circumstances. You might say this takes the teeth out of the story, since conflict seems to be at its center. This conflict is perpetuated in arguments about how the story is to be interpreted.
I was struck by Fr Michael Casey’s original interpretation we heard recently at Compline. Martha “stands over” Jesus, in a threatening posture, perhaps with hands on hips, asserting control over all that happens in her house. Jesus rebukes, not her generous and necessary service, but her consuming anxiety, need for control and intention to draw her sister away from her own proper form of service in the moment. Conflict seems to be present in other stories featuring these siblings, too. In John, when Jesus visits them after their brother’s death, both Mary and Martha have something to say to him: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died,” a rebuke Jesus accepts mutely. When all members of the family are together, each has a distinctive mode of presence to Jesus: Martha served, Lazarus sat at table and Mary came in bearing aromatic oil. This time it is Judas who rebukes Mary for the waste of resources in her senseless act of reverence. What these gospel scenes tell me is that Martha, Mary and Lazarus provide Jesus with a friendly and familial setting in which the comfort level is such that obvious differences, even rebuke and counter-rebuke, can be absorbed without detriment to the relationships.
The first reading from Genesis puts to flight any idea that the Church interprets Jesus’ words to Martha as a rejection of her service. The story tells of Abraham and Sarah’s overwhelming hospitality to the Lord in the form of three men found wandering past their tent. The alacrity with which they receive the “favor” of welcoming guests is said to be typical of ancient near-eastern culture, and the implication is that they did not know whom they were welcoming. This became a gospel teaching: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (Hb 13:2).
Jesus said: “I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Matt 25:35; RB 38). In response to this, hospitality became an essential part of monastic spirituality. For the most austere hermit in the Egyptian desert, receiving a brother in Christ was favor enough to break his fast and interrupt his prayers. St Benedict is clear in his teaching that the guest is to be received as Christ. This stranger is to be greeted with culturally appropriate reverence, “all the courtesy of love,” and “every humanity.”
Meeting Christ in the encounter with a guest is a beautiful thing, and it can happen in different ways. I remember three instances that have stayed with me. One day I was called down to speak with a priest who arrived unexpectedly. I was nervous, not knowing what to expect. We were both wearing masks, and in spite of this, or perhaps because of it, the facial feature that leapt out at me was his eyes. And in these eyes, I saw the gentleness of Jesus. His gaze expressed interest, acceptance, honor. This was very palpable to me at that moment. Another example is when I sat down with a young woman for a long talk about her life. In this case, as the conversation opened into deeper areas, what I experienced was a growing tenderness toward this person in her struggles, but a tenderness that did not originate with me. It was as if Jesus were looking through my eyes at his cherished one, receiving her unconditionally through me, and giving me what he wanted to say to her. A third example comes from the time when I was Candy Production Manager, which put me in more frequent contact with deliverymen and machine servicemen. One of these was a gruff sort, never short of complaints about his life, his health, how badly he was treated by his employer and other customers, and just about everything else. But I liked him. One day, when he had finished working on a machine, he told me he needed time and space to fill out all the “stupid paperwork” his company made him do, and I would need to wait for him to finish and sign it afterwards. I invited him to use the conference room for as long as he needed, and quite spontaneously smiled at him and said, “it’s no trouble at all.” Later, when he was ready to leave, he looked uncomfortable, but as he spoke, I realized he was deeply moved. He mumbled, “I’m not going to charge you anything. No one treats me like you folks do.” These moments made real for me the “favor” that hospitality bestows on the one who gives: an encounter with the Lord, whether in the other person or within oneself.
Nevertheless, to limit hospitality to the function of the guest sister, or to those moments when we are called upon to welcome someone from outside the community is too narrow. We know how having company makes us feel: a certain gladness and bounce in our step. Guests bring out the best in us. We see everything good in them and feel good ourselves. Someone remarked to me recently that it’s easy to lay down your life for someone you’ve just met or whom you only see occasionally. The real challenge is to do that for those we live with, day in and day out, whose peccadillos are the pinpricks of daily life and whose faults we are tempted to dismiss as unchangeable. I have heard the same thing expressed in terms of being a “street angel” and a “house devil.” With those outside I am my best self. With those inside, my worst self comes out. Martha was ready to welcome Jesus, but not her own sister Mary. Like Martha we are challenged to practice hospitality ad intra in our relationships with one another. The honor shown to guests belongs to our sisters too.
One example that comes to mind. I remember our Sr Eleanor, who died several years ago, as a strong character. She was not infrequently in conflict with those around her. What bothered me was her habit of singing very loudly and out of tempo with the choir. I would grind my teeth at her from my choirstall and give thanks when she was quiet for some reason. But, at a certain point I realized that staying quiet and not singing meant that she was feeling unwell. She sang loudly when she felt well, when she was herself. This changed my attitude. I began to find myself welcoming the dissonant sound of her voice.
Our upcoming retreat offers us the “favor” of practicing hospitality to the Lord in an intense way, through a time of greater silence, solitude and prayer. I have read in Carthusian literature that the best way for them to serve one another is to leave one another alone. Perhaps we can take a leaf out of their book during these days, helping one another to step away from anxiety about many things to give space for the one thing necessary. This means not only taking the time and space we need for solitary prayer but ensuring others have it too. Like Martha, Mary and Lazarus, may we as a community create a welcoming space for the Lord, for our guests and for one another.
Icon: Old Testament Trinity by Andrei Rublev
