I don’t think that this village is Bethany and I don’t think that this Mary and Martha are the sisters of Lazarus. This is Martha’s house. It appears to be Martha alone who opens the home to guests. There is no mention here of a father or a husband, a son or a brother. Warning: wild speculation ahead.

If I’m correct, Martha is either orphaned or widowed. In either case she’s in a precarious social position and may also have significant financial concerns. It’s important to these sisters to maintain their social position. A scandal could have unpleasant consequences.

There’s a social benefit to hosting the traveling rabbi. Especially if the party is well organized, the food and wine and entertainment thoughtfully prepared, the conventions of etiquette and respectability carefully followed. But there’s no benefit if your sister to sits there at his feet, like a student, or worse. She’s right there with his disciples, all these men, in the front room, not modestly keeping herself out of sight. That could have the village tongues wagging in ways that are detrimental to both sisters.

It’s often women who enforce the restrictions of patriarchy on other women. Mothers and sisters and aunts and grandmothers insisting that the rules of  proper feminine behaviour be followed. There are reasons for that. Sometimes it’s fear, sometimes a kind of envy, sometimes a failure to see that other things are possible, sometimes investment in the current system.

Whatever the reason, that enforcement can sound exactly like this: Come help me in the kitchen.

The author of this story takes Martha’s request at face value assuming that the work to be done is real work that needs doing and not primarily an excuse to get Mary away from the guests.

Jesus’ refuses to participate and his response suggests that he sees something more going on. He references only Martha’s worries and the two sisters’ choices.

Martha’s choices here exemplify the conventional. She’s working hard to maintain a social position, and she extends that to ensuring that her sister is respectable. It’s not hard to understand why, to empathize with Martha. She’s a woman surviving without a man in a society that is not going to help her thrive that way and she’s doing it by remaining carefully within the structures and limitations of her social position at all costs.

Jesus gives space here for everyone pushing against the restrictions of social approval. Whether that’s the expectations of patriarchy, cis-heteronormativity, or capitalism, there’s approval here of the unconventional and a correction for the one who is working to enforce conformity.

Mary has chosen a less conventional path and it will not be taken away from her.

Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:41-42 Full Text Luke 10:38-42

I was going to write about the parable and the exchange which introduces it this week, but then I read the Amos passage and I think we have to start there.

Amos, a shepherd and an orchard-keeper has a vision of judgement and feels compelled to share it. There’s a message for the Kingdom of Israel and for Judah, and for many of the surrounding areas. In this week’s passage, we have this image:

This is what he showed me: The Lord was standing by a wall that had been built true to plumb, with a plumb line in his hand. And the Lord asked me, “What do you see, Amos?”

“A plumb line,” I replied.

Then the Lord said, “Look, I am setting a plumb line among my people Israel; I will spare them no longer.

Amos 7:7-8 Full Text Amos 7:7-17

You have to read back into the earlier parts of Amos to learn the charges against Israel. There’s lots here about oppression, about the treatment of the poor, and about failures of justice. The first several chapters of Amos are a worthwhile read and feel uncomfortably relevant recently. There’s also lots of description of what that judgement might entail. There’s lots of war and death and destruction.

The parable of the good Samaritan as recorded in Luke is triggered with a question about the Law. The person asking phrases it in terms of eternal life but the answer given is a basic and well known summary of the commandments. Love God. Love your neighbour.

Amos imagines measuring a community based on how well they fulfill these commands: how well they care for the disadvantaged, how much justice is available for the poor, how much love there is for neighbours. Where that care and justice and love is withheld he tells of the consequences.

The parable is in response to the question of who counts as a neighbour. The Samaritan counts. The stranger counts. The foreigner counts. The injured man beside the road counts. Amos reminds us about a coming divine judgment for those who fail to love their neighbour.

I’m often uncomfortable with the kinds of judgement described in Amos. There’s always the feeling that I, and communities that I am a part of, resemble the target of this prophecy. I’m comfortable, and busy and frequently fail to live up to my ideals about loving my neighbours. But recently, with all the terrible things happening in the world that I can’t fix, I can see the appeal of this. Sometimes it would be really nice to have justice enforced by divine force if necessary, to have the consequences be indisputable.

Jesus is sending his people out into the countryside and unlike last week where his instructions weren’t clear enough and the disciples almost burned down a village, this time he’s giving very specific instructions about what to do both in the case that the disciples are welcomed and in the case that they are not.

The disciples are to take nothing with them, no gear, no money and additionally they’re not to make friends on the way. They are to  become vulnerable without the protection of gear or money or even traveling companions. When they arrive at their destinations they will be entirely dependant on the hospitality of their hosts.

Both when the disciples are welcomed and when they are not, they are told to announce that the Kingdom of God has come near.

The Kingdom of God is embodied in these travelers arrived in town with no money, no spare clothing, and no traveling companions. It doesn’t matter whether or not the travelers are welcomed. The Kingdom comes near anyway.

This whole setup can feel a little like a test, like Jesus is looking for the towns that will welcome these strangers and playing a bit of a game to reward some and condemn others. But today for me it feels more like a symbol. The Kingdom of God is embodied by a vulnerable stranger and the Kingdom of God comes to these communities regardless of their actions.

There’s a choice of how to respond of course. The presence of the Kingdom is both a blessing and a warning. Both at once.

“When you enter a town and are welcomed, eat what is offered to you. Heal the sick who are there and tell them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But when you enter a town and are not welcomed, go into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town we wipe from our feet as a warning to you. Yet be sure of this: The kingdom of God has come near.’

Luke 10:8-11 Full Text Luke 10:1-11,16-20