The Mediator Mic

Sermon: July 20, 2025

• Mother Ezgi

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 The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Luke 10:38-42

The Rev'd Ezgi Saribay Perkins, Rector 

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In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, please be seated. During the pandemic, all of us were forced to adapt to a new reality. In our yoga pants and isolation, we began to reflect what really matters when life pauses. Some of my friends took up knitting, baking sardo bread, or canning as they were preparing for an Armageddon, Other of my friends cured meats and made homemade pasta and tortillas from scratch And I said to my husband once, who has time to make tortillas from scratch? We had just moved to the town of Ripon, Wisconsin, one month before the world shut down and I worried that the isolation and the lack of natural interaction with my parishioners would make them question whether their narrator was earning her keep, because I didn't know their names or values or how they ministered to them and it felt like moving into someone's home while they were on vacation. So I decided to pick up a paintbrush. I decluttered and painted the church one room at a time hoping to show them how much I cared. I don't know that they ever shared that sentiment. But up until that point, deep thoughts didn't come to me in moments of quiet meditation, but they came to me through emotion, projects, to-do lists, plans. And that approach of loving God through action alone eventually brought me to the edge of burnout. I felt empty, as if my worth depended on performance and not presence. The belief that God measures us by what we achieve or how others perceive us is not only false, it is profoundly unholy. And it stands in stark contrast to the story we hear this morning in the Gospel. Last week, Fr. Patrick reminded us that Jesus doesn't measure us by how well we keep religious laws, but by the love we show our neighbor. Today's gospel raises a different but related question. Do our cultural expectations and personal obligations keep us from the one thing that matters most, being present with Jesus? The hospitality story of Mary and Martha invites us to reflect on godly love And poses an important question, Do our cultural responsibilities and conventions often keep us from doing what is most loving? And I think the point of this text is that our genuine love for God bears fruit in our intent listening and communing with Jesus' presence, even when they break social convention. First, there will be many cultural worries that will try to tear us from a genuine love of God. What's behind Martha's worry? We often hear this story and rush to assign blame. Well, Martha should have just sat down and listened like Mary. But let's be fair to Martha for a moment. Martha is not being frivolous. She is not distracted by binge-watching Hulu or gossip. She is welcoming Jesus, a Jewish rabbi, a miracle-working prophet, into her home as a rare female head of household. And not just Jesus, but likely his male disciples too. So like any other good woman of her time, Martha gets to work. She prepares the meal anticipating the needs. She is not just doing chores. She is honoring the sacred expectations of hospitality. But beneath all this activity is a woman who is quietly coming apart. The text tells us she is worried by many things. What are those things, you ask? Maybe she's worried about the food coming out on time, or whether there is enough pita and lamb for these men. Maybe she's worried about how the household will be perceived by guests, especially with her sister sitting among the men. Maybe she's worried that Mary's boldness would cost her reputation, her chances of marriage, and bring shame to their family name. And maybe, if we're honest, she's worried that Jesus won't notice her. That Mary's boldness is somehow more spiritual than Martha's outward faithfulness. And friends, that's a very human fear. Martha is not the only one in Scripture who gets swept up in secondary concerns while missing the deeper presence of God. We see the worry consuming the young rich ruler who is so attracted to his wealth that he cannot follow the call to sell everything and follow Jesus. We see the disciples in the boat panicking over a storm while Jesus is sleeping right beside them. And we even see the Moses who gets frustrated with the people of Israel pressuring him for water, that he strikes the rock rather than trusting God's word. They were not unfaithful people. They were simply overwhelmed, consumed by the pressures of performance and cultural obligation. Aren't we like them? We worry that our service isn't enough. We worry that our faith is to them. And that's Martha's story too. She wants to be a good host and honor Jesus and do the right thing. But her worry, rooted in duty, reputation, and fear, pulls her away from the one thing that is needed. Jesus does not dismiss her entirely. She doesn't scold her work. He names her worry, Martha, Martha, you are worried by many things. And in that repetition, Martha, Martha, there is not a condemnation but a desire to re-center her calling. God has this practice of repeating a person's name twice in crucial moments throughout Scripture. He uses a double name when correcting someone gently but firmly, often at a moment when human assumptions must be disrupted. And that kind of name calling often precedes a turning point in someone's life in Scripture. Ultimately, Martha's love for God is not proved by how much she worries about getting something right It is borne out in the focused listening that Mary embodies Listening that breaks boundaries, upsets the norms, and makes the scandalous point No worry is more important than being near Jesus. We will also have many cultural distractions that pull us from focusing on loving Jesus. And what are some of those distractions in Martha's culture? Martha's worries stem from what others might think. Her distractions come from what the world expected of her. In Martha's, as well as my grandparents' generation in Turkey, hospitality wasn't just a virtue. It was a woman's honor, her currency in society, the way she lived out her religious duties. A well-run household was a source of public credibility, and a disordered and unattended home was a source of public shame. So Martha wasn't doing just too much. She was upholding an entire social structure with every dish she washed and every course she prepared. When Jesus enters her home, Martha does what any devout, responsible woman would do. She begins to serve. But that is not the meaning of her gender. The word Luke uses here is diakonia, ministry, service, out of which we get the word deacon. Her work is not petty. It is deeply meaningful. It is in every way what the culture taught her to do for God. But Luke calls her distracted, pulled apart, fragmented. And here is the key. Martha is not distracted by sinful things She is distracted by good things Necessary things And even holy things That have taken the place of the best thing. Cultural distractions are often hardest to notice because they present themselves in the disguise of virtue. Martha was likely preparing multiple dishes, keeping her eyes on the clock, worrying whether she's remembered to salt the lentils and checking to see if there are enough seats for those in the table. She was, in a word, multitasking her faith. But in doing so, she missed that the Lord of heaven was already in her house, not to be impressed, but to be loved. And T. Wright thought that Mary's posture sitting at Jesus' feet was not about emotional devotion, but about becoming a disciple. He said in doing so, she was behaving as if she were a man. She left the woman's space and crossed into the male domain of teaching and learning, violating the boundaries between male and female roles in physical space and spiritual privilege. And Martha, rather than joining her, became distracted with trying to hold the boundaries in place. And she even blames Jesus for not enforcing that boundary. Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me. Tell her to come back to her sphere. And that is the danger of distraction. It makes us preserve what Jesus came to change. How many of us today are similarly distracted? Not by laziness, but by expectations that seem good and noble. The expectation to appear composed. The demand to be productive. The cultural call to be busy and keep up. Even in the church, our distractions are often dressed as duty, Fixing the altar linens and candles Making sure the gospel book is in the right place Managing the building needs and updates And crafting a well-prepared liturgy and a good sermon, All worthy things, but they can pull us away from God And they can make us forget to examine the intention behind which we do these things. In Acts 6, apostles must have decided whether to leave the ministry of the word in order to serve tables. They appointed others to serve so that they can remain focused. In the Bethany household, Mary, a woman, makes the same choice. She chooses word over the table, and Jesus affirms her. It is not that service is wrong. It is that distraction from Jesus, even by church service, is a form of spiritual amnesia. Martha's distractions, friends, are our distractions. And Jesus doesn't shame her for that. But Jesus invites her back from the distraction to the center. And finally, Jesus points us to the better part in Mary's example. Even though it breaks several social and theological norms. If Martha embodies distraction and worries rooted in cultural obligations, Mary shows us the quiet, courageous defiance of love. And Mary does something radical. She does not get up to help her sister serve. She doesn't even offer verbal support. Instead, she sits right there in the public room. In the first century Jewish world This is no soft spiritual pose To sit at someone's feet Was to become their disciple It's a posture of learning Not to listen But eventually to teach and to preach, It was, as N.T. Wright describes A role decidedly male One reserved for those Preparing to become rabbis. But Mary's act is shameless, possibly scandalous. In a society where space and identity were strictly divided along gender lines, she crossed physical, social, and theological boundaries. But she was not doing that to spite her fellow obedient ladies or start a feminist movement. She was doing it to be faithful in a moment of possibly great consequence for herself and family. By sitting among men and listening to Jesus' words, she did indeed bring shame upon her house. But Jesus does not send her away. He does not ask her to return to the kitchen. He does something far more astonishing by saying, Mary has chosen the better parts, and it will not be taken away from her. He affirms her as a disciple, equally called, equally formed, and equally beloved. Jesus, in this passage, redraws the boundaries of Israel, not only between Jews and Samaritans, but between men and women. Mary's posture says, My love for Jesus matters more than what others think of me. It says, God is doing something so new, so wild, that I will sit and receive it, even if it costs me my place, my reputation, and my security. How many of us are willing to do just that? Jesus says, that kind of faithfulness is the better part. And Mary shows us what it means to love God with one's heart and soul and mind, not by doing more, but by choosing to be the near the one who shows us how to love. The fruit of our genuine love for God is in our intent listening and communing with Jesus, even that breaks social conventions. So this week, I want to gently invite you to resist the pull of worry and distraction in powerful ways. Maybe you can find 10 minutes a day to sit in silence with Christ, without goals or academic or theological ideals or any scripture planning. By just listening to let your soul breathe. Maybe you choose presence over performance in one relationship. With your spouse, child, or friend. Focus on listening and not fixing. And maybe, and this is hardest, ask yourself before every major task. Is this being done for Jesus or instead of him? And that question might change the rhythm of your life. Martha welcomed Jesus into her home Mary welcomed Jesus into her attention, The Lord is not impressed by our performance He is moved by our presence So this morning, without any agenda, any goal, any fixed mindset Let us sit at His feet and love Him Regardless of what it will cost whether it's time, opportunity cost, or worldly reputation. And in doing so, may we join Mary, who chose the better part, which is a risk-filled loving relationship rather than an earned one. And that is the thing which will not be taken away from her or from us. Amen.