Dear one,
For whatever reason—perhaps because I’m an introverted, American activist—I find myself often returning to that well-known and -rehearsed incident centered upon Martha and Mary, Luke 10:38-42.
You might recall that this incident in Luke’s Gospel, set between Jesus’ Parable of the Good Samaritan and His teaching about prayer, focuses upon Martha, who is described as “distracted,” “anxious,” and “troubled,” and her sister, Mary, who is described as “sitting” and “listening”—and as having chosen the “noble” or “good” portion, never to be taken from her. In context, then, Martha seems to reflect the good Samaritan—actively and energetically caring for others—but in extremus: Martha is the good Samaritan on steroids; whereas Mary appears open to prayer and meditation.
That is, Mary appears to be quiet, seated, and attentively listening, for which Jesus applauds her: she chose well. But what was it that Mary chose? To honor a very special Person? To forgo all else, in order to hear Him (and in the Hebrew world “hearing” meant obedience, and obedience meant deeds done)? In my view, the answer to these two questions is “yes”; but if “yes,” I believe Mary was choosing to truly hear, to truly become familiar with, to truly know Jesus’ voice, and such knowledge cannot be gained by anxiously scurrying about like a squirrel gathering winter nuts. She was learning to distinguish His voice from all the other voices, from the great and shrill cacophony of voices, which can deafen—can deafen even to the sound of His voice. Such learning requires quiet stillness.
However, if you are as I am, even as I sit quietly—hopefully—an interior din still persists: the warped sounds from childhood, the belches from Washington D.C., the cajoling from the markets, and the groans from broken relationships, which damn at every turn. Ironically, seeking to avoid this interior din, my American tendencies encourage: “Arise. Turn on your computer. Fix that hinge. Get on the treadmill. Do something—do Amazon.”—in essence encouraging me to return to the din I would escape. Nonetheless, there is that Voice, who can pierce the barnyard confusion and din, who will say: “Don’t arise. Rather, let’s talk about the truth of those childhood ‘tapes.’ Let’s talk about the fears generated in D.C. Let’s talk about the market’s prevailing word of discontent. Let’s talk about those who condemn. But most of all, remember: ‘I will not abandon you’, for ‘I have overcome the world’ and its noise.”[1]
Silencing,
Stan
[1] Cf. John 14:18; 16:33.
Silencing ...?