You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
This gospel story packs a lot of emotional complexity into five verses. We get a glimpse into Jesus’ relationship with these two sisters, and their relationship with each other. And we see a behavior pattern which is all too familiar to many of us – an unwillingness to communicate directly when disgruntled, and the attendant tendency to rope in a third party.
Martha has taken on a big task preparing dinner for Jesus and his friends, and she sees her sister sitting at Jesus’ feet, drinking in his teaching. Stressed, envious, and perhaps annoyed by other things about her sister, she pulls a classic triangulation move: She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.”
Let’s look at this passive aggressive remark in all its glory. “Lord, do you not care?” Martha begins by implying that if Jesus cared about her, he would have noticed how hard she was working and sought to fix it. How often do conflicts in our personal and professional relationships result from our overworking, or taking more responsibility in a situation than we need to, and then getting angry that someone has not read our mind and stepped in to save us from ourselves?
“My sister has left me to do all the work by myself.” She’s complaining about Mary, but addressing it to Jesus, letting Mary overhear it, as it were. Martha expresses abandonment and grievance, and doesn’t even trust Mary to hear her feelings directly. Have you ever had someone complain about you to someone else while you’re there? That can only make us feel guilty, not inspired to help.
“Tell her then to help me.” Instead of asking Mary for what she needs, Martha wants Jesus to do her work for her. Does she think Mary doesn't care about her? Does she have to bring in the “big guns?” Or does she want Jesus to prove that he cares by tending to her emotionally?
In the realm of personal relationships, we should only ask Jesus to act in someone else’s life when we're praying for them to be blessed. If we feel they need correcting, protecting, convicting or forgiving, chances are we have an agenda that we should share with them directly and honestly. Say your piece, in love, without expecting a response, and then turn it over to God. You’ve done what you can. But don’t ask God or anyone else to be your messenger when you’ve got something to say.
When we’re able to be clear and direct with one another, we create freedom. Often we find our relationship with God becomes clearer too. And then we're better able to listen.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
7-13-22 - Unholy Triangles
You can listen to this reflection here.
This gospel story packs a lot of emotional complexity into five verses. We get a glimpse into Jesus’ relationship with these two sisters, and their relationship with each other. And we see a behavior pattern which is all too familiar to many of us – an unwillingness to communicate directly when disgruntled, and the attendant tendency to rope in a third party. Martha has taken on a big task preparing dinner for Jesus and his friends, and she sees her sister sitting at Jesus’ feet, drinking in his teaching. Stressed, envious, and perhaps annoyed by other things about her sister, she pulls a classic triangulation move:
She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.”
Let’s look at this passive aggressive remark in all its glory. “Lord, do you not care?” Martha begins by implying that if Jesus cared about her, he would have noticed how hard she was working and sought to fix it. How often do conflicts in our personal and professional relationships result from our overworking, or taking more responsibility in a situation than we need to, and then getting angry that someone has not read our mind and stepped in to save us from ourselves?
“My sister has left me to do all the work by myself.” She’s complaining about Mary, but addressing it to Jesus, letting Mary overhear it, as it were. Martha expresses abandonment and grievance, and doesn’t even trust Mary to hear her feelings directly. Have you ever had someone complain about you to someone else while you’re there? That can only make us feel guilty, not inspired to help.
“Tell her then to help me.” Instead of asking Mary for what she needs, Martha wants Jesus to do her work for her. Does she think Mary doesn't care about her? Does she have to bring in the “big guns?” Or does she want Jesus to prove that he cares by tending to her emotionally?
In the realm of personal relationships, we should only ask Jesus to act in someone else’s life when we're praying for them to be blessed. If we feel they need correcting, protecting, convicting or forgiving, chances are we have an agenda that we should share with them directly and honestly. Say your piece, in love, without expecting a response, and then turn it over to God. You’ve done what you can. But don’t ask God or anyone else to be your messenger when you’ve got something to say.
When we’re able to be clear and direct with one another, we create freedom. Often we find our relationship with God becomes clearer too. And then we're better able to listen.
This gospel story packs a lot of emotional complexity into five verses. We get a glimpse into Jesus’ relationship with these two sisters, and their relationship with each other. And we see a behavior pattern which is all too familiar to many of us – an unwillingness to communicate directly when disgruntled, and the attendant tendency to rope in a third party. Martha has taken on a big task preparing dinner for Jesus and his friends, and she sees her sister sitting at Jesus’ feet, drinking in his teaching. Stressed, envious, and perhaps annoyed by other things about her sister, she pulls a classic triangulation move:
She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.”
Let’s look at this passive aggressive remark in all its glory. “Lord, do you not care?” Martha begins by implying that if Jesus cared about her, he would have noticed how hard she was working and sought to fix it. How often do conflicts in our personal and professional relationships result from our overworking, or taking more responsibility in a situation than we need to, and then getting angry that someone has not read our mind and stepped in to save us from ourselves?
“My sister has left me to do all the work by myself.” She’s complaining about Mary, but addressing it to Jesus, letting Mary overhear it, as it were. Martha expresses abandonment and grievance, and doesn’t even trust Mary to hear her feelings directly. Have you ever had someone complain about you to someone else while you’re there? That can only make us feel guilty, not inspired to help.
“Tell her then to help me.” Instead of asking Mary for what she needs, Martha wants Jesus to do her work for her. Does she think Mary doesn't care about her? Does she have to bring in the “big guns?” Or does she want Jesus to prove that he cares by tending to her emotionally?
In the realm of personal relationships, we should only ask Jesus to act in someone else’s life when we're praying for them to be blessed. If we feel they need correcting, protecting, convicting or forgiving, chances are we have an agenda that we should share with them directly and honestly. Say your piece, in love, without expecting a response, and then turn it over to God. You’ve done what you can. But don’t ask God or anyone else to be your messenger when you’ve got something to say.
When we’re able to be clear and direct with one another, we create freedom. Often we find our relationship with God becomes clearer too. And then we're better able to listen.
6-8-22 - The Gift of Three
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Trinity Sunday often inspires questions like, “Why is God three persons? Why not four or two or eight?” To which we might answer, “It’s a holy mystery!” But we could come up with better reasons: There are three because Jesus referred to a Father, a Son and a Holy Spirit. No one else is mentioned.
And there are three because there are two persons in a father/son (or parent/child) relationship, and the connection - the spirit - which flows between, through, around and from them. The reason we cannot “divide” the Trinity too sharply, the reason we insist on One God in Three, is that the Spirit is the spirit of the Father and the Son. We can’t take the Spirit out of the picture any more than we can lose our shadow.
Does it matter that God is triune? What does it get us, besides a headache from trying to figure it out? For me, it’s precious because it tells us from the get-go that God is about relationship and relatedness. God is not a concept – God is a being with capacity for giving and receiving, loving and being loved. So when we say we are made in God’s image, that’s where we begin.
In some sense, all our relationships have a triune quality – ourselves, the Other, and the spirit of connection that flows between us, which we might also call a third entity created by our connection. We see this with couples – we know each partner as his or her own person, say, “Mary” and “Joseph,” but we also know them as “Mary and Joseph,” whom we think of in a slightly different way than we do Mary or Joseph individually.
In the same way, there is you, and there is God, and there is “you and God,” a product of being united with Christ. All God wants from us is to help grow that relationship. That is one thing God cannot do without us. And we do not have to do it without God. Come, Holy Spirit!
Trinity Sunday often inspires questions like, “Why is God three persons? Why not four or two or eight?” To which we might answer, “It’s a holy mystery!” But we could come up with better reasons: There are three because Jesus referred to a Father, a Son and a Holy Spirit. No one else is mentioned.
And there are three because there are two persons in a father/son (or parent/child) relationship, and the connection - the spirit - which flows between, through, around and from them. The reason we cannot “divide” the Trinity too sharply, the reason we insist on One God in Three, is that the Spirit is the spirit of the Father and the Son. We can’t take the Spirit out of the picture any more than we can lose our shadow.
Does it matter that God is triune? What does it get us, besides a headache from trying to figure it out? For me, it’s precious because it tells us from the get-go that God is about relationship and relatedness. God is not a concept – God is a being with capacity for giving and receiving, loving and being loved. So when we say we are made in God’s image, that’s where we begin.
In some sense, all our relationships have a triune quality – ourselves, the Other, and the spirit of connection that flows between us, which we might also call a third entity created by our connection. We see this with couples – we know each partner as his or her own person, say, “Mary” and “Joseph,” but we also know them as “Mary and Joseph,” whom we think of in a slightly different way than we do Mary or Joseph individually.
In the same way, there is you, and there is God, and there is “you and God,” a product of being united with Christ. All God wants from us is to help grow that relationship. That is one thing God cannot do without us. And we do not have to do it without God. Come, Holy Spirit!
5-4-22 - Hearing Jesus
You can listen to this reflection here.
In our gospel reading this week, we see the religious leaders of Jesus’ time demand that he state whether or not he is the Messiah. None of this hinting around. “Are you or aren’t you?” they ask. In reply, he throws an “Are you or aren’t you?” back at them: Are they his sheep, or not? He doesn’t even ask, because he knows they are not:
The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.
Jesus presents an argument that is hard to refute – and hard to accept. He says, “If you believe in me, you’re one of my sheep. If you don’t, you’re not – so you won’t recognize my voice and become one of my sheep.” He defines his critics “out” as firmly as he defines his followers “in.” That cannot have felt very good to these leaders, already suspicious of him yet desperately hoping he might in fact be the long-awaited Messiah.
How about us, reading this so many thousands of years later? Do you feel like one of Jesus’ sheep? He describes his relationship with his sheep as an intimate one, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” Do you feel known by Jesus? Do you let him know you? Do you feel you are following him?
It can be hard to follow him if we don’t hear his voice, and it can be hard to hear his voice in the din in which we live our lives – actual noise, constant input and stimulus from social media and email and voicemail, not to mention the incessant chatter inside our own heads… How can we hear Jesus’ voice? Well, here are some ways:
We can follow him without hearing him – that’s called faith. Mother Theresa reportedly went for years without a felt sense of connection to God, moving forward on the strength of the revelation she'd experienced earlier. Yet I believe Jesus wants us to hear his voice. Let’s explore and see if one or more of these avenues opens the ears of our hearts to hear Love calling us in.
In our gospel reading this week, we see the religious leaders of Jesus’ time demand that he state whether or not he is the Messiah. None of this hinting around. “Are you or aren’t you?” they ask. In reply, he throws an “Are you or aren’t you?” back at them: Are they his sheep, or not? He doesn’t even ask, because he knows they are not:
The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.
Jesus presents an argument that is hard to refute – and hard to accept. He says, “If you believe in me, you’re one of my sheep. If you don’t, you’re not – so you won’t recognize my voice and become one of my sheep.” He defines his critics “out” as firmly as he defines his followers “in.” That cannot have felt very good to these leaders, already suspicious of him yet desperately hoping he might in fact be the long-awaited Messiah.
How about us, reading this so many thousands of years later? Do you feel like one of Jesus’ sheep? He describes his relationship with his sheep as an intimate one, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” Do you feel known by Jesus? Do you let him know you? Do you feel you are following him?
It can be hard to follow him if we don’t hear his voice, and it can be hard to hear his voice in the din in which we live our lives – actual noise, constant input and stimulus from social media and email and voicemail, not to mention the incessant chatter inside our own heads… How can we hear Jesus’ voice? Well, here are some ways:
- In prayer, inviting him to speak to us as we wait in silence;
- In the Gospels, reading them with an eye to get to know the Jesus we find in them – chewing on his words as we encounter them;
- In the sacraments, inviting him to speak through objects and actions both sacred and ordinary;
- In hymns and spiritual songs, attending to phrases that stick or come to the surface;
- In other people, especially people in need, in whom he said he could be found;
- in our responses to suffering and joy;
- In our own thoughts, as we invite the Holy Spirit to speak in us.In which of these ways do you hear Jesus most clearly?
8-13-20 - Even the Dogs
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Is there a greater example of humility in our scriptures than this unnamed woman, persistently asking Jesus to heal her daughter? In the face of his rejection, in the face of his insinuation that giving her the gifts of God’s kingdom would be like throwing food to dogs, she does not flinch, she does not protest, she does not argue. She simply comes back with a statement that shows she is not about to put her pride before getting what she needs from Jesus: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
“Even the dogs get fed. If you’re going to compare me to dogs, fine – let me tell you about dogs. They eat too, maybe on crumbs and scraps, but they get fed. Surely your power is so great that even a crumb of it can heal my poor little girl?” Is there a greater example of faith in our scriptures than this? Clearly Jesus was impressed, for with this comment she finally got his attention. Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
In her gentle refusal to be thwarted, this woman models faith for us. How often do we think Jesus isn’t paying attention to our prayers? How quickly do we turn away – and sometimes walk away – because we don’t sense a response? How frequently do we conclude that “God must not really care about me," when we don’t perceive an answer?
This mother held nothing back. She was willing to beg, to cross religious and ethnic lines, to compare herself to a dog cadging crumbs under a table, to get the help her daughter needed. And how did she know Jesus had the power to help? Without knowing him, she believed whole-heartedly in what was said of him – that he was the Holy One, the Messiah, the Son of David. She knew no one else could help. She gave it her all, not only her best shot, but every shot she had.
I don’t want us to respond to this story by thinking, “Oh, I didn’t beg enough, I didn’t pray hard enough.” We don’t always receive what we pray for; there is still mystery. I do want us to know that we can approach Jesus the way she did, no holds barred, and to keep arguing our case until we are satisfied we have been heard, or we have received the grace to release it into God. I want us to go back and forth with Jesus in prayer, not walk away empty-handed and disheartened. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, "You miss 100% of the shots you never take."
What do you want Jesus to do for you? Don’t dredge up all the things you’ve wanted before; what do you want now? Tell him – in as personal way as you can. Either imagine talking with him, or speak aloud in a private space, or write him – but listen to what he says. Talk back if you need to. Jesus never issued a “no talk-back” rule.
It is a delicate balance – to pray boldly, because we know God is generous and powerful beyond our imagining, and yet to pray humbly, without feeling entitled. Let’s try to match the Canaanite woman in both the passion of her asking and the depth of her willingness to humble herself before God. Maybe we should think of ourselves as many dogs we know – loved and pampered, and willing to feast under the table as well as at it.
Is there a greater example of humility in our scriptures than this unnamed woman, persistently asking Jesus to heal her daughter? In the face of his rejection, in the face of his insinuation that giving her the gifts of God’s kingdom would be like throwing food to dogs, she does not flinch, she does not protest, she does not argue. She simply comes back with a statement that shows she is not about to put her pride before getting what she needs from Jesus: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
“Even the dogs get fed. If you’re going to compare me to dogs, fine – let me tell you about dogs. They eat too, maybe on crumbs and scraps, but they get fed. Surely your power is so great that even a crumb of it can heal my poor little girl?” Is there a greater example of faith in our scriptures than this? Clearly Jesus was impressed, for with this comment she finally got his attention. Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
In her gentle refusal to be thwarted, this woman models faith for us. How often do we think Jesus isn’t paying attention to our prayers? How quickly do we turn away – and sometimes walk away – because we don’t sense a response? How frequently do we conclude that “God must not really care about me," when we don’t perceive an answer?
This mother held nothing back. She was willing to beg, to cross religious and ethnic lines, to compare herself to a dog cadging crumbs under a table, to get the help her daughter needed. And how did she know Jesus had the power to help? Without knowing him, she believed whole-heartedly in what was said of him – that he was the Holy One, the Messiah, the Son of David. She knew no one else could help. She gave it her all, not only her best shot, but every shot she had.
I don’t want us to respond to this story by thinking, “Oh, I didn’t beg enough, I didn’t pray hard enough.” We don’t always receive what we pray for; there is still mystery. I do want us to know that we can approach Jesus the way she did, no holds barred, and to keep arguing our case until we are satisfied we have been heard, or we have received the grace to release it into God. I want us to go back and forth with Jesus in prayer, not walk away empty-handed and disheartened. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, "You miss 100% of the shots you never take."
What do you want Jesus to do for you? Don’t dredge up all the things you’ve wanted before; what do you want now? Tell him – in as personal way as you can. Either imagine talking with him, or speak aloud in a private space, or write him – but listen to what he says. Talk back if you need to. Jesus never issued a “no talk-back” rule.
It is a delicate balance – to pray boldly, because we know God is generous and powerful beyond our imagining, and yet to pray humbly, without feeling entitled. Let’s try to match the Canaanite woman in both the passion of her asking and the depth of her willingness to humble herself before God. Maybe we should think of ourselves as many dogs we know – loved and pampered, and willing to feast under the table as well as at it.
10-25-13 - Losing Our Religion
As we have dug down into Jesus’ parable about the two men praying in the temple, I have not been very tolerant of the self-righteous Pharisee. Neither was Jesus. But let’s give him a little regard. He was motivated to please God in the way he knew best – by following the rules and upholding the whole system that made the rules important. Perhaps the rules, the Law, had become his object of worship, obscuring the offer of relationship God gave along with the Law – “You shall be my people, and I will be your God.”
We might say that the Pharisee represents Religion – capitalization intended, as befits an abstraction. And the tax-collector represents faith. Religion can be a wonderful vehicle for faith – but we should never mistake it for the God it purports to worship.
For us, too, uncompromising allegiance to words of Scripture or church tradition can blind us to the movements of our Living God. These are God-given gifts – but when we focus on the gifts rather than the Giver, we miss the next new thing God is doing. And our God is always doing a new thing.
I don’t think human beings can get away from religion, hard as we might try to just be “spiritual.” It is human nature to create structures that allow us to feel good and to repeat a profound experience, and to stay in community with others who have shared that profound experience. Before you know it, we’re worshiping at the same time every week, using the same words or songs or rituals that “worked” last week to mediate an encounter with God. If they don’t work as well this week – maybe we double down and get even more rigid.
Meanwhile, God is saying, “Over here, guys – I’m here now.” God is rarely in the last place we saw Him. She’s almost always on the move, doing a new thing, singing a new song, revealing a new facet of her identity.
Today, in prayer, let’s do another set of lists. Name one list “Religion” and the other “Relationship.” What activities of yours would classify “religion?” Which ones are life-giving? Which ones are stale, or like trying to wear someone else’s clothes? They don’t fit, or feed your faith?
Now, what activities would you name as “relationship building,” that enhance your relationship with God? How would you characterize your relationship with God, on a spectrum from distant (1) to intimate (5)? Are there any on the first list that get in the way of the second?
The other day the great REM song, Losing My Religion*, ran through my head. Doesn’t have much to do with religion (according to Wikipedia, band members said "losing my religion" is a southern US expression that means losing one's temper or composure), but it’s catchy as all get out, and a great theme song for us as we seek to unfetter ourselves from all that is human-made about our interaction with God, and open ourselves to the new winds of the Spirit.
The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and each other, is to lose our “religion” and open our arms wide to the relationship with God that Christ made possible for us through the Holy Spirit. All religion will pass away – but that relationship is ours for eternity.
*not the official video, which I feel distracts too much from the song…
We might say that the Pharisee represents Religion – capitalization intended, as befits an abstraction. And the tax-collector represents faith. Religion can be a wonderful vehicle for faith – but we should never mistake it for the God it purports to worship.
For us, too, uncompromising allegiance to words of Scripture or church tradition can blind us to the movements of our Living God. These are God-given gifts – but when we focus on the gifts rather than the Giver, we miss the next new thing God is doing. And our God is always doing a new thing.
I don’t think human beings can get away from religion, hard as we might try to just be “spiritual.” It is human nature to create structures that allow us to feel good and to repeat a profound experience, and to stay in community with others who have shared that profound experience. Before you know it, we’re worshiping at the same time every week, using the same words or songs or rituals that “worked” last week to mediate an encounter with God. If they don’t work as well this week – maybe we double down and get even more rigid.
Meanwhile, God is saying, “Over here, guys – I’m here now.” God is rarely in the last place we saw Him. She’s almost always on the move, doing a new thing, singing a new song, revealing a new facet of her identity.
Today, in prayer, let’s do another set of lists. Name one list “Religion” and the other “Relationship.” What activities of yours would classify “religion?” Which ones are life-giving? Which ones are stale, or like trying to wear someone else’s clothes? They don’t fit, or feed your faith?
Now, what activities would you name as “relationship building,” that enhance your relationship with God? How would you characterize your relationship with God, on a spectrum from distant (1) to intimate (5)? Are there any on the first list that get in the way of the second?
The other day the great REM song, Losing My Religion*, ran through my head. Doesn’t have much to do with religion (according to Wikipedia, band members said "losing my religion" is a southern US expression that means losing one's temper or composure), but it’s catchy as all get out, and a great theme song for us as we seek to unfetter ourselves from all that is human-made about our interaction with God, and open ourselves to the new winds of the Spirit.
The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and each other, is to lose our “religion” and open our arms wide to the relationship with God that Christ made possible for us through the Holy Spirit. All religion will pass away – but that relationship is ours for eternity.
*not the official video, which I feel distracts too much from the song…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)