The Gift of Real Presence

July 20, 2025 - The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Grace to you and peace from our creator God and Christ Jesus, who invites us to transcend distraction and be truly present to our Lord and to one another. Amen.

And the moral of the story is, be like Mary, don't be like Martha. But that's not fair. And it's certainly not comprehensive.

Martha did have a seemingly legitimate complaint. She had decided to open her home and welcome a person of importance, a teacher, her rabbi, her friend, in the best way that she could imagine. She had been taught how to be hospitable.

Jesus, however, had challenged her hospitality with this reality check. “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part.” That had to add to her frustration.

In verse 40, the Greek word for distracted literally means to be dragged away from a reference point, to be drawn away. Too many things were bombarding Martha, and the tasks at hand were causing her to forget why and for whom she was doing them. Martha's choice to work hard at a ministry of hospitality, it was not a bad choice. It simply was not the best choice.

Martha was bombarded by many things as she sought to faithfully care for her guest, her Lord. To successfully extend a generous, traditionally expected hospitality, like Abraham and Sarah did back in the Genesis reading, right? What a lot of hospitality. They ran to welcome them, they bowed, they offered water, they provided for the washing of feet, they prepared bread, they roasted a calf, they offered milk and curds. What a party. Such was expected in Near Eastern hospitality.

And so it is with us.

We're busy. We're busy with volunteering in Christ's name, aren't we? By making a meal, by offering a visit, by working a pantry, by picking up litter along the interstate, for God's sake. For speaking truth to power, engaging in a bit of good trouble now and then.

Martha was not wrong. She knew the tradition. But Mary simply sought to be fully present, to be all there to receive Jesus. And in our business, we are likewise called.

Consider with me for a moment the phrase real presence. For people who ponder theological things, real presence often has to do with the Eucharist, with Holy Communion, with how Christ is somehow present. Is it transubstantiation, consubstantiation, or representation, or something in between? Debating the theology of real presence, our conclusions have the power to unite people or divide people within the Church of Jesus Christ. Dare we be open to something broader than a simple definition.

But here, when we speak of real presence this morning, think of a sacramental sense of real presence in our lives, of not being distracted, but being all there for Christ Jesus and for one another. Being really present with one another, being really present at the feet of Jesus.

This is hard, for we are distracted. We are worried about a great deal in our time.

Joy Jordan Lake penned a little reflection in an edition of the periodical, The Christian Century. Her reflection was entitled On Hospitality. She wrote:

“How does one prepare for Jesus' visit? Would you clean the house more thoroughly than usual? Or let's be honest, would you clean the house for a change? Would excessive cleanliness suggest that you had been neglecting some spiritual advancement opportunities?

“Would you borrow fine china to show your deep and abiding respect for the Messiah? Or use paper plates to symbolize an equally deep and abiding lack of interest in material goods? I think I'd serve peanut butter on fine china and French wine and paper cups.

“And if I could screw up the courage, I'd tell him the truth, that he makes me nervous and that I'm not sure what he expects from me. Then it might occur to me to apologize for not inviting everyone to dinner, everyone who might have wanted to come.

“Then the few of us would sit down on the floor, I think. The dog would deposit her 87 pounds beside him, no doubt, and anoint his feet with her fond drool. I'd listen and wish I knew whether to wipe his now slimy feet with my hair, or to say something theologically astute and intellectually dazzling.

“Jesus could then point to the nearest child, and suggest I learn about God from her.”

Friends in Christ, what does the Lord expect from us? In our busy lives, seeking to serve in Christ's name, what does the Lord expect from us?

Let us reflect this day on the question of a certain sacramental real presence, of how we can be fully engaged, one with another and at the feet of our Lord.

Mary, in today's Gospel, entertains the real presence, Christ Jesus, with her real presence. She's all in. She's there for him. And one can internalize Martha's frustration, maybe jealousy, maybe even exasperation when she replied. “Jesus!” she might have shouted.

“Lord, my sister has left me to do all the work. Tell her then to help me. Lord, you make me nervous, and I'm not sure what you expect from me. I'm trying to do the right thing, like Sarah and Abraham did all those many years ago. I don't know whether to wipe your feet with my hair or seek to say something theologically erudite. How can I be present in this moment in the way that you expect? How can I be faithful, genuine, and fully engaged? How can I enflesh sacramental love? I try so hard to serve you and others in the way that you've taught me to serve.”

In our text from Genesis this morning, we encounter Abraham and Sarah extending hospitality, and we say, entertaining angels unawares. It's a great phrase.  And we encounter Mary and Martha, seeking to respond to their divine visit with faithful hearts, both of them.

Yet the sacramental definition of real presence is instructive. Through the sacraments, we are invited to understand that all things of this world are good enough to bear the presence of God. A little water from Lake Michigan, some common bread, some cheap wine. But also a visit from three strangers at Abraham's tent, or a gathering at table in Bethany with Mary and Martha. All bear the presence of God.

And the relationship between heaven and earth exists when we are genuinely present, one to another. That somehow being fully present is an act of faithfulness, and at the heart of the work that we are called to do. In the same way that we perceive holiness in ordinary bread and wine and oil and water, holiness may be hiding, we suspect, in other common things as well. And our being present in community makes the ordinary a miracle. Our being present in community makes that which is common sacred.

So, our gospel from Luke today, the story of Jesus' visit to Mary and Martha, announces that the mystery hidden for ages, as Colossians notes, the mystery hidden for ages and recreated personally in the face of Christ Jesus, longs for our company, for us to be fully present and fully engaged. As we gradually welcome our Lord and put on his mind, we find ourselves gradually released from our stifling, self-centered preoccupations and distractions.

“I'm not sure what you expect from me,” we cry.

“Pay attention,” our Lord invites us.

In Abraham's vision, his guests reward Abraham's attentiveness with the promise of a son and a future and a path of faithfulness. Perhaps the reward of our attentiveness, our real presence to our Lord and to our neighbors, will be coming to know ourselves authentically for the first time, transcending mere busyness.

Perhaps we will be really present in our own authentic mystery, a sacramental reflection of grace and peace. And when others come to call, perhaps they will indeed find us at home, without anxiety or distraction, at home to receive them.

As we offer them the gift of our own real presence, who knows? Perhaps we will entertain angels unawares.

Amen.