The Lutheran Hour
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"One Thing Needful"
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Text: Luke 10: 38-42
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Shamyla says that her favorite book is Little Women;—the classic coming-of-age semi-autobiographical novel written over 150 years ago by Louisa May Alcott. Little Women, Shamyla says, is her favorite book of all time.
A friend asks her why she loves the book so much. Shamyla explains that it’s a long story. “It goes back to the ’90s,” she says, “when I was living in Pakistan. And this was the only book that I had in my possession for a couple of years.” Shamyla says the book became her most treasured possession. “It was the book of my life,” she says. “I read it over and over again. I kind of memorized it.”
Skeptical, her friend pulls out a copy of Little Women. She opens the 47-chapter, 600-plus-page book to a random spot and starts reading, to test Shamyla. And Shamyla wasn’t kidding. She does kind of have it memorized. She can set the scene and finish the sentence in seconds. “How many times have you read this book?” Her friend asks. “Oh, hundreds. By now, it’s probably thousands,” she says. Even today, thirty years later, Shamyla’s in her early forties, and she has this practice of re-reading the chapter of Little Women that corresponds to her age that year. She opens the book and wonders, “What is this year going to be about in my life?” And she lets the book be her answer.
“So, it’s almost like your magic eight ball,” her friend says.
“Yeah, kind of,” Shamyla answers, unsatisfied with the metaphor. “It’s like my Bible.”
I heard this conversation on a radio program, This American Life. One of the program’s producers, Elna Baker, was interviewing Shamyla.
As I listened, I was struck by her metaphor, that Little Women had become something like her Bible. And I thought about the ways people approach the actual Bible. And maybe, for you, for me, it’s become less like a treasured text for daily, continual, life-long reading, and more like a magic eight ball. You remember the magic eight ball, right? It was a toy developed in the 1950s that was still popular when I was kid. It’s shaped like an eight ball from a pool table, but it has a little window on the back of the ball, so you can see inside it. Inside the ball, there’s a twenty-sided die floating in a pool of blue liquid. The game is you ask the eight ball a question;—a yes or no question;—shake the ball, the die spins around and gives you an answer. There are twenty possible answers, ten that are clever ways of saying, “Yes,” five more-or-less say, “Maybe,” and five are various ways of saying, “No.” Now, aside from the fact that, depending on the aim of the person, this could be a form of fortune telling, of divination;—something clearly forbidden in the Bible;—aside from that, I think this is, sometimes, how people;—Christian or otherwise;—approach the Bible.
You’ve probably known someone who’s done that, who’s had some big life question and with a Bible in front of them they look up to heaven and pose the question, open up the Bible, and wherever their finger falls on the page, that somehow becomes the divinized answer to their question. I’ve known people who’ve done that. I myself have done it. So, what’s wrong with it? Well, it’s not all bad. Wherever your finger lands in the Bible, if you read a bit around it to set the scene, if you’re paying attention to what you’re reading, whether it’s a narrative or proverb, poetry or prophecy, if you’re in the New Testament or the Old, wherever your finger falls, wherever you read, you’re going to find wise words there, words that will guide, maybe even answer your question.
And if you follow Jesus, if you believe that He is who He says He is, that He’s the eternal Son of God become a human being, if you believe He was crucified to take away the guilt of our sins, if you believe He rose from the dead to lead us out of enslavement to those sins, and you trust He’s returning to make good on all God’s promises, and that this book is His book, then, wherever your finger lands, you will find God’s Word there: inspired, without error, for you. So, if you did treat a Bible like a magic eight ball, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be better than consulting an actual magic eight ball.
However, the Bible is more than that. It’s not just a tool we use. The Bible is a portal into a new world. The Bible meets us like how Little Women met Shamyla all those years ago. Now Shamyla wasn’t kidding about her story, how she came to love the book;—it is a long story. The short version is she was born in Pakistan to Pakistani parents. Through a family arrangement, when she was a baby, her parents sent her to live with her aunt and uncle in the United States. They raised her. To her they weren’t aunt and uncle; they were mom and dad. And she didn’t know the backstory. When she was twelve years old, her adoptive parents sent her to visit her family in Pakistan. When she was there, her birth parents told her the truth about her past. And they said they would not allow her to return to her old life;—to the only home and only parents she’d ever known. Her new family thought she had been corrupted by Western culture.
They burned all her old books and music, anything that might be a memory of that former life.
Then, Shamyla says they began abusing her, physically. She was scared. She was trapped. She didn’t understand why this was happening. One day, at her school, there was a book fair. At the fair, she came across that copy of Little Women. She bought it and took it home. She pulled it apart into sections and hid it in the cover under her mattress. And that’s how Little Women became her one thing needful;—a portal into a new world, into the world of the novel’s characters, those four sisters, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Years later, when she shares this, her friend says, “It sounds like their world feels so real to you.”
“I know, it really does,” Shamyla says, “I felt like I lived with them sometimes. I could see them. I would join the world, like, I would join in.”
Eugene Peterson was trained in the ancient languages of the Bible. He devoted over a decade of his life to preparing his own modern translation of the entire Bible. Peterson says, “The Bible is basically and overall a narrative;—an immense, sprawling, capacious narrative” ;—designed to do something like what Little Women did for Shamyla.
But what the Bible offers is different than Shamyla’s experience. The best that a novel could offer her was an escape into a fictional world, maybe some principles she might be able to apply in whatever story she thought she was actually living. But the Bible, because of Jesus Christ, is the true story of the world, the portal into the real world: the spacious world God creates and saves and blesses. Eugene Peterson says how the Bible brings us “under the broad skies of God’s purposes, in contrast to the gossipy anecdotes that we cook up on a hot plate in the stuffy closet of the self.”
The Bible isn’t an escape. It’s an exodus. It’s the way out of those stuffy stories that would enslave us, a way out of the self-pitying or self-congratulatory stories we spin for ourselves. And yet, Shamyla’s escape into her fictional world can teach us something. Because of her unique situation, that book became the one thing she needed, her singular frame of reference, the lens through which she could start to see her place in the world. And because she had internalized it, it was something that couldn’t be taken from her. It gave her a perspective that she take with her wherever she went. And this is what Jesus offers you in His word.
Jesus’ ancient biographer, Luke, describes it with this scene from chapter 10 of his Gospel.
He reports how “Jesus and His disciples were traveling on their way. And Jesus went into a village, where there was a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. Martha had a sister named Mary who sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to His word. But Martha kept getting distracted with much serving. She went up and said, “Lord, don’t You care that my sister has left me to serve alone? So tell her to give me a hand.” But answering, the Lord said, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things, but one thing is needed. Because Mary has chosen the good portion, it will not be taken from her” (Luke 10:38-42).
Now Jesus isn’t dissing Martha’s service. He’s putting it in the proper place. Martha wanted to use Jesus’ word as a tool to obtain her goal, to answer her questions, to remove any obstacles that might block her chosen path. Now we’re not told what Martha’s feeling here: was it jealousy or frustration with her sister? Was it embarrassment that Mary is breaking social conventions here;—the ancient Middle Eastern expectation that women should serve in the kitchen and not allowed to become students of a famous Rabbi? Whatever it is that’s got Martha so miffed, Jesus doesn’t address it directly. Instead, He more or less says that whatever the social conventions may be, those expectations are less important than the fact that every woman and man and child is called first to be a hearer and a follower of Jesus;—God’s Word in the flesh. And for Mary, Jesus’ word is becoming the light by which she sees the world, the light that cannot be taken away, a light that would still be shining whether she was chopping carrots in the kitchen or in a classroom, contemplating life’s biggest questions.
We all have our Martha moments, anxious and upset in the stuffy closet of our self-spun stories.
And sometimes we try to use Jesus’ word as a tool within into those stories. Or maybe we don’t even do that.
Eugene Peterson, the author I mentioned earlier, was not only a Bible translator, he was a pastor for forty years. And at one point, serving his church, to him it seemed that nobody cared much about the Bible. It was a relic from another time, a 1950’s toy they’d long outgrown. Peterson says, “Many of the people that I worked with knew virtually nothing about the Bible, had never read it, and weren’t interested in learning.” Maybe they’d moved on to more sophisticated forms of the magic eight ball: the stock market, the news feed, data-driven solutions. Or maybe they’re just like Shamyla, trapped in a terrible situation and desperate for a temporary escape. Wherever you are, in Jesus you have something better;—something better than an escape, something better than short-term answers to small questions, something better than gossip gathered in the cramped closet of the self. In Jesus you have the immense, expansive, world-making Word of God who came not to be served, but to serve, to give you a life of God that cannot be taken away.
I hope Martha and Mary’s story challenges you as it does me. I pray that it challenges you to return to Jesus’ word as the one thing needful. After the message today, I’m going to be visiting with a guest about what it could look like for us;—for you and for me;—to be more like Mary, to listen to Jesus’ word, to be gathered into His story, to join Him in the real world. This last week I tried it, I tried being a little more like Mary. And in some ways I took a page from Shamyla’s playbook, and let a beloved text become my only frame of reference. I pull up my audio Bible on my phone, queue up the Gospel according to Luke, put in my ear buds and push play. Then I set out on a walk and planned not to return to my house until I’d listened to this whole story of Jesus from start to finish. I tell you, it took about two and a half hours and a little over seven miles. And I’m walking through the city, under the interstate, a couple miles from my house. I see a man under the overpass in the early afternoon drinking from a half-drained bottle of vodka. And in Luke 7, I hear Jesus call Himself a “friend of sinners.”
Twelve chapters later, I walk by that abandoned, burned-out building, and I hear Jesus say that He’s come “to seek and save the lost.” The sun’s getting low in the sky now, and I’m in that neighborhood where many refugees and immigrants live. I see the old brick building with the sign out front that says, “Christian Friends of New Americans,” offering after-school tutoring, health clinics, and English as a Second Language classes. And I hear Jesus, now crucified and risen Jesus say, “You are My witnesses;—to all the nations.” And I see it. I see Jesus’ world all around me. And I want to join;—like, I want to join in.
Please pray with me: Dear Father, God, by Your wisdom You have caused all the Scriptures to be written for our learning. Grant, that by Your Spirit, we would so listen, read, mark, and inwardly digest them, that we would have eternal life in You, through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the same Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen.
Reflections for March 6, 2022
Title: One Thing Needful
Mark Eischer: You’re listening to The Lutheran Hour. For FREE online resources, archived audio, our mobile app, and more, go to lutheranhour.org. Once again, here’s our Speaker, Dr. Michael Zeigler.
Mike Zeigler: Thank you, Mark. Today I’m visiting with Dr. David Lewis. He’s a professor at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, Missouri. David teaches about life with God as He’s revealed Himself in Jesus, and especially through the writings of the Bible’s New Testament. Welcome, David.
David Lewis: Thank you, Michael. It’s wonderful to be here talking with to you.
Mike Zeigler: You and I, in fact, were talking the other day, and we both agreed with this statement that I thought we could talk more about. The statement is that the Gospels, these accounts of Jesus in the New Testament, should be experienced like someone experiences a film. So before we get into discussion of what that might mean, what would you want to say first to make clear what we’re not saying with this comparison that the Gospels are like films?
David Lewis: Most of us know that when we watch a movie we’re watching a fictional account, a narrative, a story that someone has made up. And there are films that are based on history. However, most films it’s a fictional narrative. We’re not saying that the Gospels are fictional stories; that’s not what I mean by this.
Mike Zeigler: Dr. Lewis and I both believe that the Gospels in the New Testament, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are in fact historical accounts. They are reports of things that actually happened, persons that existed, conversations that happened. But they are crafted in an artful way. They have artistry to them. How is the artfulness or the artistry of these historical documents similar to what a director is trying to do when he or she crafts a film?
David Lewis: First, how would I identify the four Gospels according to their genre? The Gospels are narratives. And you mentioned earlier that they’re biographies. And what is a biography, but it’s a narrative account of someone’s life. And so all four Gospels are narrative accounts of Jesus’ ministry, in a sense all of which are driving us to Jesus’ crucifixion and then resurrection. So as a narrative, when Mark decided to write the Gospel of Mark, it was up to him to pick and choose which events from Jesus’ life he would put in his narrative. Mark decides not to give us the Sermon on the Mount. Matthew gives us the Sermon on the Mount. Mark, I think because Mark wants an action, sort of an action-centered story, driving us to the crucifixion of Jesus, he doesn’t give of us as much of Jesus’ teaching;—some but not as much;—and there’s a certain artfulness in that. Mark, like a director, is crafting a narrative and he’s picking and choosing which events of Jesus and which he’s going to put in the narrative, and then which events he’s going to put next to each other. If you read Mark 2, you have a whole string of narratives where Jesus is meeting opposition again and again and again, ultimately driving us to the end of the chapter where Jesus claims to be “Lord of the Sabbath.” And Jesus meets opposition, and each time He does it gives Him the opportunity to assert something about His identity and what He’s come to do. And the fact that Mark strings these stories together shows us that when you’re reading Mark 2, you got to be thinking this is about conflict and how Jesus overcomes conflict and people resisted Him.
Mike Zeigler: Say, for example, in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus is praying, “Father forgive them because they don’t know what they’re doing” from the cross. You have in mind all these harsh conversations that He’s had with the Pharisees and the teachers of the law through the time, and He’s praying forgiveness for these guys, too.
David Lewis: And so what do we see in a narrative? We have a plot and the plot of the four Gospels is taking us to Jesus’ crucifixion. We have characters and they’re characterized. This is something when you analyze a narrative;—how does the author characterize these people? Well, Jesus is always the Protagonist of the Gospels and He’s always portrayed as someone who knows what He’s doing. He’s righteous in all that He does. And so whatever Jesus says and does, you the reader ought to trust. But when you mention the Pharisees and the religious authorities, they’re the antagonists in all four Gospels. They’re the folks that are opposed to Jesus. And so when they make statements, you don’t trust what they say.
Mike Zeigler: So we are all familiar, most of us are familiar with the experience of watching a movie on a big screen, the lights are off. You’re immersed in surround sound, and it’s start to finish. You don’t listen to a movie or watch a movie in little five-minute chunks; you usually watch it from start to finish. So how is that experience similar to what the Gospel writers may have intended for their first hearers or readers?
David Lewis: A major theory among New Testament scholars today is that basically all of the books of the New Testament were meant to be experienced in a single setting, read out loud by one person and then heard by others;—all in one sitting. So the audience is sitting there and experiencing this narrative as today we might imagine experiencing a film. It’s interesting, Michael, in the early days of film, there was a major debate about whether film was an artform, at all. A lot of philosophers believed that film was not art because they said for something to be art it’s got to be completely objective and distanced from you, the person viewing the art. And that you needed to be able to turn away from it to come back and reevaluate it. And notice how a film captures you in one place. You mentioned that dark room, the surround sound. You experience it as long as it goes, an hour and a half to two and a half hours and you don’t have that opportunity to stop and reflect. And this is what makes films so effective is that you don’t have time to distance yourself from the story until you’ve experienced the entire story.
Mike Zeigler: I think that best captures the power of the artform in film. Like you said, it captures you, invites you to participate in that story. And it seems that’s exactly what the Gospel writers are doing with these true accounts of Jesus. So this is the first Sunday of Lent as you know, and many Christians use this time of Lent to take up some additional devotional practice or spiritual discipline. So if someone listening were considering this Lent doing just what you mentioned, sitting down and experiencing one of the four Gospels;—maybe Luke, since we’re following Luke this year, like you would a movie listening to it or reading it from beginning to end all in one sitting, completely immersed. How would you encourage someone to try that out if they’ve never done it or try it again if they haven’t done it for a while?
David Lewis: I would say I think it would be an excellent practice to take the time to listen to each of the four Gospels in one sitting. And since we’re in series C, start with Luke. You did this recently I heard. About how long did it take you to get through the Gospel of Luke in one sitting?
Mike Zeigler: I listened to an audio version of it and I went on about a seven-mile walk, took about two, two and a half hours, so a little longer than Mark. But you’re right. It was immersive.
David Lewis: I would say all four Gospels are in invitation to two things. It’s an invitation to believe in Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, to recognize Him as Lord and Savior. I mean, it’s an invitation to receive the grace that He has won for us in His death and His resurrection and in His ministry. Then it’s that invitation to discipleship. What is discipleship? You put it well. It’s really becoming a part of Jesus’ story. That’s what discipleship really is. We’re becoming a part of this story, and now the story’s going to continue as it does in the book of Acts through what the disciples do. So all four Gospels are inviting us to become a part of this story.
Mike Zeigler: Thank you for giving us your time today. And as you listen, consider taking this up. And listen to one of the Gospels, maybe Luke;—start to finish this Lent;—or all four of them. And see how they invite you into the story of Jesus.
Music Selections for this program:
“A Mighty Fortress” arranged by Chris Bergmann. Used by permission.
“A Mighty Fortress” From The Concordia Organist (© 2009 Concordia Publishing House)