Martha of Bethany - Last Dinner

Last Dinner

Martha of Bethany

“Martha served.”
All I will be remembered for is my cooking.
My recipes have been passed on
from generation to generation,
and are now in my care.
My hospitality is my service to the Lord.
It is wrong to undervalue it.
Without my service,
there would have been no setting
for the dramas you now recollect every year.

That dinner was special…
There were no photos –
and I forget what we ate!
It was, however, the scene
of my sister’s sorrowing.
Her intuition confounded me.
She tended to him and I
tended to their witnesses.
This would become a story,
easily forgotten by most
and commemorated by others.

The smell of my fresh bread
and the aromas of the spices
disappeared when the nard was opened.
It was intoxicating and shocking.
I held my breath when I realized
what she was doing.
All I could think of was –
how right she was…
my sister – the prophet.

(John 12)

(C) 2017, A Koh-Butler

Mary of Bethany - Betrayal

Betrayal

Mary of Bethany

Critical voices surfaced after the miracle.
What did they think? -
that our brother was a zombie?
Or a ghost?

We decided to prove otherwise,
by hosting a resurrection dinner.
He would stay, of course,
Jerusalem gets so crowded at this time of year
and he had a mostly crew with him.
Yes – we would host a dinner
to prove Lazarus is really alive…
To prove resurrection of body is possible.
Only One with power over life and death
could have done this thing.

Many came to believe,
Others did not -
They said they were paying respects,
but now we know…
They went ‘to tell on us’
like children ‘dobbing’.
Why?
What did they have to gain?

When they muttered and left,
we realized where they were going.
I had a premonition
and went to collect the rest of the nard
I had purchased for my brother’s burial.
I now knew what it was for…

(John 11:46-47)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Mary and Martha of Bethany

Martha and Mary of Bethany

Palm Sunday

We went together with him
to Jerusalem.
(It was the time of gathering
at the Temple.)
On the way, he sent ahead
and there was a donkey.
(It was one of those brownish ones
and seemed friendly and calm.
It needed to be…
the crowds were noisy and excited
And they all wanted a piece of him.)
They called out and cheered.
Then, someone threw down his cloak
in front of the donkey -
and then others joined in…
cloaks, scarves, wraps….
lining the pilgrim’s route…
greeting him.
Others, who wanted to join in,
Stripped the palm trees  of their branches,
Laying the fronds down in criss-crossed patterns –
A green ‘red carpet’.
Some, took the palms and waved them,
Calling out and hailing him.

He rode in with dignity
And such love in his eyes.
It was hard to watch,
For we were fearful.
(So many things to fear these days.)

He went into the Temple.
And after he had pretty much caused a riot,
He got out of there so quickly,
We all missed him.

We went home…
And there he was…
Preparing the veggies for dinner…
So we both sat at his feet
And we all had a good laugh!

(Matthew 21:1-17)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Salome (Mother of Zebedee's sons)

Salome
The Mother of Zebedee’s sons (Tending Dying)

I tried to support them.
They clung to me as we walked.
When we came to the place.
We stopped and stood.
His mother was praying,
Incomprehensible moans.
Magda simply fell to the ground,
Still clutching my robe.

I came with them,
but told my sons to go into hiding.
I cannot imagine what Mary feels.
Could I bear this… this torture?
Throughout history, women
have seen their sons and husbands die.
Girlfriends have mourned
the lost potential of their dreams.

Is this the lot of women -
To tend the dying and the dead?
I can prepare myself
for the passing of my own generation,
but not my sons – Lord no!
Let this not be my lot.
Let my James and John be safe.
Protect them, O Lord.

This poor boy…
So diligent in his prayers,
So faithful in his healing,
So wise in his teaching.
How can he be so hated?
How can this violence exist?
His steps to reach here
were so tormented.
His broken skin and pained face…
His eyes were almost empty
with focus and carrying shame.

But what shame could he carry?
the shame of violence and hate?
He touched people –
with hand and voice.
He spoke of love
and showed us how.
He traveled the country
reaching out to ordinary
and the unclean.

Now – he is the unclean
And there is nothing we can do
to bring him comfort or relief.
We pray for a swift end…
For moments of calm
In this nightmare.
Let it end.
Please God.
Let him find peace.

(Matthew 27:55-56) 
NRSV 27:55 Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had provided for him. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.

  © 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Mary and Lazarus (Tending Death - Part 2)

Tending Death (Mary)

I prepare the water steeped in fragrant herbs
And cannot tell - is this the water
From the place of our baptism?

I pass the towel, soaked and fresh
To wipe the signs of life and death
Away from carcass remnants.

I hold his arm as my sister cleans
And we both move in dance like caresses
Remembering better days and hours.

I weep. She mutters.
She bids me stay and tend, hurrying away...
I know not where to... or to whom...

(John 11:1-45)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Martha, sister of Lazarus (Tending Death - Part 1)

Tending Death (Martha)

I wring the towel into the bowl
And cannot tell – is this the water that I drew
Or are these my salty tears?

Once again, I wipe his torso,
On which he wore the shirt I made
and spilled the wine on that first wearing.

I wipe his legs and recollect
the journeys to Jerusalem
on that dusty road…

I wipe his arm and in my memory
see the embrace for his guest – Our Lord!
What joy he had to welcome Him.

I bathe his shoulder – that carried us
these many years, through invaded times.
What will we do? Without you?

(John 11:1-45)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Mary of Bethany and Jesus (Tending Death - Part 3)

Tending Dying

I sprinkle precious water from my vial
Over feet into the bowl.
These feet that trod on our assumptions.
They trod the path from north to south,
bridging the stories of Kingdoms long past.
Could reconciliation be possible in a land
that has soaked up so much blood?
Perhaps it is inevitable that this Reconciler
will be taken down?
How the can I show Him my love and support?
How terrible it must be to carry the stories the way He does?
My tears, held in this little vial,
join all my weeping stories,
and those of every mother, sister, wife and daughter,
with those He bears.

(Mary of Bethany)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Martha

Ashes  

Martha

So, now, some hours after that corrective word,
I get to sweep and clean the ashes from the hearth.
Now, I get to think, beyond the confusion of instruction
that challenges all I have been and have known.

Who are we? To move beyond the roles assigned
by tradition and habit and respect?
Who is He? To call me so, out of my rightful place
into his new and fearful righteousness?
Who is my sister? The little one I nursed and loved,
whose tears I dried when our mother died.

I look upon these ashes and wonder,
can I ever return to knowing my place in this world?
when Heaven reveals opportunity, creativity,
equity in the eyes of One I love most?
How, then, can we continue in this world,
knowing the oppression of expectation?

(Luke 10:38-42)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Mary of Bethany - Choosy

Choosy

Mary of Bethany

Most teachers would not know my name.
Most teachers would not care.
Those power-mongers do not know
That I am even there.

Yet, Jesus uses my own name
And speaks into my heart.
He tells them to leave me alone
My choice – the better part!

So lonely to be questioning
My comments I would swallow
Yet only by hearing him
Am I able to follow.

But others would tear me from the room
And keep me at the sink.
They cannot let me ask or speak.
They will not let me think.

O sisters all – come kneel with me
Come join me at his feet.
Come Martha and come Lazarus
Draw near your learning seat.

When learning is withheld from us
We cannot receive grace.
We must chose to be present
And take the blessing place.

We do not do this out of greed
But in response to call
For it is God’s sacred gift to us
That blessing be for all.

Our service, then, is not to Christ
But from Christ to all others.
God blesses us to bless the world
As daughters, sisters, mothers.

Yes, Jesus uses all our names
Speaking into our hearts.
We learn to chose the blessing work
Our choice – the better part!

(Luke 10:38-42)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler