Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Hello, my name is Martha and I'll be your server today
I don't do well being fussed over and waited on. Luckily my toe is much better and I can limp around. I don't really even have to hobble. I was still hobbling yesterday. Like Grandpappy Amos on the Real McCoys, something only old fogies like me remember.
I chose the name Martha on purpose, way back when. St. Martha is the patron saint of waitresses and cooks. St. Lawrence is the patron saint of cooks, too...also of comics. I tend to think of him more as the patron saint of comics for his wild sense of humor. A true satirist.
When the Roman prefect started up the Roman killing machine again he told St. Lawrence to round up all the churches treasures. The prefect gave St. Lawrence three days. St. Lawrence spent the next three days giving everything away to the poor like a wild man. At the appointed time he showed up wherever he was supposed to be with the loot: thousands of the blind, lepers, poor, crippled....excuse me, disabled....you get the picture. "Here are the treasures of the church, " he announced. What a riot! He was promptly ordered to be killed.
Legend has it he was grilled on a gridiron and his final words were, "Turn me over, I'm done on this side." Really, you can look it up.
Reminds me of when Ronald Reagan, not the dancer, old Dutch, said, "I forgot to duck."
Anyhow, St. Martha is the patron saint of waitresses because of one famous story, that makes everyone hang their heads in shame because it makes everyone feel really guilty. And it should.
You remember Martha. She had a sister, Mary and an extremely famous brother, Lazarus. Yes, THAT Lazarus. (Has anyone ever been named Lazarus except that guy? Some names you just don't touch. Like Hitler. No one wants that last name anymore.) Jesus spent a lot of time at their house and on one such occasion Martha was busily serving everyone. Twelve apostles, the Lord only knows how many disciples, Lazarus. Did they just drop in? Did she have to make the falafel dinner for three she had planned stretch for 35 people? We don't know.
We do know that she had something choice to say to her sister Mary for plopping herself down and listening to Jesus. Anybody would sympathize with her. Where does Mary get off leaving Martha all that work all by herself? There are guests in the house, for Pete's sake. St. Martha could have stormed out the back door with a hearty 'get it yourself!' throw over her shoulder and taken some 'alone time' and no one would have blamed her.
But Jesus tells her to chill, only in his archaic way of speaking. It's smarter to sit and listen to him then to bustle around rattling plates.
oops. That's right. That would be better.
Well, that's me, to a tee. I'm a plate rattler through and through.
Of course, I have St. Mary Fiacre to contend with. We never know who she's listening to at any given moment. Could be God, could be Lawrence Welk. There's no way to know.
This week I've been forced to go sit down. I've still managed to rattle a plate or two here at the blog anyhow, true to my namesake.