A Feast of Grace
““Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.’”
Diego Velázquez's masterful "Christ in the House of Mary and Martha" (1618) offers a visual meditation on the balance between spiritual nourishment and earthly concerns that necessarily bubbles to mind in meditating on this week's Scripture readings. The painting's composition draws us into the profound tension between contemplation and action, mirroring our own struggles to prioritize the things truly needful amidst life's demands.
In the foreground, Velázquez presents two figures engaged in domestic tasks. The older woman gestures emphatically, perhaps urging her younger companion to attend to her duties. She, for her part, looks rather put out: her strong arms are engaged fully in the work, but her gaze toward the viewer is disinterested – her eyes fixed neither on the task before her nor on the object of ultimate desire in the upper right corner of the image. The scene of everyday labor she inhabits contrasts sharply with that small but luminous vignette, where we glimpse Christ seated with Mary at his feet, and a scolding Martha over her shoulder. The artist's use of chiaroscuro heightens this juxtaposition: the kitchen scene shrouded in earthly shadow while divine light bathes Christ and Mary. Martha is also a part of the divine drama, but partially enshadowed. A simple meal sits forgotten on the table in the corner; the necessities have been secured, that the "one thing needful" may be attended to.
Through this clever composition, Velázquez invites us to see ourselves in both Martha's industriousness and Mary's devotion. The painting challenges us to consider: How do we balance the legitimate demands of daily life with the truer divine work of sitting at the feet of Jesus? In a world that often valorizes busyness, Velázquez reminds us of Christ's gentle admonition to Martha, and by extension to us, about choosing "the better part."
"At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall be filled with bread. Then you shall know that I am the Lord your God."
— Exodus 16:12
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Texts for This Week
Prayer
Almighty and merciful God, it is only by your grace that your faithful people offer you true and laudable service: Grant that we may run without stumbling to obtain your heavenly promises; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Contrition
In his a cappella work for 8-part choir, "Contrition," the contemporary Norwegian composer Ola Gjeilo creates a beautiful tapestry of human longing and divine provision by weaving together texts from George Herbert's poem "Perseverance" and the Latin text of Psalm 101. Described by Gjeilo as perhaps his most personal work, the piece invites listeners into a space of vulnerability and trust before God.
The Latin excerpts from Psalm 101, "Domine, exaudi orationem meam" (Lord, hear my prayer), emphasize our dependence on God's attentiveness and grace. Gjeilo attenuates the text, creating a rich chordal background, with a soaring soprano solo embodying the voice of supplication. Suddenly the heavy Latin phrases part way for that rich concluding line of Herbert's poem, "Thou art my rock, thou art my rest!" The Latin prayer is transfigured: it takes on a turbulence and urgency against the confidence of Herbert's assurance. The two intermingle, at last resolving into a single prayer, a new line from the Psalm: "Non avertas faciem tuam a me" (Do not turn your face from me).
What a rich mirror to the depth of human emotion in seeking God! The interplay of soloist and choir calls to mind the heart's cry to God, supported and amplified by the community of faith. In this way, "Contrition" not only reflects our personal reliance on God's provision but also our interconnectedness as the Body of Christ, nourished together by the Bread of Life.
