This past weekend I attended mass at St. Lawrence Martyr Catholic Church, the childhood parish of The Boyfriend, in Redondo Beach, California. St. Lawrence parish is in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, home of the recent $660 million sex abuse settlement. The recent developments in the case cast a shadow over the service.

But this was not a time for passivity. This is the time to clean house! Yet at first glance, Sunday’s gospel reading seemed like a strange call to squalor:

Luke 10:38-42

Jesus entered a village
where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him.
She had a sister named Mary
who sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak.
Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said,
“Lord, do you not care
that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?
Tell her to help me.”
The Lord said to her in reply,
“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.
There is need of only one thing.
Mary has chosen the better part
and it will not be taken from her.”

This is not your regular old “love one another” gospel passage. I found Sunday’s reading perplexing, and immediately afterwards asked myself Why does Jesus hate housework? Yes, with one admonishment from the Lord, the entire Martha Stewart home collection could cease to exist. I shuttered even thinking of it. Then realizing that there might be more to this gospel than meets this domestic diva’s ear, I listened in to Rev. Msgr. Paul Dotson, Pastor of St. Lawrence’s, homily.

When Father was a child, he said, there was a parlor in his family’s house; a room only to be used by guests. This room was immaculate, even when the rest of the house was not. It was ready to receive sudden visitors, even if the kitchen sink was overflowing with dishes, the office was brimming with papers, and the laundry room was piled with the stinky, sweat soaked clothing of one pious little boy. Always immaculate, this room was his family’s shining face to the world. Sounds charming.

Then Father’s homily took a left turn. With Jesus, he insisted, we are called not to keep a pristine parlor. Mary sat with Jesus, and made herself available to Him beyond a mere façade of hospitality. While Martha made special arrangements for Jesus –not unlike the special arrangement of attending mass once a week –Mary knew that openness to Jesus could not be compartmentalized. Father implored that we consider the ways that we put God into the parlors in our lives, unwilling to be fundamentally transformed, and open those places up to God. That call seemed scary to Martha. It seems both inspiring and overwhelming to me. The church, I think, still has much to learn.

The homily was clever and clear. And with that, I put that lovely sermon in my mind’s box of wisdom, and continued on with my day. My parlor is decorated with theology books and quilted silk decorative pillows. You can’t get past me, God.