There was a priest who won a round of golf for four at a fancy country club—like Interlachen or Minikahda—at a charity event.  So he decided he’d ask three of his brother priests to join him and the four of them arrived at the club for an afternoon of golf.
          They went to the club house and got changed into their golf clothes, and met their caddies on the first tee and teed off.
          Now none of them had played much golf, and being priests they didn’t really have time to practice, so not surprisingly, they were all terrible.  They sliced and hooked and topped the ball.  They hit into lakes and out of bounds and couldn’t get out of sand traps or make puts.
          But, despite their horrible shots, the worst thing that came out of anyone’s mouth was an occasional “darn” or “shoot.”
          Finally, after about 6 holes, one of the caddies, an older gentleman who looked like he’d seen a lot of golf, came up to one of the priests and said:
          “Pardon me for asking, but are all of you priests?’
          The priest who got the question was pretty surprised by it, and said:
          “Well, yes, but how did you know?”
          “You know,” the caddie said, “I’ve seen a lot of golf over the years, but I have never before seen such horrible golf accompanied by such clean language.”
          Integrated—the priests were people who lived integrated lives in that how they acted on the golf course where no one knew them was consistent with how they acted wearing their clerics or at church or on the altar—consistent, integrated, one personality.
          I’ve been thinking a lot about integration in the last week or two.  As someone who came of age in the ‘60’s, the term “integration” brings to mind the breaking down of racial barriers in housing, transportation, public accommodations and such.
          And while much has been accomplished in that area, we have seen recently how strong and close to the surface the forces of disintegration can be—how quickly and dramatically we can become separated along racial, ethnic, economic and class lines.
          In a very real way today Jesus in today’s Gospel confronts “disintegration” and how He does so can give us some guidance in dealing with our own issues of disintegration, both in terms of our dealings with others and in terms of our internal integration.
          Today Jesus is presented with the problem of a dispute—a division—a form of disintegration—between two sisters, Martha and Mary.
          Jesus has entered a village with Martha and Mary live and He, and presumably some of this disciples, have come for dinner. 
          Martha is doing all the work, while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet listening to Him speak, and Martha isn’t a bit happy about that.
          Finally she goes to Jesus and in her anger say: “Don’t you care that I’m doing all the work and Mary is just sitting there doing nothing.   Tell my sister to get up and get back into the kitchen to help me.”
          So how does Jesus respond, and what does that tell us about how we might confront situations of “disintegration” like this?
          First of all, Jesus acknowledges that Martha has a point.  He doesn’t blame her for taking on too much, or attempt to minimize her concerns.  The concerns are real and she is truly “anxious and worried about many things.”
          He puts Himself in her shoes.  He empathizes.  He relates to her.
          And then He moves her forward to the central point—which is not that she is right or wrong, or that Mary is right or wrong, but that there is only one thing that truly matters, and that is sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to Him—and in that regard Mary has made the better choice.
          And it is in sitting at Jesus’ feet that we too hear how to get past our “disintegration.”
          We hear that we have a common heavenly Father who loves us all, and we are all sons and daughters of that same Father—all brothers and sisters.
          He hear that those who we regard with contempt—like the Samaritan last week—are often the heroes.
          We hear that we are all members of the Body of Christ, and that when someone is shot in Falcon Heights, or in Dallas, or in Chicago or north Minneapolis, or DC—sadly, the list goes on—we all bleed.
          Even the patriarchal divisions between men and women break down.  Today Mary sits at Jesus’ feet listening to Him—something which no one else would allow, and which is probably one reason why Martha is so upset.  Mary is in a place that before Jesus had been reserved just for men. Women never were permitted to sit at the feet of a teacher.  In fact, some rabbis said women shouldn’t be taught anything at all.  But Jesus applauds Mary for breaking this restriction.
          We hear from St. Paul that in Christ there are neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free.
          All of which is why it is so great today that we’re celebrating a polka Mass.  For most of us, that’s not our history or culture, but what a great way of saying that we are one, we are integrated, we come from many different places but we all worship at the Table of the Lord together.
          And that oneness—that “only one thing” that Jesus discusses—has an internal component as well.
          We are called to be integrated in our lives, as the four priests were integrated.  We’re called to be Christians, members of one body, 24/7, not just an hour on Sunday.
          Sometime I hear people talk about the need for balance in their lives, balance between work and life, balance between the demands of their religious life and their secular life, a balanced approach to when and where and how they live their faith.
          Let me suggest the idea of balance in that regard is misguided. The idea of balance presupposes that we’re somehow divided—work versus life, faith versus reason, and all of that. When we think that way, we’re always on the verge of tipping one direction or the other trying to maintain that “balance.”
          That’s how we become “disintegrated,” even hypocritical.
          Jesus today reminds us that there is only “one” thing—not a balance of things—and that one thing is to listen to and follow Him—at work, at play, in our homes, here at church, and everywhere else we might be.
          So when we leave here as integrated followers of Christ, we remember in all we say and do that we are brothers and sisters, members of one body, which means we care about the health of that body and seek always and everywhere to oppose the forces that seek to tear it apart.
          Maybe it is a friend or family member who wants to spend all their time blaming or criticizing “those people,” finding fault on the basis of someone’s race or job.  Maybe it is those folks on the internet who want to spread hate.
          We stand up to that—not just an hour a week here at church, but in the other 167 hours of the week—and like Jesus we politely, empathetically, but clearly say “there is need of only one thing.”
          Like Mary, we choose to sit at the feet of Jesus, and let no one divide us.