The Shrimp Was Not Dead

I worked for a large corporation for a long time, and that means I heard lots of stories about the misadventures of upper management. Sometimes the people running the company have to go on trips they would rather not take. Visiting a country whose food is hard for you is one reason someone might resist. But there are times when the business hinges on those meetings, so the manager goes if he wants to keep the role.

In one case, a manager who was running a large division in Idaho had to make a trip to Japan. About fifteen people from my company traveled there and met with about fifteen people from a big corporation headquartered in Japan. They gathered for several all-day meetings. The host company provided meals so they could keep working without a lunch break. They wanted to make a big impression, so they pulled out all the stops and served what they considered the best possible food.

The manager from my company noticed that shrimp were served, which was fine with him. He loved shrimp. But they were served completely intact, with the eyes and the antennae. He feared that if he did not eat the food he would bring dishonor to his hosts, and he very much wanted to play the role of a gracious guest. He also did not want to eat the shrimp that seemed to be looking at him. So he developed a sneaky plan. He would be seen by everyone with the shrimp in his hand, as though he were about to eat it, and then he would still avoid eating it.

He figured that if he picked up a shrimp right as he started talking to the room, he could hold it, maybe wave it as he gestured, and then kick the conversation to someone at the opposite end of the table. Once everyone’s attention was drawn away, he would ditch the shrimp.

Soon enough the opportunity came. He started talking as he grabbed a shrimp. He gestured with it, making sure everyone saw that he was holding it. This took some time, but he could talk his way through it. Then something went wrong. The shrimp was not actually dead. It was just really cold and appeared dead. This was a highly prized dish, and the hosts were pleased to share it. His hand warmed the shrimp up, and it began to move. He threw it away from him and let out a high-pitched scream.

Instead of cleverly bypassing the shrimp, he brought a great deal of attention to himself. In an attempt to reduce the fallout, he ate several of the cold, not-really-dead-yet shrimp. In the moment he loved the shrimp. But many people heard the complaining he did when he was back in the United States. He was clear that he appreciated their generosity. He also made it clear he really did not like having to eat the shrimp.

The manager went to Japan not because he wanted to go. He went because he was obligated. He did not desire to play the gracious guest. He wanted others to believe he was happy to be there and that he shared their joy in the food. The complaining later exposed the reality.

In Luke chapter 10, in the story of Martha and Mary, Martha complains about her role. She has taken on the work of host and is doing a great deal to serve her guests. This was both Martha’s and Mary’s home, so one could reasonably assume both could host. Mary does not feel the same obligation. Mary sits and listens to Jesus while Martha serves. If Martha were loving the serving, she would not be complaining. The complaint shows something important. Even though she is literally serving Jesus, she is not enjoying it. She would rather be doing something else.

I do wonder how many people serve God in this way. They do something even though they would rather not. Does he really want us to do things not because we desire to serve, and not because we want to become closer to him? Jesus says Mary chose the better part.

Consider the difference between Paul and Martha. In the second reading from that Sunday, Paul says, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake.” In 2 Corinthians he lists some of those sufferings: lashes, rods, a stoning, shipwreck, nights on the deep, dangers on the road. A mentally healthy person would not like any of that, and Paul did not like it either. He calls it suffering. He chooses to rejoice because he knows he is serving God. Martha had the opportunity to do the same thing. She could have said, “I do not like this work. It is not fair. I choose to rejoice in it because I am serving God.”

Service done begrudgingly, out of obligation, does not actually serve. The person is trying to earn something in return, even if it is only people’s good opinion. God does not want that kind of service, because it is not good for us. We are no closer to him when we serve like that. It is about us.

If you are serving while furious and calling it holiness, start with the complaint you make later. The manager loved the shrimp in the room. He complained on the plane home. That later sentence is the tell. Write down one thing you are doing this week that you resent. Do not dress it up as duty yet. Just name it.

Then tell the truth to one safe person, or to God, before you perform the next hour of it. “I do not want to do this. I am doing it so no one thinks poorly of me.” That is closer to Mary’s part than a tighter smile. You may still do the task. You do not have to keep pretending you are glad.

If the task is actually love — a meal, a shift, care for someone who needs you — you can choose it without the performance. Paul did not like the suffering. He did not fake that he liked it. He named it as suffering and still chose the service. That is different from eating the shrimp so the table will think well of you, then resenting the table all the way home.

If you notice you are only serving to earn a good opinion, stop adding a second helping. Do the next necessary thing. Skip the extra that exists only to look gracious. The better part, in this Gospel, is not a speech about hospitality. It is sitting with Jesus instead of using the work to look like you already are.

This is a pastoral reflection, not clinical care and not a substitute for it. If you or someone you love is in immediate danger, call 988 or local emergency services.

Drawn from a homily first preached in 2022.