During World War II the Royal Air Force flew Danny's favorite plane of all time: the Spitfire. Watching those things fly all over the RKO newsreels the young boy came to believe they were dauntless. If a pilot flew a Spitfire, Danny thought, he would always hit his target, and he would always return home.

One day the British Consul from Minneapolis came to Danny's town to visit. Danny's dad was chairman of the County War Bond drive so that gave him the honor of entertaining the British Consul in his home. His mother, Suzanne, went crazy with preparations. She brought in all her friends; she hired a German woman to clean the house; she went downtown to buy a new dress.

The day the Consul arrived 40 people crammed into three rooms to welcome this man. Each one of those people couldn't wait to tell this tall, thin diplomat from England about the town, about how patriotic it was, about how he or she had a great-aunt in London, about how well the war was going. They all had plenty to say.

Suzanne was running around fractiously trying to serve everybody and greet everybody, and make sure everybody had a place to sit, and did they want more of this -- in general, were they having a good time.

Finally the British Consul sat down. For a split second he was actually by himself. The hostess had left to get him a drink; all the other guests momentarily turned away. Danny saw his chance. He ran to him. Even though the Consul was sitting, the boy still had to stand to whisper into his ear: "Tell me about Spitfires!"

The tall man looked at the eight-year-old. He smiled, he relaxed, and he said, "Spitfires? I'll tell you a story about Spitfires. I flew one early in the war. It was splendid. I shot down a Messerschmidt and I came home alive. The next time I wasn't so lucky. That's why I'm not flying anymore. What is your name? I'll send you some pictures of Spitfires."

About a month later a letter came from Minneapolis. Inside was a folder about Spitfires and a note from the Consul: "Dear Danny. I enjoyed talking with you. Good luck." He signed his name.

Danny was the only person who didn't barrage the Consul's ears with information about the town and American patriotism. This small boy was the only one who said, "Tell me about Spitfires." He was the only one who actually listened to him -- even if it was just for a few minutes!

In today's gospel lesson Jesus needs somebody to listen. He has just begun his journey to Jerusalem where he knows he will travel the bitter road of the cross and he will experience the loneliness of being denied, abandoned, and betrayed by his disciples. Martha may think her tasks have a high level of importance and at another time she would be right but not now. Now, it is time to sit and listen.