Today’s reading from the Gospel of Luke is one of those Biblical stories that captures a wonderful, complicated, and very human moment in time.
Jesus is visiting his friends – three siblings, though we only see two of them in this particular story – Mary, Martha, and Lazarus (yes, that Lazarus) – who share a home together.
I love this picture of family, and I especially love this picture of two of the women in Jesus’ life, and their relationships to him and with him – women who were perhaps, in subtle ways, turning expectations upside down, living out in their own time and their own way his countercultural teachings. The home where they live, for instance, Luke specifically identifies as Martha’s home – not Lazarus’, or any other man’s – unusual in patriarchal early Palestine. And on this particular day, Martha’s sister Mary is spending her time with Jesus, sitting at his feet and listening to him teach – in her time, that was something the men did, the disciples, not the women.
We get the sense that this is not a particularly significant or unusual day, and that this is not Jesus’ first visit to Martha’s home, that he is likely welcomed there as extended family, comfortable and familiar. He knows them well, and they know him well. Many of us who have brothers or sisters, or who have been around brothers or sisters, will likely recognize the emotional dynamic that’s going on here. Mary is sitting with Jesus; Martha sees her; and she is frustrated, and perhaps a little bit envious. Mary is not paying attention to her responsibilities, and Martha is left on her own. Martha complains to Jesus, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all this work by myself?” And then she follows that up, not with a diplomatic sort of question such as, Lord, would you mind mentioning to Mary that she needs to be getting her work done?
No. Instead, Martha says to Jesus, “TELL HER to help me.” She sounds like she’s talking to another brother, not the Son of God.
The mental image that might come to mind when we hear this story, the picture that’s been painted for us over the years, is one of a rapt Mary sitting with Jesus as he talks, her face full of joy, and in the background, Martha, cooking or carrying a basket or a water jug, her face full of irritation. (Do a Google image search and you’ll see what I mean.) This story is often read as a lesson in priorities, the take-away being that we need to stop working and spend all our time praying, that being busy and distracted is something to be ashamed of, that Mary had it right and Martha had it wrong.
There are some truths to be found in those lessons, certainly. Our world is moving faster and faster; and we increasingly value ourselves and others by how much work we can get done, how much we can produce or earn or invest or buy. It is easy to lose touch with quiet, with prayer, with time in conversation with God, with our own reflection and study. Busyness can exhaust us, pull us away from our loved ones, disconnect us from our neighbors and from God.
But I do not believe that this story is telling us that Martha is wrong and Mary is right.
Martha is not wrong to be annoyed that she has no help with her work – and that is work that’s never actually described in the Gospel, even though she is often depicted as cooking or preparing a meal – practicing the ministry of hospitality, the ministry of welcome. The NRSV translation that we use says that Martha is “distracted by her many tasks.” In the original Greek, Martha is distracted by diakonion – which is the origin of our word deacon – someone who works on behalf of those who suffer or are poor or ill. The work of the deacon is to take care of God’s people, to care for the world – diakonion means service or ministry. So Martha was complaining that Mary was praying and studying, but not putting in the work of the diaconate – and we don’t really ever know what work that is.
And Jesus’ response is not to scold Martha – his response is compassionate. Martha, Martha, he says – not just once – you are worried by many things. Be at peace, he seems to be saying. You only need one thing, that which Mary has chosen – listening to the word of God – because everything else, including Martha’s work, comes from that.
Jesus may not be saying one should choose prayer over work, or that we should admire Mary more than Martha, but rather, that both kinds of work, that the examples of both sisters, are necessary to our lives as faithful people – contemplation and service, study and labor, prayer and action. The Gospel of Luke shows us Mary and Martha as showing us two kinds of hospitality, each of them attentive to their guest in a different way. They show us two kinds of presence, two kinds of ministry – perhaps even two kinds of prayer, if we can pray with our hands and our feet as well as with our mouths. Presiding Bishop Michael Curry, in a message to the Association of Episcopal Deacons earlier this summer, said that Mary and Martha represent two dimensions of spirituality – “Mary goes deep,” he said, and “Martha goes long. Mary went to the depth of faith, and Martha lived it out and bore witness to it in the world.”
I think it’s interesting that this particular story falls in this place in the Gospel of Luke and in our lectionary. Last week, Jesus answered a question from a man who asks “what must I do for eternal life?” The answer was to love the Lord your God with all your heart and mind and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself, and Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan to illustrate that. Next week, Jesus will be asked another question, this time by his disciples: “Lord, teach us how to pray.” So in last week’s parable, the Samaritan lived out his faith, caring for his neighbor, doing the work of diakonia, helping another who was suffering. In next week’s reading, the disciples seek to learn how to be in communion with God – to love the Lord with all their heart, mind, and soul.
Mary and Martha, in a sense, embody those two greatest commandments – love the Lord your God, and love your neighbor as yourself – and their story, sandwiched between the Good Samaritan and the Lord’s Prayer, is not intended to prove which way of living one’s faith, in prayer or in service, is better than the other – whether Mary or Martha is more virtuous – but instead to show us that both are necessary, and connected, and that each inspires and gives meaning to the other.
Prayer opens our hearts and our minds to the movement of the Spirit toward the work we can do in the world. Spending time in study grounds our work and ministry, so that good works are not hollow. And it connects us to the work and faith of those who have gone before, Mary and Martha, the disciples of the early church, and all the saints in between and since.
Together, the inner work of Mary and the worldly work of Martha is the work of the Church and of its faithful people, you and I – to love the Lord with all our heart, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Let us pray.
(Silence.)
God of quiet and God of power, you sent your Son to live in this world and to teach us by word and example. Inspire our study, speak to us through prayer, give us strength to do your work and faith to love this world, following the examples of your disciples, Mary and Martha, and all those who follow the way of Christ, in whose name we pray. Amen.
— The Rev. Cara Ellen Modisett, Curate, Trinity Episcopal Church of Staunton
Sixth Sunday After Pentecost, Year C, July 17, 2022
Readings: Luke 10:38-42:
As Jesus and his disciples went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
