Honoring Martha - Luke 10:38 - Living by the Word - Column

Christian Century, July 5, 1995 by Margaret Guenther

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.--Luke 10:38

JESUS' PEDAGOGICAL intent in the story of Mary and Martha is clear: in the grand scheme of things, there is need of only one thing, and Mary has chosen the better part. Yet I must confess that as I read this story I ask: Where would Jesus be without Martha? And why did he seek her hospitality if he then intended to belittle her? Why didn't he just stay out by the roadside for his teaching if the teaching was all that mattered?

My irritation grows when I read a footnote in the New Oxford Annotated RSV:

With delicate ambiguity Jesus rebuked Martha's choice of values; a simple meal (one dish) is sufficient for hospitality. Jesus approved Mary's preference for listening to his teaching as contrasted with Martha's unneeded acts of hospitality.

This is a relatively typical interpretation, polarizing the sisters and putting poor Martha ever more in the wrong. She lives in our minds as the ultimate Pelagian, the ultimate co-dependent, the ultimate fussy hostess. I think it's time to reclaim her.

Martha was the householder; she was in charge and welcomed Jesus into her home. Did Jesus know what went into her preparations for his visits? Did he know about housework? He turned water into wine effortlessly. He fed thousands, again without effort, by turning a little bread and two fish into enough for all. But did he understand Martha's work?

Martha-work is invisible when it is done right. Rooms are orderly, clothes are clean and food is good and plentiful. It all seems to just "happen." Perhaps Martha's mistake was that she tried too hard and then grew tired of being invisible. She was tired of never sitting down to enjoy her own parties. She was tired of being the careful older sister, the woman of the house, the one responsible for everyone else's well-being and comfort.

I imagine that comfortable house in Bethany...the smell of good things cooking, a clean inviting room with some flowers or fruit in a bowl, soft lamplight or sun streaming in a window, the gentle movement of air and the rustle of trees outside. I also visualize the kitchen--not a first-century Palestinian kitchen but a middle-class kitchen from the 1930s. It's hot. The work space is inadequate. The dirty pots and pans are piling up. And poor Martha, distracted by her many tasks, has just about had it.

Martha is giving Jesus her best. I suspect that she is constitutionally unable to drop everything and sit at his feet until dinner is over and the dishes are done. We rely on the Marthas to get the job done and to postpone their own pleasures until all obligations are met. To be sure, it's easy for a Martha to get carried away by an expanding vision of her work. She probably was distracted by her many tasks and so caught up in the minutiae of hospitality that she missed the point of welcoming Jesus into her home. Yet I think she deserves a gentle welcome to her own living room, not a reproach.

Another confession: I suspect Mary of being spoiled. The cranky, self-righteous Martha in me is convinced that Mary's fingernails weren't broken and her hands weren't rough from doing the laundry. If I were Martha, I would say to Jesus, "Don't you care that I've been left with all the work? Don't you think I would like to sit at your feet? But there's still dinner to prepare and a hundred small tasks to do. No one will notice that I do them, but they'll certainly notice if I neglect them. Have you ever wondered why you like to come to this house and not to the house next door or across the street when you are tired and hungry and when you yearn for a quiet space around you?"

Of course, I don't know how Jesus said, "Martha, Martha." Maybe he touched her gently on the arm or took her hand. Maybe he smiled the kind of loving smile that made her understand instantly. But I think he was risking a lot when he compared her to her sister. I doubt very much that she wanted to hear about Mary's spiritual gifts.

Martha is the practical sister: in John's story of the raising of Lazarus, she makes a profound theological statement in confessing Jesus as the Christ. Then, as a woman with with both feet on the ground, she warns that the resurrected Lazarus will stink after four days in the grave. Martha is tough; Martha is real. (Meister Eckhart preached on Martha's spiritual maturity and superiority to her sister. "Martha knew Mary," he says, "better than Mary knew Martha.")

We need to honor Martha and thank her for the order and comfort she brings to our lives. Most of the time I would rather be Mary. I prefer study to housecleaning. Presence at the liturgy brings me closer to God than mopping the kitchen floor. Time in prayer feels richer than time spent in committee meetings.

On the other hand, maybe I am still a Martha. Maybe I want to go on being Martha, as long as I can reserve the right to occasionally and affectionately complain: "Lord, do you not care that my sisters and brothers have left me to do all the work by myself? Tell them to help me."