Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at Jesus’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, but few things are needed—indeed only one. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
Luke 10:38-42
There are so many ways to procrastinate out there. For me, it’s often doing lots of empty nothings, sitting on the couch, watching YouTube videos, scrolling on my phone, and playing online chess (which I gave up a couple of Lents ago and may need to again). But when there’s something really important that I need to do and that I don’t really want to do, my best form of procrastinating is actually quite productive. Maybe you can relate: there’s some hard conversation you’re trying to avoid or something due the next day, and before you know it, suddenly you’ve done all the dishes, vacuumed the house, reorganized the office, done the yard work, even fixing the loose door knob you were supposed to fix last year because finally, you have something you don’t want to do even more.
Now, in our gospel reading today, I don’t want to directly accuse Martha of doing this. If she was indeed doing hospitality work, that work was sacred (which is perhaps why the lectionary pairs this with Abraham and Sarah’s hospitality in Genesis 18:1-10a). But this story of Mary and Martha is so well-worn in the Christian imagination that it requires some unlearning, or at least revisiting its specifics. For instance, it’s often depicted as Martha in the kitchen preparing a meal and Mary not helping with the household tasks, but we should be careful to note that this form of ministry is not explicitly mentioned. Yes, there is good reason to think this might have been the kind of “woman’s work” of that day, with Christ welcoming Mary’s transgressing of boundaries to be his disciple. I think there is still something to this. But it’s also worth noting that some scholars have speculated that Mary, Martha, and Lazarus lived in a kind of hostel for the poor and sick; Martha’s home very well could have been the kind of model “field hospital” that a great Church community could be. Whether Martha was asking Mary for help with hospitality for their guests or asking for help in their ministry tasks to the poor and sick, it was sacred work.
But I think Luke has a good reason for placing this vignette of the lives and ministries of Mary and Martha right after the Good Samaritan, a story all about the importance of above-and-beyond hospitality, the true love of neighbor that shows up in our actions, not our beliefs. Just when we think we have Jesus figured out and placed into a formula, he complicates our formula by bringing another side to it: is it possible we might be using our busy ministry to avoid a relationship with Jesus? In contrast to the lesson of the Good Samaritan, do we ever engage in holy procrastination, spending all our time helping people for Jesus to avoid really being with him ourselves?
There’s another significant Mary and Martha story in John 12, where we are told that Mary buys expensive perfume and anoints Jesus’ feet with it. Note that in our reading today, Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, meaning she is learning from him and being discipled. Later in John, she’s back at his feet again, this time pouring out perfume in rich devotion. In John’s gospel, it’s not Martha who’s upset, but Judas, telling her, “That could have been used for the poor!”, to which Jesus says to leave her be, “You will always have the poor, but you won’t always have me.” In both cases, Jesus applauds Mary for choosing what he would call the “better part” (or “best portion” or “best dish”). In both cases, Jesus protects Mary’s devotional love from ourselves, our best intentions, and the tyranny of our good work.
We have many wonderful Marthas doing important work in our church and community. In fact, like many a preacher has said, I think most of us have some Martha within us. And Jesus loves Martha too. Jesus is no more against Martha doing her sacred work than he is against helping the poor or the Samaritan’s man in the ditch. His concern is her worry, distraction, and busy-ness that then turns into judgment. It’s spiritual tunnel vision, doing ministry while forgetting the true purpose of doing ministry. I have more than once done a church project that involved some friction, without either party stopping to wonder why they were fighting in a soup kitchen.
Beyond ministry, there is a well-known family story from when I was ten years old or so. We were at a family reunion where we all were going down the river in canoes. My distant cousins, who I hadn’t seen in ages, stopped to play by a waterfall, laughing, doing cannonballs, having a blast. I was so ready to join in with them. But I was paired up in a canoe with my military veteran grandfather, who insisted that we keep going because “We have to win!” Kind of misses the point of a family reunion, doesn’t it? I don’t think anybody else even thought it was a race.
That’s what it’s like when we do things for Jesus but forget that it’s for Jesus. That’s what it’s like when we keep ourselves busy doing things about Jesus while forgetting to actually be with him ourselves. It’s like trying to win the canoe race of one at a family reunion.
There’s something to be said about the Sabbath here. Now, a preacher has to be careful here, because the Sabbath is not explicitly mentioned, so it would be a stretch to say this story is chiefly about the Sabbath. But it does remind me that there is a reason God had to make the Sabbath a commandment and not a suggestion: some of us must be told to stop if we want to have a hope of truly being with God.
And when Christ says that Mary’s choosing a “better part” or “best portion” or “best dish,” he is saying she has chosen a dish that is more like the Sabbath than just simple rest, relaxation, and chillin’. Mary was deeply engaged, attuned, and listening to Jesus. If I’m being lazy, I’m not just “being a Mary,” I’m just being lazy. While the Sabbath was given for us to enter into God’s rest, it is also a time set aside to be with God, immerse ourselves in his presence and Word, and thus come away nourished.
Jesus obviously broke the Sabbath all the time for what was more important work. And yet the letter to the Hebrews (written in the days of the Early Church) emphasizes it still: “A Sabbath rest still remains for the people of God. For those who enter God's rest must also rest from their labors, as God did from his.” (Heb 4:9-10). And from thence we shall not only avoid doing work, but sit at the feet of God, be a disciple, and therefore truly enter his rest and be nourished by his Word. That’s what Sundays really should be about, to “dwell on his holy hill” (Psalm 15).
Just as our work is a sacred thing and the Good Samaritan made clear that hospitality is a sacred thing, we humans undermine ourselves by making our work and hospitality The Thing instead of the love of God being the thing from which our love and hospitality emerge.
So this story is not about shaming the Marthas in our church or within ourselves at all, but inviting us all to remember the sacred rhythm of life that also includes being with Jesus. We all know the motto, “Work hard, play hard,” but the Church’s motto might be “work hard, pray hard” (forgive me), or maybe “work hard, Sabbath hard,” or “Martha hard, Mary hard.”
And if we struggle with that, we aren’t alone. In Acts 6, we learn of how the first deacons came to be, a ministry team explicitly focused on caring for material needs, yet still working hand in hand and nourished by the Word of God, a “Martha team” to help the “Mary team.” Finding the balance within Christ’s body between these important roles of the Church—to not only be a place where we care for the community, but also a place where we worship God—has been a dilemma since the Church's earliest days. Keeping this balance within ourselves and in our Church is always a challenge, and yet this balance brings the fruits of the Body of Christ at its best. So I pray that God may keep us in balance.
And may we not work for Jesus to avoid being with him. After all, he and the meal of his body, given for us, are the best portion.
