Sons and Daughters of Martha

Scripture — Luke 10:38-42 (NRSV)

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.”

Devotion

I can’t tell you when I first heard this famous story—maybe in Sunday School—but I can tell you that I’ve struggled with it ever since I heard it. On the surface, it’s very simple. Two sisters live in the village of Bethany; the story of the raising of Lazarus in John 11:1-46 makes it clear that they live there with their brother Lazarus and that the family appears to be close to Jesus. Certainly Jesus seems to have no trouble simply dropping into their house, apparently unannounced, for a visit in this passage. (The fact that the house is specifically identified as Martha’s house has implied for some commentators that she was the oldest sibling, and nothing about this story or John 11 seems to contradict that.) The two sisters respond to Jesus’s arrival differently; Martha bustles around providing hospitality, while Mary sits at Jesus’s feet and listens to his teaching (which, incidentally, was generally something reserved for male followers of a rabbi, and shows the great respect in which Jesus held Mary). Jesus tells Martha to stop bustling and be like Mary. End of story.

Except, and this is where many of us have struggled with the story, this simple exchange has layers and implications. The problem is that quite a lot of us who read this passage—me definitely included—are Marthas, and we wonder with some justification: if Martha came and sat down at Jesus’s feet also, who would make sure his dinner was prepared? Who would arrange for him to wash his hands and feet? Who would see that he had a place to sleep?  It’s all very well to praise Mary’s time of contemplation, but contemplation doesn’t wash the dishes, after all.

In one of my favorite poems, “The Sons of Martha,” Rudyard Kipling once wondered the same thing:

The Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;

But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart.

And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,

Her Sons must wait upon Mary’s Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.

It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.

It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.

It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,

Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.

I’ve always been a person who makes sure that “the wheels run truly.” Whenever I take a personality test, I end up getting whatever personality type is the organizer and systematizer and error-corrector (I am an INTJ on the Myers-Briggs, for instance). I’ve always secretly identified with the shrewd manager in Luke 16—and built up a nice bit of resentment along with Kipling as he rolls out his final stanza:

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessèd–they know the angels are on their side.

They know in them is the Grace confessèd, and for them are the Mercies multiplied.

They sit at the Feet–they hear the Word–they see how truly the Promise runs.

They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and–the Lord He lays it on Martha’s Sons!

Churches need Marthas to run—to unlock the doors and make the budgets and turn on the lights and prepare for the potlucks and ensure that the sewers aren’t backed up. And becoming a part of the faith and work movement, with its focus on the holiness of everyday work, initiated me into a whole community of Marthas. Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s only what goes on in church that matters, I have been told over and over again by the movement. You can serve God just as much at your computer, or on your farm, or in Congress, or in your house washing the dishes, as you can in a church pew.

And yet.

After all these years of being made uncomfortable by this passage—and then of hearing many sermons where all of my Martha tendencies are excused, because, after all, how would the world go round without her and how would anyone have any clean underwear?—of feeling very satisfied over in the corner as I polish the silverware, me and Rudyard Kipling—I keep thinking: and yet.

Maybe Jesus doesn’t care.

Oh, he cares for me. He loves me. He wants me to learn from him, to follow him, to be his disciple, to spread the good news of the kingdom. But maybe it’s immaterial to him how, as long as I listen to him while I do it and don’t wander off—not even to make him lunch.

Maybe.

Find all Life for Leaders devotions here. Explore what the Bible has to say about work at the unique website of our partners, the Theology of Work Project. Reflection on today’s Life for Leaders theme can be found here: Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42).