TO THE GIRL WHO IS ALWAYS MARTHA

ALWAYS MARTHA AND NEVER MARY

I hate this story. You know the one. Jesus and his disciples were traveling through Israel. Road weary, they stopped in Bethany to rest, where Martha welcomed them into her home. It was busy. Hosting travelers meant there was food to make and places to prepare and rooms to clean. Martha was juggling the list of things to be done, smiling, gracious, and exhausted. And while Martha rushed, her sister sat, not helping when Martha stepped over her to serve the food, or shot her daggers between her smiles, or when guests snickered.

Eventually, her face streaked with flour and sweat, Martha had enough. The woman who always handled it all did something uncomfortable: she asked for help. 

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her to help me.” 

It was a fair question. Did Jesus care? And if he did, why wouldn’t he help? But instead of telling Mary to get up and help, Jesus rebuked Martha. 

“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen what is better, which will not be taken away from her.” 

Martha, Martha.

It’s frustrating. Mary sitting meant that it was still up to Martha to do all the work. I empathize with her. I am so much like Martha: working and ticking boxes. Doing comes more easily than sitting. Being still is hard and the easy application that follows this passage – that being with Jesus is better than doing things for Jesus – can heap guilt on a list of shoulds that is already too long. We hear Jesus telling us we are supposed to be different.

WHEN WE TICK ALL THE BOXES AND STILL FEEL FORGOTTEN

Martha was doing what a religious woman of her time should. Mary, not so much. While Martha offered food and rest and hospitality, Mary sat. And not even with the women she belonged with. Yet, when Martha asks Jesus for help, he does not congratulate her for following all the rules. He doesn’t even acknowledge her effort. Instead, Jesus calls out Martha’s anxiety and highlights her churning thoughts. He doesn’t fix the source of her worries and he doesn’t help. Martha gets a lecture and Mary gets a smile.

It doesn’t seem fair. We know that Jesus loves Martha – we can hear it in the affection he uses to say her name – but it still feels like Jesus is playing favourites. That suspicion can lurk in our hearts too. When we ask Jesus for help that doesn’t come, we can feel like he is sitting with Mary and sighing at us, wishing we were different. Instead of understanding, we hear confirmation of our inadequacy. Unless we have missed the heart of this story.

I think that while everyone else in Bethany that day saw a Martha who had it all together, Jesus saw the anxious woman underneath the holy juggle. Jesus knew that Martha was listening to a thousand voices telling her what to be. He knew that she wondered if it was all enough – the house, the food, the company, her performance. Whether she was enough. Jesus saw through her competence to the real Martha. And He knew what she really needed.

Jesus could have answered Martha’s question by simply telling her that Mary had chosen the better thing but instead, he speaks to the part of Martha that no one else could see. Martha wanted Jesus to protect her reputation but instead he challenged the source of her self-worth.

Jesus speaks to the part of Martha that no one else could see. Martha wanted Jesus to protect her reputation but instead he challenged the source of her self-worth.

seeanewthing.com

THE HELP WE REALLY NEED

In her hosting and cooking and serving, Martha was getting ready for Jesus but preparing for the wrong kind of god. She was doing a hundred things to maintain her reputation when only one thing would make her worthy: Jesus. There would be another to-do after Jesus left. The applause from Martha’s religious performance would only last until her next mistake, stuck on an endless treadmill of trying to be enough. Which is why Martha never needed Mary’s help. Not really.

Martha needed Jesus’ presence instead of her performance. She needed his voice to silence the others. Martha needed Jesus: the better thing, the one that would not be taken away.

Martha, Martha.

There is mercy in that rebuke. When Jesus called our names, he never asked us to be Mary, just like he never asked us to clean up before he would come in. And our unanswered cries for help may lead to a deeper security at his feet.

Hey Martha, don’t you love this story?