No Rest for the Worried
Luke 10:38-42
Man may work from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done. I’m sure you’ve heard that old adage. Judging by today’s Scripture reading, though, it does not appear that Mary was familiar with it, or if she was, that she paid it much heed. Mary shows no compunction whatsoever about not helping her sister Martha with the work of hosting their rather special houseguest. Jesus even gently corrects Martha while praising Mary.
What’s going on here? Is Jesus endorsing shirking one’s domestic duties? Is he playing favorites, choosing one sister over the other? Or is he suggesting that the contemplative life—a life focused on prayer and mindfulness—is more important than the active life—a life filled with chores, tasks, and TCB…taking care of business?
Let’s leave those questions aside for the moment. We’ll come back to them. I want to begin by noting that this is our first time back in the Gospels since Easter Sunday, exactly three months ago. For the remainder of this year we’ll be jumping in and out of the Gospel of Luke, focusing on stories that are told only in Luke.
Today’s reading is one such story. While the Gospel of John also features a story with Martha and Mary, that one focuses on their grief over the death of their brother Lazarus. In this passage from Luke, there is no mention of Lazarus. Not only is their brother not mentioned, there is no mention of any man at all associated with these two sisters—no father, no husbands, no extended family. In fact, the home is described as belonging to Martha.
For a woman to be head of household in first-century Judea would have been exceptionally rare. In such a male-dominated society, a father, a husband, an uncle, or a brother could be expected to govern the household, but for whatever reason, Martha rules the roost, which also suggests that she is older than her sister Mary.
How exactly the sisters have come to know Jesus is not explained, but they do seem to be quite close to him, which is interesting. As with Martha being the head of her household, a friendship between a man and a woman—let alone two women—would have been highly unusual. And by stepping into their home Jesus is crossing a significant social boundary. And it’s not the only social boundary that’s crossed in this passage.
While Martha busies herself with hosting Jesus, most likely by working in the kitchen to prepare something to serve him, Mary makes like a disciple by sitting at his feet and listening to him speak. Not only does Jesus not discourage this, he actively encourages it. When Martha complains that her sister isn’t helping in the kitchen, Jesus says that “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Jesus may have chosen twelve male disciples, but he shows no hesitation to welcome female disciples who choose him.
This crossing of social boundaries is not the main point of this sermon, but I don’t want it to go unnoticed. In a deeply conservative, patriarchal, and hierarchical society, Jesus is somewhat of a radical. I don’t mean politically but in the sense of whom he welcomes to the table and whose table he chooses to dine at. Tax collectors, prostitutes, women to whom he is not related…Jesus does not hesitate to break bread and socialize with those on the margins or those with whom his friendship would have been deemed inappropriate.
Martha is so hyper focused on the task of serving her neighbor
that she is distracted from seeing that the neighbor whom she serves
is the Son of God.
Having been welcomed into Martha’s home, Jesus is treated to the hospitality of his host. Martha immediately sets to work. There is no shortage of things to do. She’ll need to fetch water from the well, gather wood to burn, knead the flour for baking bread, and prepare the assorted fruits, like figs, dates, and olives. Martha is a veritable whirlwind of activity in the kitchen.
Meanwhile in the living room Mary is lying at the feet of Jesus listening to him tell stories, like the one about the man who was assaulted by robbers and left for dead. Several seemingly upstanding, outwardly religious people passed him by, even walking across the street so as to avoid him. But then, a Samaritan of all people, a ne’er do well outsider, took pity on the man and showed him compassion, bandaging his wounds and putting him up for the night at an inn.
The Parable of the Good Samaritan comes just before today’s passage with Martha and Mary. Jesus tells the parable in response to a question from a lawyer who appears to know very well what the law says about his obligations to God. But he could use a refresher course on what the law says about his obligations to his neighbor.
We see the opposite dynamic at work in Martha. Martha is so hyper focused on the task of serving her neighbor that she is distracted from seeing that the neighbor whom she serves is the Son of God.
This story with Martha and Mary is like a bookend to the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The lawyer who worships God while neglecting his neighbor, and Martha who serves her neighbor while being oblivious to God, each represent extremes. The lawyer is more than willing to lift his hands in praise to God but doesn’t seem to want to dirty those hands in serving his neighbor. At the opposite extreme, Martha is so distracted with the work of serving her neighbor that she misses out on experiencing the very presence of God right there in her own home.
Distracted. That is how Luke describes Martha. She is distracted by her many tasks. She’s stirring the saucepan, monitoring the oven, preparing the plates, pouring the drinks. She sure could use some help! Where on earth is her sister? “Ugh! Look! There she is, sitting on the floor. Why is she acting like she’s the guest? Does she expect me to wait on her as well? She should be here in the kitchen giving me a hand, not out there playing disciple.”
Martha is so upset that she leaves the kitchen and complains to Jesus. “Lord, don’t you care that my sister is letting me do all the work? Tell her to help me!”
I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that many of us can identify with Martha. After all, she has a point, doesn’t she? Plus, hospitality was hugely important in Judean culture. If a guest showed up at your door, you dropped everything to host them.
We need…in this moment and in every moment…
to find our center, our sustenance, our sanity, and our sanctity
in the Lord who invites us to find rest in his presence.
Martha is only doing what would be expected of her, while Mary is shirking her duty. Martha, in keeping with being the older sister, is the responsible one…yet again, no doubt!
The church is full of Marthas, especially among the ordained ministry. We can adjust that adage I referenced to begin the sermon: Man may work from sun to sun, but a pastor’s work is never done. Prepare the sermon, lead Bible study, lead the session meeting, lead the windows tours, organize the ESL class, write the newsletter, update the website, answer emails, answer texts, pull out the knotweed, stress about the finances, troubleshoot the WiFi, pull out the knotweed, take out the recycling, take out the garbage, clean the bathrooms, pull out the knotweed, monitor the security cameras. “Lord, do you not care that I’m doing all the work by myself?”
Ministry is a two-sided coin. One side says “hero” while the other says “martyr.” I’m going on vacation for a few weeks starting in about an hour. But there’s a voice inside me saying, “How can I take a vacation? I’m too important. The church will cease to function without me!”
No, it won’t. As the Lord says to Martha, I need to hear him say to me, “John, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing…” Christ in all things. Christ in my worries. Christ in my fears. Christ in my restless anxiety. Christ in my weakness. I spend more time than I care to admit worrying about the institution of the church. But pastors are not called to perpetuate an institution; we’re called to proclaim the gospel. In the famous words of an otherwise obscure 18th century German bishop, the task of the pastor is to “Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten.” That’s all.
In an era of digital clicks and likes and shares and reposts, in which there is ever-increasing pressure to put forward the face of the church, even as the church’s reach continues to shrink, “Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten” sounds like freedom. It sounds like peace. It sounds like joy.
Before this sermon devolves wholly into self-therapy, let me say that what the Lord says to Martha and to me, the Lord says to you as well, “You are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.” We need…in this moment and in every moment…to find our center, our sustenance, our sanity, and our sanctity in the Lord who invites us to find rest in his presence.
“Our souls are restless until they rest in you,” says the great church father Augustine to his God. Comparing ourselves to others, measuring their performance versus our own, acting as though the fate of the world—or at least our little corner of it—lies solely upon our shoulders serves only to make us miserable. And it’s also not true.
You are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Receive the gracious presence of Jesus. Listen to his words of compassion, comfort, wisdom, and grace. Know that you are valued and loved not for what you do or how well you do it but because you belong to Jesus Christ. You who are restless and consumed with worry, lay your burden at his feet and find rest.