In the Gospel of Luke (10:38-42), sisters Mary and Martha welcome Jesus into their home, both eager to serve Him. Their respective hostess styles manifest quite differently to the point of Martha nudging Jesus to cajole Mary to fall into line and help Martha.
So many lessons spring from this short, yet oft-cited vignette. Although Jesus defends Mary’s choice of listening to Him, Martha suffers an unfair disrepute in my opinion.
Encumbered with dinner preparation for the person she recognizes as her Savior, Martha is “anxious and troubled about many things.” (Luke 10:41). As one whose creativity comes alive in the kitchen, particularly when expecting guests, I can only imagine why Martha was anxious and troubled. The most important figure in her life, in whom her belief had immeasurably transformed her, was under her roof. Martha likely desired to glorify her newfound Savior with a feast worthy of Him, particularly since He had just raised her brother Lazarus from the dead. She probably wanted no hiccups, her home to be presentable, if not elegant, for Him, and the food to be delicious and savored by Him, and for Jesus to be blessed and honored through her service to Him. I’m guessing that Martha wanted everything to be perfect so that she could then revel in His presence—as Mary was doing while Martha fussed about. So, of course, if Jesus is coming to dinner, Martha was anxious and troubled about many things. I would be, too.
Maybe Mary planned or even wanted to lend a hand to Martha. But when her Savior crossed their threshold after reviving Lazarus, perhaps Mary was so awe-stricken that she had to be still. When His face was before hers, how could she look away? Suddenly, participation in the evening’s culinary arrangements seemed so unimportant that Mary fell to her knees and sat at His feet, listening to Him.
Mary’s hospitality included washing the feet of Jesus with perfumed oil so luxurious that the oil was stored in an alabaster jar. The fragrance of the oil permeated the house (perhaps overpowering the aromas from the food prep) so sweetly, causing Judas’s contempt for the lavishness. Mary then dried His feet with her hair, ostensibly while He spoke and taught. Dinner concerns dissolved quickly when Mary was being fed by the Bread of Life incarnate.
That’s the point: Jesus longs for us to seek Him, to be still with Him, and to revel in His every word, and to be transformed by Him. Jesus did not condemn Martha’s service, but rather invited her to see that listening to Him is a more worthy endeavor than meal prep.
Do we do the same as Mary? Does the Word Incarnate, the presence of the divine, astound us? Do we stop to receive the Word, to venerate our Savior, to listen expectantly? Do we allow God to nourish us with His eternal food?
The Mary-Martha dissonance calls to mind the apocryphal tale ascribed to a few different saints: St. Francis of Assisi, St. Padre Pio, and St. John Vianney. One of these saints-in-the-making allegedly asked a superior if he could smoke while he prays. The lore goes, “No, but you can pray while you smoke.” Although none of these holy men were known to smoke, they were each insistent about always communing with God, about praying at all times (Ephesians 6:18), even while engaging in banal pursuits such as smoking. Doing so connects spiritual truths to routine life to make them accessible.
As an indomitable chore-enthusiast, admittedly in the past, I’ve taken the Martha path—tending to tasks and timetables while robotically reciting prayers, convincing myself that I’ll sit with Jesus in a bit.” As my faith has deepened and my prayer life evolved, the discipline to pray first has simultaneously matured, yielding not only an ordered framework into which the chores and checklists fit, but also an unexpected flexibility if left undone.
Such tedium becomes service, obedience, and humility when done out of love for God. Matthew 6:25-33 instructs not to be anxious about what we eat, drink, or wear, but rather to seek first the Kingdom of God, and all the rest will be ours. Rather, communing with Him converts our internal disposition so dramatically that eventually our wants are elevated to only that which He wills—and that is how the mind is decluttered.
In other words, spiritual nourishment from God and His Son must be the beginning, the middle, and end of daily life, even when appointments and avocations are notable and necessary, even when hosting a dignitary for dinner. If not sufficiently engaged with Jesus like Mary, the rest is vanity of vanities (Ecclesiastes 1 & 2). Yet, like Martha, serving Jesus (and others) by actually serving Him fulfills His commands of humility, selflessness, and love.
Martha served dinner.
Mary served Jesus.
Why not do both?
