With a title like "A Tale Of Two Sisters," this should open with something like, "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." But it was neither. It was unusual, to be sure, even a little exciting.
After all, these were the days of an itinerant rabbi called Jesus of Nazareth who was attracting quite a bit of attention.
At some point previous — we are never told when, where, or how — these two sisters, Mary and Martha, along with their brother, Lazarus, had been introduced to Jesus. They must have become fast friends because Jesus and his entourage were welcomed into their Bethany home for a meal in this passage. Later, following the illness and eventual death of brother Lazarus, Jesus calls on the family, hears Martha complain that Lazarus would not have succumbed had Jesus been more timely — as we know, to everyone's amazement, Jesus then called Lazarus from the tomb and back to life. Finally, we meet them all again at a dinner party in the family home, Mary anoints Jesus' feet with expensive perfume and they all hear Judas complain about the waste of money. For Mary, Martha, and Lazarus to be encountered three different times and in the writings of two different gospels indicates an especially close relationship with Jesus.
The brief story we have in our text is, I suspect, not a special favorite. Jesus and his friends have arrived in Bethany, about two miles from Jerusalem where the text says, "a woman named Martha opened her home to him" (Luke 10:38). So far, so good. We can imagine that a good deal of work had gone into getting things ready for this by-now famous guest — lots of dusting and cleaning, a place for everything and everything in its place. What kind of menu? Not peanut butter and jelly! Something that, no doubt, would be wonderful, but which would also require more than a little effort. Where is Martha Stewart when we need her? At any rate, the big moment arrives, Jesus comes in and begins a conversation with Martha's sister, Mary, who, up until here had been helping with the preparations, but now had stopped assisting big sister and turned all her attention to their visitor.
A minute or two of this sort of thing was all it took for the steam to start coming out of Martha's ears. We do not know exactly how long it took, but finally, with teeth barely unclenched and a fake smile feigned on her face, she comes in and asks, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" (Luke 10:40).
Here is where we come to the problem. We would expect Jesus to say, "Martha, you're right. It is not fair of me to monopolize Mary out here while you are in the kitchen slaving away. In fact, is there anything I can do to help?" Instead, he says in what sounds like a tone of condescension, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her" (Luke 10:41-42). And here the brief story ends.
Wait a minute, Lord. What is going on here? First of all, Martha should have been able to expect a compliment, not some rebuke, no matter how gentle. After all, it was a woman's place to be in the kitchen (or more likely out by the cooking fire) — she would normally not be in the room with the men until time to serve. That is shock number one. Shock number two is that Mary is sitting there at Jesus' feet, looking for all the world like one of his disciples, when everyone knows that a woman has no business here, at least not in first-century Palestine. Indeed, in that day and age, there was controversy over whether women should be allowed to study the scriptures at all; and they certainly were forbidden from having public discussions about them with men. So what is going on, Jesus? You should be approving Martha and rebuking Mary. Shouldn't you? Shouldn't you? As I say, a problem with this story.
As I said above, I suspect this is not one of your very favorite Bible stories, because, truth be told, if you were asked which of these two ladies you identified with, the majority would answer Martha. I would. Somebody has to do the work! I mean we don't want to sit around with eyes so firmly fixed on heaven that we are no earthly good — right?
Did Martha really get a raw deal in this story? The more I think about it, the less I am convinced that she did. After all, Jesus did not say she should not have been doing what she was doing, but rather, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things...." Worried and upset, anxious or disturbed, or troubled or flustered — any of those work. She was being beaten by busyness. It was doing her no good, nor anyone else, either.
Have you ever had that happen in your life? It could be called the tyranny of the trivial, something to which most of us have fallen victim. Or it could be called the sad triumph of the good over the best.
A time management guru, a professor in the business school at Harvard, speaks about A, B, and C priorities, and then he notes that too many people spend too much of their time on the C priorities! Then he asks, "Why do you think that is?" The answer is that the C priorities are, first, much easier to accomplish, and, second, give you the impression that you are actually getting something done. In other words you can keep busy with the C priorities all day and never get to the more important things. The lesson from Mary and Martha is "Don't let the good (the C priorities) get in the way of the best (the A priorities).[1] Sound like anyone you know?
So, which is it? Are you a Mary or a Martha? The real truth is that most of us are both. We know the importance of getting things done and would never denigrate initiative or hard work. But we also know the importance of the spiritual dimension in our lives and are willing to take time to develop and nourish it, because we need it, sometimes desperately.
The lesson is a tale of two sisters, but I want you to hear another tale of another two sisters. These two were very close in many ways. They had many of the same interests, many of the same experiences. Both had been raised in the church, and both drifted away a bit as they reached college age. Both married fine men, neither had children. As the years went along, one came back to church and became very involved, the other just never managed.
The sister who came back to church suddenly and unexpectedly lost her husband. The pastor rushed over to her house, she met him at the door. She was in tears, to be sure, but she said, "This is terrible. But I feel as if I have been preparing for this moment for most of my life." She was right. She had sat through countless Sundays, heard dozens of sermons that involved dealing with the disasters we all experience from time to time, as if she were in training for just such a moment as this.
Not long after, the husband of the other sister died unexpectedly as well. She had no involvement with the church — after college there had been places to go, people to see, things to do — she made no time for church. She never got back, so the church was a resource upon which she would not have thought of calling. She became more and more distressed and depressed, and finally needed to be institutionalized so she could get professional care. Her sister's comment, after visiting her in the hospital said, "Poor thing. When it came time for her to let down her bucket, deep down, she found out that she had no water in the well."
This is what Jesus was referring to when he gently chastised Martha and credited Mary for choosing wisely, for taking Priority A instead of B or C. The truth is there are moments in life when we need to "let down our bucket," to return to the wellsprings of courage and hope. If we have not previously prepared, disaster awaits. What we do in the church, week in and week out, year in and year out, as we gather for worship and study, is insure that when the bucket is let down, it will come up with the refreshing we need.
Are both Martha and Mary inside you? That is fine ... celebrate both. And keep the priorities straight. Remember, don't let the good get in the way of the best.
1. Dr. James Rueb, "Overcoming Busyness," sermon preached at the Moraga Valley Presbyterian Church, 5/12/02, via internet.