Text: Luke 10:38-42
In an informal poll regarding today’s reading from Luke conducted over the past two weeks, the results show that 90% of the people can’t stand Mary. Maybe you are one of them.
Why is that? Mostly they say that they are Marthas. That’s what they say. Not that they are like Martha, or that they understand Martha, or that in the same circumstances as the one in Luke’s story, they would do exactly as Martha did. They identify with Martha. A lot. That makes this a good story, when people have strong feelings about the protagonists. They see themselves as too busy, often distracted, knowing that they are missing some undefined better part but unable to do otherwise.
Jesus does not help the situation. Martha asks Jesus to intervene, and instead of siding with her, Jesus tells Martha that she is distracted, going all this way and that, as if she did not know that already, thank you. And he doesn’t say anything at all to Mary. He just makes some unhelpful—and maybe they think, dismissive—comment to Martha regarding Mary.
Their target is Mary. But really, Mary is hardly even in this story. Martha is a complicated character, while Mary never says a word. She has no depth. We do not know Mary.
In this story in Luke, Mary is a prop. Her presence advances the story and provides motive for Martha and a subject of conversation between Martha and Jesus. As the man by the side of the road is in the story of the Good Samaritan which we heard last week, and which immediately precedes today’s story in Luke. But today’s story is not about Mary, who does not advance it and hardly contributes to it. The story is about Martha.
Mary, we heard, has the better part. What part is that? What is the better part? We read into that phrase what we want, just as we read into the actions and words of Martha all sorts of characteristics, roles, and motives. What is the better part? Some say this means the contemplative life, others say the act of worship, still others say education, piety, adoration. No one says couch potato, but they could. It is all speculation. The Gospel is completely silent on this issue.
It is silent because it does not matter. Luke is not interested in what Mary does or does not do. Except only in the sense that she does something that affects Martha. Mary could be doing anything as long as Martha was unhappy about it and complained to Jesus about it. Luke’s silence is evidence.
Mary has, it says, the good part. Not the better part, as our Bible version has it. Not better than Martha’s, which is how we often read it.
And whatever it is, it cannot be taken from Mary. But whatever it is, Martha wants it taken from Mary.
She wants it taken away, whatever it is. Martha wants justice. She feels that something is happening here that is unjust. She is doing all the work and Mary isn’t. She is being the host and Mary isn’t. She is following the rules and Mary isn’t. There is an imbalance here. It is not fair. Not right.
Martha seeks judgment. We might at first think Jesus is agreeing to do that here. But there is no judgment. Jesus refuses to tell Martha (or Mary, either) what to do. He is merely telling them what they are doing. Jesus’ comments, as they often are, are descriptive, not proscriptive.
Martha wants to restore the balance by making Mary suffer as much as she, Martha, has suffered. She wants Mary to do what Martha is doing. She wants to take something away from Mary—the good part that Mary has and that Jesus identifies.
That should not surprise us. That is often how we ourselves view justice. As a way of equalizing or compensating one hurt with another. Doing justice becomes making sure that all suffer equally. We think that justice is done if you pay for your crime.
But a just system is not one that counters one evil with another. Two wrongs don’t make a right, children rightly say. The balance scales we use to symbolize justice are there to remind us that a thumb on the scale is injustice. They do not encourage us in retribution to balance the harm others do to us with harm to them.
Rather, justice is healing, a restoration of what was broken. Each case is different; that is how healing works. It is not that there are Marthas, but this particular Martha. Martha seeks revenge but Jesus offers healing. Martha, Martha, he calls her, as God calls a prophet, from one life to another.
You can think about this story in Luke as a proverb, telling us how to behave (a tips-for-life sort of thing). That one way is better than another. Do not be distracted. It is not good for you or others. Don’t be crabby. Don’t triangulate. Be quieted in your life. Words of wisdom, as proverbs are.
Or you can think of it as a parable, like the parable of the Good Samaritan, presenting us as parables do with a shocking situation (host complains about sister to guest) and exaggerated emotions. And making us think carefully about how it will be in the kingdom of God.
But this story is not just Mary, Martha, and some guy—as it could be if it were a proverb or a parable. It is Mary, Martha, and Jesus. The Bible is a book that tells us about God, through poems and proverbs and parables and prophets and through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. As with the story of the Good Samaritan, Luke puts this particular story in this very spot for a reason. The words of Jesus here tell us something that Luke wants us to know about God. They tell us about what justice is not and what it is. They tell us that God welcomes our demands for justice and hears them as pleas for healing.
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