6th Sunday after Pentecost Sermon
Happy National Megan Day! No, I did not make that up (though I wouldn’t put it past me), nor will I be offended if you pull out your phones to Google it. Today is the day we celebrate Megans. Why? Probably because there are so many of us! During the 80’s it was a very popular baby name, peaking in 1991 as the 10th most popular name that year. In high school I had one class with 4 Megans; at least I was the only Megan Q.
Giving a sermon is not traditionally how one celebrates National Megan Day, but it seemed meant to be when the lectionary calendar placed Mary and Martha’s story on this very day. “Because you’re such a Martha!” Eric said when we looked up the gospel reading. Then quickly added, “But you really are a Mary too!”
And he’s right. I am a Martha. I love making to-do lists and checking things off. I love hosting my friends to dinner with more food than any of us can eat. Sometimes, I go overboard. And when I get frustrated, I can be pretty feisty with God. I’m sure I’m not the only one? Who else out there is a Martha?
I think, for many of us, Martha is a very relatable person, especially in this moment of vulnerability from Luke’s gospel. Martha is not an Instagram-perfect host, posting pictures of her gorgeous home and gourmet spread: #Jesusiscomingtodinner #Serventofthelord #Blessed. And this story wasn’t meant for a global audience. Jesus isn’t performing a miracle that “we might know the divine power of the Christ.” This is not a parable he told in a public setting to help his frequently confused disciples understand the kingdom of God – or call out hypocrisy in institutions of faith. This is a very intimate conversation between close and loving friends in a private home.
So why does Luke include this story? He makes clear in his writing that he was not there for any of the events of Jesus’ ministry; he is “giving an orderly account handed on to him by eyewitnesses.” And why does he leave us hanging??? Immediately after today’s reading, Luke ends the chapter and moves onto a whole new story. There’s no resolution! Does Martha have a literal Come-to-Jesus moment? Does she roll her eyes and huff, “Typical male response,” before continuing her frantic work? Does Mary have any voice?
One of the tougher literary concepts to teach my students is inference. We make inferences all the time as we move about the world without realizing that’s what we are doing. The difference between inference and assuming is citing the evidence for how one came to that inference. With Luke providing us so few details about this interaction, I will now do some inferring by making self-to-text connection. (In teacher jargon, this means, I’m projecting myself on Martha.) We can infer, from other stories of Mary and Martha in the gospels, that they have a close and loving friendship with Jesus, they are devout disciples, and true believers that he is the Son of God. Traditionally, people have inferred that Martha’s “many tasks” were household chores, especially ones meant to serve her guest. Probably some of them are, but maybe there are other things too.
Let’s imagine what myriad of tasks were on Martha’s plate when Jesus arrived in town. Of course she welcomes her dear friend into her home. She loves him and the culture of hospitality in the Middle East fairly demands it. She had been in the middle of watering the garden when he arrived, but that could wait. Instead, she would need to buy more food! But first she really should shake out all the cushions; they’re probably covered in crumbs from her kids and fur from the pets. She hadn’t cleaned them earlier because her neighbor had been sick. Martha had gone over this morning to check on her. But Jesus is probably hot and thirsty from his journey! Oh no, she used up all the water for the garden! She would usually send one of her kids to the well, but they are suspiciously quiet just now. Mary is usually so helpful in the kitchen, but Martha doesn’t know where she went and doesn’t have time to look for her at this moment. So, she runs to the well herself, grabs some figs off the tree outside (still a little unripe, she chides herself) and walks into the room where Jesus is. She indeed has many tasks, which cause her a great deal of distraction and worry.
And it’s just too much, in that moment, to see him sitting on dirty cushions, reaching for a sour fig from her tray, and Mary sitting there with him. Martha’s not petty about it, she’s not even jealous. She’s just exhausted and overwhelmed as she cries, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.”
This is rock bottom. Martha is not one to ask for help. She can do it all and she does it well. In fact, she gets a little puffed up when people say, “I don’t know how you keep everything running so smoothly. I’m sure I never could.”
I’ll stop projecting on poor Martha and speak for myself now. I am not one to ask for help. I can do it all and I do it well. I’ve never been able to juggle with physical objects, but I am the best at figurative juggling: like 10 balls, three knives, and a live alligator. And when my husband or my friends or my priest say, “Are you juggling too much?” I’m like, “Oh! I’m gonna light the balls on fire! That’ll be super impressive!” I take on too much to the detriment of each of my commitments and to the people I love. Eventually I drop a knife, or burn myself on a ball, or catch the wrong end of the alligator. And then I take it out on someone else.
Recently, Tommy and the kids have been playing baseball in the backyard while I get dinner ready. It’s this really wholesome, Norman Rockwell moment of Mom cooking in the kitchen looking fondly out the window at Dad and the kids. Except it’s the end of the day, after work, and I am tired. There was orchestra practice today, which I forgot about when I planned this meal, so dinner is going to be late. And I’m grumbling to myself, “Maybe I’d like to play baseball sometimes.”
Well why don’t I?!? Nobody in my family asked me to prepare an elaborate, from-scratch meal. Truly, if I walked outside and declared, “We’re having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tonight so I can play with you,” they would be thrilled! I am allowed to stop juggling. But oh, my dear Marthas, why it that so hard to do?
When Martha cried out to her friend, as many of us do with our friends when we are stressed about our jobs, our families, what’s going on in the world, her friend sees her and hears her. “Martha… Martha, you are worried, and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Jesus says: my dear friend, I can see how overwhelmed you are and how all these expectations you have placed on yourself are stressing you out. You don’t need to do all this. Look at all the things you are juggling. Which one of them actually matters right now? Put the rest of them down. And don’t take this out on your sister. She picked her one thing.”
At issue here was not “Mary choosing the right thing” and “Martha choosing the wrong thing.” It was Martha pushing herself to do too much and stressing herself out to the point of frustration. Jesus never wanted to impose on Martha when he accepted her invitation. He just really enjoys her company. He wanted to spend time with someone he loved.
Recently, a friend came to my house for a glass of wine. It was the end of a long week at the end of a long school year. I wouldn’t have a time to vacuum the couch before she arrived (still waging the battle with kids and pets). Easy fix, I threw a fresh tablecloth on the dining room table; we can enjoy our wine in there! But she made a beeline for the couch as soon as she arrived. I could see some bits of cat litter on it. I just froze for a second.
I don’t think I have a shoulder angel and demon like a Looney Toons character, more like a shoulder Martha and Mary. One constantly fretting that whatever I’m doing might not be good enough, the other telling me I can’t worry about every detail and be present with my friend: I have to pick one thing.
Either my friend didn’t notice the dirty couch, or she was over it. She was ready to drink some wine and spill some tea! I shrugged off the litter and poured the wine.
So Eric is right, I am a Mary too! I just need to put down the check list (and the alligator).
At some point I was taught, maybe you were too, that Mary is the “good sister” because she chooses to listen to Jesus’ word with pious devotion. That feels off-message for Jesus who constantly calls us to be servants. And it doesn’t seem like the purpose of his visit: Jesus is taking some time off with his friends. I think what Mary got right was putting people over productivity.
I don’t hold on to the memory of any of the times I did the laundry or cleaned the bathroom. But I do remember the last time I talked to Ann Wood. I have no idea what tasks I didn’t accomplish that day. I did them eventually, or not. People are precious, the dishes can wait.
Will my life be transformed by writing this sermon or yours by listening to it? Probably not. Probably Martha’s wasn’t either. I hope she chose one thing. I hope she sat down with Jesus and enjoyed their precious time together. The next day, she was probably back to juggling. And that’s OK. Marthas are gonna Martha. But Marthas, let’s try something together. On your extensive and well-organized to-do list, cross off one productive task and write in one precious task to share with another person. Call an old friend, get coffee with a new one. Have a date with your spouse, play baseball with your kids. Go to the park and ask strangers if you can pet their dogs. Choose that one thing. Remember, it’s not dropping the ball if you choose to put it down.