Choosing the Better

Have you ever noticed how sometimes people seem to take on certain personality characteristics that go with their names? I remember my aunt being curious what we would name our baby if he were a boy. We told her “Andrew”. She thought for a moment and then said, “That’ll be all right. I’ve never had trouble with any Andrews in my classes.” (She taught fourth graders, if I remember correctly.) “Just don’t call him Charles, or Robert. They’re trouble makers, trust me.”



I have no statistics on that observation, but I have noticed a tendency among women named Martha to be the practical-minded, down to earth worker bees, more interested in sorting out the tasks at hand rather than pondering the eternal truths of the universe. My mother-in-law was a Martha, and her three daughters would all be no-nonsense, take control, manager types. My wife Marilyn could not walk into your house and simply be your guest. Her first words would always be “How can I help you?” One such “Martha” type, a friend of my Mother’s, carried it a step further. When she came into our home, she didn’t even bother to offer help. She simply rearranged furniture and rehung pictures where they were “supposed” to be. Fortunately she did not go into my bedroom and straighten it out, although I’m sure she’d have liked to. Such unrequested “help” didn’t seem to bother my mother. She simply put things back where she had them before, once her friend had gone.



Well, that’s all beside the point, but it does give us a glimpse of this “Martha” who has just presented her complaint about her sister to Jesus. We’ve all known her, haven’t we? She’s a marvel at managing a house, but she can also be a pain. You almost hate to sit on her sofa for fear of putting creases in the cushions! At the same time, the “Martha’s” of this world are valuable assets to society. They see the important work that needs doing, and they do something about it.



We Presbyterians would do well to honor our “Marthas”. So intent on doing things properly, or “decently and in order” as we like to put it, we can form committees at the drop of a hat, and get so mired in the details we lose sight of the desired goal. (I’ll tell you a secret. My status as a retired minister is one of my most prized titles, for it excuses me from those endless meetings and committees. I’ve been there, I’ve done it to a fare-thee-well, bought the T-Shirt and worn out!) It’s the Marthas in our midst who remind us there’s work to be done, so do it!



So though Marthas may annoy me, I have always had a soft spot in my heart for this Martha. There’s no telling what was going on in this household in Bethany. I wouldn’t be surprised to find Mary to be a daydreamer sort of person. If she were alive today, she’d be the one who walks passed the shoes in the middle of the floor and never thinks to pick them up and put them away. She’s the one reading the latest best-seller while the roast is showing signs of going up in flames in the oven. She’s the one who cares deeply about the plights of women, abandoned children, cruelty to animals and drug abuse amongst teenagers while her family wonders if they’ll ever have a supper they didn’t have to throw together themselves from the assortment of odds and ends in the pantry and the freezer. We have to go to the Gospel of John to discover there’s also a brother in this house in Bethany, one who apparently suffers poor health. After all, we first hear of Lazarus when he’s on his deathbed. Clearly it’s Martha who holds all this together. Then why on earth was Jesus so callous and unfeeling towards her? Or so it would seem.



On the other hand, it’s easy to understand why Jesus would take Mary’s part. They’re two of a kind, aren’t they? Jesus is a dreamer too. He wanders the countryside, the first century equivalent of the 20th century flower child. What does he say about hearth and home? The fox has his hole and the bird his next, but I have no where to lay my head. What is his advice to his disciples? Don’t worry, consider the lilies of the field, they neither weave or spin, but God clothes them. You ask about paying taxes to Caesar? Give Caesar what is Caesar’s and give God what belongs to God.



Lest you think Jesus is just a daydreamer, totally out of touch with reality, he does tell us to plan ahead. Don’t start building towers if you haven’t first figured out how you’re going to pay for them. Don’t go to war if your enemy is bigger than you are. Contemplate God all you want, but be on the lookout for the God who comes like the bridegroom when you have fallen asleep and let your lamps burn out of oil. Jesus may have set his heart on higher things - as Paul would like to describe the Christian life - but he had his practical side too. He was very much a realist, reading correctly the undependability of Peter and the traitor’s heart of Judas. He saw value in the tax collector Matthew and chose the fanatic Pharisee Saul to become his first and most persistent apostle Paul.



So what can we make of this household in Bethany? Who should we emulate? What is Jesus saying to us? He tells Martha “You worry too much”. And as an antidote to this worry he adds, “Mary has chosen the better part.” Does this mean we must put aside action and simply choose contemplation? There’s many a monk and hermit - male and female - who seem to have made that choice. I’m afraid to choose this option. How will the world ever get on with progress that way?



On the other hand: did you notice what I just said? “I’m afraid”. Ah. Hasn’t Jesus just said something about “fear?” “Martha, you are worried and upset about many things!” Jesus does not criticize her for rightly understanding there’s work to be done and someone needs to do it. But what about that “worried and upset” business? That’s what concerns Jesus.



I remember a difficult time in my ministry, many years ago. It was Christmas week. I had several extra responsibilities heaped upon me. I didn’t know how I was going to get it all done. Although, if the truth be told, I did know they would get done. What caught me off guard was the phone call telling me of a death in the congregation and the need for a funeral service just two days before Christmas Eve! I went into quite a tizzy over that until, in a moment of quiet and relative sanity, I found myself thinking. “What’s the big deal here?”



Christmas is coming: true. It comes every year. And at the same time, too. So what’s different about this one? A funeral? Yes, but what’s different about this funeral? Just because it’s Christmas time? So when can people ever schedule their funerals to meet your schedule? Funerals always interrupt a minister’s schedule. So, I repeat, what’s so different about this one? Well the answer was, there wasn’t anything different. Why was I worried and upset?



The answer was less than flattering. I began to realize that my panic was basically just me turning up the drama a bit, a rather shameful attempt at showing how important I was that I had all these important things to do. If I just took it as “business as usual” where would the drama and glory of it all be? I was choosing fear and chaos in a shabby way of exaggerating my own importance.



When I remember that lesson, I begin to see Martha in a different light. What was so different about this meal that she had to have Mary help her? Or, what kept her from finding a moment to ask Mary for help? And if Mary turned her down, what was keeping Martha from scaling down her own expectations of herself. Did this have to be a sit-down meal with china and crystal, or could they have “dinner on the ground with paper plates and napkins”. Was this request a legitimate one, or was Martha simply feeling “left out” while Mary got all the attention? Martha worried, but why? Was it really because important work needed to be done? Or was it because she felt taken advantage of? Or that she was being overlooked? Or she didn’t look as holy as Mary?



What do we worry about? And why?



St Luke does not elaborate, he simply reports, and his report is neither a rebuke of Martha or a commendation of Mary. It is a reminder about what’s important. We stumble when we think he was referring to sitting at his feet as the “better” work, if you will. No, look in your heart and discern what it is that is making you worried and afraid.



Mary chose the better part, can we? Amen