Posts Tagged ‘Mary and Martha’

Whose ministry – Mary’s or Martha’s

July 19, 2025

Pentecost 6 – 2024

Luke 10:36-42

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to different roles and responsibilities and who encourages us to use our different gifts and abilities in the sharing of the gospel. Amen.

I am sure that I don’t need to tell you that Peter, James and John were part of Jesus’ inner circle. They were witnesses to his transfiguration and were close to him in the Garden of Gethsemane. Peter identifies Jesus as the Christ.  It may surprise you to know that these three are largely absent from the Gospel of John. In that Gospel, the significant players – those with a speaking part – are Andrew, Phillip and Thomas. This leads to the conclusion that peter, James and John played a significant role in the communities behind the Synoptic Gospels but not in the community from which the Gospel of John emerged.

The different characters suggest that in the emerging communities behind the Synoptic gospels Peter, James and John were people of some significance but that in the Johannine community others – specifically Andrew, Phillip and Thomas – were leaders for it is these three who have speaking roles in the fourth gospel.  

In a similar way, if women are given a significant role in a gospel it suggests that they also had an important role in the emerging church.  In a society in which women were relegated to the margins, the fact that they are mentioned at all is significant. This is most clearly demonstrated in John’s gospel, in which nearly half a chapter is devoted to the role played by Mary Magdalene as a witness to the resurrection. What is more Mary is given the responsibility of telling the disciples that Jesus is risen which making her the Apostle to the Apostles. 

It seems that at the time the gospels were written the memory of those who played foundational roles in the early communities is still fresh. Even though the church is settling down and conforming more to the world around it, women who played important roles in the early communities cannot easily be written out of the story.

This is particularly evident when it comes to the sisters Martha and Mary who are mentioned twice in the gospels – here in the gospel of Luke, and in connection with the raising of Lazarus in John’s gospel. In both accounts the women are depicted as women who make up their own minds and in John it is Martha not Peter, who identifies Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God. 

Unfortunately, thanks in part to our translators, in Luke, the roles of Martha and Mary are domesticated and circumscribed. It is easy to read the account of Jesus’ visit as a silencing of both women – Mary who passively sits and listens and Martha who is described as distracted. The translation and the subsequent stereotyping of the two women creates a binary between action and contemplation that continues to this day and suggests that the role of women is either passive listening or busy organising.

The account of Jesus’ visit to the home of the sisters takes up only seven verses, so there is much that we do not know. We do not know for example how old the women were, what their financial status was or why there is no male in their household. Nor do we know if Jesus turned up alone or (more than likely) in the company of the twelve, whether he dropped in for a meal or planned to stay for a day or two. What we do know is that the culture of the time placed a high value on hospitality – think for example of the man who wakes his neighbour in the middle of the night so that he can have some bread for an unexpected guest.

Clearly, in the absence of a brother or husband, Martha is the householder. It is her responsibility to ensure that Jesus and those with him are made welcome and fed. As the householder, she naturally expects Mary to help.

Our translation leads us to believe that Jesus chides Martha for her preoccupation with getting ready when in fact Jesus may be offering her sympathy in recognition of the demands of her ministry. Margaret Wesley translates verses 40 and 41as: “But Martha was overwhelmed by many ministry responsibilities, so she came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the ministry by myself? Tell her to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are going to so much trouble and you have so many responsibilities to worry about!” 

But does Jesus chastise Martha for wanting to determine Marry’s choice – yes perhaps. Note that the Greek tells us that Mary is commended for choosing the good (not the better) portion, that of a student. Martha’s fault, if she has one, is that of not recognising that it is not her role to determine Mary’s path. God’s call on Mary is not for Martha to determine. Both women are called to and assume ministry roles – one of deacon, one of student – neither is better than the other, both are necessary. 

Before we consign Martha to the role of easily distracted, shallow woman and elevate a silenced Mary to the ideal model of womanhood, we need to unpack Luke’s purpose in telling the story, the blinkers worn by translators, and the preconceptions we bring to the tale from the ways in which we have heard the story in the past.

Before we apply stereotypes to anyone in our society, before we assume that know their interests and their capabilities, before we limit and define their roles and their contribution, we need to be sure that we know the full story, we need to understand the lens through which we see and the assumptions that we bring to bear.

We are all called to serve in a multitude of different ways. The one who calls and equips is never one of us, but always God.

A matter of life and death

April 2, 2022

Lent 5 – 2022
John 12:1-8
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of our extravagant, spendthrift, wastrel God. Amen.

Australians, those of us privileged to live in well-treed areas, are not inclined to think of possums (the brush-tail variety) with affection. They eat our vegetables, destroy our rose buds and worse, they live in our roofs from which they are notoriously difficult to remove. Once removed, they will frantically claw at the wire-covered entry point hoping to find a point of weakness that will allow them ingress. If allowed to remain in the roof they will disturb our sleep, urinate, and defecate and worst of all, they will die – something that only becomes obvious when the unmistakable stench of decay will tell us that the ceiling must be removed somehow, and the carcass retrieved and disposed of.

The aroma of death hangs in the air in John chapter 12. Lazarus, one of those present at the meal has very recently been sick, dead and entombed for four days. When Jesus (finally) arrives and calls him to come out of the tomb, his sister, Martha objects: “There is already a stench.” Now, six days before the Passover, we the readers are very aware that Jesus’ crucifixion looms near. The danger to Jesus, and even to Lazarus hangs in the air. Indeed, Jesus has been under the sentence of death since chapter seven when he did not want to attend the Festival of Booths, because the leaders of the Jews in Judea “were looking for an opportunity to kill him.” The menace has intensified since Jesus raised Lazarus. As Jesus’ popularity with the crowds increased, so too did the antagonism of the Jewish leaders who were anxious that his renown would draw the attention of the Romans who would, in turn, “destroy the nation”. (Lazarus too is now a threat to the authorities’ sense of well-being, because he is an object of curiosity, and a sign of what Jesus can do.)

The ”stench” of death fills the home of Martha, Mary and Lazurus, the “stench” of pure nard. I say “stench” because even though the Greek words are different, both the smell of Lazarus’ dead body and the aroma of Mary’s ointment can be translated by the English word “stench” (a strong and unpleasant smell). Whether or not the overpowering odour of a pound of nard is unpleasant is irrelevant. What is important here is that the odour of death hangs in the air. So, whether at the tomb or in the house, death pervades the atmosphere, hovering around the little family and their friend.

In the West, death has become somewhat sanitized and distanced from life. Indeed, we cannot even use the language of death. Today people, even people of faith, refer to someone’s having “passed”, as if death were not a definite and finite end to earthly existence. We might make a great deal of fuss about being with a loved one while and when they die, few of us tenderly wash the body of the deceased or prepare them for the grave. Unless it is part of our religious or cultural practice, we do not sit with the corpse for days, praying and processing the event. We do not wail (or employ others to wail for us) or tear out our hair in the face of death. In our culture overt displays of grief are considered unseemly. In public we tend to be restrained if not stoic.

Not only do we keep death at an emotional distance, collectively we do everything we can to prolong life and to avoid death. Advances in medical science mean that we can expect to be cured of most things and to escape most others.

Those who lived in the first century knew no such luxury as medical science. For rich and poor alike, death was a daily reality that could not be ignored. Women (rich and poor) died in childbirth, a large percentage of children (rich and poor) died before their fifth birthday and the life-expectancy of the average male was 29 years.

Those at the little dinner party depicted by John know all too well that death is part and parcel of life. He might be alive today, but the trauma of Lazarus’ death is still very raw. Death and the threat of death hover in the atmosphere. Mary knows as well as anyone does that death is always at the door. It is unpredictable and not at all choosy. No wonder she seizes the moment – if not now when? There is no point saving her precious ointment for some unknown time and place in the future. It is meant to be used, not squirreled away. Jesus is here, now and she can do this one thing for him. Who knows if there will be another opportunity?

Too many of us live tentative, timid lives, storing things up against an unknown future, hesitant to take risks because we are fearful of what might happen, and unwilling to give ourselves freely in case we will be hurt. Our cautious fails to take into account the reality that life is finite and that in the final analysis we cannot control life, nor can we escape death. Accepting death (ours and that of those whom we love) as part and parcel of life, helps us to live each day as it comes, to embrace life in all its complexity, and to live generously, spontaneously and audaciously.

In her poem The Summer Day Mary Oliver speaks of a day spent watching a grasshopper and she asks: “Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Everything and everyone does die at last so – what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Will you hold on or let go? Be frugal or generous? Timid and cautious or adventurous and outrageous? Mary seized the moment – Can we?

What is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?