It Will Not be Taken from Her a sermon by Teresa D. Roberts
As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38–42 NIV)
two female lead characters of this narrative are compared in order to expose the stereotypes of women and their devotion to God: Martha, the harried housewife; Mary, the demure devotee. Martha represents salvation by works; Mary, justification by faith. Mary, the representative of the contemplative lifestyle, is exalted; Martha, with her overly active life, needs to learn to balance career and homemaking with time for prayer and Bible study.
the dedicated Hannah,
I could stop here since we could all use a reminder to not allow study, work, or even ministry to replace time in worship, communication, and relationship with Jesus. But there is more to be gleaned from this short narrative of five verses than simply to state that we all need to have a “Mary heart in a Martha world.” The heart of the matter for Martha, the heart of the issue for me and perhaps for you too, is found beyond actions and attitudes. I believe this story is not about Martha being too busy and bothered, but about Jesus calling Martha to reevaluate her identity. Martha needed not merely to put down her hand towel, but also to take a long look in the mirror to recognize who she had been called to be, versus who she had become.
the deceitful Jacob,
Hearing the Story
the clear instructor, Paul.
Let us revisit the story, found in Luke 10, attempting to see it through first century eyes and also with some twenty-firstcentury imagination. Martha greeted Jesus and perhaps others—the text indicates others were traveling, but we are left unsure whether they entered the house. She warmly welcomed her Lord, and then the scene immediately turned to the sister, Mary, seated at Jesus’s feet. Mary had taken a physical position that indicated a specific identity, that of a disciple. Just as in the parable that preceded this narrative, when the Good Samaritan assumed a hospitable role—which would have shocked the audience—Mary stepped across the threshold of the kitchen to position herself not as hostess of a guest, but as student of the Master. This was not expected. Mary had taken on the posture of a disciple, a posture typical of a male disciple.1 In my imagination of this scene, Martha saw her sister sitting at their Lord’s feet and immediately gave her the notorious older (we assume she is older) sister glare. When this didn’t cause Mary to jump to her feet to help, Martha began to dart her eyes back and forth from the floor to the kitchen in a futile attempt to non-verbally communicate that Mary belonged where food was being prepared. When that was unsuccessful, Martha advanced to the “get back in here” head jerk, but to no avail.
Identifying with Martha The beauty and wonder of Scripture includes hearing a narrative and finding yourself associating with a biblical character. We can open Scripture and feel as if we have peered into a mirror, seeing our reflection in characters such as: the quiet teacher, Priscilla, the fearful Jonah, the bold Peter,
I have seen myself in the faithful Timothy and dedicated Lydia, alongside doubting Thomas and selfish Sapphira. But it is the character of Martha, and specifically her story in Luke 10, in whom I have seen my reflection most clearly time and time again. Because I identify with Martha, I feel I need to defend her, and by extension, defend myself. I have attempted to rationalize Martha’s actions or downplay Jesus’s rebuke. Clearly, in the setting described, someone has to extend hospitality, prepare dinner for guests, and make the Lord feel welcome. As the tenth chapter of Luke opens, Jesus has sent out the seventy-two, who needed service such as that which Martha later extended to her guests. Luke 10 continues with the parable about the hospitality of a Good Samaritan to a brutalized Jewish man. Certainly then, it would follow that the service of Martha preparing a meal for the itinerant teacher and his band of disciples should be applauded rather than critiqued. But I can’t deny that the words of Jesus to Martha are direct and clear: “Mary has chosen what is better.” So the word “better” became my loop hole. It isn’t that what Martha chose was wrong, but that Mary had chosen what was better, meaning that Martha’s choice was at least good. This is how I have heard this text applied in contemporary circles. The 10 • Priscilla Papers
| 34/4 | Autumn 2020
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