July 18, 2004

Ken Bennett

Luke 10:38-42

If I have been a bit disorganised and absent these past few weeks, part of the reason is that at this time of the year it is my task as ministry educator to organise the annual Licensed Ministry conference. This year one day was given over to the current and rather vexatious subject of homosexuality and the place of the homosexual lifestyle in the church.

I am pleased to report that the day was marked by very gracious behaviour and a willingness to listen without rancour to opinions that we might totally disagree with. We even managed to begin to search for a way ahead, to find some way for Anglican via media to prevail.

The discussion also highlighted for me the complexity and conflicts of biblical interpretation, another example of which is perfectly supplied by today's gospel; this sisterly altercation between Mary and Martha into which Jesus intervenes rather directly. I don't know about you, but I have been part of more than a few study groups where this story has generated a fairly high level of heat among the participants, often without shedding too much light on the issues. Certainly also there has been no shortage of scholarly ink spilt commenting on the story's meaning and purpose either.

Some reformation commentators say that this story is really about salvation. Are we saved by faith (Mary) or are we saved by works (Martha)? And of course, the proper answer is faith. Some more narrow minded conservative writers give us a different angle. They have suggested that it is an argument for the superiority of Christianity over Judaism; Martha representing the legalism of the Old Testament and Mary representing the liberating spirit of the New Testament.

Mystics, also, have had a field day with this text, gloating over the fact that the active Martha is chastised for not imitating the contemplative lifestyle of her sister. And, last but not least, women's groups have agonized for years over what this story says about the proper role of women in the church. In one parish I served, the Association of Anglican Women worried quite a bit about this story because it seemed to disparage all the cake stalls and other very worthy activities they were engaged in that offered financial assistance to the parish.

There is also recent work that is new to me. It is a compilation of significant feminist scholarship and it takes a sharp look at all the traditional interpretations of scripture. The analysis in this commentary of the Mary and Martha story is fascinating. Looking generally at Luke's treatment of women, what these scholars have discovered is that although Luke's Jesus is more inclusive of women than any of the other gospels, the kind of women who are affirmed are all one brand. They are good, quiet, supportive, obedient women like Mary who sits adoringly at Jesus' feet, her mouth shut, her spirit passive, her own energy submerged in Jesus'.

Mary is in sharp contrast to Martha, who is active, verbal, assertive, and willful; the Martha whom Jesus rebukes. This women's commentary concludes that Luke's supposed "empowerment of women" is really not empowerment at all, but instead a subtle way of affirming pliant, passive, quiet women as the acceptable role model for the female half (or should we say two-thirds) of Christianity. It's an idea that I find, at the very least, rather disturbing.

These interpretations are all very well, but for me, this week (especially in the wake of the crazy weeks I have experienced recently) I find they miss the main point.

I think we need to keep the story in its textual context. Immediately preceding today's story, Luke has told us Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan; the classic tale that challenges us to an active, 'works-oriented' faith that story that commands us to "Go and do likewise". Surely this story validates Martha's active type of faith. It seems to me that the Bible doesn't particularly distinguish faith from works, active discipleship from contemplative discipleship, Judaism from Christianity, assertive people from passive people. It is not a question of either/or, but rather a declaration of both/and. All of us are called to be both Mary and Martha.

For me, though, there is a different focus in this story all together, and that focus is anxiety; the debilitating, faith denying, manipulative power of anxiety. An emotion that I for one am intimately and numbingly familiar with.

What Jesus says to Martha is not, "Stop cooking, get out of the kitchen, shut up, be sweet and smart like Mary." No, what Jesus says is "Stop worrying, stop fretting, stop getting into a tizz. Stop agonizing over the mechanics of the meal. Don't worry about pleasing me or proving yourself or being perfect. Stop focusing on performance. Instead, start savouring goodness; the goodness in you, the goodness in me, the goodness - the Godness - that emerges when we stop and enjoy one another."

This is where I, and maybe you, can start identifying with Martha. We can identify with her exhausting, gnawing anxiety; anxiety about doing it right, anxiety about pleasing all those people and all those expectations out there, anxiety silencing all those imagined critics who are poised to pounce on her, and on us. It doesn't matter whether we're worried about our job performance, or our parenting skills, or our family responsibilities. The Martha in all of us is "worried and distracted by many things."

One authority I consulted talked about anxiety as "that which one experiences when one's self esteem is threatened."

Of course anxiety is a very normal human emotion - something we all know at some level every day of our lives. And much anxiety is appropriate and even necessary - it's the tension needed to be productive, creative, caring. But neurotic anxiety, excessive anxiety, worrying at a level which is totally out of proportion to the situation at hand, is both unhealthy and destructive. In my own life I have discovered, with help, that exaggerated anxiety is a sign of exaggerated low self-esteem, and it is much more a statement of how we feel about ourselves than how we feel about the person or situation we are anxious about.

When we think carefully about it I think we can see that main problem with Martha's anxiety is that it is basically selfish. It appears, of course that Martha was trying to do something nice for Jesus - preparing a nourishing meal - but I think we can observe that she was caught up more in her own needs than his.

It seems to me Jesus had come to their house during a long and difficult journey to be nourished not by gourmet cooking, but by friendship and his intimate relationship with the two women. Martha, however manages somehow to stick in a "should" into the description of what a good host, a good woman, a good Christian is supposed to do - she becomes focussed on her own inadequacy, instead of on the gift Jesus was offering.

Boy do I know all about that! Are there times when you find yourself awake in the early hours ticking off in your mind all the tasks that you have before you, imagining the ways you might fail in what you have to do? I certainly do - more than once in the last fortnight.

For me there are certain events guaranteed to push my anxiety button. Organising big diocesan events, facing angry students and ordinands chairing the AGM. And sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly badly about myself, the Martha in me is unleashed even doing the daily tasks that I usually have no problem with, even enjoy. At such times writing a sermon is agony, getting through meetings is hard labour, and relating to people authentically is impossible. Why? I have discovered that at those times, for whatever reason, I am focusing on my own inadequacy. It seems that in those moments when our self-esteem is threatened most, we spend more time compensating for our own fragile personality than we do enjoying and serving the world around us

Martha, in this story trying to find her own worth through external measurement, focusing so much on meeting Jesus' needs that she is losing herself in the process, trying to control Mary's behaviour by assuming responsibility for her sister, trying to earn esteem through taking care of others rather than sensing that she was already loved and valued as a child of God.

Martha is like so many "good Christians", like so many of us; certainly if we we grew up in the 50's and 60's. "My own needs don't matter," we have been taught to say. "God first, others next, self last," as my teacher Mr Cappie, wrote in my autograph book. But there may be a dark hidden side to this notion of self-less love that can express itself in deep resentment; if I am going to give up so much for you, you better darn well do as I say and be who I say you are. My worth rests on you doing and becoming exactly what I want." Such was the nature and intensity of Martha's anxiety. She cared too much, and so she lost herself in the process.

Martha's worry, her intensity, her inability to appreciate Jesus because she was too busy taking care of him - all of this was turning her into a rigid and resentful nag. And it was this bitter part of who she was that Jesus gently rebukes. He says to her and through her to us, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, but only one thing is important to me today. I want to know you, and talk to you, and listen to you. I want to hear your ideas and learn from your experiences. I want to share what I know and what I feel. And it is only when we take time to truly be in the presence of one another, it is only then that we will together find ourselves in the presence of God."

Martha didn't have to prove herself to be worthy of love, and neither do we. Our worth is not measured by how clean our house is, how much money we have, how many papers we've published. To God these things are immaterial.

There is a Psalm that reminds us just how precious we are, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, knit together intentionally in our mother's womb, precious and unique and unconditionally loved by God. And I would like to think that this is what Jesus is saying to Martha and to us today. Confronting our anxieties with the knowledge of our intrinsic worthiness, the fact that we are deeply beloved of God - for me that's good news, news I would wish our anxious performance oriented world to hear and believe.

Ken Bennett

(With thanks to Susan R Andrews for the original ideas.)