Amanda McMillen, “Mary & Martha”
“Every Second Counts”. That’s the motto at The Bear, the fictional fine dining restaurant in the heart of Chicago run by professional chef Carmy Berzatto and his dysfunctional and endlessly passionate group of friends and family in the hit TV show. The newest season just came out, and in it, Carmy and his fellow chefs and committed family restaurateurs have to make sure The Bear can stay afloat, and they have just a few weeks to pull themselves out of debt in this highly risky venture. It’s honestly an unbelievably stressful TV show when you’d like to wind down at the end of the day, but I’m absolutely hooked to the adrenaline rush of getting to service each night and watching the team deal with their traumatic pasts and unresolved grief all while pulling together another night of restaurant service and (hopefully) five star reviews. “It’s hard and it’s brutal and that’s what makes it special” Carmy screams at his team one night. It makes me very grateful for my job here, to be honest.
Well I think Martha would do well with Carmy at The Bear. She’s certainly got the work ethic for it. I can almost see her in her kitchen in 1st century Palestine, and if they had clocks back then there’d be clock ticking on the wall to service start time. Her esteemed guest, a known harsh food critic, is already waiting at his table, ready to pass his judgment and write his review of her work. But wait - where’s her sous chef? She cracks open the swinging door from the kitchen to the restaurant and cannot believe her eyes - Mary, instead of helping her get the food on the table as quickly as possible, is sitting with the food critic and shootin’ the breeze. This is classic Mary. They have so much work to get done and it’s all on Martha’s shoulders. If “every second counts”, well then Mary is wasting all of it.
This passage about Martha and Mary is often understood and preached as a way to encourage sitting quietly with Jesus, as Mary does, and condemn busily serving and flitting from task to task, a la Martha. It can be used as a way to talk about the merits of sitting with Jesus over and above physical acts of service. And I just have to say… every single time I’ve ever read this passage in a bible study, it is literally 100% of the time the women in the bible study who point out that someone is going to have to make lunch here. We can kind of romanticize this passage and say that it is better to be still and know that God is God like Mary does, but at the end of the day, there is work to be done and it still needs to get done. And so every time I’ve read this passage with other women, there is a palpable tone of exasperation in the room.
But the problem, I don’t believe, is in the actions themselves of Martha and Mary. (Cause let’s be honest, it will always be a good thing to make a meal for one another.) The problem is where their attention lies - the heart of the matter.
The problem comes in when Martha complains to Jesus about Mary. “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work myself? Tell her then to help me.” Martha asks a rhetorical question - Jesus, obviously you also are bothered by this act of injustice, as I slave away in the kitchen and Mary sits on her you-know-what. You’re Jesus - do something. Tell her right from wrong already. The sous-chef is hanging with the guests - tell her to get back to work! You can just feel the iciness of resentment, for both Mary and for Jesus, in her voice.
And I’ll say too, as an aside, so Martha and Mary are sisters, and Lazarus is their brother - the one who Jesus later raises from the dead. So we have these three siblings, and we don’t know their birth order, the Bible doesn’t explicitly say, but I mean - we know their birth order. Obviously, Martha is the eldest, getting everything together for everyone, making the lunch, being the martyr. “Martyr Martha.” Lazarus is the middle child with the inferiority complex who just needs attention from Jesus, and Mary is the youngest, sure that everyone else will take care of everything and she’s totally free to do what she pleases. I don’t know this but I know this, right? (I’m sorry for anyone I may have just offended, that’s about as political as I’ll get today.)
So Martha is sick of it - she’s sick of being the responsible one, the one who holds all things together, the one who carries the family, the one who makes this restaurant happen. But she also maybe kind of likes it, right? She holds her martyr role close to her heart, it defines her, it gives her a sense of pride and self-justification, maybe. This is where I admit that I myself am an oldest child and while I do take pride in being the “responsible one”, I will also admit that I can put more stock into that responsibility and pride than I should. The martyr role can get a little too comfortable.
So no, the problem here is not that Martha is on top of things and Mary is carelessly unaware, the problem is where their hearts are, where their attention lies. Martha is concerned with what Mary is doing. But Mary is concerned with Jesus.
Martha thinks that being active and hospitable and on your feet is spiritually best, but Jesus says- well, actually Martha, to be a mature disciple of Christ is to be less concerned with trying to be better, less concerned with everyone else and what they’re doing, less concerned with proving yourself and self-justifying - rather, it’s about resting in the Gospel and trusting the Holy Spirit. And not resting because rest is another spiritual discipline to master. (today we have our fitness trackers and oura rings and Apple Health apps constantly telling us that sleeping 8 hours a day is our new peak of health that we must master - which is a very unfortunate fact - but this isn’t rest for the sake of self-improvement here) - rather, it’s about resting like Mary because your heavy burdens have gotten lighter by the good news of the Gospel, which says that you are a sinner, that you are forgiven for that, and that in Christ, not in Martha, not in you, in Christ all things hold together.
Martha assumes that Jesus will feel sorry for her and that he will rebuke Mary, and tell her to go help her sister in the kitchen. And I do think Jesus feels sorry for Martha, but not for the reason she thinks. Martha seems to be painfully aware of the scoreboard, feeling prideful in her standing but only so long as she can hold her place at the top as the most responsible, most hard-working, most considerate person in the room. Imagine, if you can, I certainly can, the kind of anxious self-consciousness that keeps Martha from rest.
Martha is concerned with how she and her work compares to her sisters’. She is concerned with how she measures up. But Mary is not concerned with that, she doesn’t have time or energy to be, so deep is her rest in that moment.
For Martha, there is sibling rivalry at play here, and she is hungry for validation from Jesus. But for Mary, any rivalry that exists is completely dead at the feet of Jesus. On the surface, the passage addresses a sibling rivalry similar to that of the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the eldest with the martyr complex who is uncomfortable with the grace and acceptance of God for all people (even the “lazy” ones). But the heart of Martha’s pain, which Jesus sees right away, is her worry, and her distraction, and her anxiety that she just has so much to do. “Every second counts” - those words ring in her ears.
“Martha, Martha” Jesus says, and you can hear the tenderness in his voice, like he’s gently rebuking a child, “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.”
In the end, Martha’s self-justification, her martyr complex, her pride, will be taken away from her. And it will all lay at the feet of Jesus, where she will join her sister in worship of their crucified Lord. All of our self-justification, all of our martyr complexes, all of our attempts to hold our families and our lives together, all of it will lay at the feet of Jesus in the end, who holds all things together.
I’ve said that phrase a couple of times now - “In Christ all things hold together”. It comes from our reading today from Colossians, which goes so beautifully with our Martha & Mary passage.
“For in Christ all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” That’s the kind of thing that might make you sit at Jesus’ feet, eager to hear him say more.
This kind of blessed assurance, of Christ’s dominion and rule over all things - this is the kind of truth that might make us pause what we’re doing long enough to listen, and take a breath.
Right now, you may be feeling like you’re holding something, or many things, or everything together. Yourself, your household, your marriage, your kids’ safety and happiness. Your health. Your loved ones’ health. Your sobriety. Your finances. Maybe you feel like a martyr, like you’re holding down the fort and no one’s rushing in to help you. And maybe you just have a lot of balls in the air that you’re juggling right now and it feels completely unsustainable.
The Greek word used in verse 10 to describe Martha’s distraction by her many tasks, peri-spah-oh, can be translated “distracted” or more literally, “to be pulled apart”. When we feel we have many things vying for our attention and care, all of which feel necessary, especially when attached to some kind of validation as good Christians or good husbands or wives, good parents, good sons and daughters, good friends, good workers, good neighbors - we might feel like we are being pulled apart in all directions. Not to mention the overwhelming deluge of tragic news that breaks our hearts and leaves us at a complete and utter loss of what to do next.
Martha is doing everything she can to be a good host. But what Mary realized first is that they are not actually the hosts at this restaurant - the person they thought was the food critic is actually the host at this feast - his body and blood, the bread and wine. His mercy and love, endlessly available, poured out to be shared by all. His words, words of life to be savored.
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted (pulled apart) by many things”. There are so many ways we feel pulled apart by our cares and worries.
If “every second counts” it’s only because all of our lists, all of our schedules, all of time, is held together in the hands of God.
In Christ all things hold together. In Christ, alone. It doesn’t mean that your work, and that your care, doesn't matter. That’s what our lives consist of, after all. But it does not justify you in God’s eyes. That work of justification is already done for you, on the cross, where Christ’s body was broken, like the bread at communion being broken in two. Christ was broken, pulled apart by the worries and cares of the whole world, so that in him all things would hold together, for you.
Amen.
