Martha, Martha, Dragon Tamer

"Saint Martha Taming the Dragon" © Sue Ellen Parkinson, 2021

---

This was the first sermon I ever preached, on November 3, 2019 at the annual women's retreat for Redeemer Lutheran Church in north Minneapolis. It can also be read with greater context at Church Anew's blog. Gospel Text: Luke 10:38-42

---

Seven years ago, just a couple months into my seminary career, I was invited to preach my first sermon at my church’s annual women’s retreat. I was super hesitant, but when Pastor Babette asks you to preach, you do it. Not because she’s bossy but because she’s the boss who usually knows what you need to do before you do, and so she is how you figure out what you need to do. Of course I said yes.

When, a few days later, a member of the planning team told me the weekend’s passage was Luke 10:38-42, about Mary and Martha, I visibly cringed and invisibly gasped, because seriously? Another women’s retreat concentrated on this story of Martha the distracted busy-body who needs to be more like her sweet sister, Mary, always sitting at Jesus’ feet when there’s work to be done? Gag. I am an Enneagram 4 and the youngest of four sisters, and I need exactly no one and nothing telling me to be more like my sisters (sorry, not sorry).

Still, I decided that if I was ever going to be a preacher-pastor I'd have to preach some texts I don’t like and I might as well practice with women who love me. So I dug in, intent on finding something new and powerful for Mary and Martha, and discovered this incredible public theologian named Mary Stromer Hansen who literally wrote the book about these sisters and this passage.

Her stunning, elucidating work helped me to love this text. It turns out that what we’ve been handed (especially women and Queer folks) is full of garbage mythology and patriarchal projections onto history which strip two radical sisters of their agency and place within their context. Reality, as usual, is much more complex and far more beautiful.

So I invite you to come with me into this flashpoint in Martha's life -- and stay close, because it involves a good bit of Greek.

As they went on their way, Jesus came to a village where a woman named Martha received him. She had a sister named Mary who also was one who sat at the Lord’s feet, always listening to his words. (10:38-39)

From the jump, two things are immediately clear from Luke’s introduction of these women. Firstly Martha is alone when she -- a certain woman, third person singular -- received Jesus. Secondly, this "certain woman" and her sister Mary are both disciples of Jesus. While many if not most translations entirely skip the word καὶ -- “also” -- in verse 39, it is clearly present in the Greek telling us Mary and Martha had “sat at the Lord’s feet.”

And about that: This notion of “sitting at the Lord’s feet” isn’t a literal thing telling us where Mary was located when this all went down. Rather, it was a common idiom indicating the dedication of a student to their teacher. So here you have them, two sister-disciples of Jesus: Martha is in the village of Bethany and Mary is somewhere else, likely among the 70+ other disciples Jesus just sent out at the beginning of Luke 10 to preach a bountiful harvest in need of workers.

As we move into verse 40, we learn that their discipleship was an active, full time ministry:

“But Martha was constantly περιεσπᾶτο (periespato) concerning much διακονίαν (diakonian).”

Again, this word perispato, translated “distracted,” is more than the bother of a wandering mind; it really means “greatly troubled” which, according to biblical scholars, indicates "persistent, ongoing stress." 

And Martha is constantly stressed by burdens directly related to… diakonian.

Folks. *Deep breath* 

Throughout the New Testament this word diakonian is translated as “ministry." It is the vocational service of ministers — apostles, disciples, pastors, prophets. Yet, somehow and for some reason, in this passage diakonian is translated as “tasks.” 
(I’m not here to call bible translators sexist.)
(But they definitely are.)

We’re beginning to see a different image of Martha emerging, no? One of a woman, a disciple of Jesus, not distracted by a to-do list, but overwhelmed by the needs of ministry. So, Luke continues, 

“She εἶπεν (eipen) -- “set upon” or “confronted” or “commanded” -- Jesus, saying, ‘Lord! Does it not make you anxious that my sister has μόνην με κατέλειπεν (monēn me kateleipen) -- left me alone -- to διακονεῖν (diakonein) -- minister?” (10:40)

This Greek word “kateleipen” means “to leave” — to go away, to physically abandon or desert one place and go to another.

Again: Mary is so not in the home right now. Sister is gone. And she has left Martha alone (monēn) to diakonein. Diakonein is a verb describing the everyday acts and practical works and services which define relational ministry. It is not just the patriarchally-defined “women’s work” of cooking and cleaning (which already assumes that feeding people and providing them a warm, inviting place to be is somehow lesser labor, but I digress). No, this is all the daily work that defines vocational ministry. Meaning, while Mary is gone out among the 72, Martha is making meals for the community, gathering meals for the hungry, praying with grieving neighbors, visiting folks who are incarcerated and incapacitated, taking care of kids, and doing all the other daily labor of a minister.

And she is tired. So she tells Jesus, 

“εἰπὲ (eipe) -- bring word and command -- her to help me.” 

(...here is where her story takes its crucial turn...)

“Answering (Ἀποκριθεὶς / apokritheis) her, the Lord said, “Martha, Martha. You are μεριμνᾷς (merimnas) and θορυβάζῃ (thorybazē) about πολλά (polla).” (10:41)

Jesus names Martha — twice — calling her out of the Mary narrative, back into her own body.

And he names what’s actually going on for her.
See, up to this point all we’re told is that she’s overburdened by the daily work of ministry. But Jesus peels back that layer and names the True Truth:
   Martha is merimnas
       — anxious, to the point of being divided into pieces
   and thorybazē
       — agitated to the point of panic
   about polla
        — many things. 

This last word, polla -- this one truly is wholly unrelated to ministry, and is instead (as my dear friend Sara likes to say), simply, “all the alls.”

Martha confronts Jesus, commanding him to bring Mary home, and instead he calls her back into herself and names the very real worry and agitation that are tearing her apart, the anxiety and panic that she’s tried to bury with the busyness of ministry. And he tells her, “What Mary has chosen is a good portion, and it will not be taken from her.” (10:42)

This is where that original myth of Mary physically sitting at the feet of Jesus becomes so brazenly problematic: She’s not even in town, never mind sitting at his feet. She is a woman out doing disciples’ work in a world that is not made for or kind to women, having left Martha at home to do the same alone.

It is her absence, not laziness, that so agitates Martha.

It is to her agitation that Jesus provides the comfort that her worry is unneeded because Mary has chosen the portion that is good for her" -- It's not “the only good portion,” as some translations imply. It is just her good portion, one for which she is particularly well-suited. 

This moment is everything. It's the moment when Christ meets Martha's humanity with his own, showing us not a woman who can't handle her own portion, but one who loves her sister deeply and is deeply anxious over her absence.

She is alone and lonely. Afraid for her sister and herself. It's all coming out sideways looking like resentment and rage, and so Jesus answers her panic with presence: His presence in her home; her presence in her own body.

He names her, sees her, hears her, validates her, and frees her not to be like Mary, but to be herself -- and let Mary be Mary.

The coolest thing about Mary and Martha, I think, is that far from being a swooning sitter and her busybody sister, they trailblazers of the faith, apostles with and to and of the apostles, who were so well-known, beloved, and respected that, together with others like Mary Magdalene, they became matriarchs of the church.

But Martha? She gets such a bad rap when really her fortitude is unmatched.

She is the community organizer who doesn’t sleep because police violence doesn’t sleep.

She is the church mother taking in and feeding the kids after finding their mom a ride and a suit to wear to an interview she spent the last few weeks prepping her for.

She is the pastor taking meals to the home-bound, showing up to parole hearings, and preaching each Sunday and making sure someone is there to greet Jesus every time he comes to town.

She is a woman in a man’s world doing “mens’ work,” and is close enough with Jesus to speak freely and boldly to his face when she needs answers.

She is criminally selfless.

She is tired and overworked.

She could use a pair or three of extra hands.

And by medieval times, she became known as the Dragon Slayer or Tamer, which is the legacy she now leaves to us.

So now: To you Marys who’ve been told to go home?

Don’t.

Don’t go home, because Jesus didn’t call Mary home.
Whether you’re preaching or marching or teaching or traveling, don’t stop because it is your good portion. If God Themself won’t take it from you, let no one else pry it from your hands.

And to all you Marthas doing the tireless, thankless, endless work of organizing and presence and ministry at home?

Don’t stop. We need every blessed Martha we can get, and yours, too, is a very good portion.

Hugs and Kisses, Babes.