Martha and Mary of Bethany: Who Again?
- Fr. Chris Robinson, C.M.
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
A Scripture Reflection on The Gospel of Luke 10:38-42 and The Gospel of John 11:21-32, 43-44
A few months ago, a friend shared with me some challenges she was having with an old, close friend. At one point she said, “Just when you think you know someone, you realize you really don’t at all.” She eventually worked through her conflict with her friend, but that phrase had me thinking. Just when I think I understand a biblical character, especially a beloved figure, there are still some surprises to be had.
For example, Martha of Bethany, the sister of Mary and Lazarus, is someone I thought I knew. You may
remember the story from the Gospel of Luke. Martha is busy preparing dinner while her sister, Mary, is doing basically nothing but sitting at the feet of Jesus, hanging on his every word.
In Luke 10:40, she finally says, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” And Jesus responds, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken from her.”
The Martha I thought I knew is as frustrated as I often get when it seems I am doing everything and others are simply sitting around, laughing, talking, and avoiding work. But somehow, as a good host or volunteer, I try to tell myself to take a breath, be less anxious, and let others be. After all, that’s what Martha was told to do.
Or was she? But maybe I really don’t know Martha at all. More about that in a moment.
Similarly, what’s up with Mary? Luke’s account keeps her pretty quiet, docile, and simply sitting at the feet of Jesus, looking up adoringly. But John sees Mary in a different light in 11:32. She has been grieving the death of her brother, Lazarus, and hears that Jesus has finally come to Bethany. She frantically runs from her house, hardly passive. The Gospel states, “When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’”
This is not what the Mary I was introduced to in Luke’s Gospel would have done. In John, she says what’s on everyone else’s mind, especially in terrible times. She confronts Jesus in an almost accusatory way. His response to her is to weep. The only place we know of in the scriptures where it says, “Jesus wept.”
Maybe I really didn’t know Mary that well after all, either.
When I am drawn to meditating or praying with biblical people instead of a book from the bible, it seems the Holy Spirit is inviting me to see a few things about these people differently. Or maybe rethink something that I thought I knew.
The last time I was cleaning up after a meal, scraping dishes, putting things away, and hearing the voices of my friends coming from the other room, I felt a twinge of annoyance. Why weren’t they helping me? It came to mind that maybe I was giving in to my “inner Martha.” But this didn’t seem fair.
As I cleaned, I reflected on our great time together. The faces of dear friends gathered around the table. Memories of past meals, funny stories, and challenges we had faced together floated up to my
consciousness. As did a deep prayer for each one of them, a prayer of thanksgiving for each one of them. It occurred to me that some of my best contemplative prayer and reflection comes when I am engaged in a tedious task. Like washing dishes or doing laundry. My mind can drift while I work.
This is how I like to think of my “inner Martha.” Aware of my busy-ness yet called to make it a moment of contemplation.
Similarly, more than a few times I have found myself in quiet prayer in chapel, praying the psalms of the Divine Office. As I sit in the presence of the Lord, connecting with my “inner Mary” who sat at the feet of Jesus, I begin to really listen.
Like manual or tedious work, this spiritual work leads me to visualize my ministry, think about students I have met, consider my confreres in need of prayer, and the workday tasks ahead. The contemplative prayer does not do nothing. It activates me, energizes me to do something about what I have heard. If I am, indeed, at the foot of Jesus, hanging on his every word like Mary, how can I stay passive? He calls us to put our faith into whatever active ministry we are called to.
So maybe Martha is not the fussbudget that I thought she was. And maybe Mary, rushing from her home to confront Jesus with a difficult truth, was not the passive listener that I thought I knew. Contemplation leads to action. Active ministry leads to contemplation. It is not an either/or but a both/and. After all, Martha and Mary are sisters.
Maybe there is someone from a biblical story who is inviting you to spend time with them. Maybe it is time to pay them a visit. You might not know them as well as you thought.