How a Servant is to Serve, a lesson from Mary and Martha

Martha and Mary by He Qi Chin

I’ve been Martha.  Not in the way you’d expect, the doing-all-the-things-because-I’m-a-beaver manner.  But in that I feel this unexplainable weight to meet the androcentric expectations of my more patristic brethren.  I’ve held my tongue, when I knew it was not what was being required of me at the moment, in settings where more traditional believers facilitated the gathering.  And I’ve relied on men to speak for me in similar settings, when I knew my job was to speak up for myself, or on behalf of sisters who had been belittled into silence.  I’ve hastily back-pedaled when asked if I desire to or was teaching God’s Word; and I’ve looked demurely at the floor, dying a little bit on the inside, instead of challenging the ideals spouted by denominational leaders. 

I’ve been Martha.  Distracted too much with the worry of how other people will react to my intentions or actions, to sit at my Master’s feet and quietly, though publicly, declare that I will be His student, so that I may be a teacher of His way to others.  Worried about the hard work of having to defend why I think what I’m doing is scriptural, why women should be permitted to behave thus.  Worried at the reaction towards my husband, who leans a little more closely to the traditional way of doing things than me.  Worried that my ministry or my voice or even the person for whom I’m advocating might suffer unnecessarily for my brazen speech.  Worried with the details of service, of how things will come off; because these events will reflect on me as a leader and my ability thereto.  Worried.  To the point of distraction, so that I’ve missed my Master’s presence in these beautiful moments. 

And because of this, I find that I might have more in common with Martha than Mary.

The Sisters at Bethany: Luke 10:38-42

As we mentioned on Thursday, By sitting at Jesus’ feet, Mary is signaling her intention to become a teacher herself; and Jesus declares that she is right to do so.[1]   However, if this is the sole intent of this narrative, Mary’s theological education comes at the expense of Martha.[2]  To counter the seeming unfairness towards Martha, Veronica Koperski proffers the theory that it is not Martha’s busyness that is being chastised, but her anxiety.[3]

The weight of this idea falls mostly on the translation of the Greek verb “diakouew” from verse 40.  According to Klaus Hess, in this particular passage, it means “service at a table;” however, this word occurs 34 times in the New Testament and in every use except this one, it implies “service, office, aid, support, distribution (of alms, etc.), office of a deacon.”[4]  In fact, Koperski contends that because of its usage in other New Testament passages, it is “not exclusively associated with table service, and the text gives no indication that a meal is involved.”[5]  In particular, she references a later passage in Luke 22:25-27 were this word expresses “the epitome of Jesus’ mission” and notes that “Jesus does not actually serve a meal, but charges his disciples to adopt the attitude of ‘one who serves.’”[6] Warren Carter asserts this position, noting that

in six of its eight occurrences in Acts diakonia indicates leadership and proclamation on behalf of God or of the church and the gospel.  In two of the six the administration and provision of material relief for those in need are indicated without separation of these tasks from the tasks of leadership and proclamation.  Partnership with others in the acts of ministry pervades all eight texts, as does the sense of ministering as the representative of God or of the church…thus [it] does not designate domestic or culinary activity.[7]

The question then becomes, why in this instance only does this verb refer to waiting tables?  Is it only because its subject is specifically female and could therefore offer no other service?  If this is the case, certainly Jesus’ words that Mary has choose the better portion indicates that becoming his student trumps domestic obligations.  On the other hand, both Carter and Koperski contend that Mary and Martha were involved, at some level, in local church leadership.  Carter posits that Martha’s anxiety stems from the exultant doing of this ministry, while Koperski attributes the worry to her feeling of being pulled away from her service therein, by the disapproval of others.[8]  While both theories certainly place more weight on Martha’s potential ministerial duties and make her seem less like a petulant child, neither can be adequately proven from the text itself. Yet, neither can a simplistic outburst concerning the unfair distribution of domestic duties.  What remains are Jesus’ words that Mary “has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (10:42). 

Thus however you read this particular word for service, as domestic in only this one instance or as service for the kingdom, the good portion for which Mary is lauded is: being aware of her Lord’s presence, of abandoning what is culturally expected to spend her time with him, soaking up his presence and his teaching even if it is socially unacceptable.  Because those are the only things that will sustain a servant of any ilk. 

I must encourage you: sit at Jesus’ feet, soak up His presence, and learn from Him through reading God’s Word.  Be prepared to share what you have learned, to freely give what you have freely been given.  And when societal boundaries seem to rise up against what you’re doing, cross them.  Like a rebel who hails from a kingdom where your King delights in eliminating the walls that keep us from Him.    

Enjoying this study?  Here's a link to other articles in this series: The Women Who Knew Jesus

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[1]Wright, N. T., Bishop of Durham.  “Women’s Service in the Church: The Biblical Basis.”  Conference paper for the Symposium “Men, Women and the Church,” St John’s College, Durham, September 4 , 2004.   www.ntwrightpage.com/Wright_Women_Service_Church.htm
[2]Veronica Koperski.  “Women and Discipleship in Luke 10:38-42 and Acts 6:1-7: The Literary Context of Luke-Acts.”  A Feminist Companion to Luke.  ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, 161-196.  New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002, page 183.
[3] Ibid, 195.
[4] Colin Brown, ed., New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, vol 3 (Grand Rapides: Zondervan, 1986), s.v. “Serve, Deacon, Worship,” by K. Hess.   
[5] Koperski, “Women and Discipleship,” 183.
[6] Ibid, 182.
[7] Carter, Warren. “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen: Luke 10.38-24 Again.”  A Feminist Companion to Luke.  ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, 215-231.  New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002.  Originally published in CBQ 56 (1996): 264-280, page 222.
[8]Carter, “Getting Martha Out,” 230; Koperski, “Women and Discipleship,” 185.

Scarring Culture

My mother works with wood.  She is  less carpenter, more artisan, who attends the warmth of her organic medium with the tenderness of, well, a mother.  Her handiwork fills the homes of our family in the form of beds and tables, desks and mantles.  She has asserted, as one who has seen the effects of this mistake, that when sanding a piece, bringing its glow to the surface, turning the wood satin beneath her fingers, that to go against the grain scars the wood.  It leaves the wood marked and sets it apart from the rest of the piece.  Thus the colloquialism, “against the grain” can be taken to mean a scarring of culture, a change that is counter to the status quo.  A way of doing, a way of being, that is revolutionary; and can change the culture in which the action occurs.

So it is with two sisters, in their home in Bethany.  One adhering to the normative cultural practices of her day; the other, flouting them.  And Jesus saying the later has chosen the better way.         

The Sisters at Bethany: Luke 10:38-42

Returning to the text, we find that immediately before Jesus dines at the home of Martha and Mary, 70 disciples have returned.  Jesus, having sent them out to tell of his works and mission, rejoices and offers a prayer of thanksgiving.  Then in answer to a  lawyer’s question, Jesus gives the parable of the Good Samaritan (10:17-37).  The thrust of this parable turns the expected worldview of a Jewish lawyer on its head by insinuating that the law requires one to love God and people, even one’s enemies.  Jesus, in verse 37 then admonishes the lawyer to “go and do likewise.”  The command of “do” insinuating action; which is important when considering that within a few verses it appears that Martha is rebuked for “doing,” where Mary is seemingly lauded for not doing.   Following this teaching, Jesus and his disciples leave their current town and head into Bethany. 

Once in Bethany, Jesus and his disciples are welcomed into the home of Martha.  There is some disagreement between scholars as to whether this particular abode is the location of a house church or merely her home.  (The Greek, οἰκίαν, means house and Luke’s use of the singular, feminine, genitive ending implies that the home is a possession of Martha.[1]  Therefore, if it is the site of a home church, Martha could be considered the leader thereof.)  Whether a house church or not, Martha opens her home to Jesus willingly.  With the Lord and his disciples inside, Martha’s sister, Mary, “sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he had to say,” while Martha is “distracted with much serving” (10:39-40).  Martha then questions Jesus’ allowance of Mary’s seeming abdication of domestic duties; and Jesus responds to her by saying that Mary has chosen “the good portion which will not be taken away from her” (10:42).

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This passage has been the crux of generations of debate regarding gender roles within the home and the church; both Mary and Martha having been cast as archetypes for contemplative and service-oriented lives, as well as exemplars of what women are not and are permitted to do within the context of ecclesiastical service, respectively.  (That the NIV renders verse 40 as “distracted by all the preparations that had to be made,” advances an a priori theory of a domestic origin, thereby subtly negating other legitimate catalysts for Martha’s distraction.)  However, most scholars do agree Mary’s reclining at Jesus’ feet is radical for the first century; and it is this behavior that causes Martha’s offense.  Bishop Tom Wright claims that “no doubt [Martha] was cross at being left to do all the work, but the real problem behind that was that Mary had cut clean across one of the most basic social conventions.”[2]  Why?  Because Mary would be sitting at Jesus’ feet in the male part of the house, instead of remaining in the back rooms with the other women.  Bishop Wright likens this behavior to a Western, twenty-first century guest following their host into his or her bedroom at night to sleep there, instead of staying in the guest bedroom made up for that very purpose.  First century Jewish women were generally not permitted in the men’s areas unless they were serving food.  Thus Mary’s positioning herself there warrants the audience’s attention.

By situating herself at Jesus’ feet, Mary is not only flouting her culture, but also asserting herself as a student of Jesus.  Mary would not act thus merely for self-fulfillment, nor simply to soak up her beloved teacher’s presence; instead, Mary is doing this in order than she may be a rabbi (“teacher”) herself.  Bishop Wright references Paul’s relationship with Gamaliel to illustrate this concept; emphasizing that in the first century, learning for the sake of learning was not an occupation entered into by the common person.  By sitting at Jesus’ feet, Mary is signaling her intention to become a teacher herself; and Jesus declares that she is right to do so.[3]      

As he illustrated in the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus allowing Mary to sit at his feet as a student and then telling Martha that her sister has indeed chosen the better way, the Lord is showing his followers how his Kingdom is to affect their comfortable ways of living.  In radical and counter-cultural ways.  Those who have been prohibited from learning and teaching now are welcomed as equals with their brethren.  Those who are unclean, as the Samaritan woman and the man in Christ’s parable, are now made equally clean and included in Christ.  Thus, Mary’s theological education does not come at the expense of Martha; rather the allowance of Mary to sit at Jesus’ feet is a liberation for them both.[4]  They are freed from solely domestic contributions to ministerial service that is unparalleled in their day.[5] 

A revelation which will become even more crystalline as we look at the Greek on Tuesday.

Enjoying this study?  Here's a link to other articles in this series:  The Women Who Knew Jesus

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[1] Warren Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen: Luke 10.38-24 Again,” in A Feminist Companion to Luke, ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, (New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 215-231.  And Veronica Koperski, “Women and Discipleship in Luke,” in A Feminist Companion to Luke, ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, (New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 161-196. 

[2] Bishop N.T. Wright, “Women’s Service in the Church: The Biblical Basis,” St John’s College, Durham, September 4 2004.

[3] Wright, “Women’s service in Church,” 2004.

[4] Koperski,Veronica.  “Women and Discipleship in Loke 10:38-42 and Acts 6:1-7: The Literary Context of Luke-Acts.”  A Feminist Companion to Luke.  ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, 161-196.  New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002.” 183.

[5] Ibid, 195.

When the rules and the rulers are flouted.

Why did Jesus have to die?

A weighty question from my child’s lips; why, indeed.   The short answer is: because of me.  Because of you, my darling.   Because not any one of us is willing to bend to authority.  We, each, want to be our own kings.  Our own little gods. 

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My kids are good kids.  I’m told that frequently.  And I’m thankful.  But I’m also mindful of the moments when my boundaries are flouted.  My rules aren’t arbitrary, given only to show that I am in charge; that I rule over these little ones.  Don’t-run-into-the-street! Is for the preservation of them, the avoidance of horrific consequences.  It’s so that I, as well as they, don’t have to endure what could follow.   So that they are safe; and we are both unharmed.

The same holds true for us, as adults.  Though we may not like them, even speed limits are for our own good.  It’s likely that we don’t think about that when we’re being handed a much-deserved ticket.  Instead, we go home and slander the uniformed individual who caught us in our disobedience.  Blame them for our actions: that road shouldn’t be so slow.  Why aren’t they out catching murders or pedophiles, instead of ruining my day?  They’re just power-drunk.

Of course, how many of us, the lead-footed, have ever walked through the carnage of a fatal accident?  Seen the disfigured visages of children, or had to notify the next-of-kin?  There is a person inside the uniform, one who carries with him or her the memory of such incidents; one who is haunted by scenes most of us aren’t strong enough to handle. 

And to the world, aren’t God’s rules a bit on the…prohibitive side?  Why can’t we do certain things?  Why wouldn’t a good God want us to enjoy this life as much as possible?  Who is He to tell me not to do something?

And we build little altars for little gods.  I am going to do what I want.  When I want.  How I want.  We tell ourselves that God’s rules are arcane and too prohibitive.  Too colloquial.  Too unintelligent.

Yet, His rules are for our safety, just like mine for my children, the authorities’ for the governed.   He knows what the outcome of our choices are; just like I know what will happen to my children should they dart into the street in front of a car, who is only doing 35 in a 25.  Besides, 25mph is entirely too slow for this street anyway.  I know…, a police officer knows…, God knows the ramifications of our actions.  The awful, unthinkable, damaging consequences that can come from not following the rules.  Even the prohibitive ones.

Prohibition isn’t bad.  Authorities aren’t all evil.  Sometimes they genuinely are there to protect us from ourselves.  To keep us from becoming little gods of our own making.    

And so, Jesus had to die.

For you.  For me.  Because we can’t see the car speeding around the corner as we dart into the street after our ball.  Jesus absorbs the impact for us.  After the fatal wreck caused by our speeding, he trades places with the driver, and allows himself to be placed in the back of the patrol car instead of us.   He exchanges His freedom for ours, our lives for His.  Even though he knew what was coming.  Even though, His Father warned us against these destructive actions; put up boundaries to keep us safe.  Even though we refused to listen.  Refused to obey. 

Jesus offers to save us, in spite of ourselves.  We just have to keep letting Him.     

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