What’s The Matter With Martha?

I used to want a housekeeper. I used to be infinitely jealous of women who could afford to have someone else clean their bathrooms, mop their kitchen floor, and scrub their sinks. This was until I had one of my own. Well, I didn’t really “have” her; my mom sent her to me. Whether this was to dangle a golden carrot in my face or encourage me to sweep more often, I can’t say. But Carol came, soft-spoken, tidy, and determined, armed with a battalion of mops and a remote control vacuum. Several hours later, I returned home to paradise. How lovely, I thought. Several friends were coming over that afternoon and finally, I’d have a clean house to share.

Come they did, and together we had a grand total of thirteen kids under six. Less than half an hour after Carol left, five boys who had been digging in the mud, ran bellowing through my kitchen, up the stairs, across the carpet, and into the boys’ room where they crammed themselves into a closet, shaking dirt clods onto the clothes and toys. My friend’s toddler discovered an abandoned, half-drunk can of apple juice, which he spilled in a long slow stream from the coffee table, down the hall, and into the kitchen. On any other day, I’d have casually mopped up the apple juice and handed my boys the vacuum when their friends left. But today, I turned into a neurotic clean freak, chasing down and scolding the boys, and tracking the toddler with a soapy dishtowel. This is why I shouldn’t have a cleaning lady. I don’t want the emotional investment I have in a clean house to be a barrier to hospitality.

Did you know the Bible actually has a neatnik? The much maligned Martha of Bethany, sister to Mary the Mellow and Lazarus the Resurrected. In the gospel of Luke, we read that Martha invited Jesus to stay with her family. While she cooked and cleaned, Mary sat and listened to Jesus. Frustrated, Martha asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her. Jesus responds (Luke10:41-42), “Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details. There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Whenever we hear the story of these sisters, it’s usually hailing the grace and virtue of Mary, her attention to Jesus, her knack at prioritizing, and her tolerance for burned food and a messy house. Martha is condemned as the busy big sister, the control freak, the perfectionist who couldn’t “let go and let God.” This has always bugged me. I’m kind of annoyed that Martha gets the raw end of the theological deal. No one applauds her efforts, compliments her fig and honey compote, or admires her clean, plank wood floors. It’s as if she only made it into the text because we needed a bad example. No one seems to remember that she initiated the hospitality, and is doing her best to welcome the Son of God into her home.

What we fail to understand when we revere Mary and disparage Martha is Jesus wasn’t criticizing what either of them was doing. He chastises Martha for her derogatory comments about her sister, not for making him dinner. Jesus doesn’t say the details that concern Martha don’t need to be taken care of, but that the value she places on them is too high. She is so caught up in being a hostess that she has forgotten her guest.

We don’t live in a “Mary” world. As moms, we are “Marthas” by necessity. We can cook dinner, help with homework, fill a juice cup, nurse a baby, and listen all at the same time. Try to be like Mary and your laundry will pile up, cockroaches will move into your kitchen, and your kids will get rickets. Jesus is not suggesting that we quit doing what needs to be done so we can sit around thinking about God, but that we regard the essential details of our lives with a heavenly perspective.

Later in the Bible, Martha gets it right. When her brother dies, Jesus is the first person she turns to, the one she runs out to meet (while Mary, ironically, stays at home), boldly proclaiming her faith in spite of overwhelming grief. “I have always believed you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who has come into the world from God,” she says in John 11:27.

Let’s be like Martha, faithfully listening and responding to to the gentle voice that warns us not to be so caught up in the minutiae of life, that we forget the Life Giver. I don’t want to get to heaven and have God ask me why I was worried and upset about the details.

The Very Good Mother

The Very Good Mother
By Julie Colwell

There’s a church I run by every morning called The Very Good Church of Silicon Valley. Each time I pass by, I wonder why any church would claim such a title, crediting themselves for their own goodness. What, exactly, do they mean? Are they recognizing that they are imperfect and affirming their need for God? Do they just give it their best shot and trust God to fill in the gaps? Or is it the kind of “very good” that means better than as many others as possible? It must be a fairly elite congregation because they share a small building with three other churches that meet at different times on Sundays. I can imagine the conversation, “I go to the Very Good Church. Which church do you go to?”

“Well, we’re still attending the Barely Mediocre Church up the street, but when we lived up north, we went to the Particularly Righteous Church downtown.”

I want to be very good, and I’d really appreciate it if someone noticed. I try pretty hard. But what does a very good mother do? What would a very good mother do if her child were pushed at a playgroup? Would she interfere or let the child cope? And do very good mothers call up their very good friends when their children aren’t invited to very good birthday parties? Do very good mothers spend the night in parking lots to get into very good preschools? Do very good mothers always have very good children? And what makes you very good anyway?

In theory, mothers are supposed to be very good. We’re should love our kids, our husbands, and our responsibility as primary homemaker (whether we bring home a paycheck or not). Additionally, we ought to be filled with a host of virtues because if we aren’t, our kids will turn into little monsters, and it will be our fault. However, unless we had our own very good mothers, there are few role models to follow. Ironically, most female archetypes in American culture don’t even have mothers. If they’re not virtuous little orphans, they are victims of evil step moms. Consequently, I’ve tried to impress upon my kids that having a mother is a privilege, but they just roll their eyes.

Not much is said about the goodness of Mary, the most famous mother in the Bible. Although, as a pregnant unwed teenager, I’m sure her reputation wasn’t stellar. Who knows if Mary was very good? All we really know is that she was available, attentive, and ultimately obedient to God. She was one of us, and by accepting God’s invitation to be the mother of Christ, she gives us a boundless hope that one day every child might enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Not once did she suggest God selected her based on her own merit.

What a relief that God never calls us to be very good. Mark 10:18 says, “No one is good – except God alone.” The Bible says not to grow weary in doing good (Galatians 6:9). But unlike the threats I levy on my kids, Jesus never says, “Be good or else!” He calls us to be perfect, (Matthew 5:48), which he knows is impossible, so he gives us his goodness. What angers Jesus the most are people who claim to be very good independent of him. He has infinite compassion on those who acknowledge their sin.

Several weeks ago I was chatting with another woman during swim lessons. She had recently enrolled her son in a local Christian preschool, but was horrified when she picked him up early and discovered him singing a song with the lyrics, “I’m a sinner.”
“Can you imagine?” she said aghast. “At home we’re teaching him to be a good person not a sinner.”

Well, yes, frankly, I can imagine. My kids had no trouble learning to be selfish, greedy, and rude by the time they were in preschool. Perhaps they were advanced in the sin department, but I’m quite certain that they are card-carrying members of fallen humanity, just like me.

Paul quotes the Old Testament when he writes in Romans 3:10, “There is no one righteous, not even one,” and later in verse 23, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” We, the creation, are only good because of the perfection and sovereignty of our Creator. Any other measurement is doomed to subjective comparison and ultimately, failure.

What a liberating miracle it is to acknowledge our sin, our inability to be “very good.” If we don’t, the results are frightening: a cursed lifetime chasing the delusion of self-sufficiency and passing that legacy on to our children. Or, daily, we can chose to be like Mary, recognizing our deficiencies, but available and receptive to God. Instead of being “very good,” we can be purveyors of goodness; collaborators in God’s creative and redemptive work.