July 17, 2022
Sixth Sunday After Pentecost
6 Pentecost Proper 11 Year C
Luke 10:38-42
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Weekly Prayer Recording
Lost in Translation
The Reverend Linda Mackie Griggs
Recording of the sermon:
Five verses. This Gospel passage is five verses long, yet it takes up a lot of real estate in our imagination. The struggle between the so-called Marys and Marthas of this world is epic: I can attest to my inner Mary trying desperately to tune out my inner Martha, while my inner Martha wants to whack my inner Mary over the head with a broomstick. If each sister represents a type of spiritual practice, which one wins, contemplation or action? Or both? SO many sermons have been preached on this story, many of them wise and thoughtful.
Wise and thoughtful, yes. But also uncritical. While biblical scholarship is ongoing, the general assumptions about the language, text, and context of this story have gone mostly unquestioned since the 3rd century. Even so, there are still a few things that make us wonder:
The broader chapter context of this short passage is that it follows the story of the sending of the Seventy–disciples sent like sheep among wolves, told to take nothing and to accept whatever hospitality is offered. The parable of the Good Samaritan immediately follows, in which life-saving hospitality comes from an unexpected source. And right on the heels of those two accounts we have this conflict between two sisters over, what? Hospitality. Does it make sense that Jesus would chastise Martha for focusing on hospitality right after emphasizing its importance to discipleship?
Another question: We assume Martha is fussing about housework, but Luke never actually says what she is doing. Does it actually say anywhere that she is actually serving a meal?
And finally: This is known as the story of Mary and Martha, but Mary is only mentioned by name one time, and she never speaks. Has anyone ever wondered why?
These may be questions that we never thought to ask, but biblical scholar Mary Stromer Hanson did. Through an exhaustive examination of different versions of the text and a close reading of the original Greek she has in effect liberated Martha and Mary from their stereotypes and offered us a new perspective on Luke’s story. Perhaps it can liberate us as well, if we’re willing.
First, let’s look at the text and see what it does and doesn’t say. The image we usually carry is of Jesus and his disciples at Martha and Mary’s house in Bethany, enjoying a tasty meal. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet hanging on his every word while Martha stews in the kitchen.
Looking back at the text, notice that, while Jesus and his disciples are together at the beginning of the passage, it is only Jesus that enters the village. And Luke doesn’t say it’s Bethany–we just assume it is because he goes to Martha’s house–which is in Bethany. This makes sense until Hanson points out that early versions of the text don’t say that Jesus was welcomed into Martha’s home. It just says that Martha received him, period, and the Greek is ambiguous–she could have received him in terms of offering hospitality, or she could have received his message of the Kingdom of God.
But why would that be the case? Because of what comes next.
“She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.”
According to Hanson, the correct translation is radically different from this. Without getting into grammatical weeds, here is another possible reading of the text:
She had a sister called Mary, who also was one who regularly sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he said.
Oh.
Mary and Martha were both sitters/listeners at Jesus’ feet. So, when the text says that Martha received Jesus, it could mean that she received him to offer hospitality, but Luke just as easily could have been describing her as a disciple who received his mission and message of the Dream of God, like her sister. We don’t need to make the assumption that one sister was studious and the other practical.
But wait, there’s more.
The image that we carry of the next part of the text is of Martha confronting Jesus and telling him to tell Mary to get off her–floor pillow–and help her in the kitchen because she is overwhelmed by doing all the work to serve this meal for Jesus and his disciples.
But we’ve already established that Jesus was probably alone. There wasn’t a crowd of hungry mouths to feed. And we’re not sure if the encounter actually took place in a house. We just know that Martha confronts Jesus because she is distracted by her many tasks and wants Mary’s help.
We assume that by “distracted” Luke means that Martha is in a snit over the food preparation and cleanup. But again, Hanson shows us that a closer examination of the Greek reveals a more serious situation. In a nutshell, Martha is not just feeling temporarily put-upon–she is deeply worried and overwhelmed–“constantly being pulled concerning much” — about an ongoing heavy load of demanding responsibilities; the word used here is diakonia, from which we get the word deacon. It is used in the New Testament to refer both to service of table and word. So, Martha’s “many tasks” could just as easily refer to ministry as well as other kinds of service–Hanson suggests that Martha may have been responsible for a house church in addition to other family duties and worries–remember, for example, the illness of brother Lazarus? These days we would call Martha a member of the “sandwich generation”, juggling work, home, and caring for aging parents. Evidently, Martha is not just worried about the dishes.
We’ve talked a lot about Martha, a disciple of Jesus with an overwhelming load of responsibility who demands that Jesus get her sister to help.
Where is Mary in all of this? We assume she is sitting quietly on the floor, somehow oblivious to Martha’s ranting:
“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?
The grammar of the word “left” actually tells us that this is not a situation where Mary is a few steps away from the kitchen. She is regularly not present. And given the context that Hanson proposes, Mary is likely not even there when this story takes place.
Which would explain why she doesn’t say anything in this story.
So, where is Mary? Here is what Hanson says:
“Mary has physically left Martha and perhaps frequently leaves to pursue her own [diakonia]. She is involved in some discipleship that does not involve Martha, who is obliged for an undisclosed reason, to stay in the village for her own unspecified [diakonia]. Martha assumes that Jesus knows where Mary is, because she asks Jesus, “Tell her therefore, that she may help me” … This would account for Martha’s ongoing and acute sense of distress, which in Greek seems greater than if her sister had just left her alone in the kitchen.”
Mary is gone. And Martha needs help. Again, there is nuance, with the word, “help.” The Greek word here is the same one Paul uses in Romans when he writes, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness…” Martha needs ongoing sustaining support, not help clearing the table.
Again, where is Mary? Is she one of the Seventy that Jesus has sent out in the beginning of this chapter? Is she one of the “sheep among wolves”? No wonder Martha is worried and overwhelmed.
“Martha, Martha.” In Luke’s Gospel. Jesus repeats names when he connects: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem.” “Simon, Simon.”
“Martha, Martha. I hear you. I know you have so much to do and to deal with.” Jesus isn’t trivializing Martha’s feelings–he understands and affirms her situation.
And then here we have the line that has confounded readers and preachers for centuries:
“…there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
What we hear is, Mary wins, Martha–she gets it, you don’t.
Does this make sense in the light of everything we’ve seen so far? Mary and Martha are both engaged in ministry, though in different places and circumstances. Here is how Hanson translates the Greek:
“Mary has chosen good.”
Not better. Just good.
“Martha, Mary is where she belongs. That will not be taken from her.”
Jesus is not going to fix everything for Martha; he can only hear her. And now, perhaps, so can we.
Why does this matter? It matters because being heard matters. Because in the Dream of God, if we’re given a chance to help someone to be heard who has never been heard before, we are called to take it. It’s that basic.
There is need of only one thing. Following Jesus. The Dream of God.
This isn’t a story about sibling rivalry, nor is it a gendered story about appropriate women’s roles. It’s about being heard. It’s about discipleship and its costs. Mary’s ministry called her to leave home behind. Martha’s called her to minister at home. Both paid a price to follow Jesus.
Have we lost anything by expanding our perspective on this beloved and problematic text? Interrogating Scripture can be disturbing, but it can also be liberating. Regardless of how we read this story, Jesus addresses the issue of our worry, of our being pulled and torn by the many and varied concerns of our lives and our world. God only knows that focusing on the “only one thing” of living into and proclaiming the Dream of God and setting aside our anxiety is easier said than done.
Which is perhaps why the next passage after this one begins, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
Five verses. This Gospel passage is five verses long, yet it takes up a lot of real estate in our imagination. The struggle between the so-called Marys and Marthas of this world is epic: I can attest to my inner Mary trying desperately to tune out my inner Martha, while my inner Martha wants to whack my inner Mary over the head with a broomstick. If each sister represents a type of spiritual practice, which one wins, contemplation or action? Or both? SO many sermons have been preached on this story, many of them wise and thoughtful.
Wise and thoughtful, yes. But also uncritical. While biblical scholarship is ongoing, the general assumptions about the language, text, and context of this story have gone mostly unquestioned since the 3rd century. Even so, there are still a few things that make us wonder:
The broader chapter context of this short passage is that it follows the story of the sending of the Seventy–disciples sent like sheep among wolves, told to take nothing and to accept whatever hospitality is offered. The parable of the Good Samaritan immediately follows, in which life-saving hospitality comes from an unexpected source. And right on the heels of those two accounts we have this conflict between two sisters over, what? Hospitality. Does it make sense that Jesus would chastise Martha for focusing on hospitality right after emphasizing its importance to discipleship?
Another question: We assume Martha is fussing about housework, but Luke never actually says what she is doing. Does it actually say anywhere that she is actually serving a meal?
And finally: This is known as the story of Mary and Martha, but Mary is only mentioned by name one time, and she never speaks. Has anyone ever wondered why?
These may be questions that we never thought to ask, but biblical scholar Mary Stromer Hanson did. Through an exhaustive examination of different versions of the text and a close reading of the original Greek she has in effect liberated Martha and Mary from their stereotypes and offered us a new perspective on Luke’s story. Perhaps it can liberate us as well, if we’re willing.
First, let’s look at the text and see what it does and doesn’t say. The image we usually carry is of Jesus and his disciples at Martha and Mary’s house in Bethany, enjoying a tasty meal. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet hanging on his every word while Martha stews in the kitchen.
Looking back at the text, notice that, while Jesus and his disciples are together at the beginning of the passage, it is only Jesus that enters the village. And Luke doesn’t say it’s Bethany–we just assume it is because he goes to Martha’s house–which is in Bethany. This makes sense until Hanson points out that early versions of the text don’t say that Jesus was welcomed into Martha’s home. It just says that Martha received him, period, and the Greek is ambiguous–she could have received him in terms of offering hospitality, or she could have received his message of the Kingdom of God.
But why would that be the case? Because of what comes next.
“She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.”
According to Hanson, the correct translation is radically different from this. Without getting into grammatical weeds, here is another possible reading of the text:
She had a sister called Mary, who also was one who regularly sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he said.
Oh.
Mary and Martha were both sitters/listeners at Jesus’ feet. So, when the text says that Martha received Jesus, it could mean that she received him to offer hospitality, but Luke just as easily could have been describing her as a disciple who received his mission and message of the Dream of God, like her sister. We don’t need to make the assumption that one sister was studious and the other practical.
But wait, there’s more.
The image that we carry of the next part of the text is of Martha confronting Jesus and telling him to tell Mary to get off her–floor pillow–and help her in the kitchen because she is overwhelmed by doing all the work to serve this meal for Jesus and his disciples.
But we’ve already established that Jesus was probably alone. There wasn’t a crowd of hungry mouths to feed. And we’re not sure if the encounter actually took place in a house. We just know that Martha confronts Jesus because she is distracted by her many tasks and wants Mary’s help.
We assume that by “distracted” Luke means that Martha is in a snit over the food preparation and cleanup. But again, Hanson shows us that a closer examination of the Greek reveals a more serious situation. In a nutshell, Martha is not just feeling temporarily put-upon–she is deeply worried and overwhelmed–“constantly being pulled concerning much” — about an ongoing heavy load of demanding responsibilities; the word used here is diakonia, from which we get the word deacon. It is used in the New Testament to refer both to service of table and word. So, Martha’s “many tasks” could just as easily refer to ministry as well as other kinds of service–Hanson suggests that Martha may have been responsible for a house church in addition to other family duties and worries–remember, for example, the illness of brother Lazarus? These days we would call Martha a member of the “sandwich generation”, juggling work, home, and caring for aging parents. Evidently, Martha is not just worried about the dishes.
We’ve talked a lot about Martha, a disciple of Jesus with an overwhelming load of responsibility who demands that Jesus get her sister to help.
Where is Mary in all of this? We assume she is sitting quietly on the floor, somehow oblivious to Martha’s ranting:
“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?
The grammar of the word “left” actually tells us that this is not a situation where Mary is a few steps away from the kitchen. She is regularly not present. And given the context that Hanson proposes, Mary is likely not even there when this story takes place.
Which would explain why she doesn’t say anything in this story.
So, where is Mary? Here is what Hanson says:
“Mary has physically left Martha and perhaps frequently leaves to pursue her own [diakonia]. She is involved in some discipleship that does not involve Martha, who is obliged for an undisclosed reason, to stay in the village for her own unspecified [diakonia]. Martha assumes that Jesus knows where Mary is, because she asks Jesus, “Tell her therefore, that she may help me” … This would account for Martha’s ongoing and acute sense of distress, which in Greek seems greater than if her sister had just left her alone in the kitchen.”
Mary is gone. And Martha needs help. Again, there is nuance, with the word, “help.” The Greek word here is the same one Paul uses in Romans when he writes, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness…” Martha needs ongoing sustaining support, not help clearing the table.
Again, where is Mary? Is she one of the Seventy that Jesus has sent out in the beginning of this chapter? Is she one of the “sheep among wolves”? No wonder Martha is worried and overwhelmed.
“Martha, Martha.” In Luke’s Gospel. Jesus repeats names when he connects: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem.” “Simon, Simon.”
“Martha, Martha. I hear you. I know you have so much to do and to deal with.” Jesus isn’t trivializing Martha’s feelings–he understands and affirms her situation.
And then here we have the line that has confounded readers and preachers for centuries:
“…there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
What we hear is, Mary wins, Martha–she gets it, you don’t.
Does this make sense in the light of everything we’ve seen so far? Mary and Martha are both engaged in ministry, though in different places and circumstances. Here is how Hanson translates the Greek:
“Mary has chosen good.”
Not better. Just good.
“Martha, Mary is where she belongs. That will not be taken from her.”
Jesus is not going to fix everything for Martha; he can only hear her. And now, perhaps, so can we.
Why does this matter? It matters because being heard matters. Because in the Dream of God, if we’re given a chance to help someone to be heard who has never been heard before, we are called to take it. It’s that basic.
There is need of only one thing. Following Jesus. The Dream of God.
This isn’t a story about sibling rivalry, nor is it a gendered story about appropriate women’s roles. It’s about being heard. It’s about discipleship and its costs. Mary’s ministry called her to leave home behind. Martha’s called her to minister at home. Both paid a price to follow Jesus.
Have we lost anything by expanding our perspective on this beloved and problematic text? Interrogating Scripture can be disturbing, but it can also be liberating. Regardless of how we read this story, Jesus addresses the issue of our worry, of our being pulled and torn by the many and varied concerns of our lives and our world. God only knows that focusing on the “only one thing” of living into and proclaiming the Dream of God and setting aside our anxiety is easier said than done.
Which is perhaps why the next passage after this one begins, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
