Martha Martha Dragon Slayer (Luke 10:38-42)
Photo by Bailey Burton on Unsplash
Back in 2018 at the start of my seminary career, I preached my first sermon at our church’s annual women’s retreat. I was super nervous, but when Pastor Babette asks you to preach, you do it. Not because she’s bossy, but because she’s the boss. She 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 member of the planning team told me our theme text would be Luke 10:38-42, about Mary and Martha, I visibly cringed. 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? 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).
“Now as they went on their way, he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at the Lord's feet, and heard his word.” (10:38-39, American Standard Version)
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 I discovered this incredible public theologian, Mary Stromer Hansen, who literally wrote the book about these sisters and this passage.
Her work on this text turned my loathing into love. It turns out that what we’ve been handed (especially women and Queer folks) is full of mythology and projections 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 buckle up and stay close, cause we’re diving all the way in and it involves a good bit of Greek.
“Now as they went on their way, he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at the Lord's feet, and heard his word.” (10:38-39, American Standard Version)
From the introduction alone, two things are immediately clear. Firstly Martha is alone when she–a certain woman, third person singular–received Jesus. Secondly, she 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 present and clear in the Greek, telling us Mary and Martha “sat at the Lord’s feet.”
And about that: This notion of “sitting at the Lord’s feet” isn’t a literal thing, locating Mary in the home when this all went down. Rather, it was a common idiom indicating the dedication of a student to their teacher. So from the start, here’s what we see: Two sisters, both disciples of Jesus: One is in the village of Bethany, the other somewhere else, likely among the 70+ other disciples Jesus just sent out at the beginning of Luke 10 to preach a bountiful harvest.
As we move into verse 40, we learn that their discipleship was active, full time ministry:
“Martha was constantly περιεσπᾶτο (periespato) concerning much διακονίαν (diakonian).”
Again, language is crucial! Where perispato is typically translated as “distracted,” it’s more than the bother of a wandering mind. In reality it means “greatly troubled” and, according to biblical scholars, indicates persistent, ongoing stress.
And Martha is constantly stressed by burdens directly related to… diakonian.
Okay, folks. *Deep breath*
Throughout the New Testament this word diakonian is translated as “ministry." It is the vocational work of ministers–apostles, disciples, pastors, prophets.
Paul and his associates practice diakonian:
Acts 19:22: “So he sent two of his helpers, Timothy and Erastus” (NRSVUE)
Romans 15:25: “I am going to Jerusalem in a ministry to the saints”
2 Corinthians 3:3: “and you show that you are a letter of Christ, prepared by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God”
Jesus’ followers are called to diakonian:
Matthew 25:44: “‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and did not take care of you?’”
Luke 22:26-27: “the greatest among you must become like the youngest and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.”
John 12:26: “Whoever serves me must follow me”
Jesus’s own ministry is defined by diakonian:
Matthew 20:28 and Mark 10:45: “just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve”
She is alone and anxious, and when it all comes out sideways, looking like resentment and rage, Jesus answers Mary’s absence and Martha’s panic with Presence: His presence in her home; Hers in her body.
He names her, sees her, hears her, validates her, and frees her –
Not to be like Mary, as we’ve endlessly been taught, but to let Mary be Mary.
And so be herself.
In fact, the English word deacon is derived directly from the Greek for “one who serves.” Yet, somehow and for some reason, in this passage about Martha, diakonian is translated: “tasks” (NRSVUE), “preparations” (NASB, NIV), “all that had to be done” (CEV), and “ready for their meal…to prepare the table” (CEB).
The Living Bible even goes so far as to describe her thusly: "Martha was the jittery type and was worrying over the big dinner she was preparing." And The Message translates it as "all she had to do in the kitchen."
Why is it different here? What is so different about Martha that her “ministry” becomes “tasks” and “meal prep”? It is curious, indeed. Let those with eyes and ears ponder accordingly.
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 ministry needs. 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?”
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. This diakonein, the verbed cognate of the root word diakonos, describes the ordinary, practical things we do in relational ministry. It is not just the patriarchally-defined and -diminished “women’s work” of cooking and cleaning. No, this is all the work that defines ministry. Meaning, while Mary is gone, out among the 72, Martha is making meals for the community, gathering groceries for the hungry, praying with grieving neighbors, visiting incarcerated and incapacitated folks, preaching and teaching and taking care of kids, and doing all the other daily labor of a minister.
She is tired.
So she tells Jesus,
“εἰπὲ (eipe) – bring word and command – her to help me.” (10:40)
(...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 just (as my dear friend Sara likes to say) “all the alls.”
Martha confronts Jesus, commanding him to bring Mary home, and instead of raising his energy to match hers, he does something else altogether.
This is where that old myth of Mary becomes so brazenly problematic: She’s not even in town, never mind sitting at Jesus’ 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.
And it is into her agitation that Jesus speaks calm. He recognizes the truth of the anxiety tearing her apart, the panic she can’t bury in busyness, and calls her back to her own body. He bolsters her with the promise that her worry is unneeded because Mary has chosen the portion that is good for her–not “the only good portion,” as some translations imply; Just her good portion, one for which she is particularly well-suited–and it will not be taken from her.
She is alone and anxious, and when it all comes out sideways, looking like resentment and rage, Jesus answers Mary’s absence and Martha’s panic with Presence: His presence in her home; Hers in her body.
He names her, sees her, hears her, validates her, and frees her –
Not to be like Mary, as we’ve endlessly been taught, but to let Mary be Mary.
And so be herself.
This moment–the moment when Christ meets Martha's humanity with his own, replacing that image of a Martha who resents her sister with one who actually loves her sister deeply and is deeply anxious over her absence–It’s everything. And it changes everything.
The coolest thing about Mary and Martha, I think, is that far from being a swooning sitter and her busybody sister, they are trailblazers of the faith, apostles with and to and of the apostles, who became so well-known, beloved, and respected that, together with others like Mary Magdalene, they are remembered as 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, providing sanctuary to targeted immigrants, mentoring Trans youth, 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 forever overworked.
She could use a pair or three of extra hands.
And by medieval times, she became known as the Dragon Slayer, which is the legacy she now leaves to us.
And so:
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.
