A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, July 18, 2010
John 1:35-42
Martha, Martha, Martha. She appears only three times in the gospels – once when Jesus comes to visit her home, once in this story where her brother Lazarus has died and once where Mary washes Jesus’ feet with her hair. That last story is particularly telling about who Martha may or may not be. In that dramatic moment, the author of the Gospel of John flatly tells the reader, “Martha served” as if that’s all she can do. Her name literally means “mistress of the house” as if the definition of feminine identity is grounded in your personal ability to keep house.
I love to throw a good dinner party. I love a beautifully set table. I relish in a good three-course meal. I prefer my house to be neat and clean. I value my own ability to keep house – but I don’t want to be Martha Stewart. I love her recipes. I love her ideas, but it’s not how I want to define my discipleship. I think that’s the chip on Martha’s shoulder – and of course, I love that she has a chip on her shoulder. I like a woman with a little edge.
Martha, Martha, Martha. I wonder how this edgy woman would feel to read the words that are recorded about her in the Gospel of Luke. She gets more than a sentence but she still only appears once when Jesus comes to this “certain village.” In that village, it’s Martha that “welcomed him into [the] home” that we assume she shares with her sister Mary. But, Mary doesn’t lift a finger. She sits “at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.” Martha, Martha, Martha. She’s “distracted by her many tasks” which I find to be evidence that this particular gospel author has never thrown together a dinner party with a beautifully set table and a succulent three-course meal. Certainly there’s more to her! If that’s all this gospel has to say about her, then there’s really not very much.
In this story in the Gospel of John, it’s a different Martha we see. There’s no introduction to who she is. Mary is explained. She’s given a context – even if the context is a little odd given the fact that Mary won’t anoint Jesus until the next chapter, but Martha is not in Mary’s shadow in this story. Martha’s not busy working while Mary hangs on Jesus’ every word. No. Martha rushes out to meet Jesus. Mary sits at home, but her sister Martha rushed out to meet Jesus. He’s two miles away. And though, traditionally, she should stay home to mourn, but that’s not what she does. Martha goes out to meet him. I imagine she runs the two miles. She sprints with her garments blowing in the wind. Her cheeks are apple red. She’s huffing and puffing because she doesn’t usually run. This isn’t every day behavior. It’s impulsive. It’s urgent. Martha needs to see Jesus.
The text doesn’t tell us why. We know that Mary and Martha both know that Jesus loves them. It’s probably why they tell him that Lazarus has fallen ill. They don’t really ask anything of Jesus. They just state the facts. They don’t ask Jesus to rush to their side. They just want Jesus to know that someone he loves is ill, but this story isn’t really about Lazarus. Yeah, something weird and wonderful happens to him, but that’s a mere 7 verses of the story. The other 37 are focused on these two women, Mary and her sister Martha.
Martha, Martha, Martha. While others might admire her service, I love how Martha ran. It’s not the Beach to Beacon but – that’s the kind of faith I want to have. I want to have that confidence to step outside of the way we assume things should be. I want to run through life like her. Martha, Martha, Martha.
This story is really about her. It’s a story about how this woman chooses to live. Her brother has just died. Suddenly. Terribly. She’s heartbroken. And so, she runs. She races two miles to this man that loves her. She runs to this man that just might understand. And when she gets there, when she finds him, he doesn’t get to say anything. She speaks first. “You should have been there,” she says. “You should have come. If you had come, he wouldn’t have died, but you didn’t and so I’m trying to understand this. Help me understand.” Jesus tells Martha that her brother will rise again. She replies with what the theologian Gail O’Day calls “conventional language.” Someone else puts those words on her lips. She doesn’t really buy this whole idea of rising again. After all, at Lazarus’ tomb, she’s the one that cautions Jesus not to take away the stone. “Lord, the stench,” she protests. The theologian Raymond E. Brown points out this confusion. Martha gets the love. She gets the life that Jesus offers. She doesn’t understand that Jesus “is life itself.”
Martha, Martha, Martha. I don’t get it either, but you remind me that living that question is what matters. Martha runs into this question. The stench might be overwhelming, but she’s trying to find a way through. It doesn’t really matter what she says because surely we all stumble over our words. We say things we don’t mean. We say things just to see how they sound. We say things because we think that’s what others are expecting us to say, but life isn’t about saying the right words. Life is about the stench that can’t be ignored. Life is about the love we find. Life is about those wonderfully strange moments when our cheeks are flushed and our breath is short. Life is about how we choose to run. It’s about how we choose to embrace this life even when we don’t understand it. Martha, Martha, Martha, teach us to run like you.