Priorities

Good morning. My name is Martha, and I don’t come out looking very good in the story I’m about to tell you. Mind you, I meant well, but meaning well doesn’t mean doing well. And of course, I was also doing what everybody expected me to do. I always have. It’s safe, I’m good at it, and besides, that’s how women are judged - by how well you cook and clean. But I did get tired of being taken for granted. Wouldn’t you?

Anyway, Jesus and some of the disciples stopped by on their way back from Jerusalem one day, and I knew they’d be hungry, they always were. But it was late in the week, and we were about out of everything, we had to grind more flour, we needed fresh water from the well, and well, I don’t suppose you’re interested in how much goes into getting a decent meal ready for a dozen or more hungry men. But it was hot, and I was tired, and I could hear the voices from around the corner of the house and nobody so much as stuck their nose out to ask if I needed more wood for the baking!

Yes, yes, I know, most men never even think about such things, they just expect the food to show up out of thin air, but I expected better from Jesus, he was never too busy or distracted to appreciate what people did for him. But what really got to me was my sister Mary. First of all, she shouldn’t have been sitting there with all the men in the first place. Jesus is the only rabbi I know who’ll let a woman listen in on the classes, and you’d think she’d realize that it was a privilege, not a right, and that you earn privileges by getting your work done first. Even in the synagogue women sit apart from the men. And in a household headed by a woman we have to be even more careful to keep from giving the wrong impression. Lazarus is far too young to be any kind of chaperon.

And besides, didn’t she think I’d like to listen, too? Didn’t it occur to her that if she’d only help we’d be done in half the time and I could get to sit down too? So finally I got so fed up that I just walked right out into the courtyard where they were sitting and said to Jesus, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to come help me.” Everybody turned around and stared. I suppose I should have been embarrassed to draw attention to myself that way, it really isn’t done, but I was so fed up that I just stood there with my hands on my hips and waited for an answer.

“Oh, Martha,” said Jesus. “You are worried and distracted by many things.” Well, thought I, nice of you to notice. Someone has to, after all. Bread doesn’t cook itself, you know. But then he went on, “only one thing is needed. “

What did Jesus mean, only one thing is needed? We needed everything from water to wine, I’d had to run around half the village to get enough figs for everyone, and besides that I’d broken two plates and a cooking pot because I trying to do everything at once. Did he think I was just going to throw a loaf of bread on a plate and think that was enough? I have more self-respect than that. We may not be the richest house in the village, but we have a reputation for hospitality that I, for one, was interested in preserving.

And then he went on to say the most puzzling thing of all. “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Well, as you can imagine, that didn’t make me feel any better at all. Since when is scandalizing the neighbors by pushing your way into a lesson between a rabbi and his disciples better than feeding them, which as every Jewish woman knows is her primary duty? I was simply speechless. I didn’t dare look at my sister, I knew she’d be sitting there with a smug expression on her face. And since when had anybody ever taken anything away from Mary, anyway? Everything always just falls in her lap! Nobody notices that I’m the one who does all the work around here.

I was too angry to say anything, I just turned around and went back to the cooking area and promptly broke another plate by kicking the table it was sitting on.

Maybe you’re smarter than I am, but it was a long time before I figured out what Jesus was trying to tell me. I had to unlearn the habits of a lifetime, to question everything I had thought I understood about what it meant to be a good person and what was really important in life. Maybe you already know that some things are more important than setting a nice table and or making the best cheese in the village or whatever it is that you’re really proud of. But it wasn’t until later, after Lazarus was so sick and died, and Jesus brought him back to life, that I realized that listening to Jesus was more important than anything else I had ever done in my life.