Not Perfection, but Grace

Split Rock Falls in the Adirondacks

Genesis 18:1-10a

Luke 10:38-42

The bible challenges us as readers. It takes time to put the pieces together, and doing so requires us to reassess where we stand in relation to it. To read the bible – and I don’t mean looking at or using it but reading it – is to open ourselves to all its possibilities. The ancient rabbi said of the bible, “Turn it over and over for everything is in it.”[1]  Today’s pericope (puh-RIH-kuh-pie) from Luke is a wonderful example of this dynamic. Pericope is a fun word – which literally means “a cutting out” – and it refers to a story that can stand apart from the rest of a narrative – it can be “cut out” like a newspaper clipping and still be coherent.

When we consider this pericope in isolation, who among us cannot recognize the dynamic between Martha and Mary? “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me,” says Martha. As a schoolteacher, I have heard some version of this sentiment from students during every group project ever assigned. As a spouse, I have both felt and received this sentiment regarding our laundry and dirty dishes. And I have heard this sentiment expressed by several of our members here at the church who have been trying to coordinate vacation plans this summer with a multitude of relatives, all of whom have different ideas of what “vacation” entails.

Maybe we see ourselves in Mary, and Martha comes across as overbearing, overly anxious, and too focused on the details. If that’s how we read it, we might feel a bit self-satisfied when Jesus praises Mary for choosing the better part. Or maybe we relate more to Martha. Maybe Mary feels like that one person in a group project who isn’t pulling her weight – or like a sibling or spouse who disappears whenever the work needs to get done. If that’s the case, we might feel frustrated or even hurt when Jesus seems to suggest that Martha is in the wrong. Either way, our reaction to the story often reveals more about us – our habits, priorities, and hopes – than it does about Martha and Mary. In this way, the story becomes a mirror: it invites us to notice where we stand more than it tells us what to do.

If we take this pericope – this cut out – and paste it back into the context of Luke’s gospel, other possibilities unfold. Many scholars point out that Mary’s actions aren’t about skipping chores; they’re about breaking the rules. Sitting at a Rabbi’s feet wasn’t something women were supposed to do. That posture was reserved for students – male students – learning from a Rabbi. So Mary’s presence “at Jesus’s feet” would have been socially inappropriate, even scandalous to some.

This fits a larger pattern in Luke. Think back to the parable of the Good Samaritan from last week. Time and again, as Jesus makes his way toward Jerusalem, he challenges the boundaries and roles that society has set in place. He keeps showing us that the kingdom of God can’t be contained by human expectations: by social status, gender roles, or religious boundaries. Something larger is unfolding.

Seen in this light, Martha might represent the status quo: a traditionalist who, to use a modern phrase quite literally, thinks women should “stay in the kitchen.” But there’s another possibility: maybe Martha fully supports Mary’s desire to sit at Jesus’s feet. Maybe her concern isn’t about propriety, but about protection. She may understand just how risky it is for Mary to step outside her expected role, and she isn’t frustrated with Mary’s behavior, but worried about what might happen to her when others notice it. I draw these various possibilities out to make a larger point: even when considered with more context from Luke’s Gospel, this pericope resists a single, fixed interpretation; it’s deliberately open-ended.

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.” With these words, Jesus isn’t necessarily scolding her. He sees that she is overwhelmed, caught up in anxiety, unable to recognize the one thing that might truly bring her peace. Jesus is naming that for her, and he is trying to lead her out of her fear.

When we step back – not just to the surrounding chapters in Luke, but to the full sweep of scripture from Genesis to Revelation – our scriptures reveal that we are made in God’s image and worthy of God’s love. But again and again, we resist that truth. We doubt it. We try to earn it or secure it on our own terms. Just like Martha, our constant attempts to justify ourselves leave us worried and distracted:

• What if something happens to Mary because she’s breaking the rules?

• Does Jesus love Mary more than me?

• Does Jesus not appreciate my effort?

• How come nobody is giving me credit for doing what needs to be done?

• Does anybody value what I offer this family?

Like Martha, these questions are buried deep within all of us, and they reveal our deepest insecurities.

Seen from this wider perspective, the power of this pericope to function like a mirror comes into sharp relief. We are invited to ask: what part of me is still holding back, still clinging to what I know, too afraid to trust that God might catch me if I let go? What part of me is allowing my insecurity and fear to distract me from the invitation to God’s love?

So…let us hear these words as if Jesus were speaking them to us:

Martha, you are loved—imperfections and all.

Martha, you are forgiven your shortcomings and worthy of life. 

This is the “better part” that the Word of God reveals: not perfection, but grace. Not striving, but trust. Mary chooses that better part simply by sitting at Jesus’s feet, open to the Word that he has to give. What’s holding us back?

Amen.

[1] Ben Bag Bag, Pirkei Avot 5:22, in The Mishnah, trans. Herbert Danby (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933), 454.