It is really hard when you read or hear this Gospel lesson (Luke 10:38-42), not to compare Martha’s reaction to her sister’s sitting while she works—to the son of the farmer who stayed home and worked on the farm while his younger brother went out into the world, spent his inheritance and returned home having lost everything including his dignity. In both cases most of us can relate to an incident in our life where we did the right thing and we knew it was right, but someone else got the recognition and praise.
If you’re in the kitchen cleaning up and doing the dishes while the rest of your family and guests are still seated around the thanksgiving table chatting and having a good ole time while you work, you can emphasize with Martha. If one of your siblings or close friends got a bigger allowance that you did, but didn’t work for it, you can relate to the older brother of the farmer. We’ve all had these kind of experiences and we often look for someone to say. “You are the best” and that other person is just lazy and worthless. In this Gospel and the one of the prodigal son, Jesus give us another way of looking at those situations.
To Martha he says “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” He is saying that listening to Jesus and building the spirit within is the beginning. Begin everything with knowing Jesus is with you and then work.
Mary, sitting at Jesus’ feet, is a reminder that the core of our life—our spiritual identity—is not found in doing, but in being, belonging, in relationship.
Likewise. In the prodigal son story. Starving and broken, the lost son returns, His father runs to him, embraces him, restores him—not because he worked for it or earned it, but because he belongs. He is home.
The elder son is Martha, the Prodigal son is Mary and both stories send the message that grace is not something we earn. It is something we receive when we allow ourselves to stop, to come home, to sit at Jesus’ feet.
I wonder how many of us have been in Martha’s place—or the elder brother’s place—saying to God, “Don’t you see how much I’ve done for you?” Maybe you’ve been in the church for decades, served on vestries, taught Sunday School, baked bread, made coffee, chaired fundraisers. You’ve worked hard.
And yet, sometimes we can miss the joy. We can become so busy doing for God that we forget to be with God.
Jesus doesn’t scold Martha for working. He speaks with tenderness: “Martha, Martha.” This is not a rebuke—it’s an invitation. An invitation to come out of anxiety and into presence. It’s not that service is bad, but that it must be grounded in God’s love and in relationship.
John Lewis, a deeply religious man, who was a civil rights activist and served as a US representative for Georgia had much to say about working for justice. We just celebrated his birthday this week which is why he is on my mind. For a politician he was unusually vocal about service, duty and working for justice. We need his wisdom now during these disruptive times. Lewis’ activism was grounded in Christian values and that is what gave him the energy to work so hard for justice.
These are his words:
“Do not get lost in a sea of despair,” “Do not become bitter or hostile. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in “good trouble,” necessary trouble.
“My philosophy is very simple,” Representative Lewis once told an audience. “When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, say something! Do something! Get in trouble, good trouble, necessary trouble.” He is famous for talking about good trouble and making it.
As Episcopalians, we have inherited a faith rich in tradition and action. But let us remember: the action grows from the encounter with Jesus. The service grows from the stillness.
The prodigal was welcomed because he came home. Mary was praised because she listened. You and I are not called to prove our worth to God. We are called to remember that our worth is already assured. That the Father is always watching for us. That Jesus is always speaking. That grace is always waiting.
So let us choose the better part—not instead of our service, but as the source of it. Let our work come from worship. Let our activism, our leadership, our stewardship, grow out of a deep and quiet love of Christ.
Because when we sit at the feet of Jesus, we are not choosing between one good and another—we are choosing to be filled so that we might go out and truly serve
Let me close with a simple image.
Imagine the altar here at church. The table is set. Bread and wine are placed there not because we earned them, but because they are gifts. The Eucharist is not a reward for effort. It is a reminder of grace.
In every Eucharist, Jesus invites us to do what Mary did—to stop, to listen, to receive. And from that table, we are sent into the world—like Martha, like the Father in the parable—to serve, to welcome, to rejoice. Let us go out into the world rejoicing in the power of the spirit.
Amen.
