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| Which way is right: Martha's or Mary's? |
Amos 8:1-12
Psalm 52
Colossians 1:15-28
Luke 10:38-42
©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson
Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.
It has been a full and holy week around here.
Laughter echoing through the hallways. The entire interior of this building transforming into an Alaskan forest. And every day, a sanctuary full of children singing out a sacred truth: that we can trust Jesus because God is with us—no matter what.
Vacation Bible School, as joyful and chaotic and colorful as it is, teaches us something that today’s Gospel lesson holds in beautiful tension. In the sacred chaos of dancing to “This is the Day the Lord Has Made,” and water coloring around sacred verses, and eating chicken nuggets on picnic blankets in the Narthex, there is movement. There is service. There is a very Martha-like hustle that makes VBS happen.
And yet, we didn’t just rush around like a squirrel on espresso in a room full of marbles. We paused. We gathered in circles to tell stories. We asked each other questions and heard each other’s wonderings. We talked about wounds and healing, about belonging and hope. And, those moments sound an awful lot like Mary to me.
So, this makes me wonder, perhaps this week was not just a gift for our children—but also a gentle parable for us grown-ups and youth to learn.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus enters the home of two sisters: Martha and Mary. Martha gets to work immediately—preparing the meal, tending to hospitality. She is doing what society expects, what custom prescribes, what her generous spirit likely yearns to offer.
Mary, on the other hand, sits at Jesus’ feet. She listens. She chooses presence over productivity.
And Jesus…does not say that Martha is wrong. But he does say that Mary has chosen the better part. And it will not be taken from her.
Now, let’s be honest—this story has rubbed people the wrong way for centuries. Especially those of us who know the weight of the “to-do list.” Particularly in church, where hospitality is a sacred act and nothing happens unless someone does the dishes.
It may be tempting to pit Martha against Mary—one bad, one good. But that’s not what Jesus is doing here. He’s not canceling Martha. He’s inviting her to breathe.
There is a phrase from the Jewish tradition that fits appropriately with today’s Gospel: “Put both hands on the world.”
I hear in that phrase an invitation to be like Martha and Mary. To hold in one hand the work of love, of justice, of service. And in the other, the presence, the stillness, the sabbath rest of God.
Jesus doesn’t want us to abandon serving others, but he does want us to let our service be nourished by being present to the Presence.
After all, even God rested. Six days, six eras of Creation, then one of Recreation, of Restoration.
And, even Jesus took time in the wilderness. To pause. To pray. To be present with His Heavenly Father.
Even the Holy Spirit hovers, breathes, waits. We may think that we can make Her show up on Sundays right at 10:30 a.m. and 8:30 a.m. starting on August 10th, but we must exhibit patience to feel the Spirit’s wind rushing over us, to hear the still, small voice of Divine Wisdom.
We cannot demand God’s presence. However, we can wait for it—being open to anything while expecting nothing.
There’s something else here too—something VBS kids seemed to grasp better than I do sometimes. This story is not just about the difference between action and contemplation. It’s about belonging.
Mary sits where only disciples sat! At the feet of the rabbi. That was not a place for women in her time. So, working in the background of Martha’s complaint is a subtle sexism—my sister can’t do that! “She’s supposed to be helping me!” I hear the busy sister protesting.But Jesus sees Mary, affirms her presence, blesses her learning.
It’s another way of saying: You belong here. You are part of my beloved circle. You are a disciple, just like Peter and James and John.
And Martha? She belongs, too. In truth, I think Jesus’ gentle correction isn’t about the food or the fuss. It’s about her worry. “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things…”
Isn’t that us? I know it’s me…
In seminary there’s this phrase that gets tossed around in courses about how to be an effective pastor. The phrase is “You must learn to be a non-anxious presence.” If I’m honest, there are times when I am the exact opposite, an anxious non-presence. I come by it honestly though, just look at our society.
We’ve built lives, churches, and communities full of good intentions, brimming with important work—but we’ve often lost the sacred pause. The better part. We’ve gotten so good at doing for Jesus that we’ve forgotten how to be with Jesus.
I heard someone once say that Christianity is not about getting things done—it’s about becoming someone new in Christ. And becoming someone new takes time. Space. Silence. Sabbath.
That’s part of why we’re offering our Parish Sabbath Retreat over Labor Day Weekend. It’s not just another event on the church calendar. It’s a deliberate invitation to step away from the noise and re-center our lives on what really matters. No committee meetings, no formal agenda, no rush. Just time to breathe, to reconnect with one another, with Creation, and with God, and to remember who we are beyond what we do.
So, if your soul is craving rest… if your calendar is too full… if you find yourself, like Martha, distracted by many things—come. This is your permission to pause. To be still. To choose the better part. You belong at the table, not just in the kitchen. And God delights in your presence.
Church, here’s the invitation Jesus offers all of us in today’s Good News:
Don’t stop setting the table.
Don’t stop feeding the hungry.
Don’t stop showing up when the work needs doing.
But remember: the table is set so we can sit at it.
The food is prepared so we can break bread together.
The work of hospitality is holy—and so is the pause that lets love speak.
Let’s be a community that blesses both. That gives thanks for every Martha who prepares the way, and every Mary who reminds us to listen.
Let’s practice a rhythm of movement and stillness, action and contemplation, service and sabbath.
Let’s put both hands on the world.
Because only with both hands can we hold it with love.
Amen.
