Felicia Murrell

Open Table, June 2021

Tend the Wound

Luke 10:38-42 (N T Wright): On their journey, Jesus came into a village. There was a woman there named Martha, who welcomed him. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the master’s feet and listened to his teaching. Martha was frantic with all the work in the kitchen. “Master,” she said, coming in to where they were, “don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work all by myself? Tell her to give me a hand!" “Martha, Martha,” he replied, “you are fretting and fussing about so many things. Only one thing matters. Mary has chosen the best part, and it’s not going to be taken away from her.”

Even though Jesus does not specifically name what Mary chose, if you’re like me, you’ve probably heard dozens if not hundreds of sermons on what Mary chose. I assure you, my heart this afternoon is not to add yet another one of those.

I actually want to focus on Martha, but before I do…Mary.

Will you ponder Jesus’s words with me? “Only one thing matters. Mary has chosen the best part…”

What if the best part was an invitation to wholeness, an invitation for Mary to be true to herself? An invitation that Mary fully and completely owned; this is who I am – I am a disciple of Jesus. This is where I want to be – I want to sit at his feet and learn. This is the yes I’m living into in this moment.

This is my holy sacrament – to fully and consciously participate with self-emptying love in this present moment.

What does choosing the best part look like for you? Could it be, as Paul Young encourages, living in the grace of this one day?

And if that looks like sitting at the feet of Jesus, soaking in his teaching and wisdom, sit. If that looks like cooking and serving for you, serve. If that looks like academic rigor for you, study. If it looks like solitude for you, meditate.

“Mary has chosen the best part,” or “the good portion.” She knows what she has said yes to in this moment; and her yes is hers alone. She’s owning what she has chosen, what she holds most precious in the moment. She’s not projecting it or trying to force it on another; she’s not demanding her sister or anyone else take up the causes she’s passionate about or do the same things she does. She’s chosen the best part – she’s given her full attention to this moment she’s said yes to AND she’s not trying to pull her sister out of conscious participation with what she’s said yes to. I am, may you be…

And then, there’s Martha. I wonder… What judgment did Martha make? What did Martha assume about Mary? About Jesus? What lie did she believe? What cultural practices had she normalized and bought into? What assumptions, traditions, and expectations shaped Martha’s role and the way she moved and ordered her existence?

She welcomed Jesus. She was frantic with the work in the kitchen.

Whether this story is literal, metaphorical, allegorical or perhaps a multilayered, complex mix of all three, I’ll leave that for theologians and those scholars who are trained for that discourse. I always like to be clear that I’m neither when entering the conversation. I’m just curious about the text and what Love is inviting me to see.

And while the historical-cultural context of this story certainly is important, I’d like to make a comparative leap through the lens of my own lived experience and invite us to think about: