Martha & Me

Musings about a Bible story I thought I outgrew

Mary & Martha: Janey’s Version

I need to take the clean laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and put it away. I need to transfer the towels and run them again so they’re actually dry this time. I need to do the dishes. I have to remember to wash my favorite coat before Monday. The litter boxes need cleaning. That package has been sitting in the corner for weeks. I should probably do something about it.

The list never ends. Especially now, with a new job, it feels like I’m barely managing to juggle it all. A dirty house, a pile of laundry, a smell I can’t quite ignore, they all press on me. They make it harder to exist in my own space. So I take care of them. I don’t necessarily enjoy doing it, but I need the result: a quiet night’s sleep in which my mind is not creating tomorrow’s endless to-do list.

There’s an obvious response to this, one I used to believe in completely: you’re married. You should split the work with your wife.

And trust me, I understand that instinct. I was that person once. I wanted fairness, balance, a clean fifty-fifty split of labor. But three years into marriage, I’m not sure that’s always the point, or even possible. My wife had a debilitating hip injury last year. She lives with an immune deficiency. I would rather carry more of the housework if it means she has the energy for the things we actually want to do together. I would rather do the dishes if it means we can walk eight miles around the Tidal Basin to see the cherry blossoms. I would rather clean the litter boxes if it means she can come with me to the tulip farm.

If dividing the work equally makes her too tired to live her life with me, then I don’t want the split. It’s not even a question.

And yet… The chores still suck! And sometimes I’m overwhelmed by it all — doing the physical labor, and the cognitive labor as well.

The weirdest part is that it’s been making me think about a Bible story… and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Mary and Martha.

It’s a short story, only four verses.

Luke 10:38-42

38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

When I was a kid, the moral of this story was always clear: Don’t be a Martha, who gets distracted by work. Be a Mary. Be still and focus on what matters.

That used to feel more straightforward, but the older I get, the more I find myself asking: is Martha actually the problem?

I know exactly what she was doing. The cleaning, the cooking, carrying the mental load of everything that still needs to be done — the invisible weight of everything.

Because… Me too, girl!

Lately especially, as I transition into a new job, I’ve been pushing myself to utter exhaustion to make sure everything stays done: dishes, laundry, litterboxes, day-to-day tidying.

Last Thursday specifically, I was grinding out chores from the minute I arrived home from work until bedtime. When I finally collapsed into bed, I remember thinking, This is not sustainable. I’m going to burn out trying to keep up this pace. I am being a Martha.

(And honestly, that thought process is absolutely wild considering the last time I was a devout church-goer was pre-COVID, and the last time I heard the Mary and Martha story was probably in a women’s Bible study in college ten years ago. Clearly, some things just never leave you.)

But I think this is what’s killing me: Society values women who are like Martha.

Especially in the South where I’m from, women are expected to cook, to clean, to organize, to anticipate needs before they’re spoken. To manage my household without complaint. To be useful, efficient, giving. I mean seriously, do you know any men who would prefer to marry a Mary?

And yet, society also values women with traditional Biblical values. Women who love Jesus.

So… Be a Martha, but not too much? Be a Mary, but don’t actually let it interfere with your societally mandated duty to upkeep the home?

Last Thursday night as I was drifting into sleep, I felt guilty for how hard I had pushed myself. As if the act of continuing to work was somehow a personal failure. I’m being such a Martha, I need to chill.

But on a deeper level, I don’t actually know if I can “chill,” or if I even want to. I mean sure, I could definitely rest more often. But a big way I show love to my wife (and also the

people in my life, should the need arise) is through acts of service. I’m doing these things for her not out of obligation, but because I love her.

So, I don’t think the Mary and Martha story is as simple as they made it in Sunday school. I think Martha’s contribution mattered too.

I think making space for someone, feeding them, caring for the physical reality of their presence, is also love. A different iteration of love than the one is praised for, but love nonetheless.

And with this inconvenient epiphany (a phrase I picked up from my therapist this week, shoutout Laura), I needed to see what other people were saying about this story, so I consulted an article written by an expert: Dr. Lucy Peppiatt, theologian and professor at WTC Theology in the United Kingdom.

In her article (click here), she says (and I’m paraphrasing) Martha is a strong a personality with actions to match.

For example, after her brother Lazarus dies (John 11), Martha is the sister who goes out to meet Jesus. She speaks to him directly, honestly: “If you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.” She expresses grief and faith in the same breath. She follows that with “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” That is sheer faith, and also, audacity! She knows what she wants, she knows what her Jesus is capable of, and she has the situation under control.

What Dr. Peppiatt concludes though, and I’m including the whole thing, actually altered my brain chemistry:

“The story of Martha, Mary and Jesus is a story of an exchange between close friends. Martha loves and trusts Jesus, and knows Mary will do what he tells her – so she appeals to him to help. Jesus refuses to use his authority in that way because a) Mary is doing a good thing and b) he sees that Martha’s anxiety is misplaced. Instead, he uses the moment to minister to Martha and call her to a deeper discipleship.”

For me, this means Jesus saw Martha. He saw her spiraling about the messy house or the length of her to-do list, and he saw that she was so distressed about how many chores she had to do that she forgot why she was doing them in the first place — to serve her dear friend (and also her literal Savior Jesus Christ, because I think Martha saw Jesus too).

So, Martha isn’t a villain, or even a cautionary tale. She’s just a reminder that even necessary, good work can consume you if you let it. Too much of a good thing, you know?

I don’t know that I have a clean conclusion. I’m not trying to rewrite the story or prove anything about it. I’m just trying to sit with it differently.

The work I do in my household is not separate from love. It is a large part of how I express it. It’s not a failure of priorities. It’s devotion.

But there are also times I could say — hey, I’m doing too much. I’m doing so many chores that not only am I not spending any time with my wife, but when I am spending time with her, I’m too tired to enjoy it. It won’t kill anyone if I leave the dishes for tomorrow.

And maybe that’s why this story has stayed with me. Not because I’m trying to resolve it, but because I’m trying to make room for myself inside it.

Maybe Martha was just a woman who loved in the way she knew how, who showed up with what she had, who maybe got overwhelmed, but wasn’t wrong for caring about the things she cared about. And maybe I’m allowed to give myself the same grace.

This article was written by Janey Costilow as a guest author for Becoming Episcopalian: Up for Discussion. If you would like to guest write with me - drop me a note via a direct message or by email at mncostilow@gmail.com.