uest 
evotionals
Martha, Martha
(Bonnie Ivey has lived in the world of books and pictures since childhood. Her Fine Arts studies took place at the University of Manitoba. She has written short pieces for newspapers and church magazines, and is now beginning to experiment with online publication. Bonnie is a member of The Word Guild and lives in northern Ontario. She finds it enriching to imagine a visual setting while reading scripture, as a stage for the dramatic happenings. Reference books litter her tables. Information on social customs and archeology help her turn these meditations into visual art. It was through exhibiting her gospel artworks that she became aware of a hunger in the viewers to hear the pictures explained. “Paintings only open the door. They want the words.” You can find out more at www.chapleau.ca/portal/en/marketplace/bonnieivey)
The features of Martha take shape as my watercolor painting nears completion. In the background, Mary sits before Jesus, intent on his words. In the foreground Martha scowls at them. Her table is burdened with food, painstakingly arranged. The kitchen’s heat has lit fire in her cheeks, melting her hairdo into damp locks. She thumps a dish of lentils into place, resentful words ripe. I put down my brush, stepping back to critique my work. Martha is wearing my face. There am I, ready to rebuke Jesus.
Did some dribble of self-knowledge leak from my subconscious? No, this message of truth came from the God who searches minds and hearts.
Several weeks later the painting was framed, joining twenty other gospel illustrations in a traveling exhibition. In each city, viewers were drawn to one or another of the pictures. Many chose to hover near Martha, waiting to ask me “Why is she so angry?”
There was a time when I was all on Martha’s side. Shame on Mary, lounging there while Martha labors! Even Jesus takes his hostess for granted. Life isn’t fair.
The account of that dinner at Bethany must draw us into meditation. It isn’t about chores. Neither is it a portrait of two personality types, worker and contemplative, both valued in the Church. It concerns flesh and spirit, those two opposing sources of attitudes and actions.
Martha is distracted by much serving. But this hostess has forgotten the guest. In the flesh-mode of “serving,” all emphasis is upon the self. The hands fly here and there, but the mind stays fixed on the question “How am I doing?” If we suspect we are not doing well, we easily feel resentment toward others. “Is it nothing to you, Lord, that I must do all this while my sister does nothing?” We may, like Martha, tell Jesus how to deal with those others. Worse, spiritual jealousy can be part of the sting. Does someone seem to have a sweeter, richer, easier relationship with Jesus?
Mary chooses to sit at Jesus’ feet and listen to him. This isn’t chitchat. She is not merely on a footstool before his chair. She takes her position as his disciple, who drinks in the wisdom of the teacher, conforming her life to his words. The Messiah whom thousands have been following is here, in the house, spending precious time to reveal his thoughts, give all his attention, to the sisters. Who would not sit still to hear?
“Martha, Martha, you are anxious about many things, but only one is needful.” Jesus sees the restless striving for perfection, the insecurity, the burden of responsibility she has bound on her own back. “It’s all up to me,” she has told herself. It’s easy to stew in the pot of self-pity when we operate according to the flesh. The one necessary thing is listening to Jesus, who through his Spirit speaks in our hearts. He reveals what is in us that must be changed. He tells us what we must do this day.
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” In this intimate setting, we must set aside our lists: our chores, wishes, and accomplishments; fold our hands, and listen.
I received many comments from viewers who thought deeply about the Martha picture. One was from a pastor. “I have recently retired. I used to be Martha, but now I am Mary.”
© Bonnie Ivey
