Are you a Mary or a Martha?

Are you a Mary or a Martha?

Yes or no?

A night in Madrid, two years ago: before the rain we made our way into a restaurant with singing waiters, opera-singing waiters. We were all crowded into a large room where they served the meal and also sang to us. We listened as we sat at our tables. Or in my case, as I tried to capture in a photo the scene before me, to the point where I was so distracted from what was happening around me that suddenly I found myself being addressed in song, by the soprano singing the aria right in my ear. I looked up, cast aside my phone and gave her my attention. I did not sing the tenor’s response. But I did look, listen, and pay attention. So if you want an image of that moment you will have to listen to me. There is nothing on my phone to capture, share, or post it.

What would it have been like if both sisters had missed that moment, that moment when the son of God, the source of all being, the one in whom and through whom all things are made and all redeemed, was in their home, at their table. Right there.

Martha was still trapped in ordinary time. Mary was transforming into a disciple. Sitting at the feet of the rabbi she was becoming a teacher herself. An apostle, a messenger, a bearer of the word.

Am I a Mary or a Martha? Yes and no. Sometimes, there is work to be done.

Sometimes, there he is, right in front of me, with something to teach me.

Can I hear it? Am I paying attention, ready? If the Messiah comes to dinner tonight, how will I treat him? As an extra guest, at a place at the table set aside for a stranger, or the center of the celebration? The one who in fact feeds us.

Amos talks about a day of hunger, a day of famine, that is not a day without bread, but a day without hearing the Lord’s word, the word of life. That is the table set before us, today, as it was for Mary and Martha.

Whatever our righteous occupations are, there comes a moment when we need to see what is really before us, to hear the word of life, and to take in our true sustenance.

© 2025 John Leech

© 2023 John Leech