The first and only time I have heard this expression was a few days ago from renowned theologian and storyteller, remarkable mentor to many, and astute spiritual midwife, John Shea. In my work, I am blessed to have the opportunity to learn from Jack about the practice of leadership formation. Upon hearing this little wisdom, “the Mary-Martha effect” as Jack put it, there was a surge of realization, as though I had arrived too late to an important event or missed the first several lines of crucial, detailed instructions in order to perform a necessary operation. “What was that?” I muttered to myself? What had I missed? What was the essence that I was trying to catch on the line spun out by Jack? He had opened the door on a valuable insight, and helped me to experience it “as if for the very first time.” And now, I was running after understanding…
With some caution and far from stepping into exegetical waters, there is a story in the Gospel of Luke (10: 38-42) about a visit Jesus makes to the home of two sisters while passing through a village along the way. Jesus is welcomed into the home by Martha; and while Martha was “distracted by her many tasks,” Mary—Martha’s sister—was sitting down listening to Jesus. Martha asked Jesus to rebuke Mary for not helping out, and Jesus responded, saying “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her. (Lk 10: 41)”
For all the richness of this story, lessons conveyed along varied avenues of interpretation, there are two relatively mundane and obvious points that strike me: Mary and Martha are sisters. And, more often than not, I am “Martha.”
Having grown up with a sister and 3 brothers—and with close friends raising girls and boys of their own—is a distant cry from asserting any authority in the field of parenting. The best I can do is say that siblings argue, have occasional fights, or just don’t get along from time to time. If I was at home having to do chores, and my siblings were off having a great time with a special guest that I had invited in, I might be just a bit irate and complain and pout and make a scene and so on…I would ask my mom to tell my brothers to help out; after all, why should I be the one doing all the work? Maybe it is a core feature of my character to be the one focused on “doing?” Or, maybe “doing” keeps me preoccupied and away from paying attention in the way that Mary was listening to Jesus.
What is most significant in this narrative is both the tension between siblings and the fact of siblinghood. As siblings, theirs is an inescapable birthright: to be in relationship with each other. And, being siblings means tension from time to time. Martha, bent to work, action oriented, task focused–and—Mary, sitting, listening, focused in a different way. Considering the admonishment of Martha by Jesus, I am reminded that it isn’t all about the chore or task or body of action that calls me forth in the world. There is also a way of paying attention, reflecting, contemplating that is essential. Both action and contemplation live together in a necessary tension.
Perhaps one of the first to frame this millennia-old spiritual wisdom, here is one way that Thomas Merton describes it:
“What is the relation of [contemplation] to action? Simply this. She who attempts to act and do things for others or for the world without deepening her own self-understanding, freedom, integrity, and capacity to love, will not have anything to give others. She will communicate to them nothing but the contagion of her own obsessions, her aggressiveness, her ego-centered ambitions, her delusions about ends and means, her doctrinaire prejudices and ideas. There is nothing more tragic in the modern world than the misuse of power and action.”
I am not suggesting that Jesus’ conversation with Mary was all about the value of contemplation. We don’t know from the reading what Jesus was sharing with Mary, only that Mary was listening, paying attention in a way that set aside the tedium of the moment and all other distractions. Contemplation in this sense is a way of listening, of paying attention to life unfolding around us and within us which strengthens and deepens areas vital to being human in the fullest sense.
It isn’t as though there is something uniquely radical or revolutionary in the tension between contemplation and action; but, in the blending where they form an inextricable union, there lingers a profound human reality: contemplative action. Contemplation is the practice by which, in Merton’s words, we “deepen our own self-understanding, freedom, integrity, and capacity to love.” When action flows from that integral place, then it carries with it the power to transform the world for good, to do the work of love, justice, and restoration.
This is the challenge we all live each day. The tension between Martha and Mary, between the unceasing—and in our day and age nigh tyrannical—demands of action, and the need for life-grounding, integral contemplation. Neither will bring us to fullness alone; both are necessary. As Jack pointed out so casually, we live this tension: sometimes more Martha than Mary until someone takes the time to remind us what is most essential.
