Village Shepherd

There's often something both attractive and a bit scary about unconventional people. They're the types who don't care what people think about their appearance, their opinions or their behaviour. They seem to have the strength to stand alone, no matter what it costs them, and no matter how much society condemns them.

Many of those colourful people who have eventually changed society were reviled for their efforts, especially in the early stages of their campaigns. Reviled even by those they were trying to help, just as Moses was reviled by the ancient Israelites for trying to lead them to freedom in the desert.

Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela all spent time in prison for opposing the law. In those early stages of their campaigns, the majority of society accepted the way things were, and saw no need for change. It's usually only in retrospect that society can look back and wonder that such injustices went unchallenged for so long.

Today's gospel story is about two women who represent both aspects of society, the conventional and the unconventional. And the two women at such opposite ends of the spectrum, were sisters.

Martha is a representative of the conventional. She did what was expected of her. She was a homemaker and a carer. She cooked and cleaned and looked after her brother and sister and any other members of the family. She was the perfect hostess. She welcomed people into her home and she worked hard to make sure everything was perfect for them. So duty was very important to Martha.

But Mary her sister, was quite opposite in character. She was very unconventional. She was much more interested in listening to the conversation of the men than in cooking and cleaning. She was often to be found sitting at the feet of Jesus in the traditional posture of a disciple. It was quite remarkable for first-century Palestinian Judaism that a woman would assume the posture of a disciple at the master's feet.

But Mary didn't just sit quietly. We're told in John 12:2-3: They made him a supper; and Martha served. Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment.

Whatever interpretation has been given to that act by later theologians, it was a very sensual act. Scholars through the ages have interpreted the act as foreshadowing Jesus' death, as anointing him ready for burial. That may be so, but at the time, anointing Jesus' feet, weeping over them, then wiping them on her hair must have caused extreme shock and outrage to the conventional Pharisees sitting at dinner. There's something very intimate about massaging feet. And there's something even more intimate about caressing them with long, flowing hair, so by any standards, this act must be classed as exceedingly unconventional.

Some authorities identify Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha and Lazarus as Mary Magdalene, "out of whom went seven devils" (Luke 8:2). And some identify Mary Magdalene as a prostitute, although this is by no means certain and they may have been three different Marys. But given Mary of Bethany's flaunting of convention and colourful character, it's easy to see how she could conceivably have been a prostitute.

It's also easy to imagine the distress and horror she must have caused her upright, moral sister. One sister was flamboyant and exciting, but dangerous, the other was conventional, quiet and safe. No wonder the sisters argued. In today's story, Martha had had enough. She was fed up with being left to do all the work on her own yet again, for somebody had to do it. So she appealed to Jesus. "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me."

Perhaps the real appeal behind these words is: "Lord, tell her it's wrong to be so outrageous. Tell her to quieten down, to do what's expected of her. Tell her people will disapprove if she keeps going on like this. And Lord, I do everything that's asked of me, but nobody seems to appreciate my efforts! Lord, tell her she's wrong, and affirm me!"

But Jesus, as he so often did, turned the appeal on its head and supported Mary. He said, "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."

So is this a rebuke to all those who are conventional, and an open door to all those who are unconventional? It might seem so on the surface, and it's probably true that it's often those who dare to stand out from the crowd who eventually move society. But if we dig a little more deeply, a different picture emerges.

Sometime after the incident with the precious ointment, Lazarus, the brother of Martha and Mary, fell sick. Clearly both the sisters were frantic, for they both sent word to Jesus, "Lord, the one you love is sick." Yet when Jesus heard that Lazarus was sick, he didn't drop everything and come. He stayed where he was for two more days.

This had quite an effect on the sisters. And this time it's Martha, quiet, purposeful conventional Martha who comes into her own. Lazarus had already died by the time Jesus eventually arrived, and the sisters had a succession of visitors calling to offer their condolences. Yet when Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him. And she reproached him. "Lord," Martha said to Jesus, "if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

But Mary couldn't raise the energy to move at all. She stayed at home. At this time of great tragedy, it seems as though she was paralysed by grief, sunk deep into depression, unable to do anything, unable perhaps, to cope. Martha took over. Martha took charge. Martha decided what should or shouldn't be done. And when she went back home, she still had enough compassion and energy left to feel concern about her sister.

"Come on Mary," she said, "you must get up. The Lord is calling for you." It was the stimulus Mary needed. She was able then to get up and go to Jesus - and to pour her anger and resentment upon him for not being there when he was needed.

Mary and Martha were opposites who were nonetheless very close to each other despite their divergent viewpoints. They argued from time to time, but they loved each other despite their arguments. They each complemented the other, and each needed the other. Together, their gifts added up to a formidable whole. Together, the strength of one could support the weakness of the other, and vice versa. And Jesus was aware of the gifts and strengths of them both.

The kingdom of God is made up of all varieties of people. Some are conventional - those who keep the world running smoothly, those who pay attention to detail, those who have unseen reserves of hidden strength. Some are unconventional - those who tend to have huge energy at times and the ability and vision to change the world, but who are perhaps rendered helpless and without energy at other times. Inevitably, these very different people argue from time to time, for they approach life from very different directions. But love forms the basis of the Kingdom, and those who love each other will discover they complement each other, and that the gifts and strengths of all people are needed.

Whatever we're like, we each have our place in God's plan, we each have our place in the Kingdom. And like Martha and Mary, we each need the other.