Few things are needed—or indeed only one

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 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!”

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

Luke 10:38-42, Holy Bible, New International Version

I'm having a Mary-Martha moment. I cannot sit by idly, especially when there is work to be done. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm not as good at verbal communication as the original Martha.  I'm the quiet Martha, not the type to actually step up to the chief guest and point out that I'm the only one working in the kitchen. Especially when there are adults involved, I do not think I should need to remind them of their responsibilities, as if they forgot what they were doing 2 seconds ago. So, whatever thoughts I've had have been ruminating in my mind for days. Thinking about it made me realise that I've been having Mary-Martha moments for a while. I used to complain a lot, all the time, to everyone [I still do but not as much and only to certain people]. It was a nasty way to be. Now, I quietly fume and then hope to analyse my frustrations away. I try to dissect and re-dissect my thoughts until I reach the point of realising that my frustration is for nought.

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.  But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”“Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God,who is to come into the world.”After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.32 When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 

John 11:17-33, Holy Bible, New International Version 

Jesus was almost in town and needed to get a report about Lazarus. Guess who got up and run to him first? Why was she running alone while Mary had a crowd following her when she run out? Why didn't the crowd follow Martha, assuming she was going to mourn at the tomb too? Mary is a drama queen. Mary "fell at his feet." These are the things that tickle my mind. Martha and Mary both had similar opening statements. "If you had been here, my brother would not have died." However, Martha gets a lesson on faith and eternal life in Christ [which is an important lesson, but really, she was mourning and needed a hug or something] while in Mary's case Jesus was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled."

In the story of the prodigal son, I do not identify as much with the prodigal as I do with the older brother. I'm the good one. I would never wish for my father's death [taking your inheritance prematurely is the same as saying your father is dead]. I am the one who would stay and look after the family business, even if it is not something I am passionate about. I would sacrifice my dreams and hope that my success would somehow ease my father's pain. And when my brother does return, I would quiz and question him about honour, integrity, family and loyalty. I would not understand why my father would celebrate the return of a child who saw fortune in his father's death. 

I'm trying to get back to talking again. I've been told twice this week, by people who don't know me that well that I am too quiet and need to speak up more. This is a Mary-type industry. A lot of these folk are outgoing, frank, almost brash personalities who live for the moment. They are not the behind-the-scenes kind. Quiet Marthas are easily drowned out by the Marys who are always in the thick of things. The second reason I need to speak up, apparently, is because it scares people. They do not know how to deal with quiet, pensive folk. They do not understand how I could be comfortable sitting on my own for hours, immersed in my own thoughts. They don't understand why I choose not to go out drinking and partying [despite my youth] or why I like my corner so much. They are always checking to see if I am offended or angry or homesick.

The funniest thing is that I married a Mary. If Walker and I were walking down a path and we saw a patch of roses, he would stop to smell them and admire their beauty [ahem, real men don't stop to smell roses - but this is just an image anyway]. Meanwhile, I would start pruning and weeding the roses. I might start a conversation with the owner of the patch about their gardening habits, the tools they use and fertilisers. I would notice the beauty, but more likely than not, I'd get absorbed into the details of the behind-the-scenes work.

There is a place for Marthas and Marys, I know. However, Mary seems to have a better rep than her sister. Mary is known for choosing the better thing by sitting at Jesus's feet while Martha is scolded for being distracted by the kitchen preparations [but people have to eat, don't they?]. Mary's weeping moves Jesus's spirit while Martha's sadness leads to an intellectual conversation about faith, resurrection and eternity.

I want katogo ya matooke ne byenda. Yesterday, I was quiet, as usual, and they assumed that I needed cheering up, so they played Ugandan music. The funny bit of the story is that I am more likely to listen to Vivaldi or Tenth Avenue North than I am to listen to Ugandan music. I recognised only one song and realised that the rest, which I did not know, all sounded the same. It was a kind gesture on their part. Now I want katogo.