The Gospel reading reminded me of a Saturday afternoon many years ago. David and I were in a hurry—church started at 5 p.m., and I was scheduled to serve as an acolyte. We had a busy evening planned. After church, we always went to the local BBQ place with our church friends.
But that weekend was especially challenging. David’s grandmother was in the hospital, and we were walking and feeding her dog every evening. Nana had raised her dog to eat only chicken and rice, which she cooked fresh each night. I knew there would be a quiz at the hospital, so I had prepared the same meal—leaving my kitchen a mess.
We were heading to the garage with the dog’s supper when the doorbell rang. I ran back to answer it, and there stood David’s very good friends, Charlie and Judy—luggage in hand.
I was shocked to see them because they lived in Kingman, Arizona. Charlie had recently retired, and they had purchased a Greyhound “See America Pass,” which allowed them to trek across the United States, getting on and off the bus wherever they wanted to spend time. When the bus got to Fort Worth that Saturday, they hired a taxi and came straight to our home.
We had no idea they were traveling—let alone coming to visit.
Luke tells us a story—or perhaps a parable—about Martha and Mary. The story doesn’t appear in any other Gospel. There’s something in it that uniquely reflects Luke’s message to us.
Jesus and the disciples are “on their way”—we’re told nothing about where they’re going, or even if there is a destination. Along the way, they enter a village, where a woman named Martha welcomes Jesus into her home.
And that’s the first of several revelations in the story: Martha owned a home. Today, it’s not unusual for women to own homes. But in her culture
and time, women had very limited property rights.
The story gives no indication that Martha is married or under the provisional care of a kinsman—again, quite unusual in her context. Luke is going out of his way to tell us that Martha is a woman of independent means.
When Jesus knocked on her door, Martha wasn’t expecting company. Still, she welcomed him in. I love her willingness to embrace the unexpected.
She rolled out the welcome mat for Jesus. While Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to his teaching, Martha got busy with hospitality.
Every time I’ve crossed the threshold of a home in Israel or Palestine, I’ve been offered fresh bread and olive oil. Breaking bread is still a cultural expression of welcome. Martha was busy getting all of it together to properly host a houseguest.
It’s hard to take issue with Martha’s work. Her hospitality was intended for Jesus’ benefit. But the sight of Mary, sitting on the floor, chatting with
Jesus while she was working like crazy, did not sit well. So she asked Jesus to intervene—to tell Mary to get off the floor and do her part.
Jesus said, “Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part.”
Jesus didn’t criticize Martha’s hospitality. He gently reminded her—and us—that Mary prioritized sitting in the presence of God over the busyness of the moment. And that was the better part.
We welcomed Charlie and Judy into our home, put their luggage in the guest room, and then we took off. They went to church with us, joined the church crew at the BBQ place, walked the dog with us, and visited Nana with us.
When we finally had a moment alone, I asked David if there was something he’d forgotten to tell me! But he had no idea they were coming—he was as shocked as I was.
The next morning, we all watched a Formula 1 race with cinnamon rolls and coffee. We always hosted family dinners on Sunday afternoons, so Judy and I got groceries and started cooking while David and Charlie picked up David’s mom and uncle.
While we were at work during the week, Charlie and Judy borrowed a car and toured D/FW.
A week later, the Greyhound adventure resumed.
A lot of household chores didn’t get done while they were with us. The laundry piled up. The ironing and gardening went untouched. And on and on.
I’d like to tell you I was the calm, well-prioritized Mary through all of this, but like most of us, I also have a lot of Martha in me. The mounting chores got under my skin. There were times when I reminded David that it was his turn to do the dishes or walk the dog.
Seven months later, we received a Christmas card from Charlie and Judy. Their annual form letter was inside. We knew Charlie had retired the previous May—but they hadn’t told us he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Their epic trip was an intentional way to visit all the places and people that had been important in their lives.
The story of Martha and Mary reminds us that life often pulls us in many directions. Like Martha, we feel the weight of responsibilities, the pressure to serve, and the noise of daily life. Jesus calls us to pause—to set aside our busyness and choose the “better part”: to be fully present in the moment with him.
Mary’s choice to sit at Jesus’ feet wasn’t about laziness. She recognized the importance of being in the presence of God. In the same way, Charlie and Judy’s visit reminds us that life’s interruptions may be hidden opportunities to focus on what truly matters: relationships, connection, and unexpected moments of grace.
St. Christopher’s Facebook reflection yesterday summed up this parable beautifully:
It’s easy to live in the “when.”
When things calm down.
When you feel more ready.
When it all makes sense.
When you’re not so busy.
But grace doesn’t wait for perfect timing.
It’s already here—
In this moment,
This breath,
This imperfect now.
You don’t have to chase it.
Just open your eyes.
Maybe this is your week to begin your days with stillness—to know that God is.
