Amos 8:1-12; Psalm 52; Colossians 1:15-28; Luke 10:38-42
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
Preachers of a certain era, hear this gospel and immediately think, “Martha, Martha, Martha!” which is a reflection of the whininess of Jan Brady as she complains about her older sister Marcia. Of course, in today’s Gospel, it’s the older sister, Martha, who complains about her younger sister, Mary. But the dynamic is similar. In both cases, one sister attributes the disappointment of unmet expectations onto the other.
One of the running bits in The Brady Bunch was Jan’s constant lament that Marcia got everything—looks, popularity, and talent. Marcia’s natural charm and success made Jan believe she could never measure up. Instead of celebrating Marcia for who she was and finding her own path, Jan saw herself as a victim. She was jealous of Marcia and felt overshadowed, and that only deepened her insecurities. These feelings created a rift in their relationship as Jan struggled to define herself.
Martha, similarly, allows her expectations of Mary to shape her experience. She is frustrated that she is the only one doing all the work while her lay-about sister simply sits at Jesus’ feet. Martha is so focused on fulfilling the conventional tasks of hospitality that she appears to prioritize duty over relationship. At least, that’s the typical reading of this story. But I wonder if her frustration points to something deeper—perhaps a disconnect rooted in insecurity and jealousy, which threatens both her relationship with her sister and with herself.
Both Jan and Martha let their sisters determine their sense of worth and happiness, rather than embracing their own agency. Their struggles for self-acceptance hinder not only their sibling relationships but also their relationship with themselves. This isn’t just sibling rivalry—it is a lack of compassion: compassion for themselves and, by extension, for others.
Compassion is more than a feeling—it’s a learned, practiced response. There’s substantial research about how our brains are wired. Neurons in our brains fire in particular paths that determine how we respond to the world around us. In American culture, we are taught about compassion, but we’re rarely given the tools—or the patterns of thought—to make it our default posture. Instead, we’re trained to analyze people and situations and decide whether they deserve compassion. This leads us to default to judgment. From an early age, we’re conditioned to evaluate others’ worthiness—our very neurons are conditioned to fire on a path that leads to greater judgment of others rather than more compassion for them. Instead of leading with compassion, we lead with judgment.
Judgment diminishes compassion. It suggests that compassion must be earned, that some people aren’t worthy of it. It erases our shared common humanity and emphasizes our differences in a way that breeds division rather than understanding. Judgment is always about hierarchy, power, and dominance. But compassion? Compassion is about vulnerability.
Compassion requires setting judgment aside and instead embracing acceptance, adaptability, resilience, and creativity. It reflects a holistic worldview that sees others as more than their traits or circumstances. Compassion approaches relationships by asking, “What do we share?” instead of “What separates us?” It replaces “You are nothing like me” with “Just like me…”
Our common humanity can be distilled into four simple truths:
· Just like me, you want to be free from suffering.
· Just like me, you want to be free from fear and anger.
· Just like me, you want to know joy.
· Just like me, you want to know peace.
Every human being wants to love and be loved. Each of us is someone’s child, perhaps someone’s parent, sibling, or friend. Our life experiences shape our actions, but the deeper truth is that we all long to be free from pain and to know joy and peace.
This is just as true for Jan and Martha. Both seek joy, both want to be free of suffering. Their inability to engage with their sisters compassionately stems from their own unmet need for self-compassion.
The challenge with leading from judgment rather than compassion isn’t just how we treat others—it’s how we treat ourselves. Too often the first person we judge is ourselves. When we treat others with contempt or suspicion, it often mirrors the contempt or suspicion we carry toward ourselves.
Jesus tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves. Perhaps a better way of hearing that is: the way you love your neighbor reflects the way you love yourself. Jan couldn’t love Marcia because she couldn’t accept herself. She constantly tried to prove her worth—not to herself, but to others. In one episode, she tries out for cheerleader—not because she wants to cheer, but because Jan wants to prove she’s better than Marcia, who had never been a cheerleader. When Marcia celebrates her success, Jan becomes even more frustrated. Her desire for recognition wasn’t grounded in self-love, so her accomplishment felt hollow.
Likewise, Martha plays the victim to her own self-defeating thoughts. Her sense of hospitality depends on her sister’s behavior. Instead of centering her efforts on Jesus and acting out of love and compassion, she loses the joy of service. Her anger and resentment overwhelm her, so she complains. Jesus’ response about Mary choosing “the better part” isn’t about Mary being contemplative, sitting at the Lord’s feet and listening to Jesus nor is about Martha’s productivity—it’s about Mary leading with self-compassion and spiritual focus. If Martha had rooted her hospitality in love and joy, she could have celebrated her sister’s spiritual growth while also finding fulfillment in her own offering.
We often interpret this Gospel as a contrast between faith and works, activity and contemplation because it’s easier than facing our own struggle to love ourselves much less one another. We read it this way because we favor judgment over grace—picking sides between the sisters. But Jesus looks deeper. He sees the heart. He knows whether our actions are motivated by judgment or by compassion—for others and for ourselves.
Much of Christendom teaches that in God’s eyes, we are sinners in need of redemption. From that standpoint, then God is rooted in judgment. Yes, we are all sinners. We all need redemption. That’s the very reason Christ came among us. But I don’t believe sin is where our story with God begins. I believe God is rooted in compassion. And because of that compassion, our starting point is that we are beloved children of God—each and every one of us. That includes Jan and Marcia, Martha and Mary. And it includes you and me. And if our starting point with God is our belovedness, then our starting point with one another can only be rooted in that deep compassion.
Amen.