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A friend once told me that some early Christians thought the story of the Prodigal Son was really the story of Mary and Martha with a gender change. She offered examples:
Martha seems like the older brother, irritated and “slaving” away in duty.- Mary sits “inside” at the feet of Jesus while Martha is “outside” in the kitchen.
- The house doesn’t belong to both of them. Martha owns it, and the Prodigal was penniless because he had spent his portion of the inheritance on wild living.
I wasn’t sold on the interpretation but it tickled my curiosity. In casual conversation I mentioned it to several friends. They were furious at the idea and furious with me.
They were furious, but not because it was idle speculation (which would have been a fair criticism); they were angry because it sullied Mary’s reputation.
- “I hate how the church belittles women. Here they strip Mary of her goodness and turn her into some kind of whore.”
- “How dare you think of Mary with such dishonor and impurity!”
The new interpretation had mildly tickled my curiosity; the ensuing, bitter, indignant, antagonism fascinated me. Mary’s adoration at the feet of Jesus is beautiful.
Could anything she ever did (or didn’t do) in her former life diminish that beauty?
Mary’s innate goodness
Scripture isn’t explicit about Mary’s pre-Jesus life. While there have been theories, we simply don’t know. She could have spent her money in wild living; she could have spent her life in service to the poor; and she could have simply been a normal person.
Scripture says that any goodness apart from God is filthy rags (Is. 64:6). If Mary had been a “good woman” before meeting Jesus, she is no better than if she had first been a whore. God doesn’t love her more (or less) for one former life over the other.
I know this in my head, but let me be honest. Something in me hopes that Mary was “good” in her former life. Something in you might hope so as well.
Why is that? Something inside me feels a little better about myself. I say I need Jesus, but my heart wants to think, “I’m a little bit better” (just like Mary) because I was never a pimp or a whore. Maybe … I deserve his love a little more than others.
It’s an inner, unspoken, self-applause, “Thank you, Lord, that I’m not like other sinners.”
I suspect if a real prostitute heard of that interpretation, she’d be encouraged. It would say that real, deep, true, life-changing beauty can be had for all of us no matter our background. If a prostitute wouldn’t be offended, why should we? Do we somehow … think we are better? God help us.
Belittling women
I agree that many Christians through the ages have treated women poorly because of their gender. I don’t, however, think this interpretation is an example of it.
The gospels overflow with the stupidity of the disciples; daft, foolish men! They’re always arguing about who is the best, they rarely understand Jesus, and they all ultimately abandon him. The men are no better than the women.
The gospel of grace is that Jesus loves us despite our former lives, not because of them.
Two ways to avoid God
Flannery O’Connor writes about a character in one of her novels, “There was a deep black wordless conviction in his heart that the best way to avoid Jesus is to avoid sin” (Wise Blood).
She says there are two ways to avoid God: to be really, really bad, or to be really, really good. That’s the point of the Prodigal Son parable, two brothers who equally miss the grace of the father, one by being bad and one by being good. Both are equally lost.
All we need is need
I think there is some deep dark urging in our hearts to be good so God will love us more. It sounds manipulative (“God, I was good, so you have to answer my prayer”) so we may not admit it. Honestly, though, I often find it easier to go to God when I’ve been “good” and harder when I haven’t. As if my relationship with him depends on my goodness.
But Jesus didn’t love Mary because she was good; she only became truly good because he loved her. The best offering we can bring to God is our need, not our goodness.
Can we repent for our goodness?
Jesus tells the Pharisees that, “there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent” (Luke 15:7). He doesn’t mean the Pharisees don’t need to repent. He means their “goodness” prevents them.
During the Last Supper, Peter says, “Those other disciples may leave you, but I’d never do that” (Matt. 26:33, paraphrased). His “goodness” keeps him from leaning into God.
The Christian leaders I respect most are those who repent the most. The Christian walk begins when we repent for our bad deeds, but it deepens only when we learn to repent for our good deeds done for selfish reasons, which sometimes include ministry.
The forgiven prostitute “loves much because she has been forgiven much,” while all the others, “love little because they have been forgiven little.” We don’t have to become whores or pimps to be forgiven much. We can begin by repenting for our good deeds done out of wrong motivation.
So … what is the correct interpretation?
Is the Prodigal Son the story of Mary and Martha? I investigated and found no early church writings to support that theory.
The Prodigal Son is really the story of all of us. Some days we’re the younger brother, and other days we’re the older. In both cases our need of God’s grace is equal.
So with that understanding, yeah, the parable is about Mary and Martha too. (Just don’t tell anyone that you heard it from me!)
Sam
The Nearly Damnable Danger of “I’d Never Do That”
I agree that they could be related, without trying to belittle any one.
Hi Ugochi,
Thanks for your comment.
I think the truest beauty in anyone is found when they are deeply loved. Something about that love changes them, strengthens them. It makes them radiant.
I know I’m loved mostly when I sense something I’ve done wrong and yet still know I’m loved. Anyone can love me when I’ve been pretty good (those rare moments!). It takes deep love to love me when I’ve failed.
We don’t know what Mary’s former life was, but we do know the beauty of her love of Jesus came from only one place: a deep knowing of God’s love for her.
Thanks for commenting!
The outrage also seems to forget that the Younger Son was actually the son that is able to come into the father; Mary would have been the one ‘saved’ in the parallel.
Really good point.
I think our innate goodness can blind us from our need for God. Like the Pharisee, “Thank you Lord that I’m not like….”
Sure, difficulties (relational, financial, etc.) may drive everyone to God because they show us a need. But what about when external circumstances are relatively positive? Do we still sense a longing or need for God?
I think when we honestly examine our inner, hidden thoughts–and I mean honestly examine them–then we can say, “God help me. I need you.”
Thanks for the comment.
When you couldn’t find evidence of the early church making this connection, I wonder if you looked too far back. Medieval scripture scholars tended to identify Mary of Bethany with the sinful woman who anointed his feet with her tears at the home of Simon the Pharisee. There are so many Marys and two or three women-anointing-Jesus episodes. At least one of them was definitely this Mary. But today’s scholars tend to think the weeping woman was a different person.
But if you lived in a time where the convention was otherwise, you would have heard the Mary/Martha story with the image of the weeping, sinful woman in your head. Suddenly connecting the stories makes perfect sense.
Of course, Mary and Martha were real people, and the Prodigal Son is a parable…
Hey, maybe Jesus “changed the names to protect the innocent”!
😉
Hi Martha,
You brave woman! Yes, I found lots of evidence for people identifying Mary of Bethany with the prostitute (or “woman of the city” which is the metaphorical equivalent of a “street woman.”) That identification goes far back, though it isn’t conclusive.
It’s really the same issue. And I think it comes to how we identify ourselves.
If I were a former prostitute–which I’m not (nor a current one)–I think I’d rejoice in the beauty of the reformed Mary. The beauty is in what Christ makes her to be. It would give me hope for myself. But if I think, “I was never that bad,” it would make me want to think Mary wasn’t either.
The message of the gospel is the hope we have through what Christ did, not what we did.
I love your closing line, “maybe Jesus ‘changed the names to protect the innocent’!” I think he’s done that for all of us.
Thanks,
Sam
(PS everyone, you heard it from her not from me.)
Actually, in the context of its times, the parallel actually would have served women in a special way. By transplanting the Prodigal Son parable into the context of a woman’s everyday world, both men and women who might otherwise have been unable to see the masculine world of inheritance and financial independence as relevant to females would now have no excuse for exempting women from its comforts, promises and exhortations.
That’s a really good thought.
So, is that how I should preach it from now on? Or maybe, I’ll invite YOU to come preach it for me 🙂
Sam
That’s an interesting parallel. I think it does fit and never would have thought so before. On the issue to belittling women – I don’t think any of the New Testament does. And pointing to a woman’s sin is not belittling, it’s real. Christ didn’t point at the sin, He loved the women where they were and loved them to repentance. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and insight into Scripture.
Hi Megan,
Thanks for your comment. I agree. I just can’t see how the person’s previous sin is belittling.
In fact, I think the greater the sin the greater the miracle. But maybe also, when we are good little Pharisees, we don’t see our need for God so much.
Thanks for your great observation.
I have never heard that before.
Symbolism, culture, parables, it is all in the Bible for us to learn from, and sometimes it is really hard to get your head around what it is trying to say.
The meaning for me is to take my crowning glory, what is most precious to me, sit at the feet of Jesus and give my all.
That’s a tricky one, normally what is the most precious thing to you is something you are less likely to give away.
Poor Martha, she has a younger sister, most younger sisters are more likely to sit back and let the older sister do more, younger sisters are more likely to be a touch more spoiled and less likely to be as generous and finds it very easy to ignore her sister (Well that is my experience :-)…)
Its a wonder Martha didn’t dump a bowl full of potato salad on her head. Ok so I am an older sister, is it showing that much??
True love showed thru Mary’s action and tears that day. Jesus saw this.
It is time for me to take my potato salad, put it aside and sit at the feet of Jesus and give him my crowning glory like Mary did.
Hi Beth,
How are things down under? Are you heading into winter?
So here is the thing about genders. I think men need to learn from the “Mary’s” of the bible, and women can learn from the “Zacchaeus’s.” The examples are gender specific. We all have much to learn.
And maybe occasionally we need to dump our potato salad. Whether on our siblings’ head? Hmm. I have a few siblings that I probably wouldn’t mind doing that to…. (I hope they don’t read this and beat me to it.)
Sam
My question is how, once we understand the way ‘goodness’ blinds the Marthas and older brothers of the world, do we help them recover their sight? We can’t tell them to try harder, do more, or sin less because that mindset (idolization of rules) is the whole problem!
Harkening back to your last blog, is it best to forgo our cowardly Christian niceness and give them good slap upside the head?
Ideas?
Bekah,
So … would that be a good slap upside their “good” head? Do you have any brothers in mind?
I think you ask a great question. It’s easy to for someone to be told that lying is bad and should be stopped. No one will question that. It’s harder to tell someone that even their goodness may be a problem (self-proclaimed goodness).
Perhaps the best way is to jointly study the Prodigal Son, because it’s almost more about the older son than the younger son. Once we can all admit that ever our self-perceived goodness can keep us from God, well, I think the majority of the battle is won.
Us modern Christians just don’t like to hear that. We prefer to say, “Look at all those bad people out there,” instead of saying, “Maybe my goodness is keeping me from God.”
Great question.
Sam,
Thanks for the Flannery O’Connor quote to put things into perspective. “Goodness” may be a barrier to God’s work of grace, both by blinding us to our need and also by claiming at least partial credit for His work of redemption. “Badness” may cause us to view ourselves as beyond redemption, or it may lead us to take partial credit for a dramatic turnaround. Mary and Martha, the prodigal and the responsible older son, the Pharisee and the publican, all were equally in need of Christ’s grace. Not all recognized the need. All the credit for all the work of redemption belongs to God.
Being a Martha personality, I struggle with Martha being the bad guy. I run to the family I haven’t seen in a while and wear my emotions on my sleeve. Just like Martha. I leave to take care of others when others come to greet the visiting family. I struggle with working while others ” sit and do nothing”. I struggle with the “I’m not calling He has to make the first contact” or the drama actions of falling on the ground and crying. I kid with my brother saying, this is gonna stink and he picks back saying what you don’t trust me? Without the Martha’s of the world, the Mary’s and the visiting guest would not be taken care of. Maybe our role to serve is our worship and time with God. As for the prodigal son. Yup, I worked the time I was at home while the Mary’s showed up and visited. Thankful they were there and hurt for no appreciation of all I did for their attention. Good lesson on works, It is not works but God’s grace that saves us. God made us as individual’s if everyone was a Mary or a prodigal son, nothing would get done. Maybe is it better we are busy serving the Lord instead of sitting with our minds focused on everything that needs to be done instead of on God. As a side note, Martha and Mary was the class topic this week and struggling so interesting the Prodigal Son story pops in my mind. I take heart in the verse that states Jesus loves Martha, mentioning her by name, He knows my service is for Him, my busyness is not a distraction from Him but service to Him. Please correct me if I am completely off base.
Hi Rose,
I know many Christian turn Martha into the bad guy, but I don’t think Jesus was doing that. When he says, “Martha, Martha” (it’s called a double vocative) it is s sign of great affection. But I DO think Jesus was inviting Martha into a deeper relationship with him.
There are times I serve hard because of His life in me; and there are times I serve hard sort of to avoid prayer. And I guess the Mary/Martha story from Jesus is meant to get us to ask God how we are doing, and how we can serve more with his very life in us.
Thanks for sharing, it seems you really want to serve God!