Martha Stewart’s epicurean empire is the brunt of many a nasty joke. I tend to admire her … to an extent.
You see, I’m something of a Martha myself. I grow culinary herbs and infuse vinegars in fancy bottles. I can decorate cakes and cookies people proclaim as too pretty to eat. I paint my walls unpredictable colors. I not only make my own greeting cards, I make my own paper.
My sisters are Marthas, too. One keeps bees and collects honey, grows grapes to make wine, tends a vegetable garden that produces like a cornucopia. Last week, she mailed me a chile ristra she strung of brilliant red peppers to celebrate autumn. Another sister is well versed in the mysteries of hair styling and embroidery, and has an extensive collection of decorations for every specific holiday. My younger sister can fold napkins into swans and fans. She relishes ethnic cooking and entertaining. She’s now in the process of making a Christmas stocking for her baby; the kit includes about a zillion tiny beads and slippery sequins.
We’re Marthas, no doubt, because our Mother was a Martha. The night before we buried her, we brought my mother’s body home and, in the tradition of my father’s family, we had a Rosary service in the living room. After all the extended family and friends left, my siblings and I sat up late into the night with the body, perpetual light burning in the red glass. As we talked in soft voices, my oldest brother said we each ought to emulate a quality of Mother’s, something we could, as he said, keep in our pocket to carry on in honor of her spirit.
Immediately, I knew that I would emulate my mother’s celebratory style, her zest for holidays and seasons, birthdays, every day. Like her, I would garden, cut and arrange bouquets of flowers. I would bake, especially for holidays, and I would share the goodies with neighbors and friends. In domestic affairs, I would go the extra mile, inject imagination into entertaining and care about the details of home decorating — which I dare say I have done, and which has brought others (and me) joy.
I call it Martha-ing. It’s my coined verb to designate those of us who follow not only Martha Stewart but the Biblical Martha, as well. Scriptures reveal that Martha lived in Bethany. The sister of Mary Magdalene and Lazarus, Martha was an esteemed friend of Jesus Christ. Scriptures reveal a couple of occasions where Martha entertained Jesus. The 12th chapter of John mentions a banquet at which Martha served.
And in Luke 10 38:42, we read of Martha, “…busy with all the details of hospitality…” while her sister sat at the feet of Jesus, listening to him speak. Martha, in true sibling rivalry style, complains to Jesus, asking him to tell Mary to assist her with her tasks.
“The Lord said to her in reply, ‘Martha, Martha, you are anxious and upset about many things; one thing only is required. Mary has chosen the better portion and she shall not be deprived of it.”
The name Martha derives from the Aramaic word “marta” meaning “lady.” All of us, ladies and gentlemen alike, can take a lesson from Martha about the uselessness of being overly concerned about worldly affairs. Yes, God is in the details. But the details aren’t more important than God. Or our guests. Or ourselves.
This holiday season, I want to extend myself, but not overextend myself. I’ll try to remember that my guests care more about my being present and listening than they do about fastidiously folded napkins or perfectly piped decorations on the canapes.
Do you do what you do for the holidays because you want to? Or because you feel you have to? Enough is enough, and each of us knows when to say when. Be mindful of what you enjoy doing and what you resent doing, for what we do with love will fulfill us and others, while ill-humor flavors everything with bitterness.
This holiday season, if you are among the Marthas of the world, enjoy your gifts for hospitality, homemaking and hearth tending. But don’t forget to simplify, to relax, to enjoy “the better portion” that makes the holidays happy.
