Pope Francis was known for using colorful images from daily life in his homilies and speeches — just like Jesus did. One vivid example comes from a conversation he had with fellow Jesuits on his September 2022 visit to Kazakhstan. His confreres asked him what was on his heart, and this led him to speak about prayer of intercession and the attitude we should have in prayer.
According to Pope Francis, we need to “arm wrestle” with God, “knocking at the heart of the Lord.”
But he also told the Jesuits that in prayer, we have to “be normal.”
The pope liked to use the word boldness in regard to prayer, and he had a Scriptural basis for it: If Abraham could argue God down from 50 to 10 — the number of innocent people for whom he’d spare the city of Sodom (Gn 18:20-32) — shouldn’t we also approach God with boldness? “Ask, ask, ask,” the pope told his brothers. “Arm wrestle.”
Jesus used several illustrations to invite us to this boldness.
“Because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me” (Lk 18:5).
“Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asks for a loaf of bread, or a snake when he asks for a fish? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask him” (Mt 7:9-11).
Perhaps boldness in prayer is a lesson we have yet to learn.
But there’s another recommendation from that conversation with the pope: Normalcy. What does it mean to “be normal” in prayer? Could St. Martha be a model?
Being ‘normal’ with God
I was born on St. Martha’s feast day before it became the feast of all three Bethany siblings, so I have a particular affection for her.
And I understand how important it is that we learn the lessons that Mary teaches us: that we have to make prayer the priority in our lives; that there’s nothing as important as the time spent with Jesus, especially the time spent listening to Jesus; that the best place to be on earth is the place we’ll have in heaven — at his feet.
But I am also trying to learn the lessons that Martha teaches.
As an expert at fretting and worrying, I understand and truly believe the affirmation of the psalmist that fretting “leads only to evil” (Ps 37:8, NRSVCE).
I’m used to feeling “burdened with much serving” — so very burdened at the feeling that the kids are teenagers and still make the messes of toddlers and that the husband seems always to have “left me by myself to do the serving” (Lk 10:40).
“Martha, Martha” (Lk 10:41). Is that a mix of exasperation and tenderness in Jesus’ voice?
I don’t know, but what I do know is that Martha gives me an example of prayer.
I know what it is to feel just like Martha. But have I learned, like she had, to “be normal” and take all that to Jesus? To really go to him instead of (or at least in addition to) spinning it around into a ball of resentment in my own head. To go to him just as I am?
“Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.'”
“Lord, do you not care?”
Do you?
Yes, Martha has let her feelings overshadow reality, a reality she knows and believes. But nevertheless she also lets those feelings lead her to Jesus.
We can fault Martha because of a lack of reverence or a lack of faith or a lack of a lot of things, but what we see is that she takes her frustration to prayer — she goes to Jesus with nothing but raw honesty. She’s upset and she voices it without fear or masks.
“Lord, you don’t seem to care, and I feel abandoned and burdened.”
Isn’t that what it means to “be normal” in prayer? And don’t so many of us feel what she felt so very often? Because motherhood is exhausting, because young adulthood is exhausting, because widowhood is exhausting, and no one seems to get what we’re going through. Or worse, they might well get it, but they don’t even care.
“Tell her to help me.” Yes, this is boldness in prayer.
If Jesus voicing Mary’s name at the tomb could unmask her eyes and lead her to recognize “Rabbouni” and cling to his feet (Jn 20:16), Jesus twice voicing Martha’s name with the sweetness only God can have probably planted calm in Martha’s fretting heart. We don’t know what happened next, if she sat beside her sister, or if she went on serving, but now unburdened.
Or perhaps, she walked away hurt and chided and more frustrated than before. That, too, sometimes happens in prayer. Maybe the “Martha, Martha” did its work only slowly and over time.
But what we do know is that Martha continued to be “normal” in prayer.
Raw honesty as prayer
The next time we see the Bethany siblings, tragedy has struck. The sisters together voiced what OSV News editor Elizabeth Scalia sees as a most beautiful and efficient seven-word prayer of intercession:
“Master, the one you love is ill” (Jn 11:3).
This is its own type of arm-wrestling prayer. It’s not the insistence of “Tell her to help me.” Instead, it’s a prayer that mirrors Cana and the unequaled efficacy of Marian intercession. It is bold prayer that simply states a fact, like “They have no wine” (Jn 2:3). Jesus is left to draw the conclusions. But well he knows what is asked, expected even.
But Jesus didn’t do what the sisters prayed for, and Lazarus died.
Then Jesus went to them.
“When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home” (Jn 11:20).
That is to say, Martha again took her frustrations and her feelings to prayer.
Surely we’re not surprised that the first thing she says to him is a rebuke, just like on that other occasion.
“Lord … if you had been here!” (Jn 11:21).
Raw honesty. This time the feelings are of grief, and again, of not being understood. She doesn’t have to say it but we hear it:
Why did you let my brother die? Do you not care?
As the story continues, she will also be the one to voice the coarseness not just of her feelings but of physical reality: “But, Lord, … by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days” (Jn 11:39).
Martha’s faith is recognized as exemplary: “Yes, Lord, … I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world” (Jn 11:27).
And she is hailed for her gift of hospitality and service.
But isn’t there also so much to learn from her prayer about how to “be normal” with God?
In our own lives so many things lead us away from prayer. And perhaps often, we turn away from him because of our frustration and fretting and our feeling that perhaps not even he cares about what we’re experiencing. It can seem more comforting to spin into resentment than to go to Jesus.
But with Martha as our guide and model, we are invited to be raw, honest and normal. To go to him with rebukes if that’s the best we can do with what we’re feeling. But always to pray.
