Because everyone loves a good story
Where were you when you first watched Star Wars: Episode IV—A New Hope? Were you in the theater? At a friend’s house? In your living room? It’s not the sort of thing you’re likely to forget.
For me, I was with my family at my Uncle David’s house back in the early ‘90’s. We were squished onto his couch and glued to his TV, which is how I’d watch all three films several times growing up. While I can’t remember my exact impressions as an elementary school student, I can say that the films’ cumulative effect helped weave the fabric of my personality, vocabulary, and memories. They’re just so darn quotable!
But what’s the story behind the story? How did George Lucas come up with the idea that would become the world’s most recognizable franchise? And is Star Wars technically science fiction? I’m going to answer all these and more in this post, so let’s get this backstory crackin’!
While the Star Wars movies had many aspects that were brand spanking new, I think their lasting popularity is due to what made them familiar rather than what made them novel. For example, one of the greatest influences on the films—especially A New Hope—was the book The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you’ll remember the series I did based on his “hero’s journey” cycle. (I mean, the series was forever long. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.)
Lucas had read the book in college but had forgotten about it until he was editing his script for A New Hope. Campbell’s description of the familiar, 12-stage quest helped focus Lucas’s scattered ideas into one tidy story. Because the cycle is based on countless stories from mythology, history, and modern literature, plots based on it will resonate with us. That’s one reason why, despite its fantastic settings and alien characters, A New Hope is still so relatable.
Other inspirations for the Star Wars stories were the TV shows, comic books, movies, and literature that Lucas had enjoyed while growing up. The Flash Gordon TV serial made such a big impact on Lucas as a child that he actually tried to buy the rights to the show before he created Star Wars. He’s thankful now (and so are we!) that he was denied the rights, because it would have turned his career in a whole different direction. Instead, he wrote the Star Wars stories with the characters, adventures, and style of Flash Gordon in mind, in a sense making a new version of his favorite old show.
In college, Lucas became smitten with Japanese films, especially the works of director Akira Kurosawa. The plot of A New Hope has similarities to Kurosawa’s films, especially The Hidden Fortress, and you can see the influence of the samurai when you look at the Jedi’s ancient weapon and technique, and their desire to keep peace. Even the Force seems to be a blend of Eastern mysticism and other new age philosophies. I think the films gained depth from borrowing certain aspects of this ancient culture.
Lucas also mentioned that he was influenced by Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, especially in the portrayal of good versus evil. He saw Obi-Wan Kenobi as a parallel to Gandalf and Darth Vader as a version of the Witch King of Angmar. Great choice in inspiration, Lucas. I approve.
So the inspiration for the stories took a long time and many sources, but how did Lucas create the trilogy itself? Well, first of all, he didn’t start out to make a trilogy; he wanted to make a children’s TV serial like Flash Gordon. He’d written quite a bit of plot, and knew he’d need to break it in pieces in order to show it all. But when he found that the studios wouldn’t support him in such a big undertaking, he was forced to shorten it to the length of one movie. He was expecting it to be a flop, so he used all the good plot points to make the film as interesting as possible: he killed Obi-Wan and blew up the Death Star. Then he found that people wanted sequels. Oops.
It was back to the drawing board for Lucas, and I mean that quite literally. Lucas is a visual thinker, so in order to write and direct the films (even though he didn’t technically write the screenplays or direct Episode V or VI), he would need to see the ideas drawn out on a storyboard. This helped him plan the content and even the angle of many shots. Sound a bit controlling? Perhaps. By all accounts, Lucas is a quiet, intense, visionary perfectionist.
He readily admits that his favorite part of the movie-making process isn’t writing, directing, or filming—it’s the editing. That, he believes, is where the real magic happens. You can spin decent footage into cinematic gold if you know what you’re doing in the editing room. And apparently Lucas has that Rumpelstiltskin touch, because his films are 24-carat. (That sounds like a really obscure pickup line.)
So Lucas took his sprawling story, condensed it into one movie, and then re-expanded it into a trilogy. He sat through casting interviews, compiled a talented team both on and off the screen, and then got to work. I’ll touch on this more next week, but Lucas brought his unique vision to life through a combination of on-location filming and cutting-edge special effects. Looking at the original trilogy today, it’s hard to believe the sparkly explosions, fuzzy puppets, and stop-animation creatures were ever cutting edge, but Lucas was setting a new standard for film. Although the movies turned out to be only a fraction of what his mind’s eye had envisioned, they were still the best of their kind.
And what kind is that? The movies themselves, he clarifies, aren’t considered mere science fiction; they’re a branch of science fiction known as the “space opera.” Apparently that has nothing to do with large women wearing Viking helmets; it’s more like a “soap opera,” a story with plenty of relational drama and plot twists. A space opera “emphasizes space warfare, melodramatic adventure, interplanetary battles, chivalric romance, and risk-taking,” all of which abound in Star Wars (3).
For Lucas, the stories aren’t about space as much as they’re about the dynamic between father and son. That, I think, is part of the reason the movies appeal to so many as opposed to, say, Star Trek. In Star Trek, the plots often hinge on unfamiliar beings and strange places; in Star Wars, the creatures and places are almost incidental to the real issues of family drama. (Although I admit it’s a lot cooler to learn who your biological father is when you’re dangling over the edge of a space station chasm in Cloud City.) This isn’t to say Star Wars is better than Star Trek. It’s really comparing apples to oranges, so eat whatever you have a taste for.
Now that you’re an expert in the inspiration and creation of the original Star Wars trilogy, you’re equipped to critique next week’s post about what worked and what didn’t work in these classic films. The post will be chock-full of my own opinions, but I’d love to hear your opinions, too, even if they’re contrary to mine! For now, let me leave you with a question:
Today’s Question: When did you first see the original Star Wars trilogy? Do you remember your first impressions?
Check out the next post here!
Sources:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_sources_and_analogues
https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Star_Wars
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_opera
We left off last week just as George Lucas had created his first successful blockbuster, American Graffiti, a movie that was much more accessible than his previous THX 1138. He seemed to have cracked the code for what the average movie goer wanted to see, and that must have buoyed his spirits a bit. But his spirits were about to get a whole lot more buoyant, because just on the horizon, A New Hope was dawning.
Isn’t this always the way with a massive success: the creator presents the new idea to countless publishers, studios, or patrons, all of whom think the idea is a recipe for failure? They play it safe and turn down the genius of their day, only to become less than a passing thought in these rags-to-riches biographies. This was certainly the case for George Lucas when he began what eventually became Star Wars.
Now that he’d directed a successful film, Lucas began looking for a studio to back him on his next adventure, a TV series for youth that would mix several old genres including science fiction and westerns. No one was interested in working with him on this seemingly risky idea, but a friend at 20th Century Fox finally went out on a limb for him. Lucas revised his original TV series idea to make it one film instead, and thus Star Wars was born.
Much to everyone’s shock and amazement, the film was an absolute smash hit. In fact, it made over $500 million more than it cost to make, and that was just during its first release! We’ll spend more time on what made that film so unfathomably successful in next week’s post, but for now, we’ll just agree that—whatever Lucas’s secret—he had struck gold.
With that success under his belt and a hefty profit to show for it, Lucas felt the freedom to change his role for the next two movies; the first Star Wars film had been written and directed by Lucas, but he chose to hire other screenwriters and directors for the sequels. He was, however, the story writer and unofficial co-director of Episodes 5 and 6, not feeling comfortable to relinquish control entirely. In my humble opinion, Lucas does his best work in areas other than writing screenplays and directing actors, so this change was probably for the best.
So what did he do instead? He focused on developing the technical aspects of cinema. To that end, he began several companies including Industrial Light & Magic, Skywalker Sound, and LucasArts. Through the years, he sold small branches of some of these to help pay the bills, although you wouldn’t think the guy in charge of Star Wars would have to worry about that. The fact is that Lucas went through a divorce in 1983, the year that Return of the Jedi was released, and that move took a toll on his savings. Even more significantly, he poured a lot of his profit right back into his companies in hopes of developing better technology with which to tell stories.
And at the end of the day, that’s where his real passion and talents lie: in creating ways to tell good stories better. Regardless of your opinion about his movies, Lucas’s impact on cinematic technology is undeniable. But that’s a statement I’ll have to prove to you in the following weeks as we see how his vision made possible movies like Star Wars.
Although he had stepped down from directing for a time, Lucas’s impact on film continued. I think a big part of this is due to his friendship with Steven Spielberg, whom he’d met way back in 1967 and with whom he’d struck up a healthy rivalry and eventual friendship. They were always in competition with each other to see who could create the best film work, each one readily acknowledging when the other had hit the nail on the head. They have plenty of differences (their personalities, for example, come across as polar opposites), but they share a passion for making good movies. One result of this passion is the Indiana Jones series.
During the 1977 release of Star Wars: A New Hope, Lucas was hiding out on vacation with Spielberg in Hawaii. They got to talking about movies they’d like to do in the future when Spielberg mentioned his desire to direct something like the original James Bond films. Lucas replied that he had an even better idea: a 1930’s archaeologist and professor named Indiana Smith. Lucas summarized the idea for Raiders of the Lost Ark to his pal, and Spielberg was sold on everything but the name. Lucas conceded, and the two shook hands, agreeing to make a trilogy of films together with the newly-christened Indiana Jones.
Thank you, Lucas. Thank you, Spielberg. Thank you, Hawaii.
Lucas stayed out of the director’s chair for about 20 years, during which time he kept busy at his craft. His desire to escape Hollywood’s hackneyed, stunting influence culminated in the creation of Skywalker Ranch, a technological mansion on a beautiful expanse of acreage north of San Francisco. He began purchasing and building back in 1978, the year after A New Hope was released. Today, this is where all the audio recording, mixing, and experimenting happens, although it’s now open to the (paying) public for visits as well. I’m sure he would love to have located more of his companies on Skywalker Ranch, but the other inhabitants of his county didn’t want any extra hubbub or fanfare. Sorry, George.
While Lucas must have spent a good deal of time at the Ranch during his hiatus from directing, he also spent as much time as possible with his kids. Lucas and his wife, Marcia, had adopted a daughter about two years before their divorce. Lucas fell in love with being a father and later went on to adopt two more children on his own. Even though his busy work schedule took a toll on his marriage to Marcia, he didn’t want it to jeopardize his role as father, too. He directed less partly so he would have more time to spend with his kids while they were young.
But once they were older, he hopped back into the director’s chair (and screenwriter’s chair) for the creation of The Phantom Menace, which is Episode 1 in the Star Wars saga. What made him come out of hiding for that movie and its two sequels? We’ll discuss it more in depth in a few weeks, but the short answer is that he’d dreamed of expanding the original storyline to display the tragedy of Darth Vader, and he finally felt that he had the time, means, and technology to pull it off. He also contributed the story for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull in 2008, but he didn’t direct it. That film was one of his last hurrahs before The Big Sale.
As we all know, Lucas chose to sell Lucasfilm to Disney in 2012. While he’s been reported to have mixed emotions on the subject, a deal’s a deal. But why did he sell? For a number of reasons including his age and his desire to ensure that the stories and characters will be protected for decades to come. He feels that Disney has the financial and creative means to do justice to Star Wars and Indiana Jones, and for all our sakes, I hope he’s right.
While he’s still a creative consultant for the films, it seems that Disney doesn’t want much consultation from him. They’ve got their own ideas for how to make the new movies successful, so Lucas is free to enjoy his retirement in any way he chooses. He probably spends some time and a good bit of money on his charitable organizations, but aside from that, his daily activities are anyone’s guess. Personally, I think he probably has an annual pass to Disneyland and spends a lot time hanging out with the Star Wars character actors. Or maybe he rides the teacup ride. Either way is cool.
Now we’ve seen where Lucas came from and what he’s done. Next, I’m excited to examine a wide scope of his films, from the old to the new. Make plans to tune in next time as we look at Star Wars Episodes 4-6!
Today’s Question: What’s the most interesting fact that you know about George Lucas?
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Sources:
As I mentioned last week, I’m endeavoring to write a dissertation on the pros and cons of Lucas’s two main franchises: Star Wars and Indiana Jones. (Ok, so it’s not a real dissertation, and it won’t be daunting because I’ll be breaking it up for you, but still. It will be quite a series.)
These fantastic series have been part of my life from my earliest days, and they’ve definitely helped shape who I’ve become. But that doesn’t mean I agree with all of George Lucas’s choices, especially with some the later films. But I thought it would be fun to start a dialogue about his works, and the best way to assess what he’s done is to see where he came from. Join me, won’t you, for this two-part biography of George Lucas!
As with many auspicious characters, George Lucas began pretty inauspiciously. He was born in 1944 in a small town called Modesto, California. He enjoyed reading comic books, watching old TV shows like Flash Gordon, slacking off in school, and driving cars for fun. Cruising the town was a staple activity of his era, but it affected Lucas more than you would have expected. During his high school years he began racing cars, hoping to make driving his livelihood. That idea came to a screeching halt, quite literally, just a few days before his high school graduation.
On his way home, he was broadsided by another vehicle. His small, souped-up car flipped multiple times, and Lucas was thrown from the window. This little escapade did cost him several weeks of recovery in the hospital, but it nearly cost him his life. While he lay recovering, Lucas realized that he didn’t want a future in the racecar industry after all. He determined to go to college and study art instead, deciding to apply a little more effort than he had done in high school.
After he recovered from the accident, he began attending the local junior college in Modesto. His serious-minded father didn’t want him to throw away his education on an art degree, though, so Lucas studied literature, philosophy, and anthropology. Around this time, he also became interested in photography and film. In fact, he enjoyed film so much that he decided to transfer to the University of Southern California and get a degree in film making. This was a good compromise to his dad since the degree would come from a real university, so that’s what Lucas did.
But he wasn’t interested in mainstream Hollywood films. No, Lucas was a visionary. He and several of his film school friends were inspired by the modern, abstract, non-narrative art films, and Lucas decided this was the direction in which he would steer his career. He put this plan into practice while still a university student, making several short films that won awards and set him apart as someone with potential. People started taking notice of his out-of-the-box style. He did what he liked, and it worked for him.
Did that start to go to his head and give him a sense of creative impunity? How dare you suggest such a thing.
By the time he graduated from USC with his masters in film production, he had several reasons to trust his artistic instincts: he enjoyed what he did, others enjoyed what he did, and they said he was a natural. Actually, one of his university film projects (a futuristic, dystopian little number called Electronic Labyrinth: THX 1138 4EB) won first place at the National Student Film Festival. This gave him the chance to choose any Warner Brothers director to work under for one movie. Lucas chose Francis Ford Coppola, the man who would later be known for The Godfather movies.
Solid choice, George.
Coppola saw Lucas’s potential and chose to co-found an independent film studio with him. They hoped that the studio, American Zoetrope, would give free-spirited directors a place to make movies that didn’t fit the Hollywood mold. Lucas did just that by expanding his university film into his first full movie, shortening the title to THX 1138. Warner Brothers chipped in and supported his endeavor, but the film was a bit of a flop. People didn’t enjoy it or understand it. Lucas lost his shorts on it, and Warner Brothers didn’t want to work with him anymore.
With that financial and artistic bummer weighing him down, Lucas trudged on in hopes of finding a way to make another film, a completely different one. He set out on his own and founded Lucasfilm, Ltd., where he wrote and directed American Graffiti, a low-budget film that shocked everyone (including Lucas) by ranking as one of the decade’s most profitable films. The movie was a nostalgic piece reflecting on the good ol’ days of cruising the town in hot rods, just as Lucas had done as a teen. Compared with THX 1138, the movie was a smash hit. Lucas was probably disappointed in the general public’s taste in movies, but he seems to have learned his lesson: artistic films with minimal plot and characterization do well in art school; real people like stories with relatable characters and familiar stories.
He learned his lesson so well, in fact, that the plot of his next film was an exemplary display of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, a book that outlines the familiar hero quest storyline. I bet you can guess what film I’m talking about, but you may not know how it came about. Don’t worry—that’s why they pay me the big bucks.
As I assessed how much material I still had to cover, I thought I’d do us both a favor and save the second half of the biography for next week. Talk about a cliff hanger! Sorry about that, for those of you who were really banking on learning all there is to know about Lucas this week. But, hey, it’s just one more reason to tune in again next week for our next installment of “The Genius of George Lucas.” See you then!
Check out the next post here!
Sources:
George Lucas. The name is polarizing.
Some of you just decided to skip the whole upcoming series because you’re not into nerdy, sci-fi stuff. (Tip: Don’t do that. There will be plenty of stuff that even non-nerds will enjoy. Besides, if you read this blog, then you’re probably nerdier than you think.) But when the rest of you saw the name George Lucas, your ears perked up. Whether you love him or hate him, you have to admit that he’s made quite an impact on culture during the past 5 decades.
And that’s just what I want to look at over the next several weeks: the impact that Lucas has had through his two most famous franchises, Star Wars and Indiana Jones. I’ll be looking at the difference between the early sagas and the later ones, asking why the former were so awesome while the latter paled by comparison.
Caveats, etc.
Now, some of you Lucas die-hards may have bristled in outrage at my last statement. “What?? Paled by comparison? Who are you to utter such blasphemy?!” And that’s a fair question. I’m no one, really. Just an average Jane who grew up loving the original trilogies and tolerating their sequels, and that very well may twist your britches in a bunch. There are many, many people who know more about the Lucas universe than I do. To you, I freely admit my lack of prowess and welcome your scathing comments. Hopefully that’s peace offering enough.
That being said, I’m biting off more than I can chew, and I know it. But is that going to stop me from writing this series? Definitely not. At most, it will cause me to warn you that the following posts will be filled with too little research and too much opinion. I’m trying my best to reverse those ratios, but I doubt it will happen well enough to satisfy a real die-hard fan. So please feel free to disagree with me! After all, in terms of Lucas knowledge, I am but a Padawan and will submit to the expertise of a true Jedi master. Or, if you’d rather, I’m just a Marcus Brody who will happily defer to the leading of a genuine Indiana Jones.
The Overview
Today I’m not planning to dive straight in. Instead, I’m giving you the opportunity to brush up on these two fantastic movie series if you’ve gotten a little rusty. Blow the dust off of your old VHS tapes or take the special collectors edition blue ray disks from their shrine—either way, be sure to re-watch these classics so you can read the upcoming posts and agree, disagree, or agree to disagree.
Here’s what you can expect:
George Lucas: A Brief Biography
The Success of Star Wars 4-6
The Shortcomings of Star Wars 1-3
The Divided Opinions about Star Wars 7-8
The Fun of Indiana Jones 1-3
The Flop of Indy 4 and Fear of Indy 5
The Overall Impact of Lucas on Cinema and Culture
You’ve got two weeks before we dig in to the real movie meat, so get crackin’!
Check out the next post here!
“After they sang a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives” (Matt. 26:30).
It’s such a simple verse—one we’ve probably passed over dozens of times. It’s a brief sentence between the last supper and the crucifixion, so it’s no wonder we don’t often spend much time on it. But did you know that the text to this hymn is right there in the Bible? It’s a psalm of triumph and salvation, both historical and prophetic. That’s why putting these words in the mouth of our dying Savior only deepens my thankfulness and sorrow for all that he suffered for me.
Maybe you’ve heard of the term “dramatic irony” before. It’s used in drama and literature to sharpen the poignancy of a situation in which the audience knows something important that the character doesn’t know. For example, if a character is bragging about his health and wealth and invincible youth as he flies down the road in his sports car, dramatic irony would be our knowing that the bridge is out ahead.
It happens in life as well as literature. For example, have you ever known some terrible news that you haven’t yet broken to your kids? They’re skipping joyfully through the day, playing and laughing as usual, but it breaks your heart to know what’s about to happen. I can’t help but think that’s how Jesus must be feeling as he sings this hymn with his friends.
The Jewish people are very faithful to their traditions. That’s why we know that, at the time of the Passover, Jesus and his disciples would have been singing the Hallel. Hallel means “praise” in Hebrew and refers to Psalms 113-118. These were songs of praise for Israel’s deliverance in the Old Testament, but the exclamations of joy and freedom take on a haunting, tragic shade in light of Jesus’ impending suffering. Some of them are also prophetic about the Messiah who was to come, which heightens the dramatic irony even more. Psalm 116 is an excellent example of this, but I’d like to focus on Psalm 118 since it’s the last thing Jesus sang before walking willingly to his death.
The justice, joy, and salvation spoken of in Psalm 118 were to be horrifically stripped from Jesus just hours after he sang this hymn. All the promises to God’s people were to be withheld from God’s own Son as he paid for their sin. Jesus knows what’s coming as he sings these words, but the disciples still seem to be ignorant. They probably sang it in autopilot or, if they were thoughtful, they would have sung it joyfully at the past salvation of God. But Jesus…I wonder if he could even get through the hymn. He was about to weep so hard in the garden that blood would seep out of his pores. Was he dry-eyed during this ironic, prophetic hymn? I certainly wouldn’t have been.
The whole psalm is rich with Messianic foreshadowing, but I’ll only focus on a few verses for brevity’s sake. If you have time, though, read through the whole psalm (or the whole Hallel!) this Good Friday. I know it will make you appreciate even more the beautiful, tragic, triumphant plan of God.
5 Out of my distress I called on the Lord;/ the Lord answered me and set me free. Jesus called to the Father in distress, but the answer was silence. God had turned his face away as Jesus took on our sin so that he could answer us in our distress and set us free.
6 The Lord is on my side; I will not fear./ What can man do to me? It was God’s plan that the Father would forsake Jesus so that man could slaughter him. But because He did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, we know that we have nothing more to fear.
17 I shall not die, but I shall live,/ and recount the deeds of the Lord. 18 The Lord has disciplined me severely,/ but he has not given me over to death. Jesus knew he would be given over to death, and he bore it willingly so we could live and recount the Gospel—the greatest deed of the Lord.
19 Open to me the gates of righteousness,/ that I may enter through them/ and give thanks to the Lord. 20 This is the gate of the Lord;/ the righteous shall enter through it. Jesus is the gate through which we enter the presence of the Lord. He was torn open so we could be made righteous and enter through him.
22 The stone that the builders rejected/ has become the cornerstone./ 23 This is the Lord’s doing;/ it is marvelous in our eyes. Jesus was despised and rejected by men, cast out and killed by the religious of his day. All of this was the Lord’s doing in order to magnify Christ as supreme—a marvelous design.
27 The Lord is God,/ and he has made his light to shine upon us./ Bind the festal sacrifice with cords,/ up to the horns of the altar! He made the Light to be extinguished as Jesus, our sacrifice, was nailed to the cross. But he did that so his Light could shine on us eternally.
29 Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;/ for his steadfast love endures forever! Because of what Jesus suffered, we can all sing this together. His love endures forever!
And the most beautiful part of all is that God raised Jesus three days later, making these words not only joyfully historic and tragically ironic but also triumphantly prophetic! Jesus was once again restored to full glory and fellowship with the Father. The Stone which the builders rejected had become the Cornerstone at last. Hallelujah! I hope this psalm encourages your soul today, Sunday, and all year long.
In Christian churches, ministries, and circles, serving in 103 capacities at the same time seems to be in vogue. We all know the person who can teach Sunday school, play in the worship band, help in the youth group, organize outreaches, volunteer to lead Vacation Bible School, decorate the children’s wing, and curate the church website all at the same time. And it’s not that there’s anything wrong with serving, or even serving in multiple capacities. But when we find ourselves in that position, it’s a great opportunity to pause and reflect on a very familiar story—the story of Mary and Martha.
We saw last week that Mary gave her most precious treasure to Jesus, worshipfully and unreservedly. But I believe she was able to serve him in such a beautiful way because she had first refrained from serving and instead simply sat and listened. I’ll show you what I mean.
See, when Mary broke her alabaster jar of perfume and spent it all on Jesus, the disciples accused her of being wasteful of money. They thought the perfume should have been sold to help the poor. They may also have considered her careless about her future since the expensive perfume was probably the only savings plan she had. But Jesus commended her action, knowing Mary’s heart of worship behind it. So how did she develop a heart so full of worship and thankfulness that she was willing to pour out the security of her future all at once, reserving nothing for a fallback plan? I have a feeling that the answer lies in a previous story.
Our first encounter with Mary is when Jesus attends a supper at Martha’s house. While Martha was distracted with all the preparations for the meal, Mary simply sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to his teachings. Martha was so annoyed at Mary’s absence in the kitchen that she actually approached Jesus and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me” (Luke 10:40). To Martha, Mary was being wasteful not of resources but of time. But once again, Jesus defends Mary’s choice, replying, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41-42).
Now, to be quite honest, I tend to be on Martha’s side here. I’m a firstborn and a Type A personality through and through. I don’t relax until all the tasks are scratched off my list. If there’s work to do, I’m going to be doing it, and I’m going to be eyeballing you if you’re not helping. That’s why I thought this interaction was rather hard on Martha—after all, someone has to cook at a dinner party, right? It’s not like they could send Lazarus to pick up a Hot n’ Ready.
But then I remembered that, for once in history, it’s not necessarily true that someone had to cook in order for them to eat. I mean, their dinner guest was Jesus! The wine-maker! The bread-breaker! The fish-multiplier! If both women had wanted to sit at his feet and listen, I’m sure Jesus could have provided some miracle food. Or maybe Martha could have kept the meal prep a little simpler. Either way.
But really, it wasn’t about the cooking or the sitting, was it? It was about the hearts that motivated their choices. Martha chose what seemed most important to her, and so did Mary. The difference was that one of the choices was good and the other was better. Cooking is fine, but I can see Martha chopping the onions with resentment and vigor, building anger toward Mary as she worked. Soon she became so annoyed that she actually accused Jesus of being uncaring and commanded him to make her sister help!
So cooking is good, but listening is better. While Martha is stewing (literally and figuratively), Mary is sitting at the feet of Jesus, listening. We don’t hear much from Mary in this story. In fact, we don’t hear much from Mary at all. In all three stories that involve these sisters, Martha has plenty of lines whereas Mary has only one. But here, Mary doesn’t say a word to defend herself. Instead, Jesus defends her, showing us that serving him is good, but sometimes waiting is better.
The truth is, God-honoring service stems from God-honoring worship. God is all-sufficient and has no need of us. In Psalm 50:12, he puts things in perspective: “If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world and its fullness are mine.” He doesn’t need our service or worship, but we were created to need both. The end of that Psalm states it clearly: “Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving… Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me” (v 14-15). We are called to give him sacrifice and glory not for his benefit but for our own.
Jesus didn’t need the sisters’ service; he wanted their hearts. That’s why, in this instance, sitting was better than serving. My dad was talking recently about the upside-down nature of “God’s economy.” God doesn’t always value or spend in ways that make sense to us. If it were up to us, we would keep the gifted, passionate, godly people on the front lines of ministry where they can impact many people and be used to the full. But God often chooses to move these people from the front lines back to the reserves for a season, limiting their impact and letting them simply sit at his feet again. In his book The Normal Christian Life, Watchman Nee captures this truth perfectly. “We like to be always ‘on the go’: the Lord would sometimes prefer to have us in prison. We think in terms of apostolic journeys: God dares to put his greatest ambassadors in chains” (293).
So while Martha found Mary’s choice to be a waste of time, Jesus disagreed. In God’s economy, Mary had chosen the most valuable way to serve him that day—not by doing but by listening. That fueled a love for him resulting in beautiful service to him, and even that service was done at his feet. In fact, all three times we see Mary with Jesus, that’s where we find her. After her brother Lazarus died, Mary threw herself at the feet of Jesus in humble grief. Then Jesus turned her sorrow to joy by bringing Lazarus back to life! This miracle took place shortly before Mary anointed Jesus with her valuable ointment, showing that time spent in humble worship of God results in genuine service for God.
Whether learning, grieving, or serving, Mary was always at Jesus’ feet. It may seem like she didn’t do much, but her choices pleased Jesus. For all the Marthas and Marys out there, let’s be reminded of this precious truth: “The service of the Lord is not to be measured by tangible results. No, my friends, the Lord’s first concern is with our position at his feet and our anointing of his head. …Often enough the giving to him will be in tireless service, but he reserves to himself the right to suspend the service for a time, in order to discover to us whether it is that, or himself, that holds us” (283). Source: Nee, Watchman. The Normal Christian Life. Carol Stream: Tyndale House, 1997.
Lazy, impulsive, short-sighted, wasteful. These are just a few ways she could have been described by those who knew her. She waited when she should have been acting and acted when she should have been waiting. She didn’t seem to know her role. And yet there was One who not only defended her but commended her. What did Jesus see in Mary that others could not?
I was reading in Matthew 26 recently, and it struck me how Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, seemed to understand Jesus even better than his disciples did, grasping not only his teachings but also his heart. We see her only a few times in the gospels, and yet she leaves a great impact. At times, her actions seem to aggravate everyone but Jesus. In fact, if King David was a man after God’s own heart, maybe Mary was a woman after His heart. That’s why I wanted to spend some time studying her life to see how I could grow a heart like that.
The first story I wanted to look at is a familiar one, and it shows up in Matthew 26, Mark 14, and John 12. Jesus is reclining at dinner one night shortly before his last Passover when Mary comes in and breaks an alabaster vial of perfume over Jesus, anointing his head and feet with it. The disciples are indignant at her actions. What a waste! The vial and the perfume amounted to just about a year’s wages. What was she thinking, breaking the whole thing open just to pour it all on Jesus? If she really wanted to be helpful and please Jesus, they said, she should have sold the perfume and given the money to the poor.
But Jesus defends her. In fact, he declares that “wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her” (Matt 26:13). What?? To my knowledge, Jesus didn’t say anything like that in all the rest of the gospels. What was so great about Mary’s gift? That question is best answered by Watchman Nee, an author and Christian who spent his life for the Church in China. The conclusion of his fabulous book The Normal Christian Life examines the significance of Mary’s sacrifice.
The main complaint that the disciples had against Mary’s offering was, ostensibly, that she had squandered money that would have been better spent elsewhere. In other words, she wasted it. “What is waste?” Nee asks. “Waste means, among other things, giving more than is necessary….Waste means that you give something too much for something too little” (277). In their eyes, Mary had given too much—all of her savings—for something too little—a token of appreciation for Jesus.
Judas was the spokesman for the group’s disapproval, but everyone was thinking it: Mary was being foolish with her resources. After all, there were plenty of ways she could have used her savings—she could have kept it, sold it, or used only part of it. But she chose the most wasteful option and broke the whole thing open, lavishly anointing her Lord. What a waste. In the eyes of the disciples, “everything ought to be used to the full in ways they understand,” and Mary’s actions made no sense (281).
Their anger at her gift made me stop and think. They obviously valued Jesus differently than Mary did. The disciples were being practical, and Judas was being selfish. (John tells us that Judas wanted her to sell the ointment and put the money in the group treasury so he could help himself to it.) But Mary wasn’t thinking about money at all; she was thinking about how much she loved Jesus. For one thing, Jesus had recently raised her brother Lazarus from the dead. While it’s true that “he who has been forgiven much loves much,” for Mary, she who has been blessed much loves much, too. What gift could she give that would even begin to express her gratefulness?
That’s why Mary didn’t care about making the wisest possible investment with her savings. She didn’t even give some and save the rest. She gave it all, irrevocably breaking it for Jesus. So what motivated a gift so reckless and valuable? An understanding of how valuable Jesus is. “But when he is really precious to our souls,” says Nee, “nothing will be too good, nothing too costly for him; everything we have, our dearest, our most priceless treasure, we shall pour out upon him, and we shall not count it a shame to have done so” (288).
This story is beautiful, and there are many applications and takeaways, but what’s the big deal about her gift? I’m sure Jesus had received other presents during his life. The wise men gave gifts even more precious than perfume, but God didn’t declare that gold, frankincense, and myrrh be discussed every time the gospel is preached. So why does Jesus want this story to be told alongside the gospel? “Because he intends that the preaching of the Gospel should issue something along the very lines of the action of Mary here, namely, that people should come to him and waste themselves on him. That is the result he is seeking” (277).
Mary understood something about Jesus that the others did not: she understood his words and his worth. He had told them all several times that he would soon be killed, but the disciples didn’t get it. Only Mary seemed to comprehend that he meant it literally, and so she anointed him beforehand for his burial. Usually bodies were anointed after death, but Mary lavished the oil on him while he was still with them. Watchman Nee points out the beauty of her timing. When the women went to his tomb in order to anoint him three days after his death, they were too late; he had risen! Mary was the only one to anoint him because she understood his words.
And the cost of her gift and the unreserved nature of the offering showed that she also understood his worth. Nothing was too costly or too dear for him. He had given her brother second life and had given her new life. He was the Resurrection and the Life! He was worthy of all she could give him. This is something the disciples wouldn’t learn until later.
And so her offering is held up as a demonstration of the goal of the gospel: that we would see his worth and delight to spend our lives on him as he delighted to give his life for us. I said earlier that Mary gave her offering to the Lord partly out of thankfulness for her brother’s healing. While I’m sure that’s true, I think there’s an even deeper foundation to her worship. Her motivation is critical, but neither of us has time to get into it today, am I right? So we’ll talk more about Mary next week! See you then!
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Source: Nee, Watchman. The Normal Christian Life. Carol Stream: Tyndale House, 1997.
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