The Way of Martha and the Way of Mary — A Reader’s Guide

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In Category - Theology

Authors: Graham, Stephen, 1884-1975 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2021 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Russia -- Religion; National characteristics, Russian Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 74,447

Reading time 324 min

Text sections 14

The Way of Martha and the Way of Mary — A Reader’s Guide can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 74,447 words, 5 hr 24 min estimated reading time, and 14 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 20.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Russia -- Religion,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #65157

Stephen Graham contrasts Eastern and Western Christianity through the biblical figures Martha and Mary, using Russian religion, culture, and a parable of two hermits to explore tensions between action and contemplation, sin and grace.

Editorial Edition Score 4.8/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

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Edition quality

File: pg65157

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convert offered us all nuts. She was very engaging. She took out a long bottle, put it to her lips and drank from it. She told me it was cold tea with sugar at the bottom of the bottle, but to the Pole announced that it was vodka.

He was fool enough to believe her, and at once cast about in his mind some means of doing her an ill turn. He came over and made love to her in excited whispers, and was so rude and urgent that at last the girl refused to have anything more to do with him, and turned sullen and angry. He for his part sneaked off to another compartment, and we saw no more of him. After a while the girl relaxed and smiled, took out a large but cracked hand-mirror, looked at her pretty face, and patted the curls to her temples. I got a kettleful of boiling water and made tea for the grizzly peasant and her and myself. Then the peasant climbed on to the shelf above and spread out his big overcoat and slept on it, and the little girl, after explaining that she was going to live with Poles in Kharkof, and that her father played the violin and she the mandoline, and that she was going to take a part in a “troop” and earn her living, undid her black locks, put down a quilt and a pillow, and curled herself up and slept. The conductor came round and searched under the seats for “hares,” the flickering candle burned low, and I was about to turn in and sleep when the Russian student, who had been trying to read a newspaper by the aid of a dip of his own, finally gave up the task and set himself to talk to me.

“How far are you going? Where from? What for? How long have you been away from Russia? What interest can Russia have for you? I should have thought the West more interesting....” and so on, the usual flood of questions.

Then my questions. “Has much happened in Russia during the year? What are people talking about? What are they doing? What is in the air?”

“Oh,” said he, “the Futurists are walking about with gilded noses and dyed faces. The Jew-haters of the Black Hundred want to raise a temple in memory of the Christian boy Yushinsky. Everyone has been discussing a play of Artsibashef called _Jealousy_. Literary Russia has been giving a welcome to the Belgian poet Verhaeren, such as you in England have been giving Anatole France. Every one is either hearing or giving lectures about Verhaeren. But I suppose most clamour of all has been raised about Gorky and Dostoieffsky and the Theatre of Art at Moscow. They propose to perform Dostoieffsky’s _Demons_ at the Theatre of Art, and Gorky has raised a great protest. He holds that Dostoieffsky is so reactionary in tendency that he ought not to be played at the great democratic theatre. Not only that, but he holds that Tolstoy, and indeed all Russian literature, is on the wrong side in the struggle for the liberation of the people. He is almost ready to say, ‘Burn the works of Tolstoy and Dostoieffsky; burn them, and let us be free!’”

“How does Russia take it?” I asked. “It is indeed true that Dostoieffsky’s work is not on the side of progress and freedom. He believed in suffering; he believed in the Russian Church, and was a Christian.”

“Russia is mostly against Gorky,” said the student. “Merezhkovsky, for instance, has written a brilliant article against him in the _Russian Word_, and he says, ‘Yes, Gorky is keenly sensitive, but in Italy or Greece, where he lives,[1] he is too far away to feel what Russia is now. Russia has changed much in the last eight years. Her wounds have healed up, many of them; she has the great hope of the convalescent. If Gorky breathed Russian air he would understand that there was now in Russia a strong religious movement.’”

“And what do you think?” I asked. “Do you possibly agree with Gorky?”

“No. I don’t think it is right to steal an instrument from the other side’s box of tricks. The Censorship is one of their weapons, not one of ours. The people have loved Dostoieffsky more than they have loved any other Russian author; he is still beloved. We Russians are a religious and loving people. We will never sacrifice humanity for ideas....”

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Stephen Graham opens his 1915 study by framing the biblical sisters Martha and Mary as touchstones for two Christian temperaments: the Western way of service and the Eastern way of contemplation. Writing from Russia and Egypt during 1914–1915, he aims to show how a nation’s religion reveals its essential unity. The preface declares that Russia’s beauty springs from a particular Christian idea, and Graham sets out to contrast this with Western materialism. The book, originally conceived as a “sanctuary” for readers, becomes a quest for the Russian idea through the lens of its Christianity.

The Parable of the Two Hermits

Graham includes a striking story from the Russian philosopher Solovyof about two Egyptian hermits who, after years of asceticism, succumb to temptation and journey to Alexandria. One hermit perceives their time there as a debauch with drunkards and sinners; the other interprets the same events as a pious visit to the patriarchate, complete with holy kisses and church services. The repentant hermit howls and beats his head on a rock, while the joyful one sings psalms. This parable encapsulates a central tension in the book: the same actions can be read as sin or sanctity depending on one’s inner disposition. Graham does not resolve which hermit is correct, leaving the reader to ponder the nature of perception and grace.

Martha, Mary, and National Character

Graham explicitly links the Martha-Mary dichotomy to national identities: “Speaking roughly, Eastern Christianity is associated with Mary’s good part and Western Christianity with the way of Martha and service.” He argues that a nation’s religion defines its unity, citing a “British idea,” an “American idea,” and a “Russian idea.” The preface suggests that these ways are not irreconcilable, and that their reconciliation holds “a great beauty.” However, the excerpts do not show how Graham develops this reconciliation. The reader is left to track how he applies the sisters’ contrast to Russian culture, art, and daily life, and whether he ultimately favors one path or seeks a synthesis.

The Sanctuary Book as a Form

Graham reveals that he originally intended to write “the sanctuary book”—a volume that would itself be a sacred refuge for the reader. This ambition shapes the work’s tone and structure. The preface describes the book as “one of seeking and finding, a making of discoveries,” suggesting an exploratory rather than dogmatic approach. The inclusion of the hermit parable, with its unresolved ambiguity, fits this design: the book offers material for reflection rather than a fixed thesis. Readers should approach the text as a personal quest, noting how Graham’s own journey through Russia and Egypt informs his observations, and how the sanctuary ideal competes with the analytical task of comparing two Christian traditions.

Graham’s book resists easy categorization: it is part travelogue, part theological meditation, and part cultural analysis. The hermit parable, with its dual interpretations, serves as a key to reading the whole—every episode may be seen from Martha’s or Mary’s perspective. Readers attentive to the recurring contrast between outward action and inward vision will find the work’s coherence. The preface’s claim that the two ways are reconcilable invites scrutiny of how Graham handles that reconciliation in the chapters that follow.

I keep coming back to The Way of Martha and the Way of Mary, that odd, lovely tension between getting things done and simply sitting still. It reminds me, somehow, of an old, patient friend I found in The Expositor's Bible: The Gospel According to St. Mark — A Reader’s Guide—both whisper that grace often arrives quietly, between the busy moments we thought mattered most.