She Served

France was once overrun by dragons. I know this because last Tuesday heralded the feast day of Saint Martha of Bethany, dragon-tamer and patron of servants and cooks. That morning, before heading off to slay my own daily dragons, I read about her commitment to hospitality in her small home just west of Jerusalem, where she was overshadowed by her siblings' ostentacious foot-perfuming and rising from the dead. She was often chided for her diligence to the hearth rather than contemplation. While Jesus proseletyzed to the rest of the family, Martha bustled about the house, the consummate hostess.

At the after-party following the resurrection of her brother Lazarus, you know what Martha did? Did she celebrate? Did she borrow some fancy foot perfume from her sister Mary and toast to the newly undead? No. Everyone else got to party, but Martha served. (John 12:2) Is it any wonder that later in life, she ran off to evangelize France by vanquishing it of mythological beasts?

The story goes that after the Resurrection, Mary and Martha traveled to Gaul in order to spread the good word. However, the people of Provence were spreading another word, Tarasque, the name of a dragon-like beast tormenting the countryside. Martha, who apparently liked to clean up messes, thought that a dragon sounded like quite the messy way to keep house, so off she went to see the beast. Upon meeting him, she sprinkled him with holy water, explained that his behavior was not to be tolerated, and looked upon him with love. Naturally, the dragon realized the error of his ways and became docile, whereupon the Tarasque was either kept as a pet or torn apart scale from limb, depending on the tradition.

Of course, depending on the tradition, this feat was not accomplished by Martha of Bethany at all, but by a Phoenician goddess named Martis, or in other versions, a Syrian prophetess named Martha, who accompanied the Roman general Gaius Marius in his campaign against the peoples of the north. At this point in human history, most of us know that early Christians often begged, borrowed, or stole mytholigical traditions in order to assimilate entire cultures into the new patriarchy. But why take Martha, servant of God, and turn her into Martha, slayer of the Beast? Why did Christian tradition turn the perfect submissive girl into an action hero?

I wonder if Martha watches us from her place in the pantheon of saints and cries out, "Why? Why wasn't I good enough? Why has my broom been exchanged for a staff? My dust bunnies exchanged for monsters? I served, but you held out your bowl and wanted more."

In every spare moment since her feast day, I've been considering the dichotomy of Martha in Bethany and Martha in Provence. I have been relating to her story in my own identity as a submissive, dedicated wife and my invented identity as Abby Williams. I've been taking a break from blogging and filming because I have become so comfortable in my own skin that suddenly, I don't have the drive to expose myself or my internal search for meaning in my fetish because I can see myself fully, as I am, for perhaps the first time in my life. I am Martha in her humble home, serving as I serve, allowing those with fancy perfumes and attentive contemplation to shine while I do those things that make me whole in the background.

But the dragon of the blogosphere still looms. For a while, my actions were based on its existence. Martha demonstrated the power of her faith when a dragon was put before her. I demonstrated my adoration of spanking and receiving discipline when a camera and the Internet were put before me. Perhaps the story of Martha and the dragon was meant to prove just how powerful her faith was. A faith so strong that it doesn't just serve bread, it slays demons! And perhaps my exhibitionism was meant to show that I had a fetish so strong, I didn't just submit to my husband, I submitted to computer screens across the world!

But the story of Martha is no less admirable when we remember that there were no dragons in France 2000 years ago. After all, she served. And I serve. And some days I want to continue to build on the story of Abby, the trials and tribulations of her bright red backside, her battles with the twin dragons of Cane and Strap. But sometimes I just want to clean my house and bring Mr. Williams milk and pancakes in bed. There will be days when there are dragons. But on the days when I'm just reading a book and baking muffins, don't worry that I won't come back to slay your beast. I find it wonderful and sexy that you want me to slay your beast. And I will. Right after I get those dust bunnies and refill that glass of milk.