If I ask you to imagine the middle child of the Brady Bunch—Jan—shaking her head and lamenting “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” can you picture her knitted forehead, clenched fists, and narrow shoulders shuddering with a sigh as she sputters out her older sister’s name? (If not, please indulge me with a quick Google search.)

Somehow that exact tone of frustration and dismay superimposed itself on my interpretation of the Mary and Martha story in the Gospel of Luke. Anytime I read about Jesus questioning Martha’s choice to prepare food instead of sit in his company, it’s in the voice of Jan Brady.

Martha, Martha, Martha!

Maybe it’s the blending of these unrelated stories that causes my aversion to the tale (Jan’s tone isn’t pleasant coming from a 10-year-old girl; it’s absolutely cringeworthy coming from an adult man—Jesus, no less). But there’s more to my distaste than voice. From Cain and Abel to Queen Elizabeth I and Bloody Mary, stories in which siblings are compared and then pitted against each other rankle me, no matter the circumstance. That includes this circumstance, the one in which Jesus is the comparing culprit.