Mothering Sunday Reflection

Collect for Mothering Sunday

God of compassion,

whose Son Jesus Christ, the child of Mary,

shared the life of a home in Nazareth,

and on the cross drew the whole human family to himself:

strengthen us in our daily living

that in joy and in sorrow

we may know the power of your presence to bind together and to heal;

through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,

who is alive and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

The Fourth Sunday in Lent is Mothering Sunday. It is Refreshment Sunday, the only Sunday in Lent on which marriages may be contracted. It is Simnel Sunday and simnel cakes, commemorating the apostles through the medium of marzipan, are eaten. It is Clipping Sunday in some places, and you may dance in a ring round your church holding hands and singing hymns. It is Laetare Sunday, one of two of the Church’s year on which pink vestments may be worn. It is Mothering Sunday, when children in service would be given the day off and walk back to their villages and their mother churches, picking primroses and daffodils as they went, to give to their mothers. It is all these things, but what it isn’t is Mothers’ Day.

You may get spammed by the Internet as we approach the second Sunday in May. This is the modern holiday of Mother’s Day in the USA, which was first celebrated in 1908, when Anna Jarvis held a memorial service for her mother in West Virginia. Her mother Ann Jarvis had been a peace activist who cared for wounded soldiers on both sides of the American Civil War.

The Anglican Church has always had an on-off relationship with the Virgin Mary, but in that case it has much to do with shifting tides in the Reformation, and especially the views of Elizabeth I. There are, however, Anglican pilgrimage sites in England, notably the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham in Norfolk.

The Magnificat isn’t just subversive in its tone. When the evangelical Anglican missionary Henry Martyn went out to Calcutta as chaplain to the East India Company in 1805, he was appalled to discover that the British authorities had banned the recitation of the Magnificat at Evensong. Magnificat was also banned in Argentina after the Mothers of the Disappeared used it to call for nonviolent resistance to the ruling military junta in mid-1970s, and during the 1980s the government of Guatemala banned its public recitation.

It’s Mothering Sunday, the fourth Sunday in Lent. I recognise that for many people Mothering Sunday can be an extremely painful day as we are reminded of mums and wives we’ve loved and lost. I pray that God’s comfort and peace will be upon you and be especially close to you today.

Mothering Sunday began in the 1600’s when Christianity was the fastest growing faith in Europe. It was a day when servants, apprentices, farm labourers, girls in service and those who lived in the houses of their employers, were given a special day off to return home to their ‘mother church’. They believed the spiritual connection from doing this would sustain their faith for the year to come.

An interesting and popular ceremony called ‘church clipping’ took place on Mothering Sunday when people would express their love for their ‘mother’ church by forming a circle and walking round the building holding hands and then tightly gripping the church building or pews as an expression of coming home.

Mothering Sunday always falls on the fourth Sunday of Lent. It was deliberately introduced in the middle of the Lent so that families could have a break from their Lenten fast and share a celebratory meal with those returning home.

During the early part of the 20^th Century, as English culture began to be influenced by American culture, we took on their traditional Mother’s Day celebration and, following the Second World War, blended Mothering Sunday with the Mother’s Day celebration when people began honouring their mothers instead of the church – although it still continues to be celebrated on the fourth Sunday of Lent.

To my mind the ‘Mother’s Day’ tag is rather limiting, because we’re encouraged to shower one person with cards, flowers and gifts. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, but the church’s preference for ‘Mothering Sunday’ implies a far more inclusive approach, allowing for the possibility that mothering may be, and frequently is, more than simply a biological relationship.

Mothering, in a loving, caring, nurturing sense is something all Christians should be doing, as we encourage new disciples. But how effective are we as the church nurturing and equipping others? Are we undertaking this task to the best of our ability? What about the next generation? How best might we be able to strengthen them in their journey of faith?

If we look to the Christian tradition, we have several models of ‘mother’ to take as examples of how we might approach the demanding, complicated practise of mothering, or nurturing. The most obvious is the model of the Virgin Mary and her example of motherly perfection.

The American poet Kathleen Norris says that she treasures Mary as a biblical interpreter, one who heard and believed what God told her, and who pondered God’s promise in her heart. This is hardly passivity, but the kind of faith that sustains Christian discipleship.

This Mothering Sunday the Old Testament reading from Exodus 2:1-10, which talks about the story of Moses and his early years which allows us to see a mother at work. At the time of his birth there was a law that all male children should be cast into the river Nile. He was born into an unfriendly world and to a powerful nation. But he was of a foreign oppressed race during a time when all babies were under a royal death sentence. There was, however, something in his favour. He was the child of believing parents.

In addition, we read that he was a fine baby. Fanciful Jewish legend say that at his birth his face was so beautiful that the room was filled with light equal to the sun and moon combined. The legend continues that he walked and talked when he was a day old and that he was eating solid food from birth. Regardless of what the legend may say, his parents obviously recognised the baby as special. His mother cared for him for three months but by then it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide his presence from the authorities.

We now read of how he was cast adrift in a basket in the river. This was done out of faith in God. They were not afraid of the king’s command. In one way the child’s parents were doing exactly what the Pharaoh said, they put him in the river, but here in a waterproof basket. Here is a great example of trusting the child’s welfare and future to God alone. It is very reminiscent of how Noah trusted in God and was cast on the waters of the flood. But here the mother was giving something precious, her child, and trusting that God would take care of the child and, perhaps, give it back to her. And so, the story goes on with the child being found and given back to his mother to nurse him.

In this story of Moses, we see how God had all this beautifully planned. Planned for the deliverance of Moses and eventually for the people of Israel too. God skilfully guided the parents of Moses, the currents of the Nile, and the heart of Pharaoh’s daughter to further His plan and purpose.

Today we see something similar happening. Almost daily, in the news, we hear or read of migrants crossing the English Channel, in the face of great danger and to an uncertain future. Some are whole families attempting to flee the difficulties, dangers and upheavals taking place in their homelands. But many are youngsters, youths, and young men. Back in the land from where they are fleeing, desperately seeking a better future, hoping to raise money to send back home, I am sure that there are family members sadly waving goodbye to their child. A mother, who has struggled to bring up a child and who now has to wave them off to uncertainty. What will become of their offspring? Will they survive the journey? Will they be accepted or rejected, passed on to another country?

For many, these stories of uncertainty and worry will not be the case. Our homes are stable, full of warmth and stability. Our home is managed by a caring and loving mother. Someone who looks after us as we go through life, tending our bumps and grazes, patching up all sorts of wounds, both physical and mental. The role of the mother figure does not change through history or by location.

In the case of Moses history tells us how the future panned out. It was in these early years that Moses learnt of the ‘God of the fathers’. He realised that the Hebrews were his fellow countrymen.

And so, in the story of Moses, and in the story that the migrants could tell, we can uncover the role of the mother, what motherhood means. In so doing we can give grateful thanks to God. So, on this very Mothering Sunday, as we think of all those who are parents and all who care for children in our local community and beyond. Let us reclaim Mary and be inspired by her as a strong faithful woman.

Let us find new ways to live as brothers and sisters, and let us hear and believe what God is telling us in these difficult times.