Mothering Sunday
Memory Makers. For a script on Exodus 2.1-10 and Luke 2.33-35 click here.
A Different kind of Birthing.
Colossians 3.12-17; John 19.25b-27
To birth
I really don’t look much like my mum. “Fortunate lady,” you’re saying to yourselves. But I was given an old yellowed newspaper clipping from the early 1930s and there staring at me from the mid-column grainy photograph was - myself.
A really disarming experience. No, I don’t look much like my mum but I’m the spitting image of her granddad. Which is even more troubling in that I was always told as a child that my great-grandfather had a long bushy tail! Excepting the tail (well so far) there is a very marked family resemblance between granddad Albert’s father and me. This reassures me that my granddad wasn’t wholly telling the truth when he told me I was found under a gooseberry bush.
Family resemblance signals very clearly for some of us to whom we were born. It signals very clearly where we
stand. Though, of course, there are many other things that do the same - tell us our identity, signal our belonging, mark our relationships. That’s one of the things that Mothering Sunday is about.
Just how Mothering Sunday came about is lost in the sands of time, although I think it most likely that originally it was more about Mother Church that birth mothers - hence our Gospel reading which is about a birthing but another kind of
birthing.
Jesus once said, “When a woman is in labour, she has pain because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world.” The long months of pregnancy are over, the pain of birth is over, a new life has begun. This is what is happening at the cross, says St John, the long months of Christ’s ministry is over, the horrible pain of his dying is over, and what is being born is the Church - a new community, a new family is born at the foot of the cross - those who are born, as Jesus said,“not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.” God’s ultimate love brings the Church to birth.
Mother Mary only mentioned twice in John’s Gospel - 1st at the village of Cana - “My hour has not yet come” and then at the cross - this is the hour, it is finished, the hour of travail and also of new creation. Mary loses her son according to the flesh, Mary gains a new family born of the passion.
Standing at the cross we discover a new family resemblance. We are brought to birth as the Church and that radically alters our relationships one with another. Family is much wider, much more inclusive than we had thought. Something to hear anew with particular impact in time of war.
To bear
A young woman was sure her boyfriend would make a great husbnd, especially after she met his parents. "They're so nice to each other," she remarked. "It's great how your dad takes your mum tea in bed every morning."
Eventually, they got married. As they were heading for their honeymoon, the new bride spoke of the loving home
they would have, and mentioned once again her new father-in-law's habit of taking his wife tea in bed each morning. she jokingly asked, "And does this trait run in the family?"
"It certainly does," her husband answered, "I take after my mum."
In reality, however, we all know that Mother at it’s best isn’t calculating, isn’t manipulative, doesn’t demand,
doesn’t make you earn it, isn’t exacting for the one who receives it. Mother love and all the other loves that find their origin in it, simply bears with the ones it loves. Mother love is bearing love, - a love that bears with - always. These women taking their stand at the foot of the cross were those who had been with Jesus from the beginning - they
were the one who bore with him, stayed with him through thick and thin. St Paul tells us in this new family called the Church we must bear with each other. Mary is the mother of the church, the mother of those who bear with each
other.
To Birth, To Bear, To Be
How did you get to be as you are? Let’s not worry for the moment about what you don’t like about yourself - let’s focus on the good. St Paul calls the new community the beloved, it is to the beloved disciple that Jesus commends his mother. The disciple stands for the whole company of those who are with Jesus in his passion, at his cross.
Where will we take our stand? At the cross, there we are brought to birth as a new community and as new people.
At this point I did think about bring my bike from home and riding it up the aisle. You see riding a bicycle, or any other of those tactic, physical things that once you’ve learnt you never forget is a good image for this birthing that starts at the foot of the cross. If you can ride a bike you don’t have to go through a great procedure of thought to actually do it. You
don’t have to say to yourself “Now which order do I do this in? I must balance myself. I must move my leg muscles. I must move my arms muscles. I must move my head and neck muscles. I must keep my eyes open. I must aim not to hit anything. I must steer straight. No you don’t rationally think through any of those things. You don’t have to calculate it all. You just do it - as if the immensely complicated system of actions are a natural part of you.
That’s what coming to birth at the foot of the cross does. The things of Christ become a natural part of us - forgiveness, compassion, kindness, thankfulness, part of us because we’ve been loved into that way of being. We’re beloved. The Church mothers us into life- like any good mother.
The great psychologist Carl Jung wrote somewhere, 'As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.
Let us stand near the cross with Mary and her friends, know ourselves to be the beloved, bear with each other in
love, and bring to birth a new community of hope.
Let’s kindle the light.
NB the record of the sources of some of the ideas in this script has been lost. Information that would enable proper acknowledgement to be made would be welcome at 'theosoc' msn.com - inserting the usual symbol as required.
A Different kind of Birthing.
Colossians 3.12-17; John 19.25b-27
To birth
I really don’t look much like my mum. “Fortunate lady,” you’re saying to yourselves. But I was given an old yellowed newspaper clipping from the early 1930s and there staring at me from the mid-column grainy photograph was - myself.
A really disarming experience. No, I don’t look much like my mum but I’m the spitting image of her granddad. Which is even more troubling in that I was always told as a child that my great-grandfather had a long bushy tail! Excepting the tail (well so far) there is a very marked family resemblance between granddad Albert’s father and me. This reassures me that my granddad wasn’t wholly telling the truth when he told me I was found under a gooseberry bush.
Family resemblance signals very clearly for some of us to whom we were born. It signals very clearly where we
stand. Though, of course, there are many other things that do the same - tell us our identity, signal our belonging, mark our relationships. That’s one of the things that Mothering Sunday is about.
Just how Mothering Sunday came about is lost in the sands of time, although I think it most likely that originally it was more about Mother Church that birth mothers - hence our Gospel reading which is about a birthing but another kind of
birthing.
Jesus once said, “When a woman is in labour, she has pain because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world.” The long months of pregnancy are over, the pain of birth is over, a new life has begun. This is what is happening at the cross, says St John, the long months of Christ’s ministry is over, the horrible pain of his dying is over, and what is being born is the Church - a new community, a new family is born at the foot of the cross - those who are born, as Jesus said,“not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.” God’s ultimate love brings the Church to birth.
Mother Mary only mentioned twice in John’s Gospel - 1st at the village of Cana - “My hour has not yet come” and then at the cross - this is the hour, it is finished, the hour of travail and also of new creation. Mary loses her son according to the flesh, Mary gains a new family born of the passion.
Standing at the cross we discover a new family resemblance. We are brought to birth as the Church and that radically alters our relationships one with another. Family is much wider, much more inclusive than we had thought. Something to hear anew with particular impact in time of war.
To bear
A young woman was sure her boyfriend would make a great husbnd, especially after she met his parents. "They're so nice to each other," she remarked. "It's great how your dad takes your mum tea in bed every morning."
Eventually, they got married. As they were heading for their honeymoon, the new bride spoke of the loving home
they would have, and mentioned once again her new father-in-law's habit of taking his wife tea in bed each morning. she jokingly asked, "And does this trait run in the family?"
"It certainly does," her husband answered, "I take after my mum."
In reality, however, we all know that Mother at it’s best isn’t calculating, isn’t manipulative, doesn’t demand,
doesn’t make you earn it, isn’t exacting for the one who receives it. Mother love and all the other loves that find their origin in it, simply bears with the ones it loves. Mother love is bearing love, - a love that bears with - always. These women taking their stand at the foot of the cross were those who had been with Jesus from the beginning - they
were the one who bore with him, stayed with him through thick and thin. St Paul tells us in this new family called the Church we must bear with each other. Mary is the mother of the church, the mother of those who bear with each
other.
To Birth, To Bear, To Be
How did you get to be as you are? Let’s not worry for the moment about what you don’t like about yourself - let’s focus on the good. St Paul calls the new community the beloved, it is to the beloved disciple that Jesus commends his mother. The disciple stands for the whole company of those who are with Jesus in his passion, at his cross.
Where will we take our stand? At the cross, there we are brought to birth as a new community and as new people.
At this point I did think about bring my bike from home and riding it up the aisle. You see riding a bicycle, or any other of those tactic, physical things that once you’ve learnt you never forget is a good image for this birthing that starts at the foot of the cross. If you can ride a bike you don’t have to go through a great procedure of thought to actually do it. You
don’t have to say to yourself “Now which order do I do this in? I must balance myself. I must move my leg muscles. I must move my arms muscles. I must move my head and neck muscles. I must keep my eyes open. I must aim not to hit anything. I must steer straight. No you don’t rationally think through any of those things. You don’t have to calculate it all. You just do it - as if the immensely complicated system of actions are a natural part of you.
That’s what coming to birth at the foot of the cross does. The things of Christ become a natural part of us - forgiveness, compassion, kindness, thankfulness, part of us because we’ve been loved into that way of being. We’re beloved. The Church mothers us into life- like any good mother.
The great psychologist Carl Jung wrote somewhere, 'As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.
Let us stand near the cross with Mary and her friends, know ourselves to be the beloved, bear with each other in
love, and bring to birth a new community of hope.
Let’s kindle the light.
NB the record of the sources of some of the ideas in this script has been lost. Information that would enable proper acknowledgement to be made would be welcome at 'theosoc' msn.com - inserting the usual symbol as required.
