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Lesson: Acts 8:26-40
Psalm 22:24-30
Epistle: 1 John 4:7-21
Holy Gospel: John 15:1-8
Happy Mother’s Day! These days, it seems that Mother’s Day is an invention of the greeting card industry and florists. At least, that is how some of us have felt. Actually, Mother’s Day has its roots in the English Church’s (Anglicans) celebration of Mothering Sunday, beginning in the 17th century. First a celebration honoring Mary, the mother of Jesus, and it was extended to all mothers.
Shortly after the Civil War (known locally as the War of Northern Aggression, or the Late Unpleasantness), Julia Ward Howe, horrified by the carnage of the war, mounted a one woman peace crusade appealing to “womanhood.” She promoted in Congress, a “Mother’s Day for Peace,” to be celebrated on June 2nd. The intent was to unite women against war. In Boston, it was observed for ten years.
Julia Howe received her influence from Anne Marie Jeeves Jarvis, an Appalachian woman who began a campaign in 1858 to improve sanitation in the home – the Mother’s Friendship Club. Following the Civil War, she continued her efforts to improve the health of families.
After her long illness and death, Anne Marie’s daughter, Anna Jarvis, took up the torch and lobbied for a Mother’s Day to celebrate all mothers, living and dead. She began a letter writing campaign to influence clergy, politicians and business men. Two local celebrations were forthcoming – one in Philadelphia and the other in Grafton, West Virginia, on May 10, 1898. Eventually, Anna Jarvis’ dream came true. On May 9, 1914, a presidential proclamation declared the second Sunday of May to be observed as Mother’s Day to honor all mothers.
Other than not having much to say and always wishing to learn something new, one could wonder why a preacher might start with a history. The congregation will just have to wait and find out. Now we turn to more recent history.
Last week, here at St. James’, we were graced to hear from two graduating seniors, Mary Canavan and Hannah Valles. They told stories of life-changing events in their lives, made possible only by your generous financial support of St. James’. Mary had the once-in-a-lifetime experience of living in the Christian community of Taizé in France. For her, it was a formative experience of learning, worshipping and hanging out with other young people from all over the planet. Hannah spoke of growing up in this community and experiencing the real and present love of Christ through this community after her mother’s death. Hannah was only twelve at the time. Twelve year old girls have some special needs, and the women of the Church stepped up and became the mother she needed.
We have all of these events in common. All three stories – the beginning of Mother’s Day, the journey to Taizé, and the mothering of Hannah – have one thing in common. The events are outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace – they are all sacramental, signs of God’s love, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, a unity with the incarnate Christ. These were not only signs of their own inward and spiritual grace. The events are signs of the grace, God’s unmerited favor, that lives in the communities of grace. St. James’ is a community of Grace. Our families are communities of grace. That grace, God’s love, comes through the mothers and fathers to the children, then to their children’s children, and so on, for generation after generation.
Mothers have the most visible role as the instrument of grace in the family. Mothering is hard work. Mothers get stuck with drudgery tasks. Loving the family means just getting the job done. Love is an action, what we do and not how we feel about it.
Drop Sally at school, stop by the cleaners, drop John at school, visit three stores looking for the new outfit for John to wear to a school party tomorrow (he outgrew everything last week). Then stop by the grocery store for tonight’s dinner and dog food, go by the office to take care of the part-time job, check e-mail, call for doctor’s appointments. Yikes, it’s 2:15 p.m., no lunch yet, late to pick up John, Drop John somewhere today, pick up Sally at 3:00, then to dance. Get John from wherever he is going, husband calls; he will be late and must leave early tomorrow to fly to Houston for three days. Go back to pick up John, then back to pick up Sally. Home by 4:00 to get supper ready, put the clothes in the washing machine, check e-mail. Kids are hungry, feed them; husband will get supper cold. Assist with homework, feed husband, put clothes in dryer. Put kids in bed; “Yes, you have to take a bath!” “No, you can’t have Mary spend the night tomorrow.” Somehow the day is done, sleep at last and it is 11:00 p.m. And that is love. Washing socks, tending to children, fixing meals, and sometimes with a smile and sometimes not. All outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace, free unmerited care for the family. And no one notices. Maybe once in a while they notice.
Mothering is a means for God to love the world, like it or not. If we do not love, God’s love becomes just a potential and never becomes a reality. Love is the steadfast caring, no matter what – sometimes it is soft, sometimes it is tough. Love does not expect a reward.
In the musical, “Fiddler on the Roof,” Teyve and Golda, Jewish peasants in Tsarist Russia, struggle to deal with a hard and changing world. Their marriage was arranged. Their daughter is going to marry a soldier for love. For Tevye and Golda, the notion of love is a strange idea. From their situation, this scene emerges…
Tevye: Do you love me?
Golda: Do I what?
T: Do you love me?
G: Do I love you? With our daughters getting married, and this trouble in the town, you’re upset, you’re worn out. Go inside, go lie down! Maybe it’s indigestion.
T: Golda, I’m asking you a question…Do you love me?
G: You’re a fool.
T: I know, but do you love me?
G: Do I love you? For 25 years I’ve washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house, given you children, milked the cow. After 25 years, why talk about love right now?
T: Golda, the first time I met you was on our wedding day. I was scared.
G: I was shy.
T: I was nervous.
G: So was I.
T: But my father and my mother, said we’d learn to love each other. And now I’m asking, Golda, do you love me?
G: I’m your wife.
T: I know…but do you love me?
G: Do I love him? For 25 years I’ve lived with him, fought with him, starved with him. Twenty five years my bed is his, if that’s not love, what is?
T: Then you love me?
G: I suppose I do.
T: And I suppose I love you too.
Both: It doesn’t change a thing, but even so, after 25 years, it’s nice to know.
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Sermons and Lectionary