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"Mother's Day"
May 13, 2007
Mr. James Hamilton
Fourth Sunday of Easter
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Glen Ellyn
The coffee hour buzzed with activity. There had been a parish
meeting about money, a topic sure to get a few people in a tizzy.
Rose Peachy Robinson had placed herself in the midst of all
that clatter. She was so glad to be home, to be back at her
church, to see her friends. I know all this because I was, fortunately,
in town for the meeting. I know now that I was really in town
to see Rose.
St. Michael’s Episcopal, on the corner of Amsterdam and
99th Street in New York City, is comprised of many lovely people,
but Rose is one of the loveliest. A cherished member of the
parish, Rose created their exciting youth choir program, she
is always full of smiles and love. She has two boys, one nine
and one who has left the house for college, but her rapport
with the children of the Church is such that it is difficult
at times to separate her real child from one of her church kids
badgering and crowding her. It is her blunt, kind and gentle
manner that endears you to her immediately.
St. Michael’s is my sponsoring parish. I had been called
to meet with the vestry as part of the discernment process to
the priesthood. This was about two months ago and is how I found
myself sitting and chatting with Rose that morning.
“My husband is getting better at the cooking,”
she said with a smile. “I was able to teach him quite
a bit while I was still up and around. He couldn’t even
make eggs before. Now he is quite good. Not as good as me, but
good.”
Rose had been bedridden lately from a bout with colitis, she
looked tired but her eyes were characteristically sparkly. I
had been told by a mutual friend that her cancer had come back,
but hadn’t expected to see her this tired.
“What I am really worried about is my nine year old,”
she said, her mood changed slightly, not sadder exactly but
more serious. “He is having a difficult time accepting
how sick I actually am. He thinks that if I have a positive
attitude that it will make me better. When I bring up the possibility
of my dying he says, ‘If you say it then it will happen.
You have to stay happy and positive, Mom.’ I told him
that there is not enough happy to beat what is in my bones.
I just want him to understand. When I am not here anymore, I
want him to understand that.”
She still had a way of not looking mournful. Tears were rolling
down her cheeks now, but she was still so peaceful. I could
tell that the tears were not for her, she was crying for her
son. She was praying that he would understand.
I was abruptly called away for a meeting so I said goodbye
and left Rose with some other church friends. But I took that
conversation with me. I took her peace and love with me and
held it close to my heart throughout this past lent and passion.
Christ looked a lot like Rose, to me this year, as he headed
to his inevitable death. Christ looked like a church mother,
full of peace and love, worrying only about those she was leaving
behind. It was a different perspective on Christ’s passion,
one I thank Rose for.
In today’s gospel, Jesus again tries to prepare his disciples
for his leaving them, though they are understandably in denial.
Jesus had witnessed what happened to his friend, John the Baptizer.
There are individuals with power who will not rest until Jesus
is apprehended and silenced. But he refuses to react with anxiety
in response to that knowledge. He says, “Peace I leave
you; my peace I give to you.” That is the peace of realization.
Not a realization that death is merely inevitable, that kind
of peace is one defeated in the face of the futility of continuing
any mission. But Jesus knows that death is irrelevant, that
death is and always will be conquered and a transition into
glory.
But then he says something even more confusing, “I am
going away, and I am coming to you.” That seems impossible.
If someone goes away, they are gone, right? How can Jesus leave
and at the same time come back?
Jesus promised an advocate, a Spirit to guide the disciples
and keep them fast in all that he had instructed. And, of course,
he left them with his teaching, his word. So, we do have two
ways through which Jesus lives in and works through us. But
there is one more way; Jesus left us in the company of each
other, the Church. We are the body of Christ, we are the people
who live on and evoke His name in the remembrance of His sacrifice
in the Eucharist. We are the support that Christ promised for
the Church.
I turn back to the story of Rose. Two weeks ago I received
news of Rose’s death. Her passing had more of an immediate
emotional effect on me than I had planned. Again, I remembered
my last conversation with her at that coffee hour. I turned
to prayer for comfort and clarity. First I prayed for Rose’s
family, specifically for her youngest son. I prayed that he
could now understand that it wasn’t for the lack of trying,
for the lack of positive energy that his mother passed away.
I prayed that he would remember all the ways that she had prepared
him and his family for her leaving. And suddenly, I realized
I was praying for me.
I feel abandoned sometimes, like a child without a mother while
I maneuver my way down the winding and narrow path where I hope
God is leading me. Do you ever feel that way? Do you ever wish
that God would show up and be there, I mean really BE there,
a mother to guide you, to prod you into action, to remind you
how to be your best self?
Today is a day to celebrate one of our guides in life, our
mothers. They are advocates, cheerleaders, safety-nets and a
place to go for a much needed hug when we are feeling low. Not
only mothers mother though, sometimes our mother is our father,
a grandmother, an aunt or a family friend. Mother’s Day
is a celebration of the act of mothering as much as it is a
celebration of Mothers embodied.
Having a mother is one of the few experiences that everyone
shares, at least biologically.
This was important in today’s reading from Acts, Paul
and Barnabas were preaching for the first time in front of an
entirely Gentile audience. The context for their miraculous
works was unknown to the people watching, they had likely not
heard about the commotion made by a miracle-worker, prophet
and teacher named Jesus. Understandably, they were astonished
at the works being performed. They thought that Paul and Barnabas
were gods. They thought Barnabas might be Zeus and Paul, Hermes.
I think I might be equally confused if I were living in a Roman
spiritual setting which encouraged belief in a pantheon of gods,
where a common theme was godly interference in earthly events.
Gods were always popping in and wreaking havoc in Roman mythology.
Paul and Barnabas rushed into the crowd to try and convince
them otherwise. They said, “We are mortals like you.”
If only they had their mothers with them, certainly with only
a few baby bath-time photos or embarrassing prom stories the
crowd would have been duly convinced of their humanness. It
is important to know that the grace and power of the Holy Spirit
was given to regular, normal humans. If they were super human
then the glory would not be due to the true God. If they were
super human then their level of faith would be unattainable
for us mere mortals. But, it wasn’t and it isn’t.
Even Jesus had a mother, a very important fact for our salvation.
Jesus was both fully human and fully divine, a man with a mom.
So, in the bluntest of terms, we can relate to him. He is not
so far removed from us that salvation is unattainable for us
mere mortals. He gave the gift of salvation to us normal people.
He happened to be God, a confusing theological concept. But
he also happened to be a normal person too. He needed his mother
to encourage him, to teach him, to love him, just like you and
me.
I would like to ask all the mothers here to stand, so that
we can recognize our connection, our sameness in needing mothers
to raise, to love and to guide us, and, to recognize and thank
them for their patient support.
[mothers stand]
Alongside these mothers there are all the mothers who have
gone on before us, who have prepared us to live and grow without
them. I see my friend Rose standing there, and my grandmothers.
Can you see all your grandmothers and great grandmothers too?
Do you feel these women? Can you feel the great cloud of witnesses
supporting and loving you? Here is the Holy Spirit as well,
binding us together as a Church in Christ.
Look at that, Christ left us AND came back to us.
If you feel lonely, worried and abandoned, and we all do from
time to time, God has given you mothers to take care of you
and support you. Christ, on his way to the cross, clasped his
mother Mary’s and his friend John’s hands together
and said, “Here is your mother and here is your son.”
Christ knew that we are a family that needs each other. Look
around this room as I say to you, family of God, here are your
mothers. Appreciate them, support them, turn to them, and mother
them when they need it. Here are the mothers that God has given
you.
Praise God! Amen
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