On Mothering - An evensong homily

 Rich though this evening’s scripture readings are, I want to draw our attention tonight to things maternal, after all one of the (many) titles of this Sunday – fourth Sunday of Lent, Laetare Sunday, Refreshment Sunday – is Mothering Sunday.

Evensong is a good time to reflect on this theme, not in the way the card shops and advertising pitches it, but to go deeper into the origins of Mothering Sunday as a thoroughly Christian practice that originates in our relationship with our mother, the Church.

Unfortunately, Mothering Sunday has been shared by the Church with the wider culture and, over time, in that culture has mutated before re-entering the host organism, the Church, in a somewhat damaging way.

Mothering Sunday cherishes and values mothers, but not with all the attendant pressure of ‘best mum in the world’ which, in my experience, makes most mothers tremble under the weight of expectation, because most mothers know moments of tired frustration, at all ages and stages in the upbringing of children.

At the same time of trumpeting ‘best mum in the world’, secular culture is finding motherhood more and more difficult.

It is hard now to say out loud that motherhood is a task only women can undertake; and to celebrate what a wonder and mystery that it is.

That in no way judges women who are not mothers, or piles pressure on women who might never be, but it is to acknowledge and thank women for the maternal gift and capacity that they have.

Now is a good time to say, thank you to those women whose vocation has been to bear children, bring them into this world and nurture them.

Those children have been born to the praise and glory of their maker, by which I mean their Father in heaven, not simply their earthly mother, and earthly father.

From this we also see, without diluting motherhood, that the whole church has a maternal character.

After all, she is the Bride of Christ, and therefore is a recipient of a gift, that is not generated by her, but that takes her to bring to fruition.

The spiritual disposition of the Christian – female and male – is to be a recipient of the gift and seed of God, and to nurture and bring that gift to birth.

The Christian birth is baptism, and the origin of Mothering Sunday was to return to the place of baptism, one’s mother church, at which one was born as a Christian.

That’s why sometimes the font, the place of baptism, is termed, ‘the womb of the Church’.

The whole church – female and male – is involved in the birthing and nurturing of new Christians, born again by water and by Spirit.

So why then is Evensong a good time to reflect on this?

First it is at Evensong that the canticle of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Magnificat is sung.

This takes us to the heart of the joy of this mother.

Mary’s Magnificat is prompted by her cousin Elizabeth’s question:

And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?  (Luke 1.43)

Mary’s joy and trust in the Lord, the giver of the gift, is unrestrained as she magnifies his presence in her life.

Magnification both expands and intensifies.

God becomes greater in her life; God becomes more intense in her life.

This is why Mary is termed Mother of the Church for she pioneers the greatness and intensity of God in the life of the Church.

It is also because at the evening hour, as the sun is about to set, that we read:

²⁶ When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” ²⁷ Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home. (John 19.26,27)

Mary is the mother of the disciple, not through biology, but through being prepared to accept and receive him.

And she in turn becomes a gift to him.

At the close of the day we might very well give thanks for the woman who carried each one of us in her womb, gave of herself to feed and nurture us and continues to share our lives.

May we now make our prayer, meditating on the Mother who stood patiently at the Cross of her Son using the words of the Stabat Mater hymn:

 

At the Cross her station keeping,

stood the mournful Mother weeping,

close to her Son to the last.

 

Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,

all His bitter anguish bearing,

now at length the sword has passed.

 

O how sad and sore distressed

was that Mother, highly blest,

of the sole-begotten One.

 

Christ above in torment hangs,

she beneath beholds the pangs

of her dying glorious Son.

 

Is there one who would not weep,

whelmed in miseries so deep,

Christ’s dear Mother to behold?

 

Can the human heart refrain

from partaking in her pain,

in that Mother’s pain untold?

 

Translation by Edward Caswall, Lyra Catholica (1849)