NOTE: I preached today and the sermon is printed here. Also included at the end of the manuscript a few other portions of the service liturgy. These are intended to illustrate the importance creating a worship service where all the parts merge into a central theme. Individual worship services flow best when everything fits into one frame.
Who Is My Mother?
I Samuel 16:1-7; St.
Matthew 12:46-50
A Guest Sermon
Prepared & Delivered by James E. Norton
First Presbyterian
Church, Fairmont, WV 26554
Mother’s Day, May13,
2012
This
morning’s first lesson recalls the time when Samuel, the prophet, was sent by
God to search for a new leader for Israel from among the sons of Jesse. Samuel’s instructions included this word of
caution: “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature…for the
Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the
Lord looks on the heart.”
That is
sound advice, especially in a time when the process of electing our nation’s
leaders has gone into overdrive. But that
advice is equally relevant for a day when we celebrate motherhood and family
life. We are not to be concerned with
exterior wrappings, but with the product, with what goes on inside an
individual or a family, whether that family is the traditional nuclear family,
a single parent family, a blended family, a childless family, an adoptive
family, a family of same gendered parents, a family comprised of unrelated
adults sharing a home in the way that a rabbi and twelve disciples did, a
congregational family, a national family, an international family.
Growing up,
the images of family life projected at my generation included such television
programs as “Father Knows Best” and “Leave It to Beaver.” Typically, father was the man of the house
who upon returning after a day’s work at the office would be greeted by his
dutiful wife, attractively arrayed with her hair perfectly styled, ready to
hand him his newspaper and cup of coffee as he settled down in his comfortable
chair. The family dog was also waiting
beside the chair holding the father’s slippers in his mouth. Scenes of chaos and severe dysfunction in the
family were never portrayed in the 50s, and I can still remember wondering why
my family wasn’t like that or wishing I lived in a family that was like that. It was a long time before I realized that
those 50s images bombarded at us by the television producers were all exterior
wrappings with very little truth in them.
More recent programs such as “Everybody Loves Raymond,” or BBC’s “Outnumbered,”
although intended as comic portrayals, are probably more accurate depictions of
family life.
Unfortunately
many of today’s realities of family life are not very funny. Sadly, we could go on for hours cataloging
ways in which institutions and individuals undermine and inflict harm on
others, especially women and children. Indeed, if we had a show of hands, I bet at
least 75% of us here would indicate that we personally knew someone who has
been the victim of domestic violence, bullying, or other forms of degrading
humans.
One woman
known to me, whose story I have permission to share, lived twenty years with an
abusive husband. The abuse began, as it
usually does, early in the marriage with seemingly innocent, unreasonable
expectations, escalating in time to verbal lashing out. Then came the final straw when the abuse
turned physical, and very brutally so.
That attack by Larry, the husband, was followed later by his wife, Bridget,
secretly packing up her three boys (ages 12, 10 & 8) and leaving for
temporary safe shelter.
To
outsiders, Bridget and Larry appeared to be the epitome of a very typical,
well-rounded couple. They were faithful
members of their community’s United Methodist Church; the three boys were
involved in little league football and church league basketball; the family
gathered with the other families in this tight-knit community’s many activities
But when Bridget in desperation
finally mustered up the courage to get out, her husband employed his
exceptional charm and self-pitying demeanor to win over the support and
sympathy of the congregation, including the pastor. His manipulative powers went so far as to
spread rumors about how Bridget had been unfaithful, and some of the women in
the congregation quickly rushed to Larry’s side to console him, telling him how
hard it was to understand how Bridget could leave such a caring, wonderful
husband. (Make no mistake about it:
there are some very winsome, clever operators out there!) Besides the intense stress and concern about
the future welfare of her children and herself, Bridget was shunned by the
congregation, and on one occasion after she found living arrangements in
another part of town, she was accosted in the grocery store by one of the
church women whose outburst there in front of the three boys and everyone else
in the store accused Bridget of being a (well, we’re in church, so I’ll not
repeat the word).
Fortunately
there were others who weren’t as easily conned by Larry’s machinations, and
their support and practical compassion coupled with Bridget’s deep commitment
to change over the next year and a half to two years, finally extricated her
from that dark prison. In time, Bridget
followed through on a dream she had as a college student of becoming an environmental
biologist, applying to various graduate schools. She was accepted at one of our fine
universities in the South and even awarded a fellowship. She completed her Master’s Degree with honors
and was accepted into another southern school where she is doing exceptional
work as a Ph.D. candidate.
Bridget’s
successful liberation from an abusive marriage was anything but easy. She is on the healing side of the road today,
largely because of her own persistence, and also because of persons around her
whose constructive care and compassion helped point the way to recovery.
Throughout my active years as a
pastor, I have personally witnessed many occurrences of life’s odiousness. And each time I thought I had seen it all,
something else erupted reminding me how pervasive violence is in our
culture. There was the father who “knew”
(in the biblical sense) his eleven-year-old son over and over, sleeping with the
boy rather than his wife; there was the beloved grandfather, who was so
respected that his name is inscribed on one of the memorial plaques decorating
the sanctuary of the church he attended, who would offer little girls in his
neighborhood candy if they would expose themselves to him; there is an epidemic
of inappropriate acting-out against minors and other vulnerable persons by clergy
who abuse their office, not just Roman Catholics, but clergy of all Christian churches
(my own denomination, The United Methodist Church, is besieged by such cases
winding up in the courts); there is the battle raging between Congress and
President of the United States over budget negotiations that would do away with
programs that provide protection to women and children; there are the millions
who die daily, mostly children and the elderly, from malnutrition and related
diseases; there are the religious fundamentalists who, with incredible hatred,
achieve their political purposes by atrocious acts of revenge on thousands of
the world’s sons and daughters. The
evidences of violence are astronomical.
So, what
word is there to speak to our predicament? How can we combat seemingly out-of-control
violence in our culture? Well, this is
Mother’s Day, and perhaps exploring once again the original spirit of Mother’s
day will offer a clue. After all, those
who gave us this special day also gave us a document clearly stating its
purpose. It is the 1870 proclamation
written by Julia Ward Howe, and later embraced by Ann Jarvis and her daughters. As you are well aware, Ann Jarvis, living in
West Virginia before we had achieved statehood, organized women on both sides
of the Civil War into “Mothers’ Day Work Clubs” to treat wounds, feed and care
for both Union and Confederate soldiers.
These “Clubs” also worked in a number of cities to improve sanitary and
health conditions. Ann Jarvis and her
daughters, Anna and Ellsinore, fervently affirmed that women had every right
and responsibility “to promote the general welfare” through assertive political
and social activism. Activism, striving
against violence, providing care for all persons, agitating for the good—that
was the original spirit of Mother’s Day, as these lines from Julia Ward Howe’s
proclamation declare:
“Arise,
all women who have hearts! …Whether your
baptism be of water or tears! Say firmly
‘our sons (and daughters) will not be taken from us to unlearn all we have been
able to teach of charity, mercy, and patience.
We will be too tender of those of another country to allow our
(children) to be trained to injure theirs.
…The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.”[i]
That
Proclamation is a clarion call, stating that there is something so foundational
in the experience of bearing children that it transcends boundaries, creeds,
political philosophies and time; that it is not only basic to what makes people
human, but points to the essence of what makes God divine. There is something so divinely inherent,
resonating within us from the moment we are born, wherein we know that life is
holy and is meant for mutual respect, love, compassion, peace and joy. The Proclamation is directed not only to
those who have had the God-like experience of bringing life to fruition in the
womb, but to those of us who will never know firsthand the wonder of that
miracle. We must not undo what we have
been taught from birth of “charity, mercy and patience,” as the Proclamation
puts it.
This
morning’s gospel lesson tells of the time when, speaking to a crowd, Jesus is
interrupted by someone telling him that his mother and brothers were standing
outside waiting to see him.
Surprisingly, Jesus replies by saying, “Who is my mother, and who are my
brothers?” “Whoever does the will of my
Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” Hilary Clinton’s book, It Takes a Village to Raise a Child, makes the same point.
One simple
way we can see the implication of this principle is to look at an all too
common occurrence in churches. Maybe not
this congregation, but many churches experience difficulty finding volunteers
to work with children and youth. The
times this difficulty is discussed in congregational education committee
meetings or board meetings, someone will invariably say something like,
“Shouldn’t the parents of the kids do that?
After all, I did it when my children were in Sunday School and youth
groups, and so should they!” Such an
attitude has always seemed to me to be short-sighted, if not self-centered
(I’ll do it for my own but not for anyone else’s).
Thank goodness,
I did not grow up in that kind of church.
Were it not for many other mothers and fathers, in addition to my
biological parents, who were there for me in Sunday School and youth fellowship
meetings, and especially at critical times, who knows where I would have ended
up. It takes a village of surrogate
moms, dads and grandparents to raise a child.
The purpose
of Mother’s Day is not to romanticize mothers, but it is a time to remember and
show appreciation for all those activist women who have helped to build our
faith and lives, who, when we were up against it, were there for us, helping us
to get through it all. They are the ones
who listened, cared, were straight with us, and who gave of themselves for our
sakes. They also stood up to the forces
that would dehumanize and make us less than we are meant to be. In other words, they actually did what Jesus
taught.
[i]
“Mother’s Day Proclamation,” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother%27s_Day_Proclamation
PRAYER OF CONFESSION (in unison)
Loving God, we realize that we have not made our homes the dwelling places for your love that we would like. Too often, we act like individuals who happen to share the same building, rather than family members who care for one another. Help us to renew our commitments to the growth and development of those who share our homes with us. Help us to communicate openly with one another and to show our love in the homes where we live. Amen.
WORDS OF FORGIVENESS (by the pastor)
When the prophet Isaiah searched all human experience to find the most powerful example of human care that could possibly be conceived, it was motherhood that came to mind. "Can a woman forget the infant at her breast," he wrote, "or a loving mother the child of her womb?" No where in all creation is there such caring as that of a mother for her child. Yet says the prophet, it is conceivable that one could find a mother who ceased to care. "Even she may forget" is the word the prophet hears, "yet I will not forget you." The holiest, highest, most enduring love that human nature can know is still flawed compared with the endless and overwhelming mother love of God. We are forgiven, loved and accepted by God. Thanks be to God.
STATEMENT BEFORE THE OFFERING
Shortly after Anna Jarvis succeeded in making Mother's Day a nationally recognized holiday in 1914, she became disillusioned at how this day had become so commercialized. She and her sister, Ellsinore, spent their entire family inheritance campaigning against the commercialization, Anna herself was arrested over this issue for disturbing the peace, and the two sisters died in poverty. According to Anna's obituary in the NY Times, she became embittered because too many people sent their mothers a printed greeting card. In her words:
"A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother--and then eat most of it yourself. A pretty sentiment!"
May the offering we receive this day be more than a pretty, perfunctory sentiment. May it reflect the same kind of self-sacrifice and courage demonstrated by such women as those we remember today. Let us symbolize the giving of ourselves by the giving of our gifts.
