Sermon for Mothering Sunday

The Fourth Sunday in Lent

March 18, 2007

Virginia Carr

+In the name of: God, our Father – Jesus, our Brother – and Holy Catholic Church,

our Mother, Amen.

When I was a little girl, and would fall down and scrape my knee or bump my head – as I often did - my mother would kiss the boo-boo to make it all better. And although I have never read an article on the medical benefits of kissing boo-boos, I know from experience that it works. I really do feel better when Mom holds me and kisses me – even at my age.

Today is Mothering Sunday, a day to be embraced in the arms of Mother Church and let her kiss the boo-boo. The “Pause that refreshes” at the midpoint in Lent. In the old English Tradition it was a day when students and apprentices were given the day off to go home to their Mother Church (which, of course, meant their family) – much like many of our own young people have a Spring Break this week. One day for spiritual and physical refreshment. It also offered an opportunity to show family and friends what had been learned. From this came the custom of the Simnel cake – those who were learning to bake would make this rich cake to bring home and show off their skill - as well as give everyone a foretaste of the sweetness of Easter and a small break from the discipline of fasting.

At the end of this service, members of our alter guild will distribute pieces of Simnel cake for all of us to enjoy. This tradition and the recipe where brought to St, Luke’s from England by Annie Oates years ago. I can still remember her at 100 years old sitting in her same pew – next to the aisle about a third of the way back on the pulpit side. Perhaps she is sitting there this morning.

The slices of Simnel cake are a small, tangible reminder that it is the Church which is Mother to our spiritual lives – It is she who baths us in Baptism, anoints us with oil, clothes us for special occasions, brushes us off when we fall and helps us to get back up, feeds us, gives us chores to do, teaches us, and even wraps us in a blanket (the pall) at our funeral. This image of the Church as our Mother was beautifully and graphically shown in an early Baptismal liturgy in which the priest would motion the person to be Baptized toward the font (a large tub) and say, “ Enter into your Mother’s womb and be born again.” Yes, the church is our mother and we can come to her any time for refuge and strength - to have her hold us and kiss the boo-boo.

But we are not the children of a single Mom. We also have a Father. To know something of what this Dad, our Dad, is like we turn to today’s Gospel. It is “The story of the Prodigal Son”. A story which the Anglican Bishop and writer N. T. Wright says has been given the wrong title. He claims that it should be called, “The Story of the Father Who Runs”. It isn’t the actions of a wayward child, who squanders his father’s inheritance on loose living, which is unique – we all either know this character or are this character. No, the character in this story who acts so strangely is the father.

I thank God for him, but my own Dad would not have acted like the Father in this story. When I would come creeping back home after either being out past my curfew or being somewhere I was not supposed to be – yes, I did these things more times than I care to remember – my Dad would remain silent, allowing me to squirm for a while, until he was good and ready to discuss the situation. Then raising himself to his full stature, he would say, “Well young Lady, what do you have to say for yourself?” I have friends who upon returning home after a divorce, loosing a job, or having an abortion found their fathers weren’t even there to scold them. They were greeted with silence and rejection. All too often this is the image of father that we experience.

But look closely at what the father in the story does – and what Jesus is saying God, as our spiritual Father, does: First, he sees his child returning “while still a long way off”. Now you can’t see someone coming from “a long way off” if you are occupied with your own daily activities. This father is out looking for a sign that his child is returning. Next, upon seeing what might be his kid (remember he is still a long way off) he does the most outrageous thing imaginable (especially in Jesus’ time) – he runs. Runs! Think about it. A man; a man of wealth, entitlement, social standing, with a reputation at stake - man with a wounded ego (after all, his kid squandered his hard earned money). This man lifts his robes (it’s the only way to run in a robe) showing the whole world his hairy legs and he runs down the road to meet his son! In short, He humiliates himself in public because he loves his child. This is such an incredibly radical and wonderful thing to do. Then, he hugs him and “kisses the boo-boo”. And all this before the child has uttered one word of apology. The Psalmist says he removes our guilt. God doesn’t just erase our actions from the record he removes our guilt - he even cares about how we feel. Take a moment to let the truth of what Jesus is saying sink in: As your Father, God loves you so much that he will leave his world to look for you and when he sees you making the slightest attempt to come to him, he will humiliate himself to reach you. That’s how valuable you are.

But as comfortable as it is to know that we have two loving parents and as much as we would like to stay in their arms always, we cannot ignore today’s Old Testament lesson. In it God tells his children; “NO MORE MANNA!” We cannot remain at the breast or riding on Daddy’s shoulders forever. The morning after the big party I’m sure that the Prodigal Son’s father sat him down and said, “Okay son, now let’s discuss what job you’re going to have in the family business.” You see the members of this family have to support each other. “No more manna” meant now it’s time to form a cooperative community. God didn’t say, “Now it’s each person for them self. Fight and scrape to get ahead and the one with the most toys in the end wins!” No, they had to work together. Some had to grow grain, others to grind it and still others to make bread. And having come together as an interdependent community they had a mission to accomplish in the world – to be a light to the nations, an example of how to live in community. God had “rolled away the disgrace of Egypt” – the past was over and it was time to start a new life.

This is the same message that Paul is giving to us in today’s epistle. It is a sneak preview of the glorious Easter message – a small slice of sweet cake in the middle of Lent. St. Paul tells us that in Christ the old is gone and the new has come. God, the father who runs, has reconciled us to himself and doesn’t count our wrong doings against us. We can now start a new life. And that new life is to be lived in community and with a mission – to be “Christ’s ambassadors” – to each other and to the world. We are all qualified for this ministry of being Christ’s official representatives. Not by our education, experience, our holiness or by ordination - we are qualified because Jesus qualified us when we were baptized. At my youngest son’s Baptism, when the congregation welcomes the newly Baptized with the words, “…and share with us in his eternal priesthood.” a member of the congregation placed this little stole over his shoulders as a tangible symbol of that priesthood. Even if we don’t have a little Baptismal stole like this one or an elaborate one like Eric, Susan, or Cathy are wearing we are all priests and are responsible for bearing Christ’s presence wherever and to whomever we go.

I will conclude with a story. A small boy awoke one night crying out for his parents. Both of them came running into his room wondering what was wrong. The child said he woke up to find it dark in his room and he was afraid. His parents hugged him and said, “You don’t have to be afraid, God is always with you.” “YES, I know that,” the boy said, but I needed someone with a face I could see and a hand I could touch.”

How will people know that there is a mother who will nurture them if there is no church with her beautiful traditions and sacraments; If there is no one like Annie Oats to bring us new traditions and recipe; Someone to make little signs of our priesthood? How will people know there is a father who will run to meet them, “roll away” their past and give them a new life if Christ does not have a human body with arms to hug them, lips to kiss them and ears to listen to them? We are the church. We are the body of Christ. Amen