A Sermon for Mothering Sunday

It was a sunny morning in the big forest and the Bear family was just waking up.

Daddy Bear arrived at the table and sat in his big chair. He looked into his big bowl. Empty! “Who’s been eating my porridge?” he roared. Baby Bear went downstairs and sat in his small chair at the table. He looked into his small bowl. That was also empty! “Who’s been eating my porridge?” he squeaked.

Then Mummy Bear put her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yelled out: “For goodness sake, how many times do we have to go through this routine? It was Mummy Bear who got up first. Mummy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away. Mummy Bear who went out into the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper. Mummy Bear who set the table. Mummy Bear who fed the cat. And now that you’ve decided to come downstairs and grace me with your presence, listen up, because I’m only going to say this one more time… I haven’t made the xxxx porridge yet!”

Today is Mothering Sunday. It’s become in our culture a celebration of motherhood; that and a carefully cultibated commercial enterprise to encourage much gift buying! But it wasn’t always like that.

The fourth Sunday of used to be known as – meaning ‘rejoice’. A special Sunday was designated just past the midpoint of Lent when you could relax a little, a brief rest from the harsh Lent discipline of from certain kinds of foods. You may remember that a Sunday corresponding to this was later instituted in Advent – that is, Gaudete on the third Sunday of that season. Returning to Laetare, a tradition developed that on that Sunday people would visit their ‘mother’ church – the cathedral if it was near enough, or a large local church if not. They were said to have ‘gone-a-mothering’ – hence, ‘Mothering’ Sunday - and often it was a time when families would get together for a celebration, eating Simnel cakes specially baked as a small lightening of Lenten vows for this day only. Although modern society has secularised Mothering Sunday, we should remember the day has its origins in a religious observance.

As I now consider our Old Testament reading, I’m aware that half of you are automatically disqualified from being a ‘mother’ by nature of your gender. Some of you are single. Some of you were never able to have children, or perhaps made the choice not to, though all of you did have a mother yourself, whether or not for you that was a good relationship. So, really, what is in mind here are those nurturing qualities of mothering that apply to any caring relationship – father to child, aunt to niece or nephew, godparent to godchild. For some of you, it may be helpful to reflect on that relationship instead.

The background. A man named Elkanah had two wives, Hannah and Peninnah (having multiple wives was surprisingly common in Old Testament times). Peninnah alone had borne him children, yet Elkanah seemed to love Hannah more - certainly we learn that he gave her double portions of meat. Jealous of this, no doubt, Peninnah lost no opportunity in rubbing Hannah’s nose in it. Hannah bore it with good grace, but deep down was very upset. One day at the temple Hannah poured out her heart to God: “O Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life.” God heard her prayer, and the next time she lay with her husband a child was conceived. Hannah gave birth to a son, and named him Samuel, which sounds like the Hebrew for ‘heard of God’. She didn’t forget her promise and in today’s reading we read that after he was weaned she took him to the temple and gave him to Eli the priest, dedicating him to God’s service.

What strikes me is how Hannah didn’t seem to be resentful. You could quite understand if she had been. After all, she’d poured her heart out on her last visit to the temple, when she was childless. Now, she was leaving the temple again, once more without a child, for Samuel stayed behind. Not only that, she didn’t even see him at weekends. We read in the very next chapter of 1 Samuel: “each year his mother made him a little robe and took it to him when she went up with her husband to offer the annual sacrifice” (2:19). Once a year! It’s quite possible that’s all she saw of this longed-for son! Hannah did go on to have three more sons and two daughters, which I’m sure would have kept her pretty busy, but you might think she’d have felt just a little aggrieved with God at the point where she presented her boy to the priest. But she didn’t. Quite the reverse. The verses that follow reproduce her prayer in the aftermath of all that had taken place. A hymn of praise on a par with the best canticles in the , like Mary’s Magnificat when she was expecting her child or Zechariah’s Benedictus at the birth of his son John. And indeed like Jesus and John a thousand years later, Samuel grew to be a mighty man of God.

Hannah was an inspiringly faithful, humble woman. She knew how God had answered her prayer when she’d been at her lowest point. She remembered the promises she’d made. And she recognised that all we have is on loan from God.

To today. Our church is shut. We’re not able to visit our own church let alone Lichfield Cathedral (at least not for any service of celebration). And we probably shouldn’t be socialising with our mothers, if they are still alive. Sitting instead in our homes on a Sunday morning makes us realise just what a great privilege it is to regularly attend our local church. We miss it. I miss it. But then, like Hannah, we remember some promises – the promises God has made to us. Promises to be with us (Matthew 28:20), to watch over us (Psalm 121), to give us eternal life (John 3:17). This doesn’t mean, of course, that everything will always turn out rosy for us – not from a short-term, earthly perspective - for, again like Hannah, we too need to remember that life – all life - is in the hands of God.

In the weeks and months ahead as we get used to self-isolation, I urge you to do three things:

First, keep safe. None of us is invincible. Don’t take unnecessary risks with this virus. It’s very, very powerful. If you don’t believe it, check out some of the scenes in Italian hospitals. Don’t venture out more than you have to and when you do go out, seriously consider wearing some form of protection, especially around your mouth, nose and eyes. Pam has been making some simple visors that do help and which you get used to wearing pretty quickly. Let her (or me) know if you’d like one.

Second, keep faithful. Spend some time in prayer. It will help you stay calm. Try out the daily readings from tomorrow until , by clicking on the button on the Home page of the church web-site and following the instructions. It’s a good habit to rediscover and develop. It offers a daily rhythm spiritually, something that’s more important than ever. You will, of course, need a Bible for this – it doesn’t matter which translation – or you can visit another web-site www.biblegateway.com for a whole variety of alternative translations.

Third, keep in touch. You may not be able to meet with people, but you can still remain in communication with them. Use the telephone. Use Skype if you’re familiar with it. Even for a few minutes, it’s good to hear a friendly voice – it shows someone cares. Which we do.

Keep safe, keep faithful, keep in touch. And may God’s blessing always be upon you.

Amen.

Rev Phil Moon