Most, if not all of us, have been raised in churches that spoke exclusively about God as father. This is the language that has been passed to us through from centuries of tradition that named God in this way. While Jesus taught us to pray to God as father, we remember that Jesus was a product of a certain time in history in which men were the religious scholars and teachers within Judaism and women were never considered even remotely equal to them. Sadly, in too many places in the world, men have used religion to keep women in subservient roles. In any case, what is remarkable is that Jesus sometimes used beautiful language to speak about God as a mother guarding her children under Eagles wings..etc… and we find this in the Gospels. I think we are all enriched by imagining the divine with the very best of imagery that values the gifts that mothers and fathers offer to their children. We believe in a God who is strong and faithful, compassionate and empathetic, a holy presence that reminds us perhaps of the best of those who have loved us in our lives.
A panel of experts was asked to complete some sentences about their moms. What made them experts was the one thing they all had in common. They were all kindergarteners. Even though these are the words of 6 year olds I think the qualities they recognized in their moms are the qualities needed in a mom. Here are some of the responses:
My mom is best at: “feeding the dog,” “making my bed,” “driving,” “cleaning,” “running,” “riding a two-wheeler,” “watering the garden.”
If I had enough money, I’d buy her: “flowers,” “a car,” “a necklace,” “a brand-new fan,” “a kitten,” “a diamond ring,” “a big pack of bubble gum.”
It makes me feel good inside when Mom says: “I love you,” “good job,” “dinnertime!” “You look handsome,” “I’ll buy you something.”
My mom is as pretty as a “butterfly,” “ballerina,” “mouse,” “princess,” “my brothers,” “goose,” “gold ring,” “a clean horse.”
There is one word in that list that stands out to me as one of the glaring issues of our time. The child who said it makes me feel good inside when mom says, “Dinnertime!” This child was on to something. I recently saw statistics that showed that a family that eats together at least three times a week, but a family that does that has a 45% greater chance that their children will not use drugs. Now don’t miss the point. It is not that there is something mystical that occurs while we eat; it simply suggest that as we eat together we participate in a basic support group. Here is the key. We need to feel secure, and be part of a family where there is acceptance and love. We all benefit from careful listening and being there for one another.
The Mother Hen (Matthew 23:37, Luke 13:34): There are several instances in the Gospels when Jesus uses feminine language for the Divine. He directly compares his desire to protect Jerusalem to a hen gathering her brood under her wings in Matthew and Luke. In (Luke 15:8–10): Jesus tells a parable of a woman who sweeps her house and diligently searches for a lost coin, paralleling God’s active pursuit of lost sinners. In (John 3:3–8): Jesus explains being “born again” or “born from above,” by using the metaphor of giving birth to describe the work of the Holy Spirit. And in (Matthew 12:48–50): Jesus defines his family not by biological ties but by those who do the will of God, expanding the maternal role to those who nurture spiritual life. Jesus’ use of maternal imagery draws from the Old Testament, where God is described as a woman in labor (Isaiah 42:14), a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15), and a comforting parent (Isaiah 66:13).
I found myself thinking about my grandmothers as I prepared my thoughts for today. They came from very different backgrounds in many ways but each of them loved their children and grandchildren and would have done anything for us. Both were descended from hard-working people but my mother’s mother, Florence, had a college education and a loving marriage. Her economic circumstances were far easier than my Nana, my father’s mother, who was an immigrant from Lithuania, and worked in the mills all her life. Her name was Pauline and I was named in part for her. She descended from peasants in eastern Europe and never really learned to read or write in English. She was a saver though, had a beautiful garden, and was devoted in her care for my father. She rarely shared the deep pain she felt in missing her family whom she never was able to see again, all left behind in her home country except her brother, Charlie, with whom she traveled to get to this country through Ellis Island at the start of the first World War. Two stories…toilet paper, $20 when I went to study abroad.
I ran across a job description for a mother this week. It was written by Erma Bombeck. Here it is: “Wanted: Woman to raise, educate and entertain child for minimum of 20 years. Be prepared to eat egg if the yolk breaks, receive anything in hand child spits out, and take knots out of wet shoestrings with teeth. Must be expert in making costume for ‘bad tooth’ in the dental play and picking bathroom locks with shish kebab skewer. Hours: Seven days a week, 24 hours a day, including holidays. Comprehensive dental plan, vacation, medical benefits and company car negotiable.”
Moms, the hours are endless, the talents you must have are many, the patience endless, and the financial pay is awful but the joy that comes from the young people who grace our lives is immeasurable.
One of the great preachers of an earlier times was Dr. Fred Craddock. Craddock once shared a story about vacationing with his wife one summer in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. One night they found a quiet little restaurant, where they looked forward to a private meal. While they were waiting for their food, they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting with the guests. Craddock leaned over and whispered to his wife, “I hope he doesn’t come over here.” He didn’t want anyone intruding on their privacy. But sure enough, the man did come over to their table. “Where you folks from?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“Oklahoma,” Craddock answered. “Splendid state, I hear, although I’ve never been there,” the stranger said. “What do you do for a living?” “I teach homiletics at the graduate seminary of Phillips University,”Craddock replied. “Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I’ve got a story to tell you.” And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with Craddock and his wife. Dr. Craddock said he groaned inwardly and thought to himself, “Oh, no! Here comes another preacher story! It seems like everybody has at least one.”
The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Ben Hooper,” he said. “I was born not far from here across the mountains. My mother wasn’t married when I was born, so I had a pretty hard time. When I started school, my classmates had a name for me, and it wasn’t a very nice name. I used to go off by myself at recess and lunchtime because the things they said to me cut me so deep. What was worse was going to town on Saturday afternoons and feeling like every eye was burning a hole through me, wondering just who my father was.
“When I was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to our church. I would always go in late and slip out early. But one day the preacher said the benediction so fast I got caught and to walk out with the crowd. I could feel every eye in the church on me. Just about the time I got to the door I felt a big hand on my shoulder. I looked up and the preacher was looking right at me. ‘Who are you, son? Whose boy are you?’ he asked. I felt this big weight coming down on me. It was like a big black cloud. Even the preacher was putting me down. But as he looked down at me, studying my face, he began to smile a big smile of recognition. ‘Wait a minute!’ he said. ‘I know who you are. I see the family resemblance now. You are a child of God.’ And then he said, ‘Boy, you’ve got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.’
The old man looked across the table at Fred Craddock and said, “Those were the most important words anybody ever said to me, and I’ve never forgotten them.” With that, he smiled shook hands with Craddock and his wife, and moved on to another table to greet old friends. And as he walked away, Craddock – a native Tennesseean himself – remembered from his studies of Tennessee history the names of former governors of the state. One of them was a man named Ben Hooper. Governor Hooper was able to find himself despite a father who had abandoned him. Thank God he had a mother who was devoted to him.
Children will often live out the life they see reflected in their mother’s eyes; they will live out the life they feel given in the touch of their mother’s hand; they will live out the life they hear described in the words of their mother’s lips. Teaching children their heritage and reminding them that they are beloved, not only in the eyes of their families but in the eyes of God. This morning, we pray for the mothers in our world, mothers struggling to feed their children and mothers sitting by their children who are sick, mothers who will be celebrating their children’s graduations in the weeks ahead and mothers visiting their sons or daughters in prison. We give thanks for our own mothers and for the strength of all those who seek to mother the next generation and lead us in paths of righteousness and love.