Mothers Day: Not Gospel Sermon, But A Tribute With Humour.

Ex 2.1-10 Psalm 127 Col 3.12-17 John 19.25b-27

Summary: True motherhood is a lifetime task; but handled right, it is a calling, a privilege and a pleasure. Yet Mother’s Day is not for everyone. “When a father is not happy, who cares, but when a mother is not happy, nobody is happy!”

This sermon was delivered to the congregation in St Oswald’s in Maybole, Ayrshire, Scotland on the 10th March 2013: by Gordon McCulloch (A Scottish Episcopal Church in the Dioceses of Glasgow and Dumfries).

Please join me in my prayer. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit let these words bring you, and all mothers’, honour this day. Amen.

Our gospel reading this morning comes from John 19, verses 25 to 27: “Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home”.

Introduction:

Today’s sermon is a little bit different, because we are not only here to worship the Lord, we are here today to also honour our mothers, and grandmothers, and all the great mother(s).

It is a day for greetings, and expressions of love; it is also a day for remembering.

Telephone companies tell us that Mothers Day is by far their busiest day of the year, and the shops just love mother’s day; as they make plenty of money from our sentimentality.

But I am not here today to talk about them, I am hear to try and praise the true value of motherhood; a task I will barely do justice in this short sermon.

True motherhood is a lifetime task; it is not easy as by the time a child reaches 18, a mother has had to handle some extra 18,000 hours of child-generated work. One mother once said, "The joy of motherhood is what a woman experiences, when all the children are finally in bed”; but true motherhood is a calling, a privilege and if handled right, a pleasure”.

But before I continue I must make it clear that Mother’s Day is not for everyone. It can be a very difficult time for some. Many women would love to have become a mother, but for some reason they could not. Some people do not have best mother in the world; and others simple just do no get on; while others who did, may have lost them through death.

And sadly, some mothers have lost children; where others carry the guilt of wayward children. To them, mother’s day is very difficult; and an understanding of this, certainly helps. We also remember this morning … … and … … and we pray that despite their troubles this is a special day for them.

Years ago, I listened to what I refer to as the worst sermon I have every heard. If I was not on duty, I would have walked out, but I never attended another mother’s day service until I came here to St Oswald’s. Ah!

The Celebrant that day was a woman, she was not ordained, but she certainly had issues and this came across in the sermon; all she could talk about was how wonderful women are, and how they do all the work. She then went on to decry the men, saying they we were all lazy, unsupportive, and selfish; and I am convinced, in fact it was blatantly obvious, that she used the pulpit to get at her husband.

I was so angry that day; as you all know, I work night and day; Christine does as well, and I don’t need a pulpit to get my point across; although I will say this, if she puts on that Tom Cruise film this afternoon, I am going out. …

Anyway, what I am saying here is there is a tendency to get motherhood mixed up with feminism and many people don’t see the difference.

I was talking to my son the other day, about how influential mothers are, when I remembered a quote: “When a father is not happy, who cares, but when a mother is not happy, nobody is happy!” He laughed and said, well that is certainly true.

The physics teacher at our school gave the class a lesson on magnets. The next day he recapped on the lesson and asked, “My name begins with an “M,” has six letters, and I pick things up. What am I?” The kids answered, my “Mother.”

At school I used to be quite proud on saying to certain pupils, “Get this place cleaned up, I am not your mother”; then one day, another teacher put his head around the door and said, “I bet your fathers glad of that”. I don’t say that anymore.