The Treasure of a Mother’s Heart
Luke 2:41-52
May 14, 2006
Mother’s Day
There are some days that cause preachers all sorts of trouble because of the high expectations surrounding the day. Take for instance today – Mother’s Day. Robert Fulghum (“It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It” New York: Villard Books, 1989) writes about it this way.
For twenty-five years of my life, the second Sunday in May was trouble. Being the minister of a church, I was obliged in some way to address the subject of Mother’s Day. It could not be avoided. I tried that. Mind you, the congregation was quite open-minded, actually, and gave me free rein in the pulpit. But when it came to he second Sunday in May, the expectations were summarized in these words of one of the more out-spoken women in the church: “I’m bringing my MOTHER to church on MOTHER’S DAY, Reverend, and you can talk about anything you want. But it had better include MOTHER, and it had better be GOOD!
Mother’s are amazing people. I know, because I have one. Do you remember Paul Reiser who starred in the television sit-com “Mad About You” with Helen Hunt? He wrote a book titled “Couplehood” back in 1994 in which he said this.
I saw a kid who had some dried-up food on his face. His mother took out a tissue, spat on the tissue and rubbed it into the kid’s face. I’m not making this up. This goes on, in communities around our country, on a daily basis. It’s enough to break your heart. You know that if babies could talk, that’d be the first thing they’d bring up. “Hey, don’t do that. It’s revolting. Would you like it if someone did that to you? Okay, then.”
It is disgusting, but it sure does work, doesn’t it? There’s something in Mother Saliva that cleans like nobody’s business. All women, once they give birth, their enzymes change, and saliva becomes like Ajax. It’ll clean anything: a baby’s face, a countertop, a Buick – you get enough mothers, you could do a whole car in 30, 40 minutes.
And the best part is, it doesn’t even have to be your mother. I go up to total strangers: “Miss, do you have kids? You do? Could you spit on this? I can’t get it out.”
So it’s Mother’s Day. I don’t want to put a damper on the day for you, but you do need to face some facts. You get one day a year dedicated to you and you alone. Egg Salad gets a whole week; as do pickles, pancakes, split pea soup, clowns, carpenter ants, and aardvarks. Peanut Butter gets a month (March), chickens get a month (September), and even Oatmeal gets a whole month (January).
I probably can speak for a whole lot of families when I say that, without mothers, life would be pretty ugly. Mothers are really good at multi-tasking. Every once in a while, something I do will set Toni off and she’ll start yelling at me. “You men are all alike. You expect us to work, but still be responsible for all of the stuff that goes on around the house like cooking, cleaning, and caring for the children. On top of that you still us to be sex goddesses when you get home. You men are all alike.”
The fact of the matter is, Toni is much better at multi-tasking than I am. I paid the bills for the first fifteen years or so of our marriage, but really didn’t do a very good job of it. I always had trouble balancing the check book. We were always being hit by late fees. Since she took over, everything is paid on time, the check book is balanced, and we haven’t been overdrawn for years. I never have any money. When Dominique was still home, she came to me asking for lunch money one day. I loaded her up with nickels, dimes, and quarters because that’s all I could find on top of my dresser.
Toni is able to do all of this stuff while carrying on her own hectic schedule. Multi-tasking for me on the other hand, means being able to get to the bathroom and the refrigerator during commercial breaks of “CSI: Miami.”
If I had to guess, I would hazard that Mary, the mother of Jesus was much the same way. I would guess that while Joseph was out in the shop doing his wood-working thing, Mary was in the house in charge of the shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry, social engagements, sewing, mending, caring for the children, and a hundred other everyday tasks.
Mary and Joseph were in the habit of traveling to Jerusalem every year for the Feast of the Passover. This was a big deal, a significant religious pilgrimage, and a very special opportunity. It turned out to be especially memorable when Jesus was twelve years old.
The whole family had made the trek down from Nazareth for the festival. My guess is that it would have been a wonderful time: part religious experience and part vacation. They would have done all of the tourist stuff: the Temple, the Tomb of David, Solomon’s stables.
On the way home, I would imagine that Mary’s mind was focused on all of the stuff that awaited her when she got there. There was a mound of laundry that was going to have to be done. She would have to go shopping for food. Dust had probably collected an inch deep on the furniture. And there was always the children.
Wait a minute…the children. Where was Jesus? They are a day’s journey north of Jerusalem and Jesus can’t be found anywhere among their traveling companions. He’s home alone in Jerusalem. So they race back to Jerusalem as fast as they can.
Think just for a moment what must be going on in Mary’s mind. She was frantic. Her oldest son was lost in a huge city, filled to capacity because of the religious holiday. Who knew what was happening to him or where he was. Every mother has lost a child somewhere in the aisles of Wal-Mart. You all know the panic that sets in. Can you imagine what was going on in Mary’s head?
Think about it for a minute. This was a woman to whom the angel had appeared. When she gave birth, her child was visited by a choir of angels, by shepherds, and by magi from the east. She was told that she had been specially chosen to bear the Son of God. And now, that child was missing. She had lost God! Mothers aren’t supposed to lose their kids. And she has just lost the Son of the Most High!
It took her and Joseph three days to find Jesus. They looked high and low, and in every back alley and narrow street in the city. Finally when there was no place else to look, they thought they might as well check the Temple. And there he was, sitting among the religious scholars, the teachers, and the authorities. He was asking questions and listening to the answers. He was soaking up as much knowledge of Jewish history, belief, practice, and folklore as he could.
When they found him, Mary was steamed. The Temple teachers were amazed at his maturity, but Mary was really honked off. Eugene Peterson translates that verse like this: “…his parents were not impressed. They were upset and hurt” (Luke 2:48).
For three days, they had been beside themselves with anguish, helplessness, and fear. For three days, they had searched and searched. For three days, they wondered if they would ever see their son again. And then they find him, calmly sitting in the temple as if nothing was wrong. And to top it off, he looks up and says, (this is a loose translation) “Why were you all bent out of shape. Didn’t you know that this is where I would be? Why didn’t you realize that I would be here in my Father’s house?”
My guess is that Mary took Jesus by the ear and put him in the oxcart for the ride back home. I doubt that they spoke two words to each other on the way home. Sometimes mothers just need time to stew a little bit.
But I am still convinced that Mary knew that Jesus was approaching manhood. I’m sure she knew that it wouldn’t be too long before she would have to say good-by and set him free. I am sure that she redoubled her efforts to give him the foundation he would need to make it own his own.
Today is Mother’s Day. In the United Methodist Church, we also recognize it as the Festival of the Christian Home. Today we acknowledge the importance of Christian families.
There are some things that we just have to admit, even in our politically correct society. Families are important. Now I know there are some out there who will take me to task over this. Some of my progressive brothers and sisters will insist that I have forsaken my good, liberal education. Some will say that I’ve been corrupted by the conservative branch of Methodism. Some of my colleagues will accuse me of giving in to the Christian Right.
But here is what I believe. I believe that children need mommies and daddies. Intact families are far more likely to produce well balanced, well adjusted, healthy kids. A faithful family and a solid household is a place in which to nurture children until they are ready to be released into the world on their own terms. A family is the best place I know of to prepare a child for adult responsibilities.
Every one of us must make the transition from the homes of our mothers and fathers to the house of our Heavenly Father. That is what Jesus was telling Mary that day in the Temple. He was making the transition. He was doing what they had been preparing him to do. He was moving on from the house of his earthly parents to the house of his Father in heaven.
That is the job of mothers and fathers in today’s world…to prepare our sons and daughters to take their place in the family of God. The lessons we teach at home must be designed to help them learn and mature so that when they finally do leave the house, they are ready to accept their adult responsibilities in the family of God.
Mary didn’t understand all this at first, yet she treasured it all in her heart. I know of no better place for our children than in the hearts, thoughts, and dreams of their parents.
Back in 1981, I preached a sermon over at the Waynedale UMC about parents and children. I quoted from Kahlil Gibran. He wrote this in “The Prophet” (On Children, page 17-18).
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of children” and he said: “Your children are not your children…they come through you but not from you. And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies, but not their souls…You are the bows from which your children, as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and he bends you with his might that his arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; for even as he loves the arrow that flies, so he loves the bow that is stable.”
As we raise our children and grandchildren in Christian homes in order to send them out into the world to be God’s servants, let us, like Mary, trust God. Let us rear our children in an environment in which God can cause their souls to thrive. Let us prepare them faithfully for service in and to the family of God.
