Sermon. Mothering Sunday and the Family of the Church

Sermon. 26 March 2017. St Vedast-alias-Foster, London

Mothering Sunday

John 19.25-27

It was the end of a clergy conference. I was waving off a friend. I said: “The Mother of Gd be with you!”. I happened to know that “The Mother of Gd be with you” is a standard Greek farewell. I had a Greek dentist then. He said that when he was a child, he literally couldn't leave the house without his own mother calling out: “the Mother of Gd be with you”. “I Panagia mazi sou!” However, the other clergy friend, to the right of me, looked at me with some alarm. I knew him to be of a Protestant disposition. He asked tentatively: “Do you... pray to Mary?” I said I most certainly did.* To his credit, he didn't walk off, or damn me to hell. Rather, he suggested we talked about it.

I rambled on and on (if you can imagine such a thing). I don't think I mentioned today's gospel passage, although I might have done. There is a school of thought which says that the Beloved Disciple in John stands for all of us. So when Jesus says to him: “Behold your mother”, he is actually saying that Mary is the Mother of the whole Church, from that moment on, and for evermore. Any way, after saying what I had to say, he replied: “So really your argument is that it is like Jesus saying that Gd is the Gd of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and is the Gd of the living and not of the dead. The saints are alive, and as such we can have access to them.” I was overwhelmed. He added: “When I was in training – at Oak Hill Theological College, mind – I was always taught 'Do not resent the Bible verses which speak against your own views'.” I was the more overwhelmed.

The Mother of Gd be with you.

I am not going to say that that clerical colleague began a devotion to our Lady. I don't think he did. But I did and do. And I add that, of all the things Protestant-minded people can pick up Catholic-minded people, I find quite high on the list is the matter of prayers addressed to the saints. And I have to say I am constitutionally unable to see any problem with it.

There would of course be a huge problem, if Catholics thought it necessary to pray to saints, instead of praying to Gd, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, because Gd as Father, Son and Holy Spirit is (allegedly) too distant, or too angry, or too judgemental (or whatever). That would be as wrong as anything. But of course that is not what Catholics do. Catholics as much as any Christian can make their own the statement:

“Anyone can pray to Gd at any time, in any place, about anything, in any way.”

And/but/and Catholics add that it makes our life richer, and helps us and others to be good disciples, if we also ask our friends to pray for us. We ask our friends to pray for us in this life, and we benefit from that, even if logically our own prayers to Gd should 'do'. And we can ask our friends to pray for us in eternity. The saints in eternity are our friends.

In other words, heaven is full. As well as Gd, there are also our friends, and that is to our Gd. Whater heaven is, it is not like this: not like a prison chapel I know of. Within Lincoln castle there used to be a working prison, now a prison museum. The chapel is distinctive. It was designed with boards which flap around each prisoner (who had to stand throughout). This meant each prisoner could only see the preacher. They were literally boxed in. No! The truer idea is that heaven is full and heaven is a social place, a place to spend time with your friends, and indeed a heaven that can begin now, when we ask our friends (wheresoever they be) to pray for us.

The Mother of Gd be with you.

I find that my theme for this Mothering Sunday is actually friendship. I further find I have no problem with that. For various reasons. Firstly, because the question of whether the theme for today is mothers and motherhood is – well, let us just say it is contested. Secondly, because I must have things to say to those of us who are not mothers, and also for those for whom the whole issue is fraught with discomfort or pain. And thirdly – although I am not a parent myself – I think I know enough about parenting to see what a great joy it can be when a parent and a child recognise that they are not only relatives but also friends. And fourthly, because I happen to agree with Timothy Radcliffe, former Master of the Dominicans, who says that a good summary for the whole of the gospel is: “We are being made capable of friendship”.

Today's interactions between Jesus and his own mother are brief. You might say: How could it be otherwise? Jesus is speaking from the cross; he is being tortured to death. But actually brevity is typical of Jesus' encounters with his mother. Think about Mary's first appearance in this gospel, the Gospel of John, at the wedding at Cana. “Women, what to you and to me?” is one literal translation of what he says there, which is, I think you'll agree, about as blunt as you can be. Personally I am rather glad about this. I mean: Can you imagine what Christian liturgy would be like if we had a string of texts in which Jesus says: “I do love you mother. You have loved me into being the person I am. Without your loving touch, I could not be who I am called to be” and Mary replying “I love you so much, son, knowing from the moment of conception how special you are. Loving you has never been a chore” - and so on. How mawkish would our hymns and texts then be!

It is good to be reminded that we do not really know how Mary and Jesus interacted - I mean: whether or not they would meet our own expectations of what it is to be 'loving'. Perhaps they would not. And yet love each other they did. For if the Church's claims about Christ are true, then is is the case, must be the case that Jesus could fulfil his vocation only if he had a mother who did love him, teaching him human love.

You know, there is a case for saying that today's gospel reading is the very least fitting one if your theme is the standard for “Mother's Day”, that is: if we feel led to think of our biological mothers or those who brought us up. For today's reading can be interpreted as being about the formation of the Church. Jesus, from the Cross, brings the Church into being. Its first two members are Mary and the Beloved Disciple (with the other women presumably joining soon afterwards). The point is that Mary and the Beloved Disciple are not relatives – kith and kin is precisely what they are not. Nor are they brought together because they are alike, sharing gender or thinking the same, feeling the same. What they have in common – all they have in common – is that they are here. They stick with Jesus even to the cross and its agonies. What they have in common is their faithfulness. That is the Church. That is the in-the-literal-sense un-natural family we are invited to join. A family on earth and a family in heaven. The invitation is yours, is ours, now.

The Mother of Gd be with you.

Amen.

* A member of the congregation reminded me of the helpful distinction between praying through the saints, rather than to the saints, which is indeed the standard form of prayers addressed to saints. E.g. "Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners"; "Through the prayers of the Mother of God, Saviour, save us". However, some Protestants say even to address ourselves (our words/petitions) to departed saints is to cross a line and may take us away from prayers to Gd.