Mothering Sunday Creed

Photos by courtesy of "The Hackney Macs"

I believe in mothers.
I believe in mothers who watched the appearance of the thin blue line with longing.
I believe in mothers who watched for it with dread.
I believe in mothers whose hair became thick and sumptuous.
I believe in mothers whose hair fell out.
I believe in mothers who wore jeans till week 30.
I believe in mothers who never wore jeans again.
I believe in mothers who had a birthing pool in the basement with candles and mood music.
I believe in mothers who yelled for needles.
I believe in mothers who were instantly besotted with every movement of his tiny eyelid.
I believe in mothers who felt numb till the little monster got up and walked out the room.
I believe in mothers who kept their head during potty training (and their carpets).
I believe in mothers who accidentally flushed a pair of very small soiled pants down a neighbour's toilet, and said nothing.
I believe in mothers who researched the league tables of at least five nurseries and purchased simple addition workbooks just in case.
I believe in mothers who didn't know what the word aspiration even meant.
I believe in mothers who returned to work, suspended work, worked for less, worked part time, worked unpaid, changed jobs, worked from home, lost a decade's income, re-trained, looked after other people's children so other women could return to work, change jobs, work part time, etc.
(And who still kept sane when 'experts' devoted column inches to the question of whether women could have it all/not have it all - delete as appropriate).
I believe in mothers who cried when their youngest finally started school.
And in those who cried for joy...

I believe in mothers who nearly hired a secretary to keep up with all the paperwork for their children's extra-curricular activities.
I believe in mothers who missed meals to facilitate Brownies/Cubs/Scout camps/hikes (please make sure your child has a compass and a 20 pence piece in case of emergencies).
I believe in mothers who consulted maps to find obscure village halls for ballet exams (please arrive at least one hour early for the hair nets); drum exams (NB: hopefully you have moved to a house with a sound proof annexe) or football matches (we try to be fair, but your son will only be on for the final 6 minutes of the match which you will have driven 15 miles to watch in the freezing cold, and the other side will have much bigger boys and their coach will invariably be a crazed NUTTER).
I believe in mothers who guiltily stuffed a five pound note into a hastily bought card for yet another birthday friend.
I believe in mothers who mopped up tears because their child had the worst 'best friend' in the entire world, and who felt their heart breaking a little bit more each time.
I believe in mothers who facilitated 3D models of the Parthenon and modified sheets to provide outfits for Hallowe'en/World Book Day/class assembly (delete as appropriate).
I believe in mothers who became accidental experts on Spanish verbs, the Civil Rights Movement and asexual reproduction in plants.

I believe in mothers who woke up with butterflies on results day.
I believe in mothers who became anxious about things they'd never thought of before.
I believe in mothers who avoided news stories about statistics on student alcohol consumption/debt/depression/rape/unemployment.

I believe in mothers who tidied empty bedrooms at home for no apparent reason.
I believe in mothers who retained a dim memory of the sofa as somewhere to sit and relax.
I believe in mothers who carried on cooking too much food when it wasn't needed any more.
And then not enough when it suddenly was.
I believe in mothers who imagined becoming grandmothers.
I believe in mothers who cared for their mothers while worrying about their daughters becoming mothers.

I believe in mothers who lost mothers.
I believe in mothers who lost daughters or sons.
I believe in mothers who unsuccessfully prayed to be mothers.
I believe in mothers who mothered children who had lost a mother.

I believe in mothers who were everyone else's mother except an actual one themselves.
I believe in accidental mothers.
I believe in older mothers.
I believe in teenage mothers.
I believe in the mother of God.
I believe in God as mother.
I believe in myself as mother.

I believe in mothers.

A Mother's Boldness

^{Sermon for Trinity 9.} 

^{Matthew 15: 27}She said, ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’ Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.’ And her daughter was healed instantly.

I expect, like me, you have been following the news unfolding in Iraq with horror.

My attempts to update myself on new events about fundamentalism and its terrifying spread through Iraq, is met with warnings online of graphic photos, and I’m not sure I want to see them.

The Catholic online reporter writes: ‘what is happening in Iraq and Syria, especially to Christians, is not hyperbole. They have shown no mercy to women or children.’

Wherever there is violence and conflict, it is often mothers and children that come in for the most severe fall out.

As a mother (and I expect anyone who is a parent will feel the same) I can only imagine the horror of fleeing from persecution, and the ensuing fear, travelling, homelessness, hunger, exhaustion and dislocation that has been brought on the minorities in Iraq who do not wish to see it become an Islamist State.

Mothers and children are traditionally thought of as in need of protection, certainly when children are very small and defenseless.

But in even in extremis, mothers have always been resourceful when it comes to protecting their own children.

On Friday the Church remembered Mary the mother of Jesus, one who said yes to the demanding call of God, who was also made a refugee at the time of Herod’s purging of Jewish babies, ad sent into exile in Egypt.

In our reading today we see the strength and determination of another resourceful mother, though this time a non Jewish mother.

In Jesus’ day the the Jewishness of a baby was carried down the maternal line.

As an online Jewish blog explains:

‘Jewishness is not in our DNA. It is in our soul. The reason it is passed down through the maternal line is not just because it is easier to identify who your mother is. It is because the soul identity is more directly shaped by the mother than the father…

Jewishness is passed down by the mother because being Jewish is a spiritual identity, it defines our very being. And our very being we get from our mother, both in body and in soul’

(from http://www.chabad.org/theJewishWoman/article_cdo/aid/968282/jewish/Why-Is-Jewishness-Passed-Down-Through-the-Mother.htm)

Historically, the Jews had to guard their faith with strong boundaries which marked them out from the surrounding pagan nations

As a matter of national survival, circumcision and the Ten Commandments/special relationship with Yahweh was instituted, and at various points in Jewish history, strongly threatened.

It’s a known psychological fact that threatened people put up boundaries.

Into this steps Jesus, a Jew, with a strong sense of mission to the Jews, but a habit of crossing boundaries, to the horror of many other Jews surrounding him.

The Jewish faith was closely guarded by the Pharisees and Sadducees.

To some extent their guardianship was admirable: there were many threats, but this close guarding could alienate the less religious and make them feel like outcasts.

And outcast were Jesus’ speciality.

We who are used to the rituals of the church, what you do at the communion rail, what you do during prayers and hymns, how you find your way around books in church, mustn’t forget that all these things are alien for a growing % of the population.

In Jesus’ day things were very demarcated.

The desperate woman who approaches Jesus to heal her daughter, is not part of the covenant people; she is a non Jew, an outsider.

It was unusual for a woman to instigate a conversation with a man.

Even more so, that a Gentile, one of the unclean ones, should approach a Rabbi.

And it may be, like me, you are puzzled, even disturbed, by Jesus’ reaction.

In Mark he says he was only sent to the house of Israel.

Matthew embellishes by adding that he ignored her requests and the disciples became bothered by her insistent calling out.

He certainly doesn’t hurry to respond to her.

We might also ask, why is Jesus even in this pagan territory of Tyre?

Mark suggests Jesus went to region of Tyre to escape the crowds.

He is in pagan territory; he doesn’t expect to find faith in this place.

He hadn’t bargained someone who was about to throw herself at him.

Timothy Keller, writing in his book on Mark’s Gospel, asks the question: ‘How do we approach Jesus?

When did you last throw yourself at Jesus?

Do we have a sense that God is too remote, or that He can be accessed at all hours, no questions asked, so long as he grants me my hearts desire?

Do we come to him casually, or with awe and wonder?

I come across people who are afraid of God, who despise him, who are upset with him, or who ignore him, as well as those who love and worship him.

For instance, some people keep their hands in our pockets when they worship God

I recall someone getting told off during training for preaching with ‘a lazy evangelical hand’; one hand in the pocket doesn't exactly send out the right signal about how we view things divine...

The Syrophonecian woman comes to him in desperation though.

Again, Tim Keller: ‘You know why she has this sudden boldness don’t you? There are cowards, there are regular people, there are heroes, and then there are parents. Parents are not really on the spectrum from cowardice to courage, because if your child is in jeopardy you simply do what it takes to save her.’ (p.86, King’s Cross)

Jesus’ response, that it is not fair to take the children’s food and give it to dogs, seems an insult to us, even with our toleration and love of dogs as pets, which was unknown in Jesus’ day.

In his day they were simply creatures that begged; they scavenged at the foot of the table, hoping for leftovers.

In our society, where people insist on their rights, we are astonished that the woman herself was content to go along with this figure of speech, this suggestion that she is like a dog content with the leftovers.

In fact she understands perfectly what Jesus is saying, revealing her abject poverty of spirit.

Blessed are the poor in spirit….

She knows she is not worthy.

As we say in the Eucharist, echoing her very words:

‘We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table…’

Isn’t this the key to the question ‘who is richly blessed by God?’

Those who are richly blessed are those who know their need.

And suddenly, here is the universal Saviour who cannot fail to respond ultimately to a show of faith, wherever it may be found.

So for the woman’s amazing retort, that even the dogs eat the crumbs under their master’s table, her request is instantly granted: an exorcism, from a distance.

Her daughter is healed instantly.

To quote Tim Keller again – ‘She’s not saying Lord give me what I deserve on the basis of my goodness’; she’s saying ‘Give me what I don’t deserve on the basis of your goodness – and I need it now’ ‘ (p.88-9)

This is a parable of the gospel in a nutshell.

Here are the disciples, slow to understand, trying to prevent Jesus from going to Jerusalem and be killed.

Here are the Pharisees, obsessed with internal religious order, unaware they are neglecting the very essence of a loving God and failing to share the good news.

Here is an un-named pagan, a woman, who immediately understands the free gift of God in Jesus Christ and doesn’t mind debasing herself to get it.

And so we come to Mary, the mother of Jesus.

It was her special day on Friday, 15^th August, and we marked it at Morning Prayer on the Team.

Here too is a woman of humble spirit, in this case, a Jew, but one who said yes to God, and bore Jesus to be the Saviour of the whole world.

As we listen again to the ancient piece of music, 'There is no rose of such virtue',

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x67ewYepN3g 

let us also say YES along with Mary, and may we follow in her footsteps of obedience, as we pray for mercy towards all those mothers in Iraq who cry out to God, and to us, day and night.

Amen.

The view from somewhere

Original painting by Sarbani Bhattacharya

One of the most challenging things about Ordination training in pastoral theology & ethics was the 'real life' case studies we were given to wade through.

At first I thought these were some kind of bad joke, the sort of thing someone had thought up just to catch you out, not anything that would actually ever happen in real life. They were all so difficult - whether ethical issues -  abortion, divorce - or complex funeral, wedding or baptism scenarios; or just some random, knotty issue that someone had come to a priest with, hoping for a listening ear, perhaps a cup of tea, and a little bit of clarity in the terrible muddle of daily life. 

Then I discovered they weren't made up at all. They were apparently all real scenarios about real people (with names changed, of course).

So we would sit there in College, in little groups, on our plastic chairs, on a sunny weekend when other people were going round B & Q or doing the ironing, and we would ponder something like this:

'Jean, a long standing member of the PCC, comes to you in some distress. Her daughter, Bernice, who is 22 and lives in a registered civil partnership with her partner, Susan, 24, has had a baby, Jacob, after an affair with a male friend. Bernice asks whether you will baptize him. In conversation with Bernice and Susan, they tell you that in fact Bernice had become pregnant by artificial insemination, but had not told her parents this. What would you do?'

And mostly we were thinking: 'What would I do? Well I think the most sensible option would be to go back to teaching/nursing/accountancy/housewifing/whatever it was I was doing before I completely abandoned all common sense and imagined I could be an Anglican priest and find any sort of a way through all these pastoral mess ups.

Sometimes the group would be divided about the right course of action, because, believe it or not, there are no easy answers. Sometimes we argued. In fact, I cannot imagine theological training without all the arguments. Sometimes, in the stress of the moment, we would inadvertently crack open the gender debate.

For example, a heated argument broke out on the back of this one:

'Vanessa, a professional woman in her mid-forties, is considering an abortion. She became pregnant despite taking full contraceptive precautions and having completed her family twenty years ago. Her older child has a genetic condition which has severely affected her physical and emotional health. Although there is a one in four chance that any subsequent child may develop the same condition, no screening test is available to predict this problem before birth. Vanessa feels very unwell and is already taking time off work due to severe morning sickness and says she has no compunction about seeking an abortion. Her husband, who has always been critical of abortion on demand, has more scruples. They are both Christians.'

We were asked to consider the stakeholders. I weighed in and suggested husband and wife might well be feeling differently, and that it was Vanessa, for whom most was at stake, because it was she that would carry the baby and give birth to it. In other words, the mother feels differently from the father. Fathers in the group were outraged. They felt that the husband would stand to lose just as much if the baby was not carried to term. Why stress the mother's anguish over the father's? It was plain wrong, and sexist. They imagined how they themselves would feel. I imagined how I would feel. I thought about the three children I'd given birth to and the one we lost. Feelings ran high.

There are ways and ways of arguing. I hope I learnt that in discussions about difficult issues, everyone's viewpoint is coloured by his or her own experiences. Men feel as strongly as women. There is no such thing as 'the view from nowhere'. But it raised an interesting question which I've never resolved. Do mothers feel differently about children to fathers? Is it right to identify some quality of being towards children particular to mothers, just because they carry and give birth to them?

Whilst not wishing either to elevate or denigrate anyone's role in raising children, I'm always struck by Mary the mother of Jesus, and how it was said by Simeon of her, 'sorrow, like a sword, will pierce your own soul', in prophetic reference to the destiny of her son the Messiah, and to all that she would suffer herself over him.

And as the beginning of what I believe is commonly known as 'empty nest syndrome' looms its ugly head, I admit I have always imagined that the one left inside the nest, deeply grieving for what is passing, is the mother bird. 

28. The Syrophoenician woman - inventing our liturgy

Mothers and daughters - sometimes a tricky one...

This mother was desperate. And desperate mothers will do most things to get healing for their children. 

Her daughter is demon possessed (my modern mind's thinking 'how on earth did that happen? Doesn't she mean severe epilepsy or something?)

Anyway, she's got nowhere else to go so without probably realising it, she does a perfect prayer in her desperation:

'Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me' (Matthew 15:22) (Basically, she, along with blind Bartimaeus, invents The Jesus Prayer).

Me, I couldn't resist this plea, but we read in one short sentence: 'Jesus did not answer a word.' The disciples have to urge him: 'Lord, send her away for she keeps crying out after us.' So this woman is repeatedly calling out, begging, but Jesus appears reticent. 

It gets worse. Jesus says that his mission is only to the 'lost sheep of Israel.' She is a non Jew. The woman persists, kneeling before him, getting personal: 'Lord, help me!'

At this point Jesus is, shall we say, enigmatic, to say the least (rude, if we're being uncharitable). 'It is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs.' The cultural/religious set up was that the Jews 'owned' the Messiah, although this was going to change radically after the resurrection and Pentecost. Will this un named foreign woman force the hand of Messiah?

She comes right back: 'but even the dogs eat crumbs that fall from their masters' table.' And in so doing, beautifully prefigures Anglican Eucharistic liturgy - 'We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs from under your table...' - and that cool U2 song: 'I would believe if I was able, but I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table'*

Her faith is rewarded. Her daughter is instantly healed. I just love Jesus' words: 'Woman, you have great faith!' 

He applauds her and so do we.

*From How to dismantle an atomic bomb