May We Be Known by the Fruits of Mother Nurture”

The celebration of Mother has a long history. It dates back to the time of ancient Greece and Rome. It is not merely, as some would suggest, a creation of the greeting cards company to make money out of us. The celebrations of mother and motherhood has been with us for many centuries. It is said that Mothering Sunday was about returning home either to family and or the Mother Church. Returning to a place of total acceptance and love, a place where the love within us can grow, a place of nurture.

These days Mothering Sunday has become known as Mother’s Day, following the American tradition that is celebrated in May, and not the middle Sunday of Lent. During the twentieth century and due in no small part to the promotion of Constance Smith Mothering Sunday began to be marked on the fourth Sunday of Lent known as Laetare Sunday, which means “rejoice”. It grew in popularity after the first world war and no doubt was linked to this idea of folk returning home to place of safety, nurture and love.

Mothering Sunday, Mother’s Day, whatever its actual true origins is enshrined in this image of returning home, and this sense of belonging to something more than ourselves. Whether that is actually of children returning to the family home having been working away or of people returning to the mother church, or those returning home after conflict. At its heart it seems to be about returning home to a place of safety; it is about returning home to a place of renewal, of re-birth, not only for ourselves but for others too; it is about returning to a place of love and total acceptance of who we are, exactly as we are, no matter what we have done or where we have been, we are accepted with open loving arms. It’s about returning to that place where love is not only born but nurtured and grown and brought into true being.

Mother’s Day is the celebration of being held and nurtured in the spirit of love. Mother’s Day is about celebrating the spirit of mother. I have been thinking and remembering those folk who have accepted and cared for me; I have been remembering how they nurtured me in my life, how they offered unconditional love, regardless of gender or familial link. It is the care and nurturing love that matters most to me.

Someone dear to me has been unwell in hospital this week. They offered me nurture and care on one of the most heartbreaking days of my life. They gave me that simple and humble bowl of soup and sat me down and let me settle and be. They nurtured and cared for me. I know them by the fruit they gave to me, and it has fed and sustained me for the last 20 years come this November. It is the fruit I have attempted to live by during my own ministry; it is a fruit I will never forget.

Gospel Matthew 7 v 20 “Thus you will know them by their fruits.”

That bowl of soup to me is the ultimate example of the Divine love alive in human form, manifested. This to me is what days like today are about, they are about celebrating this nurturing love and finding ways to bring this love alive through our being. Not perfectly, in fact falteringly, but the heart of what we live by. Now even if those who have shared this love with us are no longer physically with us, we can still hold that love, nurture it with our hearts, our minds our spirits, our souls, held lovingly by the one eternal soul of life. This is the love that I try to live by and hope we can all live by. We need to live by love and accept one another in the way that the mother, or at least the ideal of maternal love does. May we reach toward that, even in fear, may we find the courage to offer one another such love.

Today we celebrate the spirit of mother; today we celebrate and give thanks to those who gave birth to our being, but we do more than that. Today we celebrate those who have nurtured and brought to life the love within us whether they are the ones who gave birth to our bodies or helped nurture and bring to life something within us. Today we celebrate the spirit of mother; today we celebrate those who have nurtured our lives whether in body, in mind, in heart or spirit. This is surely the fruit we would want to be known by.

Today as we celebrate the spirit of mother we acknowledge our responsibility to one another as individuals and a community, to nurture, to bring to life, the love within ourselves, one another and the wider human community. Can we be known by this loving nurturing and life sustaining fruit.

The truth is that we are always known by our fruit and as the old saying goes, it never falls far from the tree. To use a maternal metaphor we are constantly giving birth to something each and every day. We are all a part of the Divine Creation and re-creation it is really important to recognise this. As Annie Dillard wrote “ We are here to witness creation and to abet it…We are here to bring to consciousness the beauty and power that are all around us and to praise the people who are here with us.”

This is nurture, this bringing alive the spirit of mother, this is what we celebrate this day. This is the fruit at the heart of this day.

Mothering Sunday, whatever its actual true origins is enshrined in this image of returning home; it is about returning home to a place of safety and I believe sustenance, whether that be actual physical food or spiritual food; whether that be simnal cake, a bowl of soup or the bread of heaven. It is about love in whatever form it comes. May we be known by that fruit.

They say “There’s No Place Like Home”.

Now this instantly brings up two images into the heart of my mind. One is of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. In the film she begins by singing of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” a place away from the drudgery, of the mundainity, of life where she could set her free, but at the end she clicks those ruby slippers and says those immortal words. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like like home.” Dorothy has been on a spiritual journey and encountered all manner of fascinating friends along the way. She has also fought off enemies who wanted to destroy her. She has experienced and learnt so much, but in the end she just wants to return home.

For many home is the embodiment of safety and acceptance, the heart and the hearth of a loving family. Robert Frost wrote that “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." Sadly this is not the case for everyone, for many people home and family is not a place of safety at all. In fact it is a place of struggle and suffering.

Home is a tiny word but a powerful one and one so rich in meaning. It is a word that can hold such dreams of possibilities or nightmares of hurt. It is more than a physical place it is an idea, a feeling, a vision. It is something that we carry with us as we journey through life; it is not just something that we seek. For some it is a place that they are fleeing from, a place of repression and not a place of loving possibility. That said whatever it is we are fleeing from in the end we all must return home, just as Dorothy did. “There’s no place like home”

“There’s No Place Like Home” comes from John Howard Payne’s nineteenth century operatta “Clari, or the Maid of Milan”. The full verse reads as follows

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which seek thro' the world, is ne'er met elsewhere.
Home! Home!
Sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home
There's no place like home!

These are the words that Dorothy repeats as she clicks her Ruby slippers and wishes to return to that place of safety.

When I think of Motherhood and or the Mother Church this is what I think of, of returning to a place of sentience of nurture where one feels that they can recharge. A place that is known by those loving fruits.

These do not have to be physical places or people actually. The truth is you need not go anywhere. This place of nurture of sustenance can only really be found in the ground where you find yourself, in fact the truth is what we really need to do is find ourselves at home within our own being. We can enjoy these fruits and share them with others.

If you remember at the beginning of Lent I spoke of not giving things up, but seeing what we can give, nurturing what we have, so as to be in a better place to share our fruits. That we make a place within us that is a welcome to others, to find ways to be better prepared to truly use these gifts, to be of service to the world in which we find ourselves. We just need to nurture that which we already possess and share that fruit. It also teaches me if things get too much I can always do a Dorothy and click my own ruby slippers and be transported to the loving arms of “Warm mother God”. We all need a place of shelter at times when it all goes wrong or seems too much. This is spiritual community to me. That bowl of soup reminds me of it always. If feeds and sustains me every day.

This “Mothering Sunday”, this “Mother’s Day”, may we remember those who have loved and cared for us, those who nurtured us, those who shared their fruit. Those who helped us feel at home. Let us remember this love. May we also find ways to live by that same love, to bring it alive through our human being. May we be known by these fruits, may we become places of welcome, of nurture and love. For our world surely needs that as we need it too.

May we be known by such fruit…

On this day set aside to honour Mother’s let’s remember those who have offered us the unconditional and wholly accepting love of the mother ideal. Those who have offered their unquestioning love to us, those who have offered their nurturing heart and encouraged us to begin again in love. Let us also commit to living this way ourselves to offer this love to all that we meet. To not just tolerate the people we meet as they are, but to love them and accept them, Let’s offer to them the nurturing hand of love. May we be known by these fruits.

I invite you to join with me in prayer

"Prayer for All Who Mother"

We reflect in thanksgiving this day for all those whose lives have nurtured ours.

The life-giving ones
Who heal with their presence
Who listen in sympathy
Who give wise advice ... but only when asked for it.
We are grateful for all those who have mothered us
Who have held us gently in times of sorrow
Who celebrated with us our triumphs -- no matter how small
Who noticed when we changed and grew,
who praised us for taking risks
who took genuine pride in our success,
and who expressed genuine compassion when we did not succeed.
On this day that honours Mothers
let us honour all mothers
men and women alike
who from somewhere in their being
have freely and wholeheartedly given life, and sustenance, and vision to us.
Dear God, Mother-Father of us all,
grant us life-giving ways
strength for birthing,
and a nurturing spirit
that we may take attentive care of our world,
our communities, and those precious beings
entrusted to us by biology, or by destiny, or by friendship, fellowship or fate.
Give us the heart of a mother today.

Amen

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

Mothering Sunday: There's No Place Like Home

Today is Mothering Sunday or as it is more commonly known these days Mother’s Day. For most of us it is a day of joy; a day set a-side to celebrate the gift of motherhood. That said this is not the case for everyone. For some it will be a day tinged with sadness as they remember the mum’s they have lost, who are no longer here. For some mothers it is a time to remember lost children, either through un-reconcilable differences or deaths dark shadow. This day I will be remembering those mothers too.

I will also be remembering those mothers’s whose children are far away from home and who worry about them every day. I will also think of those of us who have never born children who have never experienced that gift, due to a variety of circumstances. I will also remember those, who for whatever reason, find their relationships with their own mothers or their own children difficult, for who today may bring up painful and difficult emotions...I will pause this morning and hold those for whom today will be a difficult and painful day. I will then celebrate motherhood, perhaps life's greatest gift.

I recently came across the following:

“Where the Heart is” by Jo Ann Passariello Deck

“I used to laugh at my Italian relatives who always wanted to sit in the kitchen. They even built houses without dining rooms. Big kitchens were all they wanted. They lived their whole lives in those kitchen, around the stove, eating, talking, playing cards, reading newspapers, drinking coffee. When they weren’t around the stove, they were in church, in God’s home, but that’s another story.

Home is where the stove is. When I think of all the places I’ve lived, I think of what I cooked in the kitchen: cheese tarts in Cambridge, beet soup in Berkeley, and shrimp curry in Singapore. Home is where I saute the garlic and chop the onion, where the frying pan makes music.

An old Russian proverb says, “The oven is the mother.” Food, warmth, acceptance, I can find it all at the stove.”

Home and food are two places that always conjure up images of motherhood. I don’t wish to get shot down for appearing un-politically correct but that sense of maternal love always brings to my heart images of being fed and of feeling at home in the company of people. People so often express their love through food, they make you feel welcome by feeding you. They offer hospitality by offering food and room at their table. Or at least that’s what they’ve always done with me.

Mothering Sunday, whatever its actual true origins is enshrined in this image of returning home. Whether that is of children returning to the family home having been working away or of people returning to the mother church. Either way it’s about returning home to a place of safety and I believe sustenance, whether that be actual physical food or spiritual food; whether that be Simnal Cake, or the bread of heaven.

They say that home is where the heart is and they also “There’s No Place Like Home”.

Now this instantly brings up two images into the heart of my mind. One is of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. In the film she begins by singing of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” a place away from the drudgery, of the mundainity, of life where she could be set free from the confines of home, but at the end she clicks those ruby slippers and says those immortal words. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like like home.” Dorothy has been on a spiritual journey and encountered all manner of fascinating friends along the way. She has also fought off enemies who wanted to destroy her. She has experienced and learnt so much, but in the end she just wants to return home.

Home is where your heart is and it is also where your hearth is. I remember Yvonne Aburrow once telling me that the ancient Romans “viewed the hearth as the centre or focus of the home. It was where the family offerings to the family gods were made.”...she went on to say...”I think a room is incomplete without a hearth or an altar to focus it and in some rooms, the TV is the focus instead of the hearth-fire.”

For many home is the embodiment of safety and acceptance, the heart and the hearth of a loving family. Robert Frost wrote that “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."

Home is a tiny word but a powerful word and one so rich in meaning. It is a word that can hold such dreams of possibilities or nightmares of hurt. It is more than a physical place it is an idea, a feeling, a vision. It is something that we carry with us as we journey through life; it is not just something that we seek. For some it is a place that they are fleeing from, a place of repression and not a place of loving possibility. That said whatever it is we are fleeing from in the end we all must return home, just as Dorothy did.

The other image that home brings into the heart of my mind is something that has adorned many homes over the years, something that is usually sown, it’s the following simple words “There’s No Place Like Home”. Now the source of these simple words is the song titled “Home, Sweet Home” from the words of John Howard Payne’s nineteenth century operatta “Clari, or the Maid of Milan”. The full verse reads as follows

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which seek thro' the world, is ne'er met elsewhere.
Home! Home!
Sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home
There's no place like home!

These are the words that Dorothy repeats as she clicks her Ruby slippers and wishes to return to that place of safety.

When I think of Motherhood and or the Mother Church this is what I think of, of returning to a place of sustenance of nurture where one feels that they can recharge and renew in safety. These do not have to be physical places or even people. Actually the truth is you need not go anywhere. This place of nurture of sustenance can only really be found in the ground where you stand, in fact the truth is what we really need to do is find ourselves at home within our own being.

This got me thinking of the following I recently came across...

“God Moving Through the Day With Me” by Macrina Wiederkehr


"As the stars again become visible tonight, I am reminded of a feast of leisure from my childhood days. I remember, on summer evenings, sitting outside on a quilt with Mama waiting for the stars to come out. Looking back at that moment with my adult eyes, I understand that God is Someone who has taken the time to sit on a quilt with me waiting for beauty. She is a Mother of Presence. I need only invite her into my moments of leisure. Her presence will empower my presence.

"As I tried to bring a deeper quality of presence to all my works this day, I found God moving through the day with me, like a Mother, opening my eyes to beauty, quietly, joyfully, gratefully, without complaining, I welcomes all the beauty that crossed my path."

“She is a Mother of Presence. I need only invite her into my moments of leisure. Her presence will empower my presence.” These words really struck me as I read them the other day. They sank deep into the soul of me as I thought about the last few weeks of my life. As any regular follower of my blog will know I’ve suffered a couple of bouts of ill health this year, something I’m not used to. In so many ways it has knocked me for six and certainly humbled me as I have not been able to do the things I normally would do. I have had to physically isolate myself for periods of time. I have spent hours, nay days completely physically alone. Do you know what it has done me the power of good as I have sought those deeper resources in the soul of me. I have had to sit, well actually lay with uncomfortable lonely feelings and in the discomfort of this I have connected to those aspects of myself at the heart, at the hearth of my being. It has brought me closer to the God of my own limited understanding as I have not tried to fill the hole in the soul of me with people, places and things. It has brought with it a deeper sense of belonging both within myself, this life and God. It has been a time of nurture and love.

When I think of motherhood and the mother church and mother God for that matter it is nurture that comes into the heart of my mind. For so long I sought in life to feed this hole within when all that I needed was already here I just needed to allow it to come alive, to feed it, to nurture it, to bring it to life. Eileen Caddy of the Findhorn community has said “All you need is deep within you waiting to unfold and reveal itself. All you have to do is to be still and to take time to seek for what is within, and you will surely find it.”

At the beginning of Lent I committed to spending time in the wilderness within; I committed to allow myself to spend time alone so as to come to terms more deeply with who I am and then to be better prepared to truly use the gifts I have and to be of better service to the world in which I find myself. 

Now what Mothering Sunday teaches me is that this needs to be done in a loving and nurturing way. It also reminds me that when I do so I am not really venturing into the wild alone, that eternal love is always present in my DNA, in the marrow of my soul, everything I need is already there. So that if things get too much I can always do a Dorothy and click my own ruby slippers and be transported to the loving arms of “Warm Mother God”.

In “Anam Cara” John O’Donohue wrote “The heart is the inner face of your life. The human journey strives to make this inner face beautiful. It is here that love gathers within you. Love is absolutely vital for a human life. For love alone can awaken what is divine within you. In love, you grow and come home to yourself. When you learn to love and let yourself be loved, you come home to the hearth of your own spirit. You are warm and sheltered.”

It seems to me this is what is at the heart of “Mothering Sunday”. This idea of coming home of truly finding shelter in your own home, which is your own heart. Of returning to that love that is Divine, that is truly a part of who we truly are, of recognising the truth spoken during “The Sermon on the Mount”, that we truly are the light of the world. That we are here to nurture that light from which we are formed and to bring that loving light to life as a loving mother would do.

My simple message this “Mothering Sunday” is let’s learn to truly be at home within our own hearts and our own hearths. Let us learn to truly welcome, love and nurture our own lives. Let us truly recognise that we are the light of the world and let us enable that light shine over all our world. When we let our little lights shine we truly can be of service to this our love starved world.

I will end this little chip of a blogspot with the following words of prayer...

"Prayer for All Who Mother" By Victoria Weistein

We reflect in thanksgiving this day for all those whose lives have nurtured ours.

The life-giving ones
Who heal with their presence
Who listen in sympathy
Who give wise advice ... but only when asked for it.
We are grateful for all those who have mothered us
Who have held us gently in times of sorrow
Who celebrated with us our triumphs -- no matter how small
Who noticed when we changed and grew,
who praised us for taking risks
who took genuine pride in our success,
and who expressed genuine compassion when we did not succeed.
On this day that honours Mothers
let us honour all mothers
men and women alike
who from somewhere in their being
have freely and wholeheartedly given life, and sustenance, and vision to us.
Dear God, Mother-Father of us all,
grant us life-giving ways
strength for birthing,
and a nurturing spirit
that we may take attentive care of our world,
our communities, and those precious beings
entrusted to us by biology, or by destiny, or by friendship, fellowship or fate.
Give us the heart of a mother today.

Amen

There's no place like home

Sitting opposite me on the flight into Transylvania there was a young family who were obviously returning home. The daughter and the mother spent quite a lot of the flight teasing the dad, this both amused and delighted me as we passed over Europe. I had noticed that the little girl was wearing ruby slippers, like those worn by Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. This amused me also, it put the broadest grin on my face.

On both the flight into Transylvania and the flight back we were, just by chance of course, sat with the same young woman. Interestingly she was also wearing red footwear, but of a more adult version. She was wearing red knee length boots. I was wearing red shoes too, trainers in my case. Now this may well mean nothing, but as I have reflected on the last week of my life meaning appears to have emerged.

As we came into land and looked down at the Transylvania countryside there was something very familiar looking about it. It reminded me of home, of some parts of the Yorkshire countryside. There is no place like home.

A sense of belonging is so important to a happy and stable life. I know this from painful personal experience. For much of my life I felt the ache of not belonging. Not that this was imposed from the outside, this really was an internal problem, people have always made me feel welcome where ever I have been. I know today that I did this to myself, the rest of the world and humanity always seemed a little alien to me. There was always a sense of distance, something I have to keep an eye on even today.

I got the sense that many of the Unitarians in Transylvania have this sense of not quite belonging. They are a minority within a minority, within a minority it would seem. First of all by being a religious community, however liberal, in an increasingly secular world; secondly by being Hungarian speakers in Romania; thirdly by their approach to religion and understanding of the bible, Unitarianism is a heresy after all. There may well be many Unitarians in Transylvania but they are still to some degree outside of the gate.

They are beautiful people and the most hospitable and loving you could ever wish to meet. They welcomed myself and Carolyn warmly into their lives. You could tell that it meant a lot to them that we had come to visit. I know that Carolyn was overwhelmed by the love shown to us throughout the trip. She was particularly touched by Mrs Abraham, the wife of the congregation’s Lay President. She held her hand during the service. Mrs Abraham could obviously sense that Carolyn was nervous as she had to deliver a speech. I have spent a few days with some of the world’s most beautiful people. They have permanently etched that love upon my soul.

Since I returned I have taken it very easy. I will not be returning to work until the morning (Yes I know I should not have written this or the other blog). I was at home yesterday visiting in Yorkshire. I love driving on the M62, through the Pennines, even if it is a little crazy at times. The weather was terrible yesterday. Wild! On the way back the rain was coming down harder than I have ever known. I was loving the drive though, I felt so free and alive. As I passed the farm that that sits as an island between the east and west bound lanes I was listening and singing along to a song I love “What a Wonderful Way to Go” by New Model Army. I was screaming it out loud with tears rolling down my cheeks, just grateful for being alive and being able to experience love. I have never felt so free in all my life. The last notes of the song ended as we passed a sign saying this was the highest motorway point in England, strangely the weather calmed down soon after.

The song "Wonderful Way to Go" is about a near death experience that Justin Sullivan, the bands singer song writer had on stage. He was electrocuted and seemingly died. After a few minutes he was revived. He says that he experienced all the classic symptoms of a near death experience and that people said that it changed him. This has often been the case for many folk who have had such experiences.

Now I have not experienced any quite as dramatic as a near death experience although there have been moments where I have felt touched by the presence of God, usually in my darkest hours and been changed as a result of them. I cannot offer a truly rational explanation for these expereinces but I know that they were real and each time have led me to a greater freedom and belonging. 

Driving back in the pouring rain last night screaming out loud “what a wonderful way to go” I felt that once again something had shifted within me. Last night, in the middle of a deep sleep, I felt touched by the presence of God.

Yes there really is no place like home and home is anywhere where you no longer feel alone.

Isten aldjo