Mothers Call Us Home
Rev. Dr. Barry Whittemore
Reconstruction of a sermon delivered May 14, 2006
Outlaw’s Bridge Universalist Church.
Hymnal: Singing the Living Tradition
Open Hymn: # 323 “Break not the Circle”
Invocation: #471 “Love is the Doctrine”
Sacred Reading: #574 “The Stories of Peace” from Micah 4:3
Secular Reading: “My Brother Estes” from Stories I Ain’t Told Nobody Yet by Jo Carson
Closing Hymn: #113 “Where is our Holy Church”
Coming up with today’s sermon was a little difficult because the two themes of “Mother’s Day” and “Homecoming” kept rolling around in my head. So I finally decided to merge them. That seemed reasonable in light of the common tradition of going “home” on Mother’s Day. I know that when I was a child all of my paternal grandparent’s children along with their children would gather together. We continued doing that with until a couple of years after my mother died when I was thirteen.
We have many images of Mother, wonderful images of an ideal. The mystical mother, the magic mother. And it’s no wonder. We were formed within our mother’s womb; we, literally, came from her. We received all we needed through her umbilical cord. After birth, traditionally we suckled at her breast. She was our sole source of nourishment, our world. Today, human gendered evolution is based on this ideal relationship.
Additionally, mothers are our source of psychological, sociological, and spiritual nurture. She feeds us both in body and spirit. Now I realize that this is an ideal that I’m talking about. Reality is not always so pretty. I have friends who were abused by their mothers. Some mothers are physically or psychically absent, not there for their child. That’s tragic.
I once heard of an odd experiment in Germany after World War II. There were lots of orphaned infants. They had to be cared for in a factory like setting. The experiment was that over some cribs they placed an oval drawing of a face. Some essentially got a smiley face, other did not. They tracked the children and found the ones with the faces were healthier and better adjusted as adults, while those who had nothing were more like to end up in jail or with psychological problems. At least a semblance of maternal bonding is critical for our emotional development.
That bonding gives us a sense of security, of safety and warmth. And, most of all, it gives us a sense of unconditional love. In conventional terms “Mother’s love” equals “unconditional love.”
Coming so soon after Earth Day, I have another mother image: Mother Earth. When I was younger “returns to the womb” was a popular psychological phrase. My older brother and I laughed a lot about that when both took up caving or spelunking in college. We, quite literally, returned to the womb of Mother Earth every time we entered a cave. Everything we have and need comes from the earth. It’s no wonder we call her Mother (Of course, she couldn’t be much good without “Father Sun,” but that’s another sermon. I’ll give it next month.) Mother Earth is not only the source of our scientific needs, but our spiritual also. She’s a source of peace, beauty, and inspiration. I was once at a minister’s meeting where we were asked to describe a transcendent, mystical experience of Oneness. Now you’d think that a bunch of preachers might speak of powerful encounters during moving worship services, but every last one of us spoke of an experience in nature, with Mother Earth.
There is yet one more mother image I wish to draw your attention to, one that draws all the other themes together and even has a name: Sofia. Sofia is the Greek translation of the Hebrew word hokema, which means Wisdom and stands for the feminine aspect of the Divine. The source of all we need. Universalists have always understood God as Love, unconditional love. And unconditional love is also enabling love. We can love because we are loved. God is that which is most worthy of worship, of worthy-ship. We come home to that which is most worthy.
Brothers and Sisters, come home. Come home to your mother church; come home to your mother faith, to your mother heritage tradition. Here, whence you came. This church is the mother, whether birthright or adoptive, that nurtured you. This is the source of your enabling educations. Like a mother, it is always here for you. Like a mother it waits up at night for you, waiting for you to come home with a light in the window to guide you.
This is a church of unconditional love; that is the very heart of Universalism.
Now, this not a get-away-scott-free-with-anything church. We pay for our trespasses, our sins. Hosea Ballou taught us that we pay for every sin in this life, no sin is carried over to stain eternity. Our punishment is for corrections. Sometimes, there are lessons we need to learn. Growth opportunities some call them. Occasionally, I think, please, can I just go a while without another growth opportunity or lesson to be learned!
All Universalists have always believed “that all souls shall grow into harmony with the Divine.” In more traditional language that meant that everyone was going to Heaven, whether they wanted to or not. That faith and assurance in and of unconditional love enables us. It enables us to be adventurous, taking risks on others. It enables us to be accepting, to reach out with arms open wide. It enables us to be optimists, with no fear for ourselves in this world or the next.
Besides enabling us to be adventurous, accepting, and optimists, unconditional love enables us to be a loving, forgiving people. With an unlimited source of love, we can freely give it without fear of running out. And we have this safety and security we need to forgive. Indeed, we can even forgive the one person who is often the most difficult one to forgive: ourselves.
This church is our mother. This church is our institution; therefore its lifecycle is not necessarily the same as that of a human being. That may be good news. For we know that our flesh and blood mothers will all die, some untimely, some after long lives.
But institutions die, too. In the 1920s there were nineteen Universalist churches in eastern North Carolina, now there are two. The last one to close was Kinston and I am proud that Carol and Gerald Simmons, who struggled harder than anyone else to keep it going, are with us today. I worry mightily about the other church, and know that our future is not a given.
However, unlike a corporeal body, an institution can always
be revived. The children can bring their mother back to life, can restore her
vitality. We can make sure that our mother is here for our children and
grandchildren, that generations of adoptees can find a home here, where Love is
the Doctrine.
“Where is Our Holy Church”? It’s right here. This is it. “Where is our holy writ?” “Where is our holy one?” It is all around you.
Stand Up! I’m not going to ask you to take your shoes off, but you are standing on holy ground. “Where is our holy land”? Beneath your feet. “Where is our paradise?’ You want paradise? Look into the eyes of the person standing next to you, in front of you, behind you. There is paradise. It can be ours here and now. No need to wait.
This is our holy church. This is our mother. Come home.
Barry Whittemore