Father Gary’s Sermon

Inspired from John 13:31-35

Proclaimed on May 9, 2004

Four women were sitting discussing their sons. The first proudly stated that her son is a bishop, so when he enters the room people address him as “Reverend Father.” The second, not to be outdone, said that her son is a cardinal, so when he enters the room people address him as “Your Grace.” The third quietly stated that her son was the pope, so when he enters the room the people say: “Your Holiness.” The fourth woman simply said, “Well, my son is 7 feet 2 inches tall and weighs 430 pounds, and when he walks into a room people say: “My God!”

The last mother that was able to make that brag was Mary the mother of Jesus, when her son, recently raised from the dead, entered a closed room and approached his disciple named Thomas, who in this unique presence could only fall on his face and say, “My Lord and my God.”

Today is Mothers’ Day, a day in which we commemorate a very special type of “love.” This is also a special day in the life of the Church for here we commemorate the new covenant; the covenant given to the Church by Jesus during his last meal with his disciples; the covenant whose only stipulation for us was that we love one another, even as Christ has loved us. Albeit, both loves are of a special type, and there are tragically many who experience neither.

A mother’s love is singular and focused, it is the love that forms us; much like the love of this mother for her son during the Second World War. You see the allied armies had finally crossed the Rhine River to begin their invasion of Germany. The first place they crossed was on the Bridge at Remagen on March 7, 1945. The first officer to cross the bridge was a Nebraskan by the name of Lt. Karl Timmerman. A reporter called Timmerman’s mother at the Goldenrod Cafe in West Point, Nebraska, where she worked. He excitedly stated to her, “Your son Karl has just crossed the Remagen Bridge. Do you know what that means?” To which Mrs. Timmerman replied, “Is he hurt?” “No, he’s not hurt. But listen to this:” said the reporter, “Karl Timmerman was the first officer of an invading army to cross the Rhine River since Napoleon.” To which this mother commented, “Napoleon I don’t care about. How is my Karl?”

As singular, focused, and forming as the love of a mother may be, the love of Christ is all-inclusive, as well as focused, and it is a love that transforms. Take for instance the miner who had interrupted the preacher John Hutton to lead the whole congregation in the doxology. After doing so he explained how he had only been a Christian for a few months, but that now his life was so wonderfully different that he could no longer just sit in his place. As he stated, “I was a bad lot. I drank, I pawned the furniture, and I knocked my wife about. And now life is real life and splendidly worthwhile.” When he was asked how he now fared among his fellow miners down in the pit, he laughed and replied, “Today they asked me, ‘You don’t seriously credit that old yarn about Jesus turning the water into wine, do you?’” To which I replied, “I know nothing about water and wine, but I do know this, that in my house Christ has turned beer into furniture, and that is a good enough miracle for me!”

But as wonderful as the love of Christ may be, as well as the love of a mother, many times we disappoint these special loves, by failing to live up to their high ideals. A cartoon in a newspaper aptly demonstrated this type of disappointment when it showed an elementary school teacher bending down to read a note that had been pinned to a small girl’s dress. The note, clearly from an embarrassed but defeated mother, read, “I hope you don’t think I picked out this outfit!”

The same is true, of course, for Jesus. He had a group of disciples who were always arguing about who was going to be the greatest! And yet, when the chips were down, one of them betrayed him, another of them denied him, not once--but three times, and the rest abandoned him!

To make matters worse, we think it’s special that we have one day out of the year that is dedicated to Mothers, and even another day dedicated to Fathers, and we have this day for Christ. But what’s the big deal? Egg salad gets a whole week. And so do pickles, pancakes, pickled peppers, split pea soup, clowns, carpenter ants, and aardvarks. Peanut butter gets a whole month, as do chickens, and oatmeal. Perhaps the greatest solace we can gain from this fact is that such national treasures as rubber erasers and moles each only merit a single day of recognition.

Despite these inequalities, however, both the love of a Mother, as well as the love of Christ, is always there for us. This was amply demonstrated in one church, where they were holding a special program given by the little children. One child, obviously quite nervous, got up in front of the church to recite his lines. It was all too apparent, however, that at that point, he could not remember his name, much less his lines. His eyes frantically searching the room finally came to rest on his mother, who was seated very close to the front. Spotting her, he was greatly relieved when she whispered, “I am the light of the world,” to which he immediately bellowed, “My mother is the light of the world.”

As this boy’s mother was there for him, so was Mary--the mother of Jesus--present at the time of her son’s crucifixion. But also true was the reality of the Risen Lord’s presence among his frightened and failed disciples. Both of these loves, so similar, and yet not quite the same, form the foundations of our existence. Though we have tended to institutionalize both of them, each of them transcends any structure we might impose. For these types of love are not laws, but a spirit; not a creed, but a way of life. Though we may try to sentimentalize either type of love, the truth is neither can be reduced to a mere sentiment. For where the true presence of love exists, you will not so much find warm fuzzies, as you will find sacrificial self-giving.

There is an ancient tradition about the Apostle John, who is reported to have lived to a ripe old age. He had become so feeble that he had to be carried to the meetings of the faithful. Because of his weakness he was unable to deliver long discourses. So at each gathering he would simply say the words, “Little children, love one another.” His disciples, weary of hearing the same words over and over, asked him why he never said anything else. To them John gave this answer, “Do this alone and it is enough.”

Today is Mothers’ Day. It is also our day to remember Christ’s Law of Love. Perhaps we only commemorate these types of love, for they remind us of our greatest tragedy, the tragedy that these are loves we most often fail. But our greatest joy, however, is that despite our failures and shortcomings, the love of Christ, and hopefully the love of a mom, are always there for us, and this is our very salvation.