Children living away from home, mainly servants and apprentices, were always given a day's holiday, and flocked to their parents' houses, often making long journeys on foot. The reunited family would usually attend church together before sharing a traditional Sunday meal. But the main purpose of the visit was to present mother with a small gift.
This was often the 'simnel cake' (made at Easter as well). According to one legend, the cake's name arose from an argumentative couple called Simon and Nell, who quarrelled so much over whether to bake or boil the cake, that they eventually did both! According to another legend it arises from the rebel Lambert Simnel, who worked in Henry VII's kitchen after his defeat in 1487. But actually, the name probably comes from the medieval Latin word (simnellus) for the fine wheaten loaves baked on special occasions since Edward the Confessor's reign.
After today's service, we have traditional Mothering Sunday simnel cake for you to enjoy with your tea or coffee.
From time immemorial, mothers have come in for both a good press and a bad press. Oscar Wilde said: " All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That 's his." But Honoré de Balzac said something rather more profound. He said: "The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness."
The two mothers in today's Bible stories both had hearts which were deep abysses, at the bottom of which was immense courage.
Hannah from the OT, was desperate for a child of her own. She pleaded with God for help, and when baby Samuel was born after so many childless years, Hannah must have been over the moon. Yet she'd promised, if she ever had a child, to give her first-born son into God's service. As soon as tiny Samuel was weaned, his mother realised the time had come to make good that promise. And although he was probably only four or five years old, Hannah stuck with her decision to give him into God's service.
I wonder how she could bear to leave her small son behind in the care of Eli, the old priest? Especially as Eli's own sons hadn't turned out very well. They were the talk of the town for all their wild ways. How could an elderly male priest replace a mother? Hannah must have been torn apart as she walked home without Samuel. Yet because she had the courage to stick with her decision, her promise to God, her son Samuel grew up to become a great prophet. Happily, we know Hannah visited Samuel once a year, and each year brought him a new cloak which she had made herself. And we know that later, Hannah had three more sons and two daughters.
Following in Hannah's footsteps is Mary, the mother of Jesus. I wonder what it feels like to learn your son is to be executed? Yet Mary had the courage to stand there at the foot of the cross as her son hung from it. She had the courage to be there for her son when he needed her support, no matter what the cost to her. Somehow she found the strength to stick it out, to be alongside him in his hour of great need.
And this is both a privilege and a requirement of parenting, of both mothers and fathers, to endure and to go on enduring, no matter what the cost to yourself.
Perhaps it's reasonably easy to stand alongside your children in their hour of need, when they behave properly and grow up into responsible, law-abiding citizens. But I wonder what it's like when your children don't turn out to be the sort of people you hoped they'd be?
I wonder what it's like for the parents of offspring who are accused of a gruesome murder? I wonder how Derek Bentley's mother felt fifty odd years ago, when she learned her son, the son with learning difficulties, was to be hanged? Especially when he turned out to be the last person to be hanged in England before the repeal of the death penalty. I don't know how the mother felt. But I do know that Derek Bentley's younger sister was so deeply affected by this terrible event, that she campaigned for years, and eventually succeeded in having her brother's name cleared.
I guess it doesn't make too much difference to a mother whether her child is innocent or guilty. The pain she feels must be beyond imagining, because love goes way beyond concepts of innocence or guilt. Love endures whatever the cost, whatever the pain.
The sort of love God has for us, is the sort of fierce, protective love a mother has for her child, only more so. God's love for us goes beyond concepts of innocence or guilt. He will be standing there at the foot of our cross, whatever that might be, whether we deserve to be hanging there or not. He will stay alongside us throughout, enduring but not condemning.
And if that's the sort of love God has for us, then we need to find that sort of love not only for our own children, but for everyone else as well. It means suspending judgement about other people. It means standing alongside them no matter whether we think they're innocent or guilty - that concept is immaterial. It means sticking with them no matter what the cost, no matter what the pain.
"The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness." And endurance, and pain, and strength, and above all, love. For the hearts of mothers, at their best, mirror the heart of God.
