Sermon Starter
by Leonard Sweet
Best-selling author Robert Fulghum is well-known for his "all-I-really-need-to-know-I-learned-in-kindergarten" books. Less well known is the fact that he spent many years in the pulpit in Washington State. He writes about his preaching days and his fear of Mother's Day in these words: "For twenty-five years of my life, the second Sunday of May was trouble . . . I was obliged in some way to address the subject of Mother's Day. It could not be avoided . . .The congregation was quite open-minded and gave me free reign in the pulpit. But when it came to the second Sunday in May, the expectation was summarized in the words of one of the more outspoken women in the church: "I'm bringing my mother to church on Mother's Day, Reverend, and you can talk about anything you want, But it had better include MOTHER, and it had better be good!" (It was on Fire when I Lay Down On It [1991], p. 100).
The relationship between mothers and their first-born child is absolutely unique. Think about this: on the day a first child is born, two birthdays are established and should be celebrated. It is, of course, the birthday for the new child.
But it is also the birthday of another new person: a mother.
The moment a child is born, which in medical terms is called "parturition," a mother is born also. Mother's Day is a birthday celebration. A mother is born at parturition.
The baby Jesus "gave birth" to Mother Mary, just as she gave birth to baby Jesus. Two new, miraculous creations emerged out of one event. With every birth two new lives are born--a baby, who is wholly without worries, and a mother, who will never again be without worry.
With Easter arriving so early this year, Pentecost Sunday and Mother's Day Sunday fall on the same day and I can't think of two institutions more alike than the Church and Mothers. For many of us who grew up in a church going family, we associate the church of our childhood with our Moms. My mother's church. The spirit of our Mother's church we carry with us throughout our lives. It pursues us, woes us, reminds us of God's love for us. The great church father Augustine knew something of this. His mother, Monica, hounded him, in a compassionate way, but she hounded him. Whenever Augustine ran, she followed him; whenever he came home, she challenged his rebellious ways. And when he wasn't with her he knew that she was praying for him, because he caught her often on her knees pleading to God for the salvation of his soul. One day she got so desperate she went to a bishop and wore the man out. She wanted the Bishop to speak with Augustine. At last, annoyed by her persistence and moved by her tears, he answered her with a roughness mingled with kindness and compassion, "Go, go! Leave me alone. Live on as you are living. It is not possible that the son of such tears should be lost." So what else could happen? Augustine gave his life to God and later became a pillar of the church. (from http://www.sermons.com)