Mothering Sunday (the
Fourth Sunday of Lent) has to do with the local church community in which you
were baptised being your ‘mother church’—not in a gendered sense, as a
community displaying attributes traditionally considered feminine; but, rather,
in the sense that we use ‘mother tongue’ to refer to our first, childhood,
language.
Our mother church is where we learnt our mother
tongue of Christian faith.
I have been a Christian all my life. One
interesting observation of those who have identified as Christian for any
such length of time is that they have become bilingual or even multilingual.
That is to say, our mother church can only take us so far, at which point we
either look for and find the resources with which to make sense of the world
beyond the Church—leaving church behind, though it remains part of our history—or,
by necessity, looking for these things within a different part of the Church.
For example, growing up Evangelical but later gravitating towards Anglo-Catholic;
or Baptist, but becoming Anglican.
However fluent we
may become in the subsequent language or languages by which we express our
faith; however many years we may live, very happily, in a foreign land; we will
appreciate the community that first enabled us to articulate faith. Returning
for a visit, we will feel that we have come home—even if doing so has mixed
emotions; even if doing so reminds us why we left home in the first place.
That, then, conveys something of the sense of
Mothering Sunday. A day to give thanks for a community we may have left behind
years ago.
I never worshipped in the church where I was
baptised, when my parents were home on furlough from the mission-field of Asia.
But that mother church had sent them out, supported us financially, and prayed
for us. Members of that church prayed for me every day of their lives, long
after we returned from the Philippines, long after I had left home. My dialect
will sound very different from theirs; my language, even. But this day I give
thanks for them.
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