Nativity Catholic Church
|
|
Returning to the "Seat of
Life," Our Mother's Lap Long before President Woodrow Wilson declared “Mother’s Day” a national holiday in 1915, we’ve been recognizing and celebrating “motherhood.” Even as I pen this word, “motherhood,” it strikes me now as being too static, too much of a cardboard cut-out term, smacking of a frozen set of letters calligraphied across the cover of a Hallmark greeting card. Better for us to speak of and reflect upon the action of being a mother, “mothering.” (After all, we are all called to “mothering” in some way; it is not a gift limited only to a biological relationship...but more on that later.) Perhaps no other reality has been more discussed, debated, reflected upon, struggled with, and artistically presented, than mothering. Some of the earliest sculptures created in human history give form and shape to the values embedded in mothering. Recently, while reviewing a delightfully challenging reflection on the nature of the Church by Sally Cunneen entitled, Mother Church, I came across her discussion of a particular type of sculpture of mothering that has been resurrected in countless forms throughout history — the “woman chair” sculpture. The creations of these sculptures stretches back to a most ancient depiction of the “Mother Goddess.” In these sculptures, the goddess is a woman whose lap, unnaturally extended, becomes a chair. She is literally the seat of life and growth… The lap or seat becomes the symbolic center from which life not only flows, but to which it returns for nurturing. Cunneen describes the lap of mothering as a holding environment—– the space in which growth is fostered. What a powerful image of mothering; what a powerful image to pull out from our own storehouse of memory and to bring to life once again as a spark to ignite our reflection. Before consuming these remaining words, spend a few moments playfully musing in your mind’s eye about the safety, security, warmth, nurturing, support, and gentleness you have experienced while cradled in a mother’s lap... I’ve turned the pages of albums and thumbed through faded photographs of my infancy, and I’ve been captured by the contentment that radiates from my face as I rest in my mother’s lap, experiencing the satisfaction of her feeding, the stimulation of her smiling and laughing, the cooing of her soothing voice, the gentle stroking of her fingers over my head and face. There are memories of returning to that holy space, after the days of infancy had long faded. The memories of running back after being on the receiving end of a demeaning barrage of ridicule from other children; memories of sheepishly cuddling up in that place after being punished for some misbehavior and then being invited to return for reconciliation; memories of dreamily pausing there to imagine my future life; memories of the initial disappointment when I reached the stage of growth where I thought I was too “big” (physically and emotionally) to seek out the comfort of my mother’s lap; memories of resting my head there after crying the painful tears shed at my much beloved grandmother’s death. The image is even more potent when not only are we the ones who have been nestling in this sacred space, but the ones who have also offered our own laps for the nurturing of someone we love. The sacred space of a mother’s lap is a place in which we never seem to tire of resting, a holy place we long to return to throughout our lives. My mother and I have often joked throughout my “adult” years about her constant invitation, while home on vacations and holidays, to spend a few moments with her in a rocking chair. No...not a two-seater… Her offer is to rock me in that rocking chair! We do the dialogue routine every so often—she makes the offer, and I remind her of the serious injury that might occur if we were to give it a try—not to mention the sure and certain damage that would befall the family rocking chair! Now, I’ve seen my dad do some impressive “fixing” in his day—but this encounter would be irreparable! Despite our concern over these health and safety issues, my mother’s invitation to return to that sacred space of life-giving nourishment is always tempting. Leaving the rocker aside, we find other ways to express that closeness, that nurturing, that physical presence that is essential to each of our lives. Of the many qualities that sustain one in mothering, perhaps the most significant, the most cherished (and the one most mourned when it is lost or physically inhibited in some way) is the ability to give life out of one’s body. Whether through the great miracle of physical birthing or through the myriad symbolic ways in which each of us “gives life” through our bodies, we are invited into the creative work of God, the ultimate Giver-of-Life, and we are given a share in the Divine Creator’s desire and ability to renew life in spite of the constant and natural rhythm of decay and death. This is true “mother-power” bestowed by the Creator—a power we are all asked to exercise throughout our lives. The sacred space of a mother’s lap, the sacred space from which we literally emanate and to which we seek to return to be rejuvenated, is blessed as a holding environment. It is the place where we can get our bearings after being disoriented or thrown into a tailspin by some experience of life; it is a locus of healing through the power of physical touch; it is a place with boundaries, which enables us to regroup when we have fallen into the boundary-shattering experiences of life, the ones we call chaos; it is a place of “resurrection” in the sense that we often emerge from this space, after having come face to face with the darkness of our tomb, with the light of a new day, with the glow of a new beginning. As Sally Cunneen points out, it is in this same spirit that the ancient symbol of Mother Church arises. The image of Mother Church, depicted and characterized in a variety of ways since the earliest days of Christianity, conveys the reality of the Church as a holding environment, as well as a sacred space to return to throughout the course of one’s life journey—a place of compassion and care, of nurturing and refreshment. However, the image of the Church as mother, as a holding environment, has been corrupted and distorted throughout our history. At different times and in different places, the nurturing and caring environment has been interpreted and played out in demeaning, controlling and abusive ways. Rather than a nurturing holding environment, the “mothering” of the Church has been more like a strangle-hold, a vise-like grip that has allowed little room for growth. Often, Mother Church has been guilty of trying to preserve us as hapless, completely dependent children, rather than the adult children we have become, living our lives in freedom and responsibility. The true mother, while struggling with the risks of allowing her child to leave the safe boundaries of her lap, knows that her child will never grow into the beautiful creation God has blessed her with unless she first lets him or her go, allows him or her to venture forth in freedom. There is a great chasm that stretches between mother—ing and smother—ing! As I ponder many things this “Mother’s Day,” I am grateful that the seat of life from which I have sprung has provided me with not only an understanding of the power and call to mothering in my own life, but also an image and foundation for understanding the power in the way I live and minister in the Church. My own mother’s lap continues to be a source of nourishment, support, and care. I have learned from the safety of that sacred and holy space that each of us is called to be a holding environment for others, an environment wherein people can find refreshment and rejuvenation, an environment into which people can freely enter and from which they are free to go. As I ponder what I have been graced to receive from my own mother, as well as from my maternal grandmother and my godmother, I am challenged to emulate these qualities in my own life, both personally and in my life as pastor of this parish community. I give thanks and praise to God for this day for my own mother, my grandmothers and godmother, too, and I strive to hear and see the ways in which God is calling our community of Nativity to share in the ministry of Mother Church. What kind of a holding environment are we creating here in our parish? Is there enough room for people in need to find support, nurturing compassion, and gentle care? Is the lap of Nativity a sacred place where people can be nourished in Word and Sacrament, where their growth is fostered? Are we a community that knows when to “cuddle up,” and when to let go? Are we learning the skills of a mothering church so that we may invite people to be fed, but be ready to equip them as they are sent back on their way into our beautiful, yet troubled, world? In tribute to our mothers...no matter who they are or where they may now be...let us spend some time resting in their laps, receiving from them the grace of renewed life despite the decay and death we constantly face.
|
