Fifth Sunday after Easter
Mother’s Day

A teacher gave her class of second graders a lesson on the magnet and what it does. The next day in a written test, she included this question: "My full name has six letters. The first one is M. I pick up things. What am I?" When the test papers were turned in, the teacher was astonished to find that almost 50 percent of the students answered the question with the word Mother instead of magnet.
Most of us can see our own mothers in this story. It reaches into the essence of motherhood. It’s not just that mothers pick up things. It’s that part of motherhood that compels a mother to do the myriads of kind deeds she does. Holy Scripture explains this aspect of motherhood by remarkable means.

The Old Testament was originally written in the Hebrew language, except for a few chapters in Aramaic; even Aramaic is quite similar to Hebrew. In Hebrew the word for womb is translated compassion. For example, in First Kings Solomon prays, “Forgive your people who have sinned against You, and all their transgressions which they have transgressed against You; and grant them compassion before those who took them captive, that they may have compassion” (1 Kings 8:50). The word translated compassion is the same word for womb. It may be hard for us to see the comparison. Hebrew is basically a verbal language. The nouns all have root forms that are verbs. The verbal forms usually have some usage as a noun that is related to the verbal meaning. In the case of the Hebrew word translated womb and compassion, the original form probably meant something like to open as in birthing. Giving birth is an opening of the womb. Compassion was another kind of opening of kindness and mercy.

Motherhood in Scripture is therefore associated with compassion. I’ve seen that compassion in my own wife  so many times and in so many ways. But I remember when our first son, Stephen, was a little boy. It was a cold winter day. Susan decided to let him play in the back yard with in his winter coat, the one that had a hood on it. The yard had a chain link fence and we knew would be safe. I was studying somewhere in the house when I decided to get a drink of water in the kitchen. The sink was in front of a window that looked out into the back yard. As I walked into the kitchen, Susan was standing in front of the window.  She looked up and screamed. I thought, “Oh no, what could have gone wrong.” Susan went running out into the back yard. As I passed by the kitchen window I looked out. And there I saw Stephen dangling from the fence by the hood on his jacket. He was hanging there kind of like a rag doll. The wind was blowing him from side to side as he was crying. As I ran back into the yard, I started laughing. I mean it was kind of funny. He wasn’t hurt, except for his “wittle pride.” Susan though was extremely upset. She carefully lifted him down off the fence, cuddled him in her arms and poured kisses and affection all over him. I was still kind of chuckling when I got one of those looks from my wife, daggers coming out of the eyes right at me. Susan said, “Do you think he’s been hanging out here very long?” I jokingly shrugged my shoulders and commented, “Oh, not more than an hour or two.” I got one of those looks again. I quickly wiped the grin off of my face. My wife was concerned that Stephen would remember dangling there, swinging in the cold winter wind. I wasn’t worried. And of course, that little boy is now a Marine, veteran of two military conflicts.
Thank God for motherhood and its compassion. The Scripture that I read earlier prayed that God’s people would be granted, “compassion . . . that they might have compassion.” There seems to be something about human compassion being found in God’s compassion toward us. Could it be that mothers are one of the largest conduits of the compassion of God? I think so.

A teacher asked a boy this question: "Suppose your mother baked a pie and there were seven of you--your parents and five children. What part of the pie would you get?" "A sixth," replied the boy. "I'm afraid you don't know your fractions," said the teacher. "Remember, there are seven of you." "Yes, teacher," said the boy, "but you don't know my mother. Mother would say she didn't want any pie."

We catch a glimpse of God’s character shinning through our mothers’ compassion. After all, it was that compassion that participated in the birth of a Savior. It was that compassion that raised a Savior. It was the same compassion that wept for the Savior at the foot of the Cross. It was again that compassion that led others to the empty tomb on Easter Morn. It is compassion that saved the world. It is compassion that keeps us from being beasts. Thank God for motherhood! Amen.