Reflection
Mothering Sunday
As well as being Mothering Sunday, today is also the middle Sunday in Lent, and it may be that the reason these always fall together is because this half-way point traditionally marks a break in the austerity of Lenten efforts and fasting. It is a day of rejoicing in which we bring spring flowers into our churches, and gather together (traditionally in our ‘Mother church’) with a special thought for mothers and all that they do.
As well as the beautiful flowers on the altar this morning, the pink cloth also has its own special significance. In this church we don’t tend to use an altar frontal, and the practice of using liturgical colours may be unfamiliar. The basic idea is that during the cycle of the Church’s year different colours are used to underline different moods and seasons or to highlight particular occasions.
The colour used during Lent is generally purple, but there are in fact two Sundays in the year when pink (or more properly ‘rose’) is used instead: the 3rd Sunday in Advent and today, the 4th Sunday in Lent. The Bible verses traditionally read on each of these days speak of rejoicing. So pink, as a liturgical colour, is associated with joy.
And yet, in our readings this morning, mothering is clearly presented as a more complex reality than pure, unbounded joy. The story of Moses’ mother having to hide her new-born baby so that she is not forced to drown him in the Nile, then having no choice but to abandon him in a basket on the river’s edge may well resonate with the experience of mothers around the world struggling to keep their children safe in impossible situations. The gospel reading invites us simply to be present to the pain of Jesus’ mother as she looks on the agony of her dying son. Each one of us, whether or not we are mothers ourselves, no doubt has some experience of the challenges and hurt, as well as the joy, which mothering inevitably involves.
It is worth mentioning that this complexity is borne out in the symbolism of the pink cloth on our altar this morning, which is in fact rather subtler than a simple message of rejoicing. Pink is not a pure colour: to make pink you have to mix colours together, and for us that means holding together different liturgical colours and seasons, each with their own mood and meaning.
During Lent and Advent, the predominant colour is purple or deep blue, which symbolises repentance, sacrifice and humility. To ease the journey through these penitential seasons, the half-way point is marked by a day which is intentionally joyful. And that is expressed by a change in liturgical colour: a brighter colour is needed than the dark purple. But simply increasing the proportion of red to blue wouldn’t quite work. Red is the colour which speaks of blood, fire, martyrdom and Jesus’ passion and death. Another colour is needed: white, the colour of celebration, the colour used for Christmas, Easter day, a colour which speaks of glory and light, resurrection and new life.
So the pink we have on the altar today is a blending of white into the red and purple. It is an invitation to joy that doesn’t turn a blind eye to the difficult stuff that also makes up our daily lives. It reminds us that even in and through the tough times there is the sure hope of new life and the gift of God’s grace in Jesus Christ.