Sermon by Tom Are Jr. | May 12, 2024 | Fourth Presbyterian Church

Seventh Sunday of Easter
May 12, 2024

Remember Your Mother

Tom Are Jr.
Interim Pastor

Hebrews 11:29–34, 12:1–2
2 Timothy 1:1–9a

In 1905 Anna Jarvis began a campaign to have Mother’s Day recognized as an official holiday in this country.

In 1908 Congress rejected the idea, noting that if we did that, we would have to designate a “mother-in-law’s day as well.” I’m leaving that rationale alone. But in 1914 President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation declaring the second Sunday in May to be Mother’s Day.

Anna Jarvis’s pleasure soon turned to resentment as companies like Hallmark and Russell Stover began cashing in on the day. She said Mother’s Day should be a day of sentiment, not of profit, and in 1925 she organized a protest in Philadelphia. She was arrested for disturbing the peace. So, happy Mother’s Day and try not to get arrested.

Long before these official things, the Apostle Paul encourages Timothy to remember his mother. Timothy, for one reason or another, is having a crisis of faith. We don’t know the details, but we can imagine, because you know from your own life that no one’s faith goes untested. If we open our eyes to the world in which we live, faith is tested from time to time. Everyone knows the dark of doubt on occasion.

Timothy was no different.

Paul loves Timothy, so he writes to encourage him, and Paul says, “as I remember your tears, Timothy, I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.”

Actually, sounds like Paul is not so sure. So pay attention to the instruction: when Timothy’s faith is shaken, Paul urges him to remember those whose faith is strong, namely his mother and grandmother. To use the language from the letter to the Hebrews, they are his cloud of witnesses.

I don’t know anything about these women. But I do know a bit about mothers and grandmothers.

My grandmother Martha was a preacher’s wife. For over sixty years she taught a Bible class at the Peachtree Presbyterian Church in Atlanta. Every Saturday she sat at the kitchen table reading her Bible, making her notes.

I remember one summer Saturday she was studying, and I said, “I can’t believe you haven’t finished that book yet.” She told me, “Tom, this is a book you never finish. This book finishes you.” She’s right about that.

Paul pushes these words through prison bars to send to his son in the faith, Timothy. Knowing that Timothy is in a faith crisis, he encourages Timothy to remember his mother and his grandmother, who evidently were both women of strong faith. They are part of his cloud of witnesses.

It is wise counsel. None of us walks the journey of faith alone. All of us have to lean on others from time to time. It is no accident that I conclude every sermon, and have for over thirty years, with this simple prayer: “We believe, help our unbelief.” Everyone’s faith is tested.

For his own reasons, Timothy was in a faith crisis. So Paul encourages Timothy to remember the God who has been his help in ages past. Paul exhorts Timothy to remember these women in his life, these women of strong faith.

You probably have people in your life like that. People who have taught you something of faith, people who have loved you into faith. People who have been Christ to you in one way or another. You probably could make a list of those people. And what Paul knows is, when our faith is in crisis, it can help to remember those people.

I called my mom yesterday.

My mother was in church every Sunday. Teaching Sunday School, directing children’s choirs. There was even a time when she led a group of elementary-aged children in a recorder choir. Recorders are those flute-like instruments with an easier mouthpiece. That choir was a year-round Lenten experience.

During my early years I let her know that I had no interest in church. That I had better things to do. She listened patiently and then let me know that she couldn’t care less whether I wanted to go or not, I was going.

The year I went to seminary, my mother did too. Her faith is strong, but I never knew just how strong until her stroke.

It was 1989 when at fifty-four years of age a cerebral hemorrhage took away some of her strength and almost all of her vocabulary. The neurologist called it aphasia. She knows what a banana is, but she might call it a toothbrush or a vacuum or most likely just a thing. She knows who I am but hasn’t called me by my name in thirty-five years. She just calls me “love.” That’s also how she addresses my sister, my wife, and Brittany, the caregiver in her nursing home who takes care of all of us by taking care of her. I wasn’t out of my twenties when I became my mother’s parent.

It was ten years ago now we moved my mother from living near us to living near my youngest brother and sister. The day I told mom that she was moving she said, “Oh love, I don’t know about that.”

I said, “Mom, you will love it. Both Martha and Jim are there, and you like them more than you like me.” She said, “That’s true, but I’ll miss Carol.”

I said, “Well, maybe Carol will come visit you.”

“That will be fine then.”

That will be fine.

One word my mother has never lost is “fine.”

“Mom, how are you?” “Oh love, I’m fine.” To be locked up inside yourself for decades would make most folks bitter. To not have the strength to get out of bed so that her friendships have passed her by. To not be able to keep up with a conversation with a four-year-old would leave many devastated. But I’ve watched her with amazement as she greets not every day, but many more days than not, content, at peace. Fine. So again yesterday I asked, “Mom, how are you?” “Oh love, I’m fine.”

And she is.

It looks like this will be her last Mother’s Day, which will be a relief to her. She’s been waiting on the angels a long time now. When the angels arrive, they will probably tell her not to be afraid. That’s what the angels always say, you know: do not be afraid. But they won’t need to say that to her, because she’s not afraid.

And sometimes when my faith is shaken a bit, I remember her and it helps.

Paul is worried about Timothy. He’s having a hard time. I don’t know the specifics, but we can imagine, because none us of gets through life without facing the dark night of the soul.

And Paul says, When the hard time comes to you, remember the people in your life who have taught you what it is to be faithful. Remember the people who have loved you into the faith, who have inspired you. Who have shown you something of what it is to follow Jesus Christ. You don’t have to do it on your own. You have a cloud of witnesses to lean on; none of us makes it on our own.

Sara Touchton was a Presbyterian Elder in South Carolina. Sara had a rather routine medical procedure and received some blood. It was the mid-1980s, and the protocol to protect the nation’s blood supply from HIV was lacking. Sara contracted HIV. It quickly became AIDS. In those days the only thing worse than the disease was the stigma and fear that surrounded AIDS.

One Sunday Sara walked to the front of the sanctuary to stand before her church family. She said, “I want to tell you something: I have AIDS and it will kill me. I do not have long now. I thank those of you who are praying for me. I know some of you are afraid that I am here, and I am sorry about that, but I want you to know that I am not afraid.

“I hate what has happened to me, but I trust in Jesus Christ and I am at peace. Jesus also suffered greatly and has shown us that suffering will not have the last word. My faith is not shaken, and I am not afraid. When it comes to you, and suffering will come to you,” she said, “remember that I was here, and do not be afraid”. That church still talks about that moment. They find strength in that memory.

Sara is part of their cloud of witnesses, and she is part of mine as well.

I am holding here a pretty old worn-out piece of purple paper. I carry it in my wallet every day. On this worn-out piece of paper I have written down some names. A few are names of people you would know, for they are famous after a fashion. Most you have never heard of, but they are my cloud of witnesses. These are names of people who have loved me. Some who have forgiven me. Some who have modeled grace and patience and kindness. No one on this list knows that their name is written here, because it’s not for them; it’s for me. I don’t look at this list every day, but I look at it every day that I need to. And on those occasions when my faith seems fragile, I walk down this list and remember the faith that lives in each of these. And it makes me stronger.

You have people in your life like Sara Touchton, maybe your mother. Teachers and friends who have modeled for you what it looks like to follow Jesus. When you came in today, ushers gave you a little piece of paper like this. If you didn’t get it coming in, you can get one when you leave. I invite you to take the apostle’s counsel and make a list. Write down the names of those who have been models and mentors for you. Keep the list with you. You may not need it today, but some day you will, and when your faith is fragile, remember the people on your list. It’s been my experience that remembering like that makes us stronger. Even when faith is fragile. It helps to remember we are not alone: God has given us a cloud of witnesses to lean on.

Notes
Sara Touchton was an Elder and educator in the Shandon Presbyterian Church in Columbia, South Carolina. Her husband, Bruce, was my financial secretary in the Seven Oaks Presbyterian Church, Columbia.