Unitarian Universalist Meeting of
“Listening to Our Mothers”
Rev. Kathy Duhon
I hear some people say that their parents’ voices are inside of them, sometimes still telling them what to do, or criticizing their choices, or occasionally sounding proud as punch. I bet that many of us hear our parents’ voices at times. Hearing these voices is the way we still listen to what our parents said to us when we were growing up, which we do, at least partly, because some of what they said was important. Not everything – some of us have to work to reduce a self-damaging parental voice that we’ve held onto for no good reason.
For many of us, though, what our mothers said to us was crucial in helping us negotiate life. Hygiene, safety, tying our shoes, making friends, deciding what’s right and wrong, learning how to bake cookies, and how not to turn our clothes pink in the wash, discovering beauty, and knowing about service to others – many, many useful and important lessons were learned from our mothers, and at least a few from our fathers.
I
can hear my mother’s sayings, which only she said, ever – no one else in the whole
world had her colorful language, as far as I know. Of course, my mother’s colorful language
didn’t involve cursing, and she didn’t allow us to curse. When she really got upset, she’d say, “I’m so
mad I could spit.” You better watch out
then, but she never did spit. She would
say, “I’ve told you that 16 dozen times.”
Well, maybe 1 or 2 dozen times, but 16 dozen was clearly an
exaggeration. And
clearly, a way to lighten the anger, while keeping the reprimand real. And then there was the show stopper when you
started drifting in your reasoning, probably when you were trying to convince
her to let you do something, and she’d invariably ask, “What does that have to
do with the price of eggs in
Now I know it sounds like we were remarkably slow children who had to be told the same things 192 times (16 dozen), and who could not stay on topic, but actually it was our Mom holding us to higher standards than we seemed capable of that probably saved us from being dullards. Her colorful sayings showed us that she was engaged in our lives and ready to influence our behavior in ways that would make us more acceptable to the rest of the world – really just typical mother fare.
My Grandmother had her sayings too, but they were fairly common ones, like “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” My mother didn’t learn that one, unfortunately, nor did she pass it down to us – I wish she had. When I was 13, I started cooking simple suppers for my grandparents next door after school – it was my mother’s idea for being helpful when they became increasingly infirm, and for keeping an eye on them when she was too busy. I would heat up leftovers or scramble eggs, and my Grandma would hover around the stove, repeating worriedly, “Too many cooks spoil the broth.” I, of course, was the one too many cook, as far as she was concerned, but I didn’t understand then how difficult it was for her to let go of her kitchen duties to a young, inexperienced teenager. Today, I take my Grandma’s sideline advice into my life, and try to be respectful, as well as helpful; collaborative as well as efficient; and to really listen to what someone in need is trying to express.
Our mothers didn’t just have catchy sayings – they also told us much that we needed to hear. My mother told me not to worry – that you can’t change anything by worrying and it only makes things worse. I believe her, mostly, although the teenage and young adult years have been a challenge. What did your mother say to you that you needed to know and that you continue to listen to in your life? . . .
Mothers teach us so much about life. I hope that sometimes mothers, and fathers, can step back from the immediacy of the demands of parenting, and from society’s clear message that parents are supposed to raise and protect, support and encourage their children in numerous ways that promote success, and take time to reflect on the most important aspects of parenting. One of my colleagues said that a mother in his congregation told him, “I believe that my most important job is to protect the souls of my children.”
What if nurturing and protecting souls was the real mission of parents – how would that change parenting? There would still be music lessons and sports events, school concerns and chores to do, but the context would be larger. The goal would not be success as the world defines success, but a more satisfying, personal, soulful way of becoming and being. Unitarian Ralph Waldo Emerson named success this way:
“To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch or a redeemed social condition:
To know even one life has breathed easier
because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded!
I have to say that
not just the mothers and fathers, but all of us become the community that helps
nurture and protect the souls of our children.
Annie Lamott’s descriptions of raising baby
Sam in a church full of caring people gives some of the sweetest explanations
of how we are all mothering and fathering when it comes to souls. She wrote, “We went to church and a blissed-out
And the children do listen to us here in this congregation. They listen to the words and music of the services, and of our children’s religious education program, and they listen to how we act with each other and how we serve the world. And they don’t just listen. They come forward and tell us their wisdom, like they did last week and on Earth Day, and we find ourselves listening to our children. How marvelous – there’s soul work for all of us to do with and for each other.
There is a classic
religious understanding about parents, from the offspring’s point of view. You might have heard it sometime growing up,
for it comes from a standard source, the 10 Commandments, found in the 20th
chapter of Exodus, that most pivotal book of the Hebrew Scriptures. The fifth commandment, the bridge between the
first few concerning your relationship toward God and the later ones about your
human relationships, states, “Thou
shalt honor your father and your mother."
What strikes me immediately is that the mother is
included in this moral law code of an old patriarchal society. In other laws of the Ancient Near East, the
obligations were defined toward your father, but not your mother. Good for the Hebrew people for establishing
the basis of honoring our mothers that we carry on today with the tradition of
Mother’s Day.
“Honor” is an interesting word – it connotes
respect and recognition and a sense that the essential relationship of
parenting stands apart and in a very special, spiritual place. Yet, the commandment is not “love your mother
and your father”, and that is just as well.
There are parents out there whose despicable behavior does not deserve
love. It doesn’t say be grateful to your
parents, or follow their example, or take care of them as they age. In a perfect world, we hope that love,
gratitude, following their example, and caregiving are part of our lives with
our parents, but the 5th commandment asked folks simply to follow a minimal
standard of decent behavior and attititude toward their parents. We should honor them. And why?
Because they gave us life and that is an honor bestowed upon us for a
lifetime. So, honor your mothers and
fathers by listening to them, respecting them, and giving back in whatever way
you can to them who gave you the precious gift of your life.
Peter Fleck, a UU minister, said that we may have
to forgive our parents in order to honor them.
As a grandfather himself, he was still working on forgiving and honoring
his own father, long deceased. Honoring
our parents may be a work in progress for many of us.
One basic way to honor someone is to listen to them. I spoke earlier of listening to the wisdom of the past from our mothers, but listening to our mothers also involves the present tense, the voice today as well as the words from yesteryear. And sometimes it is not easy to find a way to listen. One’s mother is far away and in a different life place. Mom is not well and unable to communicate. The scourge of Altzheimers has removed so many of our mothers from their right minds, and left someone who not only is confused about us, but who we find confusing – where is the mother we trusted to be there and always comfortingly the same?
Carl Scovel, a retired UU minister and one of my mentors, wrote a few times about his own mother’s retreat into Altzheimer’s, which progressed to that disturbing place where she could not experience her own dear husband’s death. Yet Myra Scovel was able to give the family a blessing at a reunion the year after Carl’s father died. She surprised everyone by standing up to make a speech – she who could no longer connect ideas together coherently. And it was a bit unusual as talks go, even more colorful than my mother’s sayings, but she managed to say “thank you” clearly and in many ways. She was able to tell them of the great happiness they had given her, and her great hope that they would have such happiness and joy in their lives. Carl says it was “her last blessing.”
He heard that blessing, and so did his family, because they opened up a space to listen to their aging and infirm mother. She was included in the family gathering, even though it was a chore to do so. Being present and listening is the simple, sometimes difficult, yet amazing gift of honor that we give our mothers, our fathers, our elders, our children. So may we blessed be.