On May 12, 1907, Anna Jarvis held a memorial service at a West Virginian church in honor of her late mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis. The younger Ms Jarvis wanted to recognize and celebrate the accomplishments of the woman who had raised her, but who also had—among other things—established “Mother’s Friendship Day” in 1868 as a way of having mothers, and their Union and Confederate soldier sons, come together after the Civil War in a spirit of reconciliation. The war, which at times literally pitted brother against brother, had torn apart the fabric of the national family—something those mothers would not abide.
Tired of a society which she felt celebrated the accomplishments of men over women, Jarvis teamed with department store mogul John Wanamaker to create a day to celebrate motherhood. By 1914, Woodrow Wilson would sign into law a bill which set aside the second Sunday of May as “Mother’s Day.”
Thousands of tons of pasta have been expended over the years in the creation of macaroni art by school children who seek to honor their mothers. Mostly shell-free scrambled eggs are served with cereal and milk to moms in bed. Restaurants make their “nut” as husbands and children give mom a break from making dinner. And children of all ages remember how lucky they are to have these special women in their lives.
Our mothers are there at our beginnings, creating, growing and nourishing us with their very bodies. And in mystical ways they are with us at the end of our lives as well: generations of veterans recount in memoirs of dying soldiers crying out in their final moments
“Mama.”
“Mutter.”
“Mother.”
In between our beginnings and ends, they serve as our greatest advocates and cheerleaders—as the great Fr. Robert Welsh, S.J. used to tell generations of Ignatians: “You will never have a better friend than your mother.”
He was, of course, right.
There is a saying within Judaism that “God could not be everywhere, so He made mothers.” While not technically correct (God is, in fact, “everywhere”), the sentiment is: God demonstrates His unconditional love most profoundly through moms.
For example, my wife was able to hear the unique cry of each of our children from the other side of a department store. My mother would call me seemingly out of the blue while I was away at college to ask if I were okay. On those days, I wasn’t. And she knew. In 1945, Mrs. Belle Block claimed to recognize the Marine at the base of the flag being raised on Iwo Jima’s Mount Suribachi (as immortalized in Joe Rosenthal’s iconic photograph) as her son, Harlon. Told that it was a different Marine in that position (one can only see him from behind), Mrs Block replied “I changed that boy’s diapers so many times…I know that’s my son.”
She was later proved right.
The love, the intimate knowledge mothers have of their children profoundly reflects the love of God for us. Speaking of that love, Jesus tells us that “Even all the hairs of your head are counted” (Matthew 10:26). God knows us that well—like our moms.
So it should not surprise us that in describing the extent of His love for us, our Heavenly Father explained it in terms of mothers:
Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb?
Even should she forget, I will never forget you. (Isaiah 49:15)
In trying to hammer home just how deeply He loves us, God turned to the deepest, most constant, tenderest, most selfless human love we can experience: the love of a mother for her children.
And they show that love in countless ways.
In Matthew 25, Jesus tells us that our salvation is dependent in part on how we live the Corporal Works of Mercy: on how we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, visit the sick, etc. It’s a pretty demanding list if we take it seriously. I call it “daunting.” Moms call it “Tuesday.”
Admittedly, not every mother lives up to the image I have shared above; however, my experience and conversations with others tells me most do—at least most of the time. And that’s a lesson for us all. Because it is in self-giving, self-sacrificing love that we find happiness…in this life and more importantly, in the next. And the ones who brought us into this world in love, in love show us the way to the next. So we rightly honor them.
Mother’s Day became part of American culture in 1908—but it is worth mentioning that the day takes place in May—a month long ago dedicated to another Mother. Quite literally a saint. The best there ever was.
It is telling that the greatest saint who ever lived was never called “Mr President” or “Your Highness.” The greatest saint who ever lived was never called “Your Honor” or “Reverend.” The greatest saint who ever lived was never called “Your Eminence” or even “Your Holiness.”
No, the greatest saint who ever lived—who, like those we honored Sunday, profoundly modeled for us a life of loving God and loving humanity—went by a much more noble title:
Mom
A.M.D.G / B.V.M.H.