Sermon for Mother's Day Week-end

May 10, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott




John 14: 15-21



Jesus speaks the words in today’s Gospel reading to the disciples in the last hours they’ll have together before the Crucifixion. He is preparing them for the hard times of separation that will be coming—not only his Crucifixion and death, but the Ascension too.


We will celebrate the Ascension on Thursday. Every year as Ascension Day approaches, I think of those poor disciples. They have such a short time with their resurrected Lord, before He goes away again. How on earth do they cope with these developments, the fierce grief moving to great rejoicing, moving back to grief again?


I wonder if they thought back to this teaching. I imagine them remembering the Crucifixion—nothing could have prepared them for what came next. They were probably just getting used to the idea of Jesus defeating death. So why can’t he stay?

I also see this situation as a metaphor for our own modern lives. We may be feeling a bit whipsawed by grief and loss ourselves. We may recover from one crisis, only to find ourselves staring down the next one. As I've gotten older, I've noticed that these crises seem to be increasing in frequency and severity in the lives of those I love. I look back to the dramas of my high school and college years, and I understand why so many elders chuckle dismissively at the troubles of youth. We forget, however, that trouble is trouble, no matter what our age.


Again and again, across the span of life, we find ourselves wrestling with similar questions. Why is there so much suffering? Why did God create a world where cancer and other diseases have their ravaging way with people? Why do the rich and powerful care so little about the world they’re living in and why doesn’t God punish those who don’t care? Why do we lose the ones we love, while the ones we wouldn’t mind losing are the ones who live the longest?

We are not the first to ask these questions, of course. Theologians have been happy to give us answers—here’s a favorite: it’s because Eve ate the apple. Or maybe we’d prefer this explanation: it’s because God and Satan are in a battle, and some days, Satan is winning.



But notice how Jesus does not answer the questions that we might wish we could ask God directly. Jesus did not come in human form to explain the ways of God to us. No, Jesus came to show us how to live more God-drenched lives, by living among us and showing us the way.


So now our question might be, why does he have to leave? Here, too, Jesus doesn’t explain why he can’t stay forever, why he is resurrected, only to leave again 40 days later.


Instead, Jesus offers this assurance: we will never be alone. Although we may feel orphaned, we are not. We may feel desolate, another way of translating verse 18. But we have a holy comforter on the way.


Today’s Gospel ends by Jesus reassuring us that we are not losing him. Indeed, the Gospel ends with an expansive vision of how we will abide with the Triune God, all of our lives intertwined, a place to rest and a place to be energized.


On this Mother’s Day, it doesn’t seem like much of a stretch to notice how Jesus describes a relationship that is nurturing, in the way that the best mothering relationships are. These days that celebrate parenting—Mother’s Day today, Father’s Day in June—can be emotionally wrenching for people. Parenting is not always an easy relationship, so these holidays can remind us of what we didn’t have with our parents or our children, or maybe they remind us of times together that are gone forever. Mother’s Day can remind us of paths not taken. Maybe we wish we’d had a different family configuration: more children or more time with extended family or children spaced apart differently. Maybe we made sacrifices for our children, and we wonder what would have happened if we made different choices. Mother’s Day can be a holiday that comes with emotional landmines.


In this context, too, the words of Jesus take on fresh meaning. We are not left orphaned, even though we may feel orphaned in our family relationships: children grow up and start their own families and most of us will outlive our parents. It’s enough to leave us feeling desolate, and the stories of the disciples might not make us feel much better. We don’t hear much about the family relationships of these men as they went out to spread the Good News of the inbreaking Kingdom of God to all of the Roman empire.


On Mother’s Day, let us turn our attention to the mothers in the Bible, particularly those at the beginning of the story of Jesus. I’m thinking of Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist, who is very old, much too old to have a child. I’m thinking of Mary, mother of Jesus, who is very young, much too lacking in resources to be a good mother. And yet, both women received unexpected invitations from God, and both women said yes.


Today, I invite you to think about who you are in these stories. Are you one of the disciples, careening between joy and grief, as you move from Holy Week to Easter to Ascension? Are you Elizabeth, a woman who comes to fulfillment late in life? Are you Mary, facing huge hurdles as you discern a way forward? Are you the main nurturer in your life? Are you in need of nurturing? Do you feel orphaned or desolate?


Hear with your ears and with your heart the words of Jesus, who promises us that we are not abandoned, we are not left orphaned, we are not desolate, stripped of everything that might have mattered to us.


If we’re feeling old and washed up, God still has a place for us. If we’re feeling young and insignificant, God has opportunities that the rest of our culture may not offer. If we’re worried that we never understood Jesus the way we should, we have an advocate in the Holy Spirit. If we feel too weighed down by our burdens, Jesus assures us that our lives are knit with his; we’re not carrying our burdens alone.


No matter how many ways we feel barren, new growth is possible. God’s good news is more inclusive than we dared imagine. And we are at a hinge point of history where it is more important than ever to deliver that good news to a world that is so hungry to hear it. Rest assured that we are up to the challenge. We are nurtured by Jesus as we abide with God and the Holy Spirit, all our lives sewed together into a comforter of peace that passes all human understanding.

The Feast Day of Julian of Norwich

May 8 is the feast day of Julian of Norwich in the Anglican and the Lutheran church; in the Catholic church, it's May 13.  Is Julian of Norwich as famous now as Hildegard of Bingen or Ireland's St. Brigid?  Are any of these women more widely known now than they were in grad school when I first started searching for the females that had been left out of a variety of narratives?  I have no idea.  They are more widely known in the subcultures to which I belong, but in the wider world?

In those early days (the late 80's) of discovering female voices that had been left out of literature anthologies, I most treasured Julian of Norwich for her writing.  In later years, the theology of her writing fascinated me--so many centuries before any blooming of anything that could be called feminist, here was a woman writing about a feminine face of God.

Now, as I head into the second half of my life, Julian of Norwich calls to me in a different way.  For me, the last decade can be seen through a lens of loss:  my best friend from high school died a horrible cancer death, there have been other deaths along with a pandemic, we left South Florida for many reasons, job loss among them.  Why would Julian of Norwich speak to me in this new way?

I think of her, alone in her cell, all of her focus shrunk into so small a space.  I think of her as a model of living more with less.  So, I may never hike the Appalachian Trail in one long trek, but that doesn't mean that my life needs to come to a halt.  I may come to a point where I'm living in one room, but that might be a room that is more full than any of my previous homes.

When I've thought about my older age, I've assumed that I would create communities the same way I've always attempted.  I've thought about the Hildegards and the Brigids and their nunneries--I've always wanted (or thought I did) a community like that one.

Of course, having lived in smaller communities, I realize how much work goes into making that kind of community--but the rewards can be so amazing.

As my friends and family have had health crises, it has occurred to me that I may outlast my friends.  There may be no one to follow me to the commune.  What then?

I used to write to my friend with cancer:  "When we are little old ladies, rocking on the porch, we'll look back on this time . . ." and then I'd fill in with various visions.  When she died, I thought, well, I might be rocking on that porch all by myself.

Instead of that lonely vision, I'm going to train myself to think of Julian of Norwich.  Many of us may spend our later years not in some kind of community, but all alone, in our various houses and apartments.  While some isolation will occur, perhaps it can be a time of creativity, a time to focus that many of us won't have had before.

Mystics like Julian of Norwich can show us the way!

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

  The readings for Sunday, May 10, 2026:

First Reading: Acts 17:22-31

Psalm: Psalm 66:7-18 (Psalm 66:8-20 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Peter 3:13-22

Gospel: John 14:15-21


In today's Gospel, we get a hint of Pentecost. Jesus tells his followers that he will never leave them orphaned or desolate, to use words from several different translations.

Every year as Ascension Day approaches, I think of those poor disciples. They have such a short time with their resurrected Lord, before he goes away again. How on earth do they cope with this?

I also see this situation as a metaphor for our own modern one. You may be feeling a bit whipsawed by grief and loss yourself. You may recover from one crisis, only to find yourself staring down the maw of the next. As I've gotten older, I've noticed that these crises seem to be increasing in frequency and severity. I look back to the dramas of my high school and college years, and I understand why so many elders chuckle dismissively at the troubles of youth. We forget, however, that trouble feels like crisis, no matter what our age.

But Jesus offers this comfort: we will never be alone.

Notice what Jesus does NOT offer: our God is not Santa Claus. Our God is not a fix everything quickly God (at least not all the time).

I have some acquaintances who claim to have lost their faith on September 11, 2001. They had been faithful in their church attendance, but once that disaster happened, they declared they couldn't believe in a God that would let such terrible things happen. No talk of free will would deter them in their determination to let go of their faith.

Earlier generations had a similar difficulty with Auschwitz (perhaps you do too). How can God let such awful things happen?

Evil has real power in the world, and we forget that at our peril. As Christians, we are called to take a longer view, and we are called to believe that God will eventually emerge victorious--but that doesn't mean that this victory will happen in our lifetimes. We are part of a larger story, and we all have our part to play. But we must be aware that we might be like Moses or the early apostles: we may not see the fruits of our labors; we may not get to the promised land (at least not in this life). The Good News that Jesus delivers should give us comfort: all of creation will be redeemed eventually, and that redemption has begun.

Return to that promise of Jesus: we are not orphaned. We are not abandoned. Even in our darkest days, when we feel at our most unlovable, God sees our value. God remembers our better selves. God knows what we could accomplish. If God can use deeply flawed people like Saul who becomes Paul, God will also weave us into the great fabric of Kingdom life.

Retreat Chef

I have spent this week-end down at the Isle of Palms (near Charleston, SC), being part of a team that cooked for a retreat.  I used to cook for larger groups more often, so I knew I could do it.  But I'm also relieved that we're coming to the end of the retreat, and it's been a success.

We were helped by the fact that it's a group of people who are easy to cook for:  no dietary restrictions, no allergies.  We made pork tenderloin last night, and everyone ate it, and many went back for seconds.  Most of the participants spend much time in caring professions and providing care for family members--it's been years since anyone cooked for them, and they haven't been shy about expressing their gratitude.

It's an amazing kitchen--that helps too.  The kitchen has 2 dishwashers, 2 stoves, and 3 refrigerators.  It's got lots of equipment and all the basics, like dishes and silverware, every type of pot and pan, baking containers in every size and shape.

It hasn't all been cooking.  There's been Bible study and worship and lots of great conversation.  Back in October, on a chilly morning walk, when I agreed to help with the retreat, I hoped it would be this kind of experience.

It's been interesting being back at this retreat center, which is one of two Lutheran retreat centers in South Carolina.  I first came here as part of a campus group long ago in 1983.  My family came here in 1984 with a church group; it was the beginning of summer, and I wondered how I would last without seeing my college friends for a WHOLE SUMMER.

Now I'm thinking about coming back here at some point this summer to reconnect with old friends. 

I haven't done much grading, but I still have time.  Grades are due on Monday and Tuesday--plenty of time, but as I tell my students in the waning days of a term, not as much time as we once had.  I haven't done much writing, but there is plenty of time--a WHOLE SUMMER.

World Labyrinth Day 2026

 Today is World Labyrinth Day.   It's celebrated the first Saturday of May.

For more on labyrinths, this website is full of information. 

Below is  a poem-like thing with some of my favorite pictures of labyrinths I have known and loved:

We have walked labyrinths
made of fabric, made in fields,
laid out in tiles
or offered by cathedrals.

We have relied
on the promises of the labyrinth:
one path in, no dead ends,
no false turns, not a maze.

We have trusted
that the path leads
to a center that can hold
us all in all our complexities.

May Days and Feast Days

Here we are in the merry month of May--how can it already be May? The first day of May has ancient roots as a celebration of Spring and new growth and the return of warm weather. More recently, the first day of May has become a celebration of workers.

So let's think about some ways we could make the day special:

--The traditional way would be flowers, traditionally flowers that we would leave on dark porches for people to discover when they woke up. It's probably too late for that approach, but it's not too late to appreciate flowers. You could buy some flowers or a flowering plant. Or, for future enjoyment, you could do what we did: buy some seed packets, plant them, water them, and see what happens.

--It is probably also too late to weave long ribbons around a Maypole. But we could braid ribbons or strips of cloth and meditate on the types of joy we'd like to invite into our lives.

--Today is a good day to think about workers, workers of all sorts. We're having more of a national conversation these days about work, about gender, about who takes care of children and elders while people work, about the locations of work. I look forward to seeing how it all turns out--I'm holding onto hope for positive change, even as I'm afraid we can never make the improvements that need to be made.

--If we're one of the lucky types of workers, the ones who aren't under threat by bosses or by globalization or by robots, we can support those who aren't as lucky. Send some money to organizations that work for worker's rights. I'm impressed with the Coalition of Immokalee Workers, which works to protect the migrant workers in the fields of Florida, but you certainly have plenty to choose from.

--Can't afford to make a donation? Write letters on behalf of the unemployed, the underemployed, everyone who needs a better job or better working conditions. Write to your representatives to advocate for them. What are you advocating? A higher minimum wage? Safer worksites? Job security? Work-life balance?

--Today, Anglicans, Episcopalians, and Lutherans celebrate the feast day of Philip and James; others will celebrate May 3. These are not the most well-known disciples. Today you could reread the Gospels, a kind of literary Easter egg hunt, to try to find them.

--Can you create something that weaves these strands together? Here are some possibilities: a sculpture made out of ribbons that explores the world of migrant workers. A poem that celebrates flowers and contemplates the ways that we love some blooms (flowers) but not others (algae, cancer). A painting that uses weaving in some ways to think about the past century of efforts to enlarge the workplace and make it safer. A short story that updates the story of Philip--who would he be today?

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

  The readings for Sunday, May 3, 2026:

First Reading: Acts 7:55-60

Psalm: Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

Second Reading: 1 Peter 2:2-10

Gospel: John 14:1-14

The Gospel text for this Sunday has much to say to modern people.  I come back again and again to the beginning:  "Let not your hearts be troubled."  We are in a time period where so many of us have troubled hearts.

I worry about our hearts becoming hard as stones once we all decide that we're tired of being troubled.  History shows us this trajectory.  Right now many of us are steadfast in our resistance to becoming a country/world that doesn't seem true to our values.  But what happens when we grow tired?

I look at the way part of this passage has been misused, verse 6:  "Jesus answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'"  I think of all the ways that passage has been used to persecute those who believe differently.  Are we ultimately on that path?

I worry about the ways that so many of us are engaged in binary thinking, the either-or, in or out thinking that can get us into so much trouble.  We spend much time with ideas exactly identical to ours.  We can go for weeks/months/years without meeting someone with different political ideas than ours.  We live in a different kind of segregated world than that of half a century ago, but it's no less dangerous a segregation.

This morning, I came across a quote from Thomas Merton, in this post from the ever-wonderful Parker Palmer:

"This is of course the ultimate temptation of Christianity! To say that Christ has locked all the doors, has given one answer, settled everything and departed, leaving all life enclosed in the frightful consistency of a system outside of which there is seriousness and damnation, inside of which there is the intolerable flippancy of the saved — while nowhere is there any place left for the mystery of the freedom of divine mercy which alone is truly serious, and worthy of being taken seriously.”

In this quote, we see a way forward.  Even as so many of us are in despair about so many things, God is making creation whole again, in ways that we don't always perceive.

The Gospel text for this week includes an implicit invitation.  Jesus invites us to be part of this redemption of creation when he says, "Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. ¹³ And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. ¹⁴ You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it."

Where and how will you respond to this call?