Imagine that you’re an American man in 1946 who was unable to serve in World War II because of some unseen medical condition. Your friends and brothers fought. Many were killed. Others will never recover from physical and mental trauma. Meanwhile, you’re healthy and generally happy, but for the guilt and the shame. You would gladly have gone in their place, died in their place. You wonder if you’re less of a man because you didn’t fight.
And then you go to Mass on Veteran’s Day and the priest (unimaginable in the Traditional Latin Mass, but let’s pretend) asks all veterans to stand. All the men your age stand. Your father’s generation stands. Your grandfather’s generation stands. And the congregation applauds them and hands them flowers while you shrink into your seat, wondering what people think of you and whether you should just stand anyway so they stop staring. And maybe nobody’s thinking about you at all, but it feels like a twist of the knife. You know it shouldn’t. You smile and applaud. You’re so proud of the men standing all around you, so grateful to them. But it hurts.
It’s not the same, of course. All analogies limp. But I’ve been trying to think of a parallel situation to the “All mothers please stand and get a gift” custom that’s sprung up in recent years. For the many, many people for whom Mother’s Day isn’t hard, it can be very difficult to understand just how painful these paraliturgical celebrations can be, as it feels like a spotlight is shining down on you and declaring to the world that this deep wound of your heart makes you fundamentally inferior.
I don’t hate Mother’s Day. I genuinely don’t. I happily call my mother and text my sister and often field messages throughout the day from my godchildren and former students. I think Mother’s Day is lovely.
But in recent years, I’ve seen Mother’s Day being celebrated at Mass in ways that cause a lot of suffering. Women who’ve lost children and don’t know whether or not to stand for the mothers’ blessing, women who’ve placed children for adoption, women who struggle with infertility or who long to be married but find themselves alone as their biological clocks tick down, women whose children haven’t called them, will never call them again. And then there are the men who love those women and the people who have painful relationships with their own mothers. It all adds up to a secular holiday that causes people a lot of pain at Mass, prompting far more women than you’d expect just to skip Mass on Mother’s Day weekend.
If our observance of a secular celebration is driving people to sin, that’s an enormous problem.
If our observance of a secular celebration is causing untold pain in the body of Christ, that’s an enormous problem.
Now, I know that people feel very strongly about this. I know that because when I’ve shared my own deep suffering in relationship to this I’ve been attacked like you would not believe. And while I remain unconvinced that secular holidays ought to be celebrated in the liturgy at all, I understand that it’s important to many people. So despite my misgivings, I’ll concede the point and assume that Mother’s Day ought to be celebrated at church.
But we don’t have to single people out. We don’t have to make Mother’s Day the theme of the Mass. We don’t have to force grieving women to decide whether or not they’re “mother enough” to stand. Here are some other options:
- Have a Mothers’ Mass. Rather than celebrating Mothers’ Day at every Mass, publicize a midmorning Mass as the Mothers’ Mass. At the beginning of earlier Masses, announce that those who were hoping to receive a special Mother’s blessing may return for the 10am Mass or see Father in the narthex afterward. At the beginning of the Mothers’ Mass, announce that those for whom Mothers’ Day is difficult may want to return for a later Mass that will not be geared toward mothers.
- Have a Mass for those who grieve. Like St. Anne in Detroit, offer one Mass (ideally the latest in the day) where Mothers’ Day isn’t discussed. Publicize it beforehand and announce at the beginning of each Mass (and on posters outside) that there will be a Mass specifically for those for whom Mothers’ Day is difficult.
- Try something like this: “We recognize that this might be a difficult day for some. If Mother’s Day is hard for you, for whatever reason, you’re very welcome to come back for our 11:30 Mass instead.”
- Have a petition for mothers in the prayers of the faithful. And that’s it. The prayers of the faithful are the perfect time for this kind of thing.
- “For all mothers, that they would be strengthened by the model and intercession of the Mother of God to seek the Lord with their lives and draw their children deeper into his heart, we pray to the Lord….”
- Invite people to enroll mothers in their lives in a Mothers’ Day Novena. Discuss it prior to Mothers’ Day, have cards people can give their loved ones, and have the list (or basket) of names brought forward during the offertory. Then just pray, “For all those enrolled in our Mothers’ Day novena, we pray to the Lord….”
- Ask all women to stand for a blessing. Explain spiritual motherhood, that women are mothers in many ways, as godmothers and teachers and aunts and friends. In the blessing, pray specifically for physical mothers but also for all women who are mothers in some way.
- “Heavenly Father, send your Spirit down upon these women who bear fruit in so many ways. Bless them in their motherhood. Give them patience and compassion. Console them in their grief and strengthen them in difficulty. May they be an image of your love to the world as they seek to follow you in all things, and may Mary, the Mother of God and our mother, enfold them in her love now and always.”
- Do the mothers’ blessing while everyone is standing. Rather than asking women to decide whether or not to stand, or to feel singled out for not standing, do the blessing just before the closing blessing, when everyone’s standing anyway. Or do it while everyone’s sitting.
- Focus on Mary. It’s always appropriate to talk about the Mother of God. Maybe give a homily on Mary (and, you know, Jesus and the readings) and let that be enough about motherhood.
- Have a special reception afterward. Instead of celebrating Mothers’ Day during the Mass, announce at the end that everyone is welcome to come to the activity center after Mass for cake and a special mothers’ blessing. It’s much easier just to slip out the side exit than to sit alone in the pew as every other woman stands for her blessing.
Friends, I am a mother in so many ways and I am a bride to the perfect bridegroom. I’m not at all sure that God’s calling me to marriage and motherhood and I’m profoundly aware of how fruitful my life is in ways that would be impossible if I were married with children. And STILL Mothers’ Day is hard for me. If it’s not hard for you, I’m delighted! But there are a lot of people who suffer terribly every second Sunday in May, most especially at church. You don’t have to understand it. But we have got to figure out a way to ease it.
Very insightful, Meg. I remember standing during a Mass on Mother’s Day at a church in Tennessee. My husband’s aunt just sat and sobbed because she had lost both of her children. It was such an awkward and painful moment. Hopefully many people will read this article and help put your advice into motion.
I don’t celebrate Mother’s Day, because it was pounded into me with guilt and shame when I was a kid, plus I don’t have a great relationship with my own mother. So I’m “entitled” to get the conventional mother’s blessing, but I dislike it. All of your suggestions are terrific.
I remember sobbing in Mass when I was going through fertility challenges. They had all the mothers stand for a blessing… it felt like lemon juice being poured into a wound. I WANTED to be a mother, but was not. Your thoughts here are perfectly stated. I hope many churches read take your suggestions to heart.
In Europe, Mother’s Day is celebrated on a Laetare Sunday during Lent. I believe that this gives it a liturgical legitimacy.
Also, traditionally in both Europe and the United States, Mother’s Day was referred to as “Mothering Sunday” which is an important distinction. Mothering is both more specific and more inclusive.
Those who mother are not just biological mothers but it does specify those who are in the business of mothering, a sacrificial vocation which naturally excludes worldly accolades. The blessing at Mass on this one day is the exception in what is mostly a thankless job and gives the graces necessary for the unique demands of motherhood.
I am a mother of four who has experienced miscarriage and infertility plus I have been estranged from my parents for over a decade for a grave reason.
What I wish to express to all women with empathy is that we should be happy for each other, whatever our role in life. Also, we should recognize the unique challenges of our different vocations.
I want more children and have done for years but it will never be. I want a relationship with my parents and extended family but that can never be. I cannot be resentful of those who have what I want and will never have. I must be grateful to God for what He has given me, which is exactly as it should be.
I loved this article. I’m a mother of five children, so there’s no question about standing or not for the mother’s blessing. However, Mother’s day itself can feel painful because my relationship with my own mother has always been difficult and for whatever reason Mother’s day blessings at Mass remind me of that more than of my own motherhood. Go figure. I’m with you. I’d as soon leave it out of regular Mass altogether and find other ways to honor mothers. I’m also more of a believer in simply honoring people for who they are and in a more individual, personal way (and not during Mass).
Meg, thank you for this. It was so difficult during the years of infertility, and then loss of pregnancies. I have been blessed with living children, and am deeply grateful for them. I still am cautious and alert each “Mother’s Day,” for prayers that will cause pain to so many in the congregation, including myself.
There have been a few MD Sundays, in recent years, where it was simply the Sunday Mass, and it was beautiful.
Two weeks ago, pre-Mass, the song was something like, “Mommy don’t kill me.” Wow, that hit all my triggers, and I wondered how many others. This before a Mass where ALL WOMEN present were beyond childbearing years. To whom was that directed? In my mind, we were all manipulated, and some of us were suddenly thrown back to our sorrows from years ago.
Next year, I pray that something like these, from Deuteronomy 30:19-20, will be sung.
https://youtu.be/L2kKAd6EXPY
https://youtu.be/0rgEFAiqatA
I have set before you life and death, choose life. Dt 30:19-20
May we choose life throughout our lives.