"Standing near the cross of Jesus was his mother".

Of the many clichés that have a claim on our language, one of the most telling is this: She was always there for me. It is used to describe the nature of a key relationship. On this Mothering Sunday we are recalling the influence of our mothers in childhood and adulthood. For most of us here, I would guess that we rejoice this morning at the love of our mothers, for their care and nurture of us. But we also remain mindful of those women who feel themselves diminished by motherhood, and suffer because of it. One in seven women in sub-Saharan Africa dies in childbirth. It remains true that in far from ideal family circumstances, a child needs his mother, however far short from perfection she may be.

This is where the cliché is so telling. It's always used in the past tense as an adult looks back on their life; as if the idea that a mother is always there for me now is either something not yet acknowledged or can't yet be enunciated.

It also suggests a physical distance between the speaker and the mother: Mother was there in the background, out of sight and often out of mind, but she would always re-appear should the need arise, even on the end of the 'phone. Busyness and preoccupation might maintain a distance from this much-loved mother, but she was always reachable. She was on permanent stand-by to perform the task of a mother, difficult though that might be to define. That she was there for me acknowledges the depth and the intensity of the relationship, something to be shared only with siblings. And there is a lingering legacy around the phrase as well: Somehow, because she was always there for me transfers some obligations that I should have to be always there for someone else. It's the way that society works.

From that late middle-aged perspective of mine on the mother/child relationship, I'd like to draw a comparison with a very different kind of relationship; that of a mother figure to a nation. Almost 20 years ago to the day, the Burmese wife of an Oxford professor received a telephone call in their home in North Oxford. It was to recall her to her native country and change her life for ever. Aung Sang Suu Kyi's father had been the leader of the Burmese Independence Movement from the British in 1948. Whilst maintaining a deep and anxious interest in the politics of Burma, Suu and her husband, and their two young sons had settled into academic life in the UK, where they would have stayed had it not been for that telephone call to return to her critically ill mother. Weeks after her return, pro-democracy fervour in this very repressive society broke out across the country, with public demonstrations and protests. As the weeks passed she took her place in the leadership of the liberation movement, following in her father's footsteps; not unlike the story of Benazir Bhutto. The Burmese government reacted to the public protests with savage clamp-downs which continue to this day, resulting in one of the worst human rights violations in the world: In a country of 20 million people there are 1,000 political prisoners, 500,000 political refugees, with children as young as 4 years old in prison, and poets and journalists tortured for just speaking out. Her husband, Michael, wrote of her from Oxford, "All that Suu had to draw on was her very finely cultivated sense of commitment and her powers of reason".

Almost without break, for 20 years she has been held under house arrest in an attempt by the authorities to prevent her from engaging with the people and giving further voice to her protests. She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 and it was accepted on her behalf by her 14 year old son, Kim.

She can never reclaim the years that she lost from her family. Her husband has since died and her children have grown up. Yet she has never ceased to be a mother to her children. Furthermore she has become a new kind of mother to Burmese people who rarely see her; for they have come to regard her as a 'mother to the nation'. Despite the suffering, and maybe partly because of it, her love for her country has kept alive a widespread hope and a Mandela-like determination that one day her people would be free.

What has the Gospel to say to us on this day of recollection and celebration of motherhood in all its forms? "Standing near the cross of Jesus was his mother". At two important moments in Jesus' public life, St John notes the presence of Jesus' mother. One occurs at the beginning of his ministry at the wedding feast in Cana of Galilee where the water is turned into wine. And the other comes near the end of the story, as Jesus hangs on the cross. Each has Jesus at a moment of need. Though the incident at the wedding reception appears somewhat trivial, it is for John a defining moment. In an editorial verse at the end of the narrative, he tells his readers that this miracle was the first of the signs by which Jesus revealed his glory. It sets out one of the themes in John's gospel, and one which will reach its climax on the cross: namely, that in Jesus we see over and over again new and radical signs of the glory of God and the capacity of his love to bring all things to life.

So, bearing in mind that next Sunday is Passion Sunday, let us meditate on that sad scene by the cross on Calvary which formed the Gospel reading this morning. First of all we note that Mary the mother of the Lord was there, standing with the other disciples, with the women, sharing in the suffering of Jesus. Not for John, as with the other gospels, did the onlookers stand at a distance: Mary and the others were close to the foot of the cross, close enough to hear the final muttered words of a dying Christ. Mary 'was there for him'; she had to be there; she had to be as close as possible to him.

Then we need to take note of what Jesus says to her at this pivotal, Messianic moment. At the beginning of the story at the feast at Cana, when Mary tells him that there is no wine, Jesus asks her, "Woman, what have you to do with me?" Here on the cross he says to her "Woman, behold your son". It has been suggested that these two remarks, with their distant manner of address ('woman'), reveal a change in the relationship. It's as if the natural bonds between mother and son give way to a new relationship rooted in faith in God and the Kingdom. In other words, Mary has become a disciple, as well as a mother; and as a disciple, she has the role not only of following Jesus in his way but also of helping others come to him.

He looks first at his mother and then at the beloved disciple, presumably John. "Woman, behold your son", "Son, behold your mother". Here is the compassion of Christ, Son of Mary, in seeing to the needs of his mother in her grief. Mary and the beloved disciple are to begin a new relationship of adopted mother and son. But there is, beyond this, a wider motherly role for Mary in the Church. The Church is the new family of God which emerges at the command of Jesus to Peter and is empowered by the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. In the dying words of Jesus on the cross, Mary is commissioned to be not only the mother of the beloved disciple but to have a unique place in the family of the Church in every generation. This is where her discipleship takes her, and it explains why the Church holds her in such high regard and with such deep affection.

'Hail, Mary, full of grace', sings the Church, 'blessed art though among women…' Mary is holy because she was the Mother of God; and she is bless-ed because of her willingness and her obedience to her calling. Through Mary, the Church has received the generosity of God, constant in his love and care for us. In that sense, Mary is a mother for us all, as she prays 'for us sinners now and at the hour of our death'. She is for us a new motif in the history of God's constancy to his people, something which our readings this Lent have been exploring. We have heard how the Lord God remained faithful to his people during slavery in Egypt; how he raised up Moses to lead the people to freedom in the promised land; how he provided food and water for them in the wilderness; how he remained faithful to them again and again when they went after other gods and abandoned him; how he taught them, and sometimes rebuked them, through the words of the prophets. It's not hard to read these themes as the attributes of a mother faithful and protective towards her children.

And of all those who came to faith in Jesus and saw in him a vision of God's Kingdom of love and righteousness, it is his own mother who takes on the role of carer and encourager for us, as we struggle to be faithful. There should be no sentimentality here.

Being the unique disciple that she is, Mary offers a unique insight into the nature of discipleship; she is present to us across a distance, first among saints. She can be a mother to a nation, to a community, to a family and indeed to each of us. And just as it was at the foot of the cross that day, she doesn't even need to speak to us - she is just there for us.

Standing near the cross of Jesus was his mother.

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