Hail mother

My dear Billy, There is a Jewish saying which, alas, you may not have heard, to the effect that God could not be everywhere, and therefore He created mothers. Although I do not quite like the ways of the Jews, I must reckon this quotation is one of the loftiest compliments ever paid to mothers. It is not question here of the ability of God to be present everywhere at all times, of His so-called omnipresence, but of the trust that He places in mothers to be able to represent Him across the universe. And on Mother’s Day last Sunday I could not but exhort children, with 19th century English historian Babington Macaulay, to “look in those eyes, listen to that dear voice, and notice the feeling of even a single touch that is bestowed upon you by that gentle hand! Make much of it while even you have that most precious of all good gifts, a loving mother. Read the unfathomable love of those eyes; the kind anxiety of that tone and look, however slight your pain. In life you may have friends, fond, dear friends, but never will you have again the inexpressible love and gentleness lavished upon you, which none but a mother bestows.” The 19th century German religious reformer, Martin Luther, observes that when the woman was brought unto Adam, he became filled with the Holy Spirit and gave her the most sanctified, the most glorious of appellations. He called her Eva, that is to say, the Mother of All. He did not style her wife, but simply mother- mother of all living creatures. In this consists the glory and the most precious ornament of woman. This echoes the Hindu concept of the goddess as mother, my dear Billy. In Hinduism all goddesses are considered as mothers and every mother is revered as a goddess. The American poet Wadsworth Longfellow reminds us that “Even He that died for us upon cross, in the last hour, in the unutterable agony of death, was mindful of his mother, as if to teach us that this holy love should be our last worldly thought- the last point of earth from which the soul should take its flight for heaven.” Enough can never be said of mothers. It is the general rule that all superior men inherit the elements of superiority from their mothers. If the world has to be reformed from its errors and vices it is only mothers who can do it, my dear Billy. It is generally admitted, and very often proved, that virtue and genius, and all the natural good qualities which men possess, are derived from their mothers. It is said that behind every successful man stands a woman. That woman is invariably none other than the other woman - the mother. It is she who moulds the character of her child and shapes his destiny. She is Nature’s loving proxy. The future of society is in the hands of mothers. Napoleon said, “Let France have good mothers, and she will have good sons.” Indeed, my dear Billy, a father may turn his back on his child; brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, and wives their husbands. But a mother’s love endures all; in good repute, in bad repute, in the face of the world’s condemnation, a mother still loves on, and still hopes that her child may turn from his evil ways. Isn’t if a pity therefore to see some ungrateful people ignoring the dignity the grandeur, the tenderness, the everlasting and divine significance of motherhood? cases are often reported of people murdering their mothers in cold blood for a fistful of rupees. But unfortunately these are exceptions, my dear Billy. Most sons naturally don’t smear their hands with their mother’s blood. Some are less cruel and simply send their mothers to the care of nursing homes. They bite the very hand that once held their finger and taught them to walk, they simply abandon their old mothers. But this is no occasion for recrimination, my dear Billy. The matricide must be deeply grieving the mother he killed and repenting for his insane act. So must be all those who are guilty of the crime of omission towards their dear mothers and on this very special day must be having a very special thought for them. The dutiful mothers of these ungrateful children must have long forgiven them from the deepest recesses of their hearts. Mother’s Day is indeed a day of rejoicing and celebrations. It is a day to glorify all those unsung mothers who have suffered and sacrificed the best part of their lives for the uplift of their children, who have gone without food so that their children might eat, who have slowly extinguished themselves so that their children might live and shine. It is a day to remember, if only once in a year, the value of one’s mother, of all mothers, the virtues which they have inculcated, the love with which they fashioned genius and formed the soul for good. It is not necessary to make a display of one’s wealth and buy the costliest gift around – your mother may never be able to use it. There is no point giving in to the blaring and glaring advertisement concocted to make a fast buck in the name of your mother. They are only a lurking trap set by business people in a bid to find an easy clientele for their wares. No, your mother doesn’t require all that. What she really needs is your love, your attention, your care. All this can be contained in a beautiful bouquet of fresh, natural flowers, or symbolized by just a fragrant rose. Happy day, dear mother, wherever you are.