Motherhood and Mothering Sunday

By Valentine Obienyem 

As I sat in church, quietly watching my wife serve at Mass, my thoughts drifted to the significance of the day – Mothering Sunday. The moment was tender and profound, prompting a rambling invasion of reflections on how womanhood has been historically regarded, and what it means to be a mother in a world increasingly blurred by moral confusion.

From sacred texts to classical philosophy, women have long been cast in the shadows – deemed inferior, defective, or subservient. Consider Maimonides, who viewed Eve allegorically as passive matter – the root of evil. St. Thomas Aquinas described woman as “a male gone awry.” From the Code of Manu to ancient creation myths, the prevailing consensus often reduced women to silence, submission, and secondary status.

In Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, and Islam, alike, patriarchal structures entrenched women on the margins. Even though Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) strove to uplift the status of women, prevailing cultural conservatism limited their spiritual roles – barring them from leading prayers or standing equally with men in worship.

Some of these views were brutally direct. Omar, one of the early Muslim caliphs, once said that if one wanted to do anything successfully, one should “ask a woman for advice, and do the opposite.” Hipponax was more caustic: “A woman,” he said, “brings joy to a man only twice: at marriage and at burial.” But who says they were right? A broader, more honest reading of history, and of our present reality, reveals a different truth. Women have always borne grace, resilience, and quiet strength. That is why today, the world rises to celebrate them.

Today’s homily, delivered by Fr. Chigozie Jidere, offered the perfect anchor for these reflections. Drawing from the Gospel parable of the prodigal son, he painted a vivid picture of rebellion, repentance, love, and redemption. His style reminded me of our old literature teacher, Mecano, now a priest, who taught ”Things Fall Apart” as if he were part of the novel the way Fr. dissected the Prodigal Son as if he were one of the characters. Fr. Jidere’s sermon was rich, not only in Scripture, but also in contemporary relevance.

He spoke directly to the youth, reminding them that missteps are not fatal, that God’s mercy is ever available to those who turn back after introspection. It was a stirring message of forgiveness, as the father of the Prodigal Son forgave him as God forgives us out of His infinite love.

Yet, in the second half of his homily, he pivoted from the Prodigal Son to the heart of the day’s celebration: Mothering Sunday. His words struck at the soul of the matter. “The family,” he said, “is the domestic Church,” and at the centre of that Church is the mother. Citing the deep maternal bond – children often being 80% closer to their mothers – he made a passionate plea for women to embrace their role with spiritual seriousness.

With the saying “Nne ewu na ata agba, umu ya ana ene ya”, he sought to instruct mothers on the potency of imitation, urging them to set good examples worthy of emulation by their docile and receptive children. The mother’s life, her choices, her speech, her prayers (or lack thereof) all become templates for the child.

His words brought clarity to something I have often pondered: motherhood is more than biology. It is not merely the act of bearing children, but the art of shaping souls. In 2001, I had written an article titled Motherhood. As usual, I sent it to Dr. Okey Ikechukwu (now a Professor) for his incisive critique at a time he was trying to give birth to my literary whatever through painful midwifery.

He noted, with his characteristic depth, that “motherhood is nothing if not blended with the right spiritual disposition.” Indeed, only a spiritually grounded mother can truly raise a morally grounded child.

But, as Fr. Jidere noted with visible pain, the sacredness of motherhood is increasingly eroded. He lamented the growing trend of absentee parenting, even among mothers. “How can we outsource motherhood to boarding schools,” he asked, “at primary level?” He warned of the dangers of delegating parental presence, urging mothers to reclaim their place – not just physically, but spiritually and morally.

This leads us to a difficult, but necessary, truth: not every woman who bears a child deserves celebration. Some mothers fail their calling. What kind of motherhood do public figures like Afrocandy, Tonto, Tiwa, Cossy, and countless other social media exhibitionists exemplify? Do their lifestyles reflect true motherhood, or do they offer children a diet of vulgarity and confusion masked as glamour?

Is it truly motherhood to expose one’s children to immorality, normalising chaos in the name of freedom or fame? Does mere childbirth qualify a woman for public honour? Can a woman who celebrates indecency stand beside one who sacrifices daily in quiet dignity?

We must ask uncomfortable questions. Can a woman whose social media is an altar of profanity be called a mother in the real sense of the word? Can she teach virtue while modelling vice? As the Igbo say: “When the nanny goat chews the cud, the kid watches.” The damage is generational. Such children inherit not just broken values but a fractured compass, one that spins wildly with no true north.

In contrast, true motherhood, what Fr. Jidere alluded to as “spiritual rootedness”, is Spartan in virtue, gentle in love, but firm in discipline. He recalled a visit he once made as a seminarian.

The children rarely came to church, and when he asked why, they replied, “Ask our mummy if she goes.” That reply, more than any textbook, teaches the power of example. Children do not just listen; they absorb. What a mother is, the child becomes.

From their youth, many girls dream of marriage and motherhood. For some, their wedding day surpasses even academic or professional triumphs. Soon after, the desire to raise children arises.

The anguish of infertility shows just how deeply this instinct runs. But birthing a child is only the beginning; the greater task is upbringing. And the truth must be told: mothers shape the soul of a child far more than fathers. The man plants the seed; the woman carries, births, nurtures, and teaches. It is her rhythm the child learns. It is her voice that echoes through the child’s conscience.

Thus, Mothering Sunday is not just a moment for flowers and praise. It is a spiritual summons. Every mother must ask herself: Have I raised my child in truth and virtue? Have I been a worthy example? Have I been present – not just in body but in spirit?

The breakdown of society, seen in the rise of vulgarity, rebellion, and moral confusion, may well find its origins in failed homes. And at the centre of the home is the mother. Today, many women confuse indulgence with love, failing to correct in the name of affection. But when correction is abandoned, morality decays.

Men, too, have their part. They must choose wives, not for looks or lust, but for character. Too many marriages collapse because they were built on shallow grounds. Themistocles, when faced with two suitors, chose the poorer one, saying: “I prefer a man without money to money without a man.” Our daughters today would do well to choose substance over shine.

Indeed, if our society is ever to find its moral compass again, it is the mother who must first find hers. As Euripides said: “There is no worse evil than a bad mother; and nothing has ever been produced better than a good one.”

Valentine Obienyem writes from Awka

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