Call the Midwife
Mark 13: 1-8
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
November 14, 2021
The PBS TV series, “Call the Midwife”, is one of my favorites. In every episode, at least one baby is born, if not more than one. The series is based on a series of memoirs by Jennifer Worth who worked as a midwife in the east end of London in the 1950s. The show depicts a community of Anglican nuns and nurse midwives who serve a small underprivileged neighborhood called Poplar. They live together at Nonnatus House, named for St. Raymond Nonnatus, whose nickname harkens to his Caesarean birth in 13th century Spain. St. Raymond is the patron saint of childbirth, midwives, children, and those who are pregnant. The care given by these midwives includes not only the one who will give birth but also family support, sometimes getting the neighborhood folks involved in community organizing, like changing unjust living conditions.
The show wrestles with challenging subjects such as abortion, birth control, systemic poverty and racism, and universal healthcare. Every episode our notions about what it means to love another human being are tested. These sisters and midwives are by no means saints or saviors. Every character has their own flaws and imperfections, but also the mercy, wisdom, and compassion found in community.
Midwives establish relationships and trust. They protect autonomy and defend options and choices. They listen, adapt, and meet the needs of community as well as individuals. I could go on about the role of midwives, even my own personal experience with them, but you can probably already see where this is going.
Jesus was a midwife for the kindom of God. The gospel of Mark was written just before and during the war in Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. Jesus isn’t foretelling events; instead, Mark has Jesus describing what actually happened. Those who are listening to Mark’s words are longing for Jesus to make sense of what they are living through. Jesus tells them these are signs of the end, the end of the world as they know it. The old world of oppression and corruption is passing away, and a new world is being birthed in its place.
A story by author Pablo Molinero and adapted by Henri Nouwen tells the tale of twins in the womb. As the weeks passed, and the twins developed, their awareness grew and they laughed for joy, “Isn’t it great to be alive?”
Together the twins explored their world. When they found their mother's cord that gave them life they sang for joy, “How great is our mother's love that she shares her own life with us.”
As the weeks stretched into months the twins noticed how much each was changing.
“What does this mean?”, asked the one.
“It means that our stay in this world is drawing to an end”, said the other one.
“But I don't want to go”, said the one, “I want to stay here always.”
“We have no choice”, said the other, “but maybe there is life after birth!”
“But how can it be?” responded the one. “We will shed our life cord, and how is life possible without it? Besides, we have seen evidence that others were here before us and none of them have returned to tell us that there is life after birth.”
And so the one fell into deep despair saying, “If this existence ends with birth, what is the purpose of life in the womb? It's meaningless! Maybe there is no mother at all.”
“But there has to be”, protested the other. “How else did we get here? How do we remain alive?”
“Have you ever seen our mother?”, said the one. “Maybe she lives in our minds. Maybe we made her up because the idea made us feel good.”
Thus, while one raved and despaired, the other surrendered to the hope of birth. And so the last days in the womb were filled with deep questioning and fear and finally the moment of birth arrived.
The most difficult stage of labor is called transition when contractions are more intense and occur more frequently. Exhaustion is prevalent and one’s courage and determination can begin to falter. You don’t know if you can go on. But you don’t have to give birth to know what transition is like. We’ve all lived and are living through powerful, painful changes in our own lives and in our life together: illness, decrease in ability, loss of relationships, death of loved ones, changes in church life. Our country, even the world over, is living through a cultural, societal, and spiritual transition. The politics of the last several decades have contracted our society into those twins, the one who wants nothing to change and the one who is desperately striving to find out what this new world is like.
People are being led astray from getting the vaccine or wearing a mask, much of it a result of bad theology, a corrupted Christianity. We still live in the shadow of Iran and North Korea, the power and influence of China and Russia. The climate crisis threatens to bring famine, migration, and natural disasters. Capitalism has monetized our democracy, and once loosened from its restrictions, has proved almost impossible to keep in check. Many days we are exhausted, and we feel drained of our courage and determination. It’s not so much that Jesus is clairvoyant, as human beings and systems of oppression are predictable.
And yet even as we fear change, there are others who are hungering for liberation, for this present reality to give way to another world, those who live continually with apocalypse: those who are poor, unhoused, trans, queer, Black, Indigenous, disabled. Another world in which the worth and dignity of every human being is affirmed and protected. A world in which healthcare, housing, education, and equality are human rights. A world in which the life of the earth and its creatures is equal to the life of humanity. And we are the midwives and stewards of this gospel, this good news. In our faith communities, in our relationships, in our families; in our places of work and in our homes and schools; in our government and in the leaders we elect; in our giving and in our community care and self-care.
As you are praying and reflecting on what your pledge will be this year, both time and money, how are you a midwife with your resources, your life for the kindom of God? How is this church a midwife? We are midwifing this new world, out of ourselves and each other, bringing forth the light that has always been within us. From poet John Roedel:
a seed of everlasting
light was already planted
deep in my soil of my soul
I've been living with a newborn
hidden under my ribs
my heart has been a cradle
of blazing hope since birth
… I think my broken heart
helped the light get out
and every time our heart beats
we let a little of light slip out
our lives are in a perpetual state
of daybreak
we, the members
of the shattered heart club
we, the children
of the neverending dawn
we have always been more starlight
than streetlight
the light we are seeking
is already here
you can feel it
I know you can
the heat is rising up
under your chest
it's pouring out of
your fractured heart
and the shadows
have never been more terrified
Amen.
Benediction – enfleshed.com
Hold fast to what is good.
Release what does not serve you.
Rest when your body says rest.
Dance when your spirit says dance.
God births us into new life,
So let us go in hope,
Midwives to a world of compassion.
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
November 14, 2021
The PBS TV series, “Call the Midwife”, is one of my favorites. In every episode, at least one baby is born, if not more than one. The series is based on a series of memoirs by Jennifer Worth who worked as a midwife in the east end of London in the 1950s. The show depicts a community of Anglican nuns and nurse midwives who serve a small underprivileged neighborhood called Poplar. They live together at Nonnatus House, named for St. Raymond Nonnatus, whose nickname harkens to his Caesarean birth in 13th century Spain. St. Raymond is the patron saint of childbirth, midwives, children, and those who are pregnant. The care given by these midwives includes not only the one who will give birth but also family support, sometimes getting the neighborhood folks involved in community organizing, like changing unjust living conditions.
The show wrestles with challenging subjects such as abortion, birth control, systemic poverty and racism, and universal healthcare. Every episode our notions about what it means to love another human being are tested. These sisters and midwives are by no means saints or saviors. Every character has their own flaws and imperfections, but also the mercy, wisdom, and compassion found in community.
Midwives establish relationships and trust. They protect autonomy and defend options and choices. They listen, adapt, and meet the needs of community as well as individuals. I could go on about the role of midwives, even my own personal experience with them, but you can probably already see where this is going.
Jesus was a midwife for the kindom of God. The gospel of Mark was written just before and during the war in Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. Jesus isn’t foretelling events; instead, Mark has Jesus describing what actually happened. Those who are listening to Mark’s words are longing for Jesus to make sense of what they are living through. Jesus tells them these are signs of the end, the end of the world as they know it. The old world of oppression and corruption is passing away, and a new world is being birthed in its place.
A story by author Pablo Molinero and adapted by Henri Nouwen tells the tale of twins in the womb. As the weeks passed, and the twins developed, their awareness grew and they laughed for joy, “Isn’t it great to be alive?”
Together the twins explored their world. When they found their mother's cord that gave them life they sang for joy, “How great is our mother's love that she shares her own life with us.”
As the weeks stretched into months the twins noticed how much each was changing.
“What does this mean?”, asked the one.
“It means that our stay in this world is drawing to an end”, said the other one.
“But I don't want to go”, said the one, “I want to stay here always.”
“We have no choice”, said the other, “but maybe there is life after birth!”
“But how can it be?” responded the one. “We will shed our life cord, and how is life possible without it? Besides, we have seen evidence that others were here before us and none of them have returned to tell us that there is life after birth.”
And so the one fell into deep despair saying, “If this existence ends with birth, what is the purpose of life in the womb? It's meaningless! Maybe there is no mother at all.”
“But there has to be”, protested the other. “How else did we get here? How do we remain alive?”
“Have you ever seen our mother?”, said the one. “Maybe she lives in our minds. Maybe we made her up because the idea made us feel good.”
Thus, while one raved and despaired, the other surrendered to the hope of birth. And so the last days in the womb were filled with deep questioning and fear and finally the moment of birth arrived.
The most difficult stage of labor is called transition when contractions are more intense and occur more frequently. Exhaustion is prevalent and one’s courage and determination can begin to falter. You don’t know if you can go on. But you don’t have to give birth to know what transition is like. We’ve all lived and are living through powerful, painful changes in our own lives and in our life together: illness, decrease in ability, loss of relationships, death of loved ones, changes in church life. Our country, even the world over, is living through a cultural, societal, and spiritual transition. The politics of the last several decades have contracted our society into those twins, the one who wants nothing to change and the one who is desperately striving to find out what this new world is like.
People are being led astray from getting the vaccine or wearing a mask, much of it a result of bad theology, a corrupted Christianity. We still live in the shadow of Iran and North Korea, the power and influence of China and Russia. The climate crisis threatens to bring famine, migration, and natural disasters. Capitalism has monetized our democracy, and once loosened from its restrictions, has proved almost impossible to keep in check. Many days we are exhausted, and we feel drained of our courage and determination. It’s not so much that Jesus is clairvoyant, as human beings and systems of oppression are predictable.
And yet even as we fear change, there are others who are hungering for liberation, for this present reality to give way to another world, those who live continually with apocalypse: those who are poor, unhoused, trans, queer, Black, Indigenous, disabled. Another world in which the worth and dignity of every human being is affirmed and protected. A world in which healthcare, housing, education, and equality are human rights. A world in which the life of the earth and its creatures is equal to the life of humanity. And we are the midwives and stewards of this gospel, this good news. In our faith communities, in our relationships, in our families; in our places of work and in our homes and schools; in our government and in the leaders we elect; in our giving and in our community care and self-care.
As you are praying and reflecting on what your pledge will be this year, both time and money, how are you a midwife with your resources, your life for the kindom of God? How is this church a midwife? We are midwifing this new world, out of ourselves and each other, bringing forth the light that has always been within us. From poet John Roedel:
a seed of everlasting
light was already planted
deep in my soil of my soul
I've been living with a newborn
hidden under my ribs
my heart has been a cradle
of blazing hope since birth
… I think my broken heart
helped the light get out
and every time our heart beats
we let a little of light slip out
our lives are in a perpetual state
of daybreak
we, the members
of the shattered heart club
we, the children
of the neverending dawn
we have always been more starlight
than streetlight
the light we are seeking
is already here
you can feel it
I know you can
the heat is rising up
under your chest
it's pouring out of
your fractured heart
and the shadows
have never been more terrified
Amen.
Benediction – enfleshed.com
Hold fast to what is good.
Release what does not serve you.
Rest when your body says rest.
Dance when your spirit says dance.
God births us into new life,
So let us go in hope,
Midwives to a world of compassion.
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