I come from the generation of Americans who never thought much about the phenomenon of midwifery. I am not even sure when I first learned of the term or knew exactly what it meant. In its original meaning, it probably designated those folks who were willing and able to assist women in the birth of a child. No doubt, virtually all of the midwifes were women. They were a kind of sage---a woman wise because of her knowledge and experience. It does not mean that men couldn’t have been a midwife, but it would be rare. Today, of course, that is changing.
I learned much of what I know from my two daughters. They used midwives in their labor, delivery and time after the new baby arrived. Midwives don’t necessarily replace the physician, but they are assistants in the process. In most cases, the midwife knows enough to help the birthing mother manage the birth. The doctor is there in an emergency. Today’s midwife typically has gone through some extensive training. But there is no substitute for first-hand experience and compassion.
Often the midwife is a nurse with even more training. Or sometimes the midwife is one who accompanies the nurse to make situations even more helpful to the birthing mother and, indeed, whole family. I know enough to be clear that training plus experience usually is a good thing for anyone in a helping role. And that is where I want to use the image of the midwife to think about some of the work that I have done. Of course, this is not unlike work other folks have done, too.
I don’t know that I ever have used the image of midwife to describe my teaching and ministry. Rather unconsciously, I more likely have seen myself in the role of the physician. Like the physician, I am relatively well-educated. And like all educated folks, there is what I call an “idol trap,” in which we begin to see ourselves “above others” and “beyond” work beneath our statue. Of course, I am making fun of myself and hinting at the cynicism professionals sometimes rightly deserve. To be an effective professional requires a modicum of humility.
And so it is that I find the image of midwife a good one to apply to myself in some of my work. Let me first state the hero (or heroine) of the story is always the one “giving birth,” whether that is an actual baby or some metaphorical new entity. When I apply this to my work, the usual “birthing” that happens is something going on in the life of one of my students---the ones I choose to call friends.
Let me push the midwife analogy further. In a college setting with Ph.D.’s all around, it is like being in a situation with a whole bunch of professionals. So many of us professionals are trying to amp up the students’ knowledge. Of course, this is a good thing. Who wants college graduates who are ignorant or ill-informed? But we all know that too often, knowledge alone is not sufficient for effectiveness. In the language of spirituality, we also hope to see some wisdom emerge. And that wisdom typically is tied up with experience. Like the midwife, students need to find ways to combine knowledge and wisdom born through experience.
In my work that is exactly what I see happening. I try not to come up short on helping students acquire some knowledge. For example, if someone is going to be a good Jew, Christian, Muslim or Buddhist, some knowledge of the tradition is helpful. But knowledge usually does not suffice. All religions have an expectation for some kind of practice and, usually, some kind of expectation that the religion will be a way of life. This normally includes a requirement for some action on behalf of justice, some hope that compassion will be a practice, etc.
So in the work that I am doing, I hope to impart some information that becomes knowledge. But that is only a start. Without some practice and other means of gaining some experience, I doubt the students will ever acquire any spiritual wisdom. And without some wisdom, their spiritual journey will be pretty solipsistic---a fancy word that means privatized and selfish. And as far as I see, there is no point in that kind of spirituality. So we need to find ways to have students step out of their heads and explore the heart. This happens best in things like service. An act of compassion may be worth much more than another book on compassion.
Besides, no one should write a book on compassion without having been compassionate. This is what a spiritual midwife does. She or he encourages others in their spiritual births. Often this comes through practice and undergoing experience more than through lectures. Encourage someone to learn to meditate or pray. Help someone in the early stages of yoga, mindfulness or silence. Assist a youthful spirit to explore solitude and seek to discover the center deep within.
Like actual childbirth, giving birth is not always easy and pain free. It is almost never selfish. Giving birth is not about you. It is about the “birth.” What is being born is a new life in the spirit or a new chance through my compassionate assisting of another. Being a spiritual midwife is always transcending. It transcends my own desires, needs and ego.
A spiritual midwife is an assistant. She is an assistant who also can coach, encourage and challenge. New birth is always the result.
I learned much of what I know from my two daughters. They used midwives in their labor, delivery and time after the new baby arrived. Midwives don’t necessarily replace the physician, but they are assistants in the process. In most cases, the midwife knows enough to help the birthing mother manage the birth. The doctor is there in an emergency. Today’s midwife typically has gone through some extensive training. But there is no substitute for first-hand experience and compassion.
Often the midwife is a nurse with even more training. Or sometimes the midwife is one who accompanies the nurse to make situations even more helpful to the birthing mother and, indeed, whole family. I know enough to be clear that training plus experience usually is a good thing for anyone in a helping role. And that is where I want to use the image of the midwife to think about some of the work that I have done. Of course, this is not unlike work other folks have done, too.
I don’t know that I ever have used the image of midwife to describe my teaching and ministry. Rather unconsciously, I more likely have seen myself in the role of the physician. Like the physician, I am relatively well-educated. And like all educated folks, there is what I call an “idol trap,” in which we begin to see ourselves “above others” and “beyond” work beneath our statue. Of course, I am making fun of myself and hinting at the cynicism professionals sometimes rightly deserve. To be an effective professional requires a modicum of humility.
And so it is that I find the image of midwife a good one to apply to myself in some of my work. Let me first state the hero (or heroine) of the story is always the one “giving birth,” whether that is an actual baby or some metaphorical new entity. When I apply this to my work, the usual “birthing” that happens is something going on in the life of one of my students---the ones I choose to call friends.
Let me push the midwife analogy further. In a college setting with Ph.D.’s all around, it is like being in a situation with a whole bunch of professionals. So many of us professionals are trying to amp up the students’ knowledge. Of course, this is a good thing. Who wants college graduates who are ignorant or ill-informed? But we all know that too often, knowledge alone is not sufficient for effectiveness. In the language of spirituality, we also hope to see some wisdom emerge. And that wisdom typically is tied up with experience. Like the midwife, students need to find ways to combine knowledge and wisdom born through experience.
In my work that is exactly what I see happening. I try not to come up short on helping students acquire some knowledge. For example, if someone is going to be a good Jew, Christian, Muslim or Buddhist, some knowledge of the tradition is helpful. But knowledge usually does not suffice. All religions have an expectation for some kind of practice and, usually, some kind of expectation that the religion will be a way of life. This normally includes a requirement for some action on behalf of justice, some hope that compassion will be a practice, etc.
So in the work that I am doing, I hope to impart some information that becomes knowledge. But that is only a start. Without some practice and other means of gaining some experience, I doubt the students will ever acquire any spiritual wisdom. And without some wisdom, their spiritual journey will be pretty solipsistic---a fancy word that means privatized and selfish. And as far as I see, there is no point in that kind of spirituality. So we need to find ways to have students step out of their heads and explore the heart. This happens best in things like service. An act of compassion may be worth much more than another book on compassion.
Besides, no one should write a book on compassion without having been compassionate. This is what a spiritual midwife does. She or he encourages others in their spiritual births. Often this comes through practice and undergoing experience more than through lectures. Encourage someone to learn to meditate or pray. Help someone in the early stages of yoga, mindfulness or silence. Assist a youthful spirit to explore solitude and seek to discover the center deep within.
Like actual childbirth, giving birth is not always easy and pain free. It is almost never selfish. Giving birth is not about you. It is about the “birth.” What is being born is a new life in the spirit or a new chance through my compassionate assisting of another. Being a spiritual midwife is always transcending. It transcends my own desires, needs and ego.
A spiritual midwife is an assistant. She is an assistant who also can coach, encourage and challenge. New birth is always the result.
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