contemplatives as cultural/spiritual midwives...

Yesterday, I closed my weekly live-streaming reflection saying:

I have always been a contemplative. Learning, practicing, and sharing the inward journey has long fed my soul. I have regularly engaged in acts of justice and compassion as part of my outward journey - from being a Conscientious Objector during the Vietnam War, organizing with Cesar Chavez and the farm workers union to peace and justice work and solidarity with the LGBTQA community - but that work was exhausting to me. Terrifying at times, too. So, I have often felt ashamed and confused about how hard it is for me to be prophetic in public.

Truth be told, it has taken me decades to trust my soul and know that God has invited me to let contemplation and action dance together as part of how the world is healed.  Psalm 85 tells us that grace and trust, justice and peace, mercy and right relations will embrace as one:

                Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;
                Righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
                Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,
                and righteousness will look down from the sky.

Right now this nation - and others - are birthing a new vision. The recent establishment of Juneteenth as a national holiday is a piece of this puzzle. We are once again moving towards a vision of the Beloved Community where right relations between individuals and groups of people is normative, where shame and exploitation is diminished, where hope is genuine, economic and spiritual support plentiful, and respect and love of Mother Earth carries the day.

This truth is starting - it is ripening - but no where near finished or complete. That is why it is crucial that humble, peace-filled, non-anxious spiritual and cultural midwives be a part of this noisy, complicated birthing. That is the calling of contemplatives today: to help the new world be born as compassion and justice dance together.

As affirmation, what did I read this morning from Fr. Richard Rohr? Today's

insights start with: a midwife of the soul - and words from Margaret Guenther:

As they approach midlife, women especially may feel impelled to explore their spirituality as they discover their new and unexpectedly authoritative voice. Men and women of all ages and life experiences may sense a call, not necessarily a vocation to the ordained ministry, but simply the awareness that God expects them to do something with their lives.... As a spiritual midwife, the director’s task is to pay attention, to listen to what is not being said—or to what is being said but minimized...

Spiritual direction is not a crisis ministry, even though the initial impulse to seek out a director may arise from a sense of urgent personal need. The midwife of the spirit is not an expert called in for the dramatic moments, either a crisis caused by pathology or the final, exciting moment of birth. Like a midwife, she works with the whole person and is present throughout the whole process. She “has time”—unlike the tightly scheduled physician who is concerned with specifics, complaints, and pathology. Or, for that matter, unlike the tightly scheduled parish clergy, who are concerned with program, administration, and liturgy. Instead she offers support through every stage and waits with the birthgiver when “nothing is happening.” Of course, there are no times when nothing is happening. Spiritual growth can be gradual and hidden; the director-midwife can discern or at least trust that something is indeed “happening.”

As a people, we are not comfortable with waiting. We see it as wasted time and try to avoid it, or at least fill it with trivial busyness. We value action for its own sake... It is hard to trust in the slow work of God. So the model of pregnancy and birth is a helpful one... There are times when waiting is inevitable, ordained, and fruitful.

I think of the relationship that both Howard Thurman and Abraham Heschel had with MLK. Or Vincent Harding's role as elder to the ripening civil rights movement. Or Christ Hartmire's commitment to Cesar Chavez. Or Ira Sandperl's mentoring of Joan Baez. To be the quiet, reflective contemplative is NOT lower than the social activist. It is simply different. And the more I spend time in this commitment, the more I see how both have been created to dance together and encourage one another.