Lent 2 A + Birth + 3.8.20

("Aurelia," source: Pinterest)

M. Campbell-Langdell

All Santos, Oxnard

(Genesis 12:1–4a; Ps. 121; Romans 4:1–5, 13–17; St. John 3:1–17)

What is pretty amazing about many stories in the Bible is that they are both the individual person or family’s story but they have so many implications for the whole world. Abram is personally called, but he is also blessed to be a blessing for all of us, a parent with Sarah of all nations.

One of the truths that the Bible shares is that whenever one of us is blessed, that blessing flows out of the individual or family to bless the world. And when a person or group is suffering, (think of the Hebrews in slavery), everyone suffers until balance is found.

One of my pastor friends, Angela, has been sharing on social media about her experience as a pregnant Black woman. And it has been eye-opening. Through her I have learned that African-American infants are 2.3 times as likely to die as Non-Hispanic White infants.[1] And Latino babies do better, but still have an appreciably higher danger rate than white babies. So this begs the question: why? Some of the story can be told in lack of access to good prenatal care and other systemic disparities. However another scary truth exists. Time and time again, pregnant black women are not believed when they sense that something is wrong with their baby. They are told their concerns are overblown and sent home, and many mothers have lost their babies due to simple neglect on the part of health care providers. This is shocking to me, especially as a person who has family and friends in the healthcare field who I truly believe would not purposely discriminate or belittle a mother’s concerns just because of the color of her skin. But it happens. It may have happened to some of our parish. And it is wrong. When mothers and babies of color are dying or at risk of greater complications because of the societal sin of racism, we are all affected.

In her book, Winged with Longing for Better Things, a series of eco-feminist reflections on Lent, Sylvia Sweeney mentions the insidious nature of our relationship with the dark, and how we perceive the dark as dangerous or evil. She asks:
“How might the world be different? How might our vision be changed if we chose to love the darkness? Black is beautiful. Black is beautiful! It is the space of the resurrection. It is the time in which Christ rose from the dead, living, breathing, communing with God in peace; waiting for humans to arise and find him alive and triumphant. The triumph of Easter came in the night. In the darkness. The light made that triumph visible to the human world, but even before then stars and angels already caroled their nighttime songs of birth and rebirth.”[2]

Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. And he talks to Jesus about the concept of being “born from above” so that he can understand God anew. Much is made about him coming under cover of darkness. That he is not yet ready to learn the truth in the light of day. But we might consider that the darkness is also the place of discovery for Nicodemus. Wherein he learns something new. He is open to new possibilities. God is birthing something new in him. Nicodemus, a sage of his time, does not understand why someone would want to be born anew. Why cast off the wisdom of older age for all the folly of youth? But Jesus is talking about a different kind of rebirth. Being new on the inside. Open to new truths.

What is God birthing in you this Lent? Maybe this Lent calls you re-examine a call, a relationship or something else in your life. To take something up or to let something go. How is God inviting you to grow?
Whatever it is, know that God is constantly midwifing in us something new. A new understanding of the world. Something that takes us past preconceptions about light and dark and into the truth. The truth of goodness and that which is life-giving. God is always shaping us to be better blessings for others so that we can be a blessing to the world. But God individually nurtures us, all the children of God, who are precious in God’s name. Many fears are arising right now due to the coronavirus. But we know that there will be some who are disproportionately affected- the elderly of course, but also those who cannot as easily take off of work or seek medical attention, many of whom will be people of color.

 Sylvia Sweeney’s devotional book also reminds us that the season of Lent used to not only be about private devotion but also about praying for others. She says: “Sometimes Christians forget that in the early church the period of the forty days of Lent was not so much about penitence as it was about the intercession and advocacy for those who were penitents.”[3] You see, some who had harmed others would spend Lent preparing to make confession and re-enter society, and people in the church would seek ways to support them. She suggests that we can see our role not only as caring for our own spiritual needs but also as advocating for others.  How can we pray and work together to keep everyone as healthy as possible at this time? Not only ourselves but all who might be most affected? We can take precautions as we are doing in the service, but we can also provide modest assistance to those who need to stay home from work if they are ill. Because when we are all healthy, we are all blessed. Let us look to the dark shadows of our society to address the sins that still need to be healed. And let us look to the places of discovery, so we too can learn how to be blessed to be blessing. And we may yet birth something new. Amen.

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[1] Health and Human Services, https://minorityhealth.hhs.gov/omh/browse.aspx?lvl=4&lvlid=23.

[2] Sylvia Sweeney, Winged with Longing for Better things (NY: CPG, 2019), 30.

[3] Sweeney, xiv.