Finding Comfort and Wisdom in Call the Midwife by Rebecca Amoroso

People’s renewed gratitude and appreciation for the wonderful National Health Service, summed up in a country-wide round of applause, make me think of the midwives and nurses who provided care for the people of Poplar in the East End of London. I have become very familiar with this community, as portrayed in Call the Midwife, over the last few years, and, in lockdown, I have returned to Poplar, seeking comfort and wisdom.

When the series Call the Midwife began in 2012, I was waiting to hear if the church would affirm my vocation to the priesthood. Later that year, I took up my place in Theological College, and happily found the series was essential viewing. As the days grew shorter, we gathered round the TV in the common room to watch Downton Abbey, and Call the Midwife heralded the spring. Each week we settled down to follow the stories of fictional characters who felt real, living in times that felt fictional but were all too real. As we watched, we learnt, about life, love, station, vocation and prayer.

Just as the rhythm of prayer and Daily Offices held our lives together, then as now, so the singing of Compline in Nonnatus House each night held together each episode of Call the Midwife. Whatever had been lost or found, whatever had been hurt or saved, whatever had been lived through, all was offered in this final act of daily worship.  Now, as we face the unknown, all we are living through is still being offered up in prayer. There are still religious communities praying for the world, teaching us how to set ourselves apart and live a life more cloistered. And now there are live streams of offices and eucharists, online communities of prayer and support, telephone sermons, and more ways than ever to tap into the never-ceasing rhythm of prayer. Everything changes, but everything stays the same.

In my revisiting of Call the Midwife, I came across an episode that documents a typhoid outbreak. I watched the community of Poplar, large families spilling out of small tenements, heavy washing lines blowing across noisy streets full of children playing, where no doors were locked, and everyone felt safe. Life was so different then. Until this scene, where the doctor and a midwife are speaking with one of those large families, affected by typhoid:

‘I’m afraid when something is this infectious, patients are kept in isolation.’

‘ … it is a serious illness, and we want to prevent it spreading to anyone else if we can.’

‘In the meantime, the best thing you can do to protect yourselves is to be extremely careful about washing your hands, after using the lavatory, and before touching food.’

One family member is less than impressed with this advice:

‘That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got, wash your hands, in 1961, for a killer disease!’

She is scared and angry, and looking for someone to blame - accusing her British-Chinese relative:

‘…except we don’t hardly get typhoid in England, it’s probably you what infected her, God knows what your lot brought in with them.’

It all felt rather familiar. Including, sadly, the prejudice which so often stems from fear and anger. The words of these 1960s medics can equally be found in the many channels of information and advice which reach us each day. The anger, the prejudice, reach us also by the same channels. But more than this, prayer remains. Care remains. We still have the NHS. This country is full of individuals and communities praying, caring, healing and comforting.

And what did we gathered ordinands learn?

‘… so much can be made bearable by love, by cherishing what is, and not condemning fault or flaw … by keeping hearts open, and holding each other forever in the light.’

It all feels rather familiar. These truths, equally, can be found in prayer and scripture, in the lives of people the world over. These truths sustained us through discernment, formation and ordination, and sustain us still. They will sustain through this time of trial. Everything changes, and everything stays the same. And maybe it’s time to revisit Downton Abbey.

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Each day, we will post a short article by one of Darton, Longman and Todd’s amazing authors, offering a personal reflection on our current situation in life. Sometimes this will be written with reference to one of their books, and sometimes about how they are living in response to the coronavirus and our current world situation. We hope it will give you a taste of the depth and diversity of DLT’s list – books for heart, mind and soul that aim to meet the needs and interests of all.

Today’s post is by Rebecca Amoroso, co-editor with Bryony Taylor and David Twomey of God on TV, a new series of books that use popular TV series to explore themes of life and faith. The first of these, All of Life, is based on Call the Midwife and will be published later this month as an eBook, and later in the summer in print format. You can order a copy here.