lthough they have faded from view now, vibrant legends about the life of Christ flourished in medieval times, frequently eclipsing the Bible itself in influencing art and literature. The text of The Midwife's Tale is derived from one such narrative found in the Arundel Manuscript, a compilation of earlier sources which dates from the 8th century. It contains an extraordinary account of the Nativity by the apocryphal figure of Zachel, a midwife enlisted by Joseph to attend to Mary at the time of birth. Against a dramatic background of cosmic upheaval Zachel tells the story of her astonishing experience: the birth she has witnessed is not one of a human child, for Mary has given birth to Light! Her awe, comprehension, and delight warmly invite our empathy.

For the understanding of the listener (and for the ease of the composer), I have made a metrical paraphrase in English of the original Latin text. A literal translation of the midwife's narrative follows:

"In that hour, everything ceased. There was total silence and fear. For even the winds stopped, they made no breeze; there was no motion of tree leaves; no sound of water was heard. The streams did not flow; there was no motion of the sea. All things produced in the water were quiet; there was no human voice sounding; there was a great silence. For the pole itself ceased its rapid course from that hour. Time almost stopped its measure. All, overwhelmed with great fear, kept silent; we were expecting the advent of the most high God, the end of the world.

"As [Mary's] time drew near, the power of God showed itself openly. The maiden stood looking intently into heaven and became snow-white. For now the end of good things was at hand. When the light had come forth, Mary worshiped him to whom she had given birth. The child himself, like the sun, shone bright, beautiful, and was most delightful to see, because he alone appeared as peace, soothing the whole world. In that hour, when he was born, the voice of many invisible beings in one voice proclaimed "Amen." And the light, when it was born, multiplied, and it obscured the light of the sun itself by its shining rays. The cave was filled by the bright light together with a most sweet odor. The light was born just as dew descends from the earth. For its odor is fragrant beyond all the sweet smell of ointments.

"I, however, stood stupefied and amazed. Awe grasped me. I was gazing intently at the fantastically bright light which had been born. The light, however, after a while, shrank, imitated the shape of an infant, then immediately became outwardly an infant in the usual manner of born infants. I became bold and leaned over and touched him. I lifted him in my hands with great awe, and I was terrified, because he had no weight like other babies who are born. I looked at him closely; there was no blemish on him, but he was in his body totally shining, just as the dew of the most high God. He was light to carry, splendid to see. For a while I was amazed at him because he did not cry as newborn children are supposed to. While I held him, looking into his face, he laughed at me with a most joyful laugh, and, opening his eyes, he looked intently at me. Suddenly a great light came forth from his eyes like a great flash of lightning."

The Arundel Manuscript, chapters 72-74. From David R. Cartlidge and David L. Dugan, eds. and trans., Documents for the Study of the Gospels (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980), pp. 105-106.

The Midwife's Tale was commissioned by The Boston Cecilia, Donald Teeters, Music Director. Additional funding was provided by the Alfred Nash Patterson Foundation.

© 2004 James Woodman. All rights reserved.