Mother’s Day with Oliver Twist
Michael Battle
Trinity Church Boston
May 10, 2026
Acts 17:22-31; 1 Peter 3:13-22; John 14:15-21
Charles Dickens writes in his book, Oliver Twist, these words:
There is a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half open, and yourself half conscious of everything that is passing around you, than you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such time, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing, to form some glimmering conception of its mighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from the restraint of its corporeal associate. — Oliver Twist, Chapter 9
This is one of the most famous quotes from Dickens’ novel, published between 1837 and 1839. Dickens invites us into that liminal state between waking and sleeping. The further context is in how Oliver Twist experiences affliction while being held by Fagin, an antagonist and elderly leader of a children’s pickpocketing ring in London. Fagin’s grip over these homeless children tightens by providing shelter in exchange for stolen goods.
Because Dickens himself had a sleep disorder, he marvels through his character of Oliver Twist how human beings can create elaborate and vast scenarios facing sleep deprivation. The orphan, Oliver Twist, has waking dreams in which the body feels imprisoned while the mind creates its own reality.
Jesus uses my favorite African concept of Ubuntu as he says to the disciples, “In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.”
Jesus also places the disciples in a paradox—commanding them to love. “They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me, and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”
Naturally, we should ask at this point, in the same way that the disciples would naturally ask Jesus a question in their perplexity to understand Jesus. “How can anyone command someone to love?”
In answering this question, I think Oliver Twist can help us. Perhaps, Jesus uses imperative language with his disciples to love, because Jesus on one hand wants the disciples to recognize God’s presence with them as love, and on the other hand insists, “I will not leave you orphaned.”
“I will not leave you orphaned,” indicates an apocalyptic urgency present in the Gospels. Early Christians understood this as a shared vulnerability. In many ways the early churched rallied around the faith that Jesus’ presence with them as love, transfigured into the promise of the Holy Spirit. The Gospel of John focuses on the Holy Spirit as Paraclete (advocate), a holy relationality who enables the creative presence of Jesus through the succession of the disciples.
Unfortunately, I think, we may share a misconception of this apostolic succession of disciples. It is easy to do. If we look around the Vatican’s Stone Iconography guarding its enclosed surroundings, we see the famous male disciples showing up as their best selves. If we look around most churches, Christian artists seem compelled to emphasize the apostles as men. But here’s the thing, “Apostle” means one who is sent to share the gospel. Unfortunately, the first apostles get very little ink in scripture . . . very little portrayal in our iconography, and very little focus theologically in our academies. The first apostles were mothers.
When Jesus states “I will not leave your orphaned,” there is a strong association here with what Jesus says to his beloved disciple five chapters later than our Gospel today. “When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then Jesus said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home” (John 19:26–27).
In the early Jesus movement, there was little distinction between an orphan and a widow. They were pretty much synonymous. What held both identities together was the strength of motherhood. Mothers formed coalitions—networks to keep the most vulnerable alive. They were the vulnerable ones waiting at Jesus’ tomb for the resurrection. They were the ones in Paul’s epistles bringing substance to a fledgling community, eventually calling itself a church. The creative presence of the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit used mothers to advocate for the vulnerable.
Julian of Norwich, a famous Christian mystic, has this vision:
Jesus Christ, therefore, who himself overcame evil with good, is our true Mother. We received our ‘Being’ from Him and this is where His Maternity starts And with it comes the gentle Protection and Guard of Love which will never cease to surround us. Just as God is our Father, so God is also our Mother. And He showed me this truth in all things, but especially in those sweet words when He says: “It is I”. As if to say, I am the power and the Goodness of the Father, I am the Wisdom of the Mother, I am the Light and the Grace which is blessed love, I am the Trinity, I am the Unity, I am the supreme Goodness of all kind of things, I am the One who makes you love, I am the One who makes you desire, I am the never-ending fulfilment of all true desires. (…)1From “Revelations of Divine Love” by Juliana of Norwich (1342-1416), (LIX, LXXXVI).
Near the end of the novel, another one of the most famous quotes from Oliver Twist describes a touchstone moment of reunion, emphasizing that deep grief can be healed. The scene involves Oliver’s newly discovered family—Rose Maylie and Mr. Brownlow. The apocalyptic ending is in the uncovering that Rose is Oliver’s aunt who arranged for his adoption by Mr. Brownlow. Reflecting on the revelations about Oliver’s new family—we discover the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow in Ubuntu—that sacred nature of intimate human interconnectedness.
Dickens concludes:
Let the tears which fell, and the broken words which were exchanged in the long close embrace between the orphans, be sacred. A father, sister, and mother, were gained, and lost, in that one moment. Joy and grief were mingled in the cup; but there were no bitter tears: for even grief arose so softened, and clothed in such sweet and tender recollections, that it became a solemn pleasure, and lost all character of pain.2Chapter 51