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As we approach Good Friday, let us reflect on the extraordinary visions of Christ on the cross described by Julian of Norwich in her Revelations of Divine Love. Watching Christ die over many hours, Julian experiences his agony in her own body, with true compassion for her savior. She literally suffers with him. Julian declares that “in all this time of Christ’s presence, I felt no pain but for Christ’s pain.” It must have been a great deal worse than anything she had ever experienced in her life, even during her own seven days of near-dying.
Julian becomes acutely conscious that all the pain of her life -- and of everyone’s life -- is united with the pain of Christ on the cross. And this is because, in becoming human, Christ took on all manner of pain as his own (Heb 2:9–18). Therefore, “when he was in pain, we were in pain” with him. She might have added: “When we were in pain, he was in pain.” St. Paul even dared to write that “in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col 1:24). Julian also realizes that not only “all his true lovers,” but “all creatures” shared in the agony of Christ’s dying. This inextricable connection between the inner life of human beings and the state of the natural world had long been perceived. St. Paul was convinced that the physical earth as well as its creatures are involved in the great struggle of salvation: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom 8:22–23). Julian believes that all earth’s creatures naturally recognized the Lord, “in whom all their virtues stand.” Thus when the Lord died, it behooved creatures out of kindness to die with him, “in as much as they might, for sorrow of his pains.” She certainly understood that, when Christ took on all flesh in himself and “failed,” his entire creation failed with him, animals as well as humans, out of “sorrow for his pains.” Even “they who knew him not suffered for failing of all manner of comfort.” And here Julian bears witness to a profound truth: that the fates of humankind and the entire creation are intimately connected. Julian admits that the torture of seeing and feeling Christ’s pains, in some measure, made her want to look away from the cross on which she had been focused since the First Revelation. She longed to fly up to heaven (she had already enjoyed a mystical vision of the heavenly banquet). She wanted to have all this suffering be finished (as we do, too). “In this time I would have looked from the cross, and I dared not, for I knew well that as long as I beheld the cross, I was seker and safe. Therefore, I would not assent to put my soul in peril, for beside the cross was no sekernesse, only ugliness of fiends.” She was convinced that only by keeping her eyes focused on the crucifixion, like the “other women” at the foot of the cross, would there be security and safety from her inner demons: “For I had rather have been in that pain till domesday, than have come to heaven otherwise than by him. For I know well that he that bound me so sorely, he should unbind me when he would. Thus was I taught to choose Jesus for my heaven, whom I saw only in pain at that time. I wanted no other heaven than Jesus, who shall be my bliss when I come there. And this has ever been a comfort to me, that I chose Jesus to be my heaven, by his grace, in all this time of passion and sorrow. And that has been a teaching to me, that I should evermore do so, to choose Jesus only for my heaven in wele and in woe.” Julian does not want to desert Christ and leave him alone, as the disciples did, by looking away from the harshness of his sufferings, even for a single moment. She desires no heavenly vision that is without Jesus and, paradoxically, to be with Jesus, even in his terrible suffering on earth, becomes heaven for her. In Julian’s mind, this is a major turning point. Earlier, she had longed to be out of her own suffering and go quickly to heaven. Now she understands that there is no way to reach that exalted place except through a share in the sufferings of Christ and through the transformation of the soul that this compassion and surrender effects. By bearing her own suffering in faith and patience, Julian realizes she will finally be like him who “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8). And by electing to remain focused on the suffering Christ, she also chooses to go on living on earth, no matter how painful, and uncertain, and long it might be, rather than giving in to the blessed release of death. By this emphatic decision “to choose Jesus for my heaven,” Julian also registers her willingness to stay with Mary and the “other women” at the foot of the cross on Calvary and with the evencristens beside her bed, fingering their rosary beads and praying on her behalf. If Christ wants her here, here she will stay. When he wants her to go, she will be willing to go. This choice releases something in Julian at which she had still been grasping, even in the self-noughting process of watching the passion unfold; namely, her great desire for heaven. She finds lasting comfort in the fact that she has been able, by the power of grace, to endure “all this time of passion and sorrow.” And she affirms that this was an important life teaching for her: “to choose Jesus only for my heaven in wele and in woe.” Julian continues to reflect on “the height and the nobility of the glorious godhead” of Jesus Christ and on “the preciousness and tenderness of the blissful body which are together oned.” She also considers how much human beings (like herself) are loath to undergo pain. But Christ was not. He was willing to suffer for the sins of every person ever created. And Christ saw and sorrowed for every person’s “desolation and anguish,” out of “kindness and love.” “Beholding all this by his grace,” Julian realizes that the love Christ has for souls was so strong that he willfully chose suffering “with great desire, and patiently suffered it with great joy.” This is an astounding insight that cuts through and completely transforms Julian’s personal pain at watching Christ suffer. She is convinced that any soul that is “touched by grace” in watching Christ’s passion shall see that his pain surpasses all human pains, that is, all those pains that “shall be turned into everlasting joy by virtue of Christ’s passion.” This Holy Week, may we not turn away from the cross of Christ. May we allow it to do its work in us of making Christ’s presence more real for us with every breath. May we cling to the love of God manifested in Christ on the cross and not succumb to the darkness of terror or despair because we know Christ is already – even now – turning our most desperate inner struggle, our darkest nights, into an emerging dawn of salvation. May we choose, like Julian, not to avoid or escape the process, however painful and slow it may be. May we wish only to be more intimately united to Christ as he is with us. And may we pray never, ever to abandon him at the foot of his cross. Or our own. Soon, in her Revelations, Julian will experience a glorious transformation of Christ’s sufferings into ecstatic joy. Every Calvary leads to the empty tomb and the glory of Resurrection. Alleluia! NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf
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As we approach Ash Wednesday and start another Lenten Season, we may ask: “What shall we do?” We may feel we have already endured a whole year of Lent – sacrificing peace of mind and body during a plague of sickness, fear, enforced isolation, economic uncertainty, and the loss of loved ones. We have been deprived of our freedom to go to work, to see our families, to give and receive affection, to socialize, to travel. What more is there to give up?
But Lent is not only about giving up. It’s about re-orienting the focus of our lives. It’s about “letting go” of so much we cling to for support (and that cannot satisfy) and “giving over” our entire selves to God. In the First Revelation, Julian of Norwich reflected on what she called “noughting” (that is, self-denial), not in a morbid sense, but in order to open the heart wide to receive the boundless love God wishes to pour into us. Of this each man and woman needs to have knowing who desires to live contemplatively, that [s]he desires to nought all things that are made in order to have the love of God that is unmade. For this is the reason why they who are occupied willfully in earthly business, and evermore seek worldly wellbeing, are not completely at ease in heart and in soul: for they love and seek here rest in this thing [like the hazelnut she saw in the palm of her hand] that is so little, where there is no rest within, and know not God, who is all mighty, all wise, and all good. For he is true rest. Julian discerns that all creation, even in its most awesome beauty, is only the size of a hazelnut in the sight of God. She realizes that the very “littleness” of the hazelnut (i.e., the world) shows us it is necessary to nought everything that is made “in order to have the love of God that is unmade.” Only God is great enough to satisfy our soul’s deepest desire. What does Julian mean by this word, nought? In medieval mystical literature, noughting implied the deliberate letting go of the attachment to self, as well as the renunciation of worldly goods and concerns, in order to attain a deeper spiritual union with the divine. Noughting was the essential way of purgation, before illumination and spiritual union with God could be achieved. The sense in which Julian uses the word implies a self-denial, a turning away from human selfishness and its obsession with finite, ever-changing, always-decaying goods that can distract the soul from seeking the infinite, unchangeable, and everlasting good. In modern terms, we could say noughting involves a negation of self-centeredness in order to become more focused on the “other,” an absolutely necessary component of learning to love. For Julian, it means letting go of the unnecessary in order to focus on the one thing necessary (Lk 10:42). Julian knew her bustling, materialistic, and competitive city of Norwich only too well. It is possible that much of that same restless activity had driven her own life, out of necessity. We must also consider that, at this point in her Revelations, Julian still believes she is about to die. She is lamenting that she has not done enough to know God in this life. Her mind is straining to try to figure out why her imagination perceived a hazelnut at this critical moment. What is its portent? Could it be to inspire her to hand over to God “all that is made,” all that she has ever loved in this life, as well as her own body and soul, before she dies? One thing she knows for sure: at the point of death, she cannot allow herself to be bound to earth by ties of attachment, or responsibility, even human love. She must dare to become noughted, utterly stripped of all she holds dear, like Christ on the cross. Julian’s tone, in writing about the essential noughting of the spiritual life, is never disparaging, but always gentle and encouraging. She tells the reader that God “wills” to be known, and “enjoys that we rest ourselves in him.” She adds that the Lord derives very great pleasure from an innocent soul that comes to him “nakedly, plainly, and homely [that is, intimately, as at home].” This is the kind of noughting Julian means: dropping every distraction and becoming a little child again, rushing into the arms of its loving parent and resting there: “for this is the natural yearning of the soul by the touching of the holy ghost, as by the understanding that I have in this shewing.” Inspired by this meditation, Julian pours out all her heart’s longing in prayer: God, of thy goodness give me thyself. For thou art enough to me, and I may ask nothing that is less that may be full worship to thee. And if I ask anything that is less, ever will I be wanting. But only in thee do I have all. Julian is sure that this petition is most comforting to the soul and completely in union with the will of Our Lord. She also tells us that the ultimate gift of God’s goodness, for which she prays, extends to all his creatures and all his holy works, and will continually surpass itself for eternity. Then she writes: “For he is eternity, and he has made us only for himself and restored us by his precious passion, and ever protects us in his blessed love. And all this is of his goodness.” In noughting herself, Julian anticipates receiving, in exchange, the boundless love of God. With Julian, let us consider noughting or “letting go” everything we cling to, clutch at, or count on for security or momentary comfort and dropping into the sublime care of God during this Lenten Season. If we dare to find “true rest” in the abyss of Divine Love, through daily contemplation and self-service, we will experience a Lent of fullness and peace—not “giving up” but “giving in” to whatever Divine Goodness wishes to accomplish in and through our lives. And then we may make Julian’s beautiful prayer our very own. NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf “Are the mystical writings of a fourteenth century laywoman relevant to our time?” In other words: “Why Julian now?”
Perhaps the best answer to this question is that in our age of uncertainty, inconceivable suffering, and seemingly perpetual violence, war, riots, and divisiveness (not unlike fourteenth-century Europe), Julian shows us the way toward contemplative peace of mind and heart. In our time of rampant racial prejudice and religious persecution, Julian inspires us to non-judgmental acceptance and universal compassion. In a world of a deadly pandemic and ecological disasters, Julian teaches us how to endure pain in patience and trust that Christ is working to transform every cross we carry into his own resurrected glory. In a generation of doubt, cynicism, and disbelief, Julian offers a radiant vision of faith and hope— not in ourselves, but in the Lord who created us, loves us, and will never, ever abandon us. Moreover, across six centuries, Julian’s voice speaks to us about love. She communicates personally, as if she were very much with us here and now. Even more than theological explanations, we all hunger for love. Our hearts yearn for someone we can trust absolutely—divine love that can never fail. Julian reveals this love because, like Mary Magdalene, she experienced it firsthand. Julian tells us about her mystical visions of Christ’s love on the cross and how that love totally transformed her life. She shows us how it can transform our lives, too. Unlike other medieval mystics (who may appear sometimes too extreme, too ascetic, or too intellectual for our postmodern taste), Julian comes across as a flesh and blood woman, thoroughly sympathetic to our human condition. And in heartfelt terms she expresses her profound awareness of God who became human like us, suffered, died, and was transformed into glory. Why is Julian a “Voice for Our Time”? I think because she is totally vulnerable and transparently honest, without any guile. She is “homely”; in medieval terms, that means down-to-earth, familiar, and easily accessible. She is keenly aware of her spiritual brokenness and longs to be healed. So do we. She experiences great suffering of body, mind, and soul. So do we. She has moments of doubt. So do we. She seeks answers to age-old questions. So do we. Then, at a critical turning point in her Revelations of Divine Love, she is overwhelmed by joy and “gramercy” (great thanks) for the graces she is receiving. We, too, are suddenly granted graces and filled to overflowing with gratitude. Sometimes, we even experience our own revelations of divine love. Again and again, Julian reassures each one of us that we are loved by God, unconditionally. In her writings, we hear Christ telling us, just as he told Julian: “I love you and you love me, and our love shall never be separated in two.” Indeed, Julian’s teachings have greatly endeared her to Christians and non-Christians alike. Everyone can relate to her as a spiritual mentor because we sense that, even though she lived and wrote six hundred years ago, Julian the mystic, the seeker, and the theologian is very much “a woman for all seasons.” Julian’s voice of prophetic hope, speaking to us from the fourteenth century, is one that we in the twenty-first century desperately need to hear. PLEASE NOTE: Excerpts above are from "An Explorer’s Guide to Julian of Norwich" (InterVarsity Academic Press, 2018). Copyright © 2018 by Veronica Mary Rolf. All rights reserved. Available from the Publisher and Amazon worldwide: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0830850880? In the First Revelation, Julian of Norwich writes that Christ brought “our lady Saint Mary” to her understanding in a ghostly “bodily likeness.” This implies that Julian saw Mary appear suddenly and distinctly in her imagination, without any effort on Julian’s part to conjure her. Mary appeared young, not much older than a child, small and meek and in the position of prayer that she had taken at the time of her conception of the Savior. (It was a common medieval belief that at the annunciation, Mary was fifteen years old.) Julian was granted a glimpse into the beauty of Mary’s soul and the holy awe in which she contemplated God:
Also God showed me in part the wisdom and truth of her soul, wherein I understood the reverent beholding in which she beheld her God, that is, her maker, marveling with great reverence that he would be born of her who was a simple creature of his making. For this was her marveling: that he who was her maker would be born of her who was made. And this wisdom and truth, knowing the greatness of her maker and the littleness of herself that is made, made her say so meekly to Gabriel: "Lo me here, God’s handmaiden. In this meditation, Julian became keenly aware that Mary was, like herself, “a simple creature,” uneducated, and without any earthly nobility. Yet Julian understood truly that Mary is more worthy than all other creatures God has made, because she was conceived without sin. All other creatures are therefore below her. And above her is “nothing that is made but the blessed manhood of Christ, as to my sight.” Later in the First Revelation, Julian writes about the Lord’s desire that we (like Mary) come to him in prayer “nakedly, plainly, and homely”; that is, without any attachments, self-justifications, or artifice. Simply like being “at home” with the one we love most: For truly our lover desires that the soul cleave to him with all its might, and that we be evermore cleaving to his goodness. For of all things that the heart may think, it pleases God the most, and soonest benefits us. For our soul is so preciously loved by him that is highest, that it overpasses [transcends] the knowing of all creatures: that is to say, there is no creature that is made that may know how much and how sweetly and how tenderly our maker loves us. And therefore we may, with his grace and his help, stand in spiritual beholding, with everlasting marveling in this high, overpassing, unmeasurable love that our lord has for us because of his goodness. And therefore we may ask of our lover, with reverence, all that we will. For our natural will is to have God, and the good will of God is to have us, and we may never cease from willing nor from loving till we have him in fullness of joy. And then we will no more will. For he wills that we be occupied in knowing and loving till the time comes that we shall be fulfilled in heaven. Thus in this First Revelation, Julian already declares what she will realize fully only in the last chapter: the “lesson of love” that all the following Revelations will show: “For of all things, the beholding and the loving of the creator makes the soul seem least in his own sight, and fills it most with reverent awe and true humility, and with plenty of charity for its evencristens.” This insight becomes the essence of what Julian calls noughting or the forgetfulness-of-self for the sake of becoming one with Christ. When the soul learns to rest in adoration and love of the goodness of God, it does not need to perform any drastic self-mortifications to make itself feel small, humble, and insignificant. It is so overwhelmed with reverence and humility at the disparity between Creator and creature and, at the same time, so filled with an awareness of God’s stupendous love that the soul actually rejoices in its own littleness that makes it so utterly dependent on God. Julian declares that the spiritual vision of Saint Mary was the best teaching she had on this point. Mary’s high wisdom in contemplating God, “so great, so high, so mighty and so good,” filled her with deep and “reverent awe.” Even Mary, the Mother of God, conceived without sin, saw herself “so little and so low, so simple and so poor in comparison with her God, that this reverent dread filled her with meekness.” Therefore, she was made full of grace beyond any other creature. It is her very “littleness” that makes her irresistible to God. So let us come to the newborn Jesus “nakedly, plainly, and homely” this Christmas—like the shepherds—with nothing to offer except our love and “reverent beholding.” Let us kneel in the straw beside Mary and Joseph and place all our fears, sufferings, and losses of this past year into the manger. He who creates the universe has broken open heaven and come down, as Julian wrote, “to the lowest level of our need.” He who encloses us in divine love wants to be held when he cries and comforted by us. He who is born poor and outcast longs for us to shelter him in the cave of our hearts. Then he who is utterly helpless will become our deepest and most profound strength. I wish you all a loving, contemplative Christmas and a New Year filled with the peace and joy that only Christ can give. NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf And this vision was a teaching to my understanding that the continual seeking of the soul pleases God very greatly. For the soul may do no more than seek, suffer, and trust. And this is wrought in every soul that has it by the Holy Ghost. And the clearness of finding, it is because of his special grace when it is his will. The seeking with faith, hope and charity pleases our lord, and the finding pleases the soul, and fulfills it with joy.
In this passage from the Second Revelation, Julian of Norwich reminds us that God wants the soul to keep seeking even if, and especially when, it is “in travail” (which can also mean “in labor,” as a woman labors to give birth). At these times the soul does not feel God’s presence, yet it must continue to seek and walk by faith through the “dark nights.” Julian considers this “seeking” of God every bit as important as “seeing.” And she is sure that God will show himself to the soul through a special grace if it is patient, and when it is the Divine Will to do so. Then God himself will teach the soul how to “behold” him in a graced contemplation. And this beholding is the highest honor and reverence human beings can give to God, and extremely profitable to souls, producing the greatest humility and virtue, “with the grace and leading of the holy ghost.” For the soul “that only fastens itself onto God with true trust, either in seeking or in beholding,” gives him “the most worship.” Julian defines two distinct workings that become apparent from this vision. One is seeking, the other beholding. Seeking is the common lot, given as a grace to all by the teachings of holy church. Beholding, or mystical seeing, however, is only in the provenance of God. Julian also considers three aspects of seeking which are conducive to seeing. First, one must seek willfully and diligently, without becoming lazy, disheartened, or depressed by the effort. Rather, one must seek “gladly and merrily, without unskillful heaviness and vain sorrow.” It is notable that Julian gives an inkling here of her own lifelong battles against these very human tendencies to sloth, depression, and sorrow. She knows only too well that such often self-indulgent moods are not those that will most please God and give him worship. She goes so far as to call them “unskillful,” meaning unreasonable, unproductive, and even destructive of the spiritual life. For Julian, the true seeker is a glad-hearted and hope-filled soul, not because it is free from suffering, but because it trusts in the One it seeks. Such a person comes to believe that the Ultimate Answer to every Why? . . . loves us. The second way of seeking is that “we wait for him steadfastly because of his love, without grumbling and striving against him unto our life’s end, for it shall last but a while.” Julian warns her fellow seekers that grumbling against God is to be avoided at all costs. (The onomatopoeic Middle English word she uses is gruching, very close to “grouching.”) That, and “striving against him” (which would be outright disobedience) are deadly to contemplative “seeing.” The third way of seeking is that “we trust in him mightily, with full, seker faith.” The Middle English word seker, which Julian uses repeatedly in her text, connotes absolute security that the soul is protected from all danger, is not at any risk, is spiritually safe, and is even among the already saved. For it is his will that we know that he shall appear suddenly and blissfully to all his lovers. For his working is private, and he wants to be perceived, and his appearing shall be very sudden. And he wants to be believed, for he is very pleasant, homely, and courteous. Blessed may he be! Julian ends this section with the promise that these three ways of seeking will have blissful results, when one is least expecting them. God will work in the soul in a secret manner, yet his own great desire to be perceived and to be believed will make him suddenly appear (not necessarily in a vision, but by granting a spiritual sense of his intimate presence). And then the soul that has been seeking, suffering, and trusting will, for a suspended time, be filled with joy, as was Julian. I hope you will heed Julian’s wise advice of seeking and fastening on God with secure faith in divine love, “gladly and merrily, without unskillful heaviness and vain sorrow.” We must believe that God is at work in our current crises and sufferings. And it is precisely when we “trust mightily” in divine help that we begin to see and behold divine presence in our lives. May we give thanks for all the blessings and graces that have been given to us – especially during this time of pandemic and turmoil. “For it is his will that we know that he shall appear suddenly and blissfully to all his lovers.” NOTE: Excerpt above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf Today, let us ponder these illuminating words of Julian of Norwich:
For I saw that God never began to love mankind. For just as mankind will be in endless bliss, fulfilling the joy of God (with respect to his works), just so has that same mankind, in the foresight of God, been known and loved from without beginning in his righteous intent. And by the endless intent and assent and the full accord of all the trinity, the mid-person [Christ] would become the ground and head of this fair nature out of whom we are all come, in whom we are all enclosed, into whom we shall go, finding in him our full heaven in everlasting joy, by the foreseeing purpose of all the blessed trinity from without beginning. Julian’s ecstatic summary of salvation history echoes through the ages. God is Love. He never “began” to love us. He has always loved all human beings, “from without beginning,” for they are his own creation. And love is the only answer to why anything exists at all. And so, by the will of the Father, the assent of the Son, and the full agreement of the Holy Spirit, the “mid-person” (Julian’s particular name for Jesus Christ) was ordained to become the ground of human nature “from without beginning.” In due course, he would be born as a human being in every respect except sin. And it would be out of Christ that we, in turn, would be born anew, in whom we would be enclosed, and into whom we would go. Likewise, St. Paul had written of Christ: He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. (Col 1:15–17) It would be in Christ that we would find our heaven. And by rebirth through Christ, all humankind would arise out of the “foreseeing purpose” of the Blessed Trinity. Julian does not issue any caveats here about who shall or shall not be saved. On the contrary, she cites God’s prescient love that came to earth in the form of the Savior as the most compelling reason to believe that “mankind will be in endless bliss.” For before he made us he loved us, and when we were made we loved him. And this is a love made of the natural and essential goodness of the holy ghost, mighty by reason of the might of the father, wise in mind by the wisdom of the son. And thus is man’s soul made of God, and in the same point knit to God. Jeremiah wrote: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you” (Jer 31:3). Love creates us to be trinitarian, in its own image and likeness, filled with the potential to be strong in the Father’s might, wise in the Son’s wisdom, good in the love of the Holy Spirit. Even more daringly, Julian states that our souls are “made of God,” who is unmade. In this sense, we are truly made of love, and at the moment the soul is created, in that same moment Divine Love “knits it to God” forever. And thus I understood that man’s soul is made of nothing. That is to say, it is created, but of nothing that is made, as thus: when God would make man’s body, he took the slime of the earth, which is a matter mixed and gathered from all bodily things, and thereof he made man’s body. But to the making of man’s soul he would take nothing at all, but made it. And thus is the [created] nature rightfully made united to the maker who is essential nature uncreated, that is God. And therefore it is that there may nor shall be truly nothing at all between God and man’s soul. What is the soul that God creates? According to the Genesis story of creation, God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness” (Gn 1:26). Since God has no body, the image and the likeness must be a spiritual reality created out of nothing. The idea of a soul connects the human inseparably to the divine, since it is precisely the soul that is made in the image and likeness of God. Since nothing at all can exist between God and the soul, Julian sees that, in the boundless love of God, the human soul is led and protected, from the moment of its creation, “and never shall be lost.” And this is the essential meaning of the extended Fourteenth Revelation. “For he wills that we know that our soul is a life; which life, of his goodness and his grace, shall last in heaven without end, loving him, thanking him, praising him.” And just as the soul will live forever, so “we were treasured in God and hidden, known and loved from without beginning.” The scriptural parable of the treasure hidden in a field for which a man will sell everything he owns in order to buy that field is suddenly reversed. We are the “treasure” hidden in the ground of God’s love from all eternity. We are the food the Lord desires above all things. We are the reason God will sacrifice his only begotten Son to “buy back” our souls from the grip of evil. We are God’s most precious children. In spite of our current sufferings, fears, and frustrations – and yes, even in spite of our faults and misdeeds – we are eternally loved and protected by God. In this we have reason always to rejoice and give thanks! NOTE: Excerpt above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf In the Eighth Revelation, Julian saw Christ’s face on the cross utterly transformed from all suffering into radiant joy. It was as if Julian herself had died, letting go of her assumptions about earthly reality and the inevitability of death. Her mind was privileged to glimpse the glory of Christ’s reality in the bliss of heaven, where sorrow and suffering do not exist. Immediately, Julian became “completely merry” – that is, bubbling over with joy.
"I understood that we are now, in our lord’s intention, on his cross with him in our pains and in our passion, dying. And we, willfully abiding on the same cross, with his help and his grace, into the last point, suddenly he shall change his countenance toward us, and we shall be with him in heaven. Between that one [the pain on the cross] and that other [being in heaven] shall all be one time, and then shall all be brought into joy. And this is what he meant in this showing: 'Where is now any point of thy pain or of thy grief?' And we shall be fully blessed." By the sheer suddenness Julian suggests what a holy death might be like: one moment in pain, the next in bliss. She understands that not only has Christ overcome the fiend through suffering, he has eradicated the mighty grip of death altogether: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55). Right now, according to Julian’s understanding, we abide in the reality of the cross; we are living existentially within the passion of Christ, “in our pains and in our passion, dying.” In fact, when we look at the cross (and the pain that is all around us), we “see” what sin really looks like by the terrible suffering it causes. We also recognize in Christ’s sufferings what our own suffering feels like. Yet Julian envisions that, at the last moment of our lives, suddenly Christ will “change his countenance toward us, and we shall be with him in heaven.” By this she means that Christ will instantaneously convert all our suffering into joy—simply by transforming our mind’s ability to perceive him! Julian insists that between the time of suffering and the time of joy will be “all one time”; that is, in medieval terms, no time at all. So great is the glory of the transformed Christ that Julian imagines that if he were to reveal his blissful countenance to each one of us, here and now, there would be no suffering on earth that could cause us grief; rather, everything would be pure joy and bliss. But he must show us now the countenance of his passion because, until we are purified and sanctified by the catalyst of suffering, we will not be able to “see” his blessed face. Therefore, we are still in great distress and labor with him for our salvation. Julian is convinced that we are Christ’s own children for whom he has labored long and hard, like a woman enduring a painful childbirth, in order to overcome our mental and emotional fiends and give us new life. Therefore, he is personally responsible for us, like a good parent who will never give up on his child. This is a theme which Julian develops at length in her theology of the Motherhood of God. "And for this little pain that we suffer here, we shall have a high, endless knowing in God, which we might never have without that pain. And the harder our pains have been with him on his cross, the more shall our honor be with him in his kingdom." With great understanding, Julian is only too aware that the reality of Christ’s triumph over each individual’s death, and the soul’s liberation into resurrected bliss, is yet to be made manifest in each person’s experience. Meanwhile, the length of days and nights of suffering persists and the large stone that keeps us walled up in our minds and bodies seems too big and heavy ever to be rolled back. Death seems so final, for ourselves and for those we love. Nevertheless, Julian bears that, in no time at all, we will experience that the great stone of our suffering and death has already been rolled back . . . indeed, pulverized. It will be no more. Darkness has been obliterated by the resurrected light of Jesus Christ. And for “this little pain that we suffer here” (no matter how devastating it may be for us to endure right now), we shall bask forever in the radiance of his Holy Face. Let us hold onto this vision of divine joy that Julian offers us, so that even amidst our present sufferings and fears, we may be full of hope that Christ has already overcome every type of evil . . . and all that we suffer in union with Christ shall be turned into incomparable joy. NOTE: Excerpt above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf What strengthens us in times of extreme trial and tribulation? For Julian of Norwich, it is faith, and faith alone. Why? Because faith enables us to know our true origin, our true reality, and our true destination. In other words, who we truly are. Hence, faith enables us to believe that the Holy Spirit dwelling within us will overcome all obstacles. Julian realizes that not only faith but all virtues come from the Spirit, and that without the Spirit’s gifts no one receives any virtue. Faith, in fact, is the most exalted kind of wisdom or understanding. As Julian writes: “For faith is nothing else but a right understanding with true belief and secure trust within our being, that we are in God and he is in us, which we cannot see.”
Julian does not lay out doctrines (though she never denies that faith involves believing what the church teaches). Her concentration here is different. For her, faith is the secure trust that, within the ground of our being, the soul is in God and God is in the soul. It is an inspired understanding of all she discusses in her Revelations about our creation and redemption which, because of the blindness caused by our misdeeds, we are obviously unable to experience directly. Faith is precisely the spiritual insight that enables us to “know” what we cannot comprehend by human reasoning alone. Faith is essential to our self-awareness. While sin has deprived humanity of the ability to “see” God, faith appears as inner vision. As St. Paul has written: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb 11:1, italics added). If we dare to believe, faith (along with all the other virtues that God grants the soul) “works great things in us.” It is actually Christ who does the monumental work of mercy in the soul at all times, constantly reconciling us to himself. By his divine activity we are made able to see and understand more and more, through the gifts and virtues of the Holy Spirit. Julian identifies this inner working of the Lord as that which enables us to become “Christ’s children and Christian in living.” It is always and ever Christ’s work in our souls, not our own. Julian affirms that Christ is our way, continually leading us and teaching us by his laws. He delights in this work, as does his Father. Julian recalls the Ninth Revelation, in which she saw Christ bear all who are members of his Mystical Body into heaven, where he presents them to his Father, who receives these souls thankfully and then graciously returns them to his Son. “Which gift and working is joy to the Father, and bliss to the Son, and liking to the Holy Ghost.” Of all the things that we are obliged to do in this life, we must give God the greatest pleasure by rejoicing in this joy. "And notwithstanding all our feeling, woe or wele, God wills we understand and believe that we are more truly in heaven than on earth.” What an astounding statement! Julian is certain that, because Christ has already saved us and incorporated us into his Mystical Body, our true lives are not here, in our mortal bodies, but in the joyful embrace of the Trinity. For Julian, we are more spiritual than fleshly, more at home in heaven than on earth. She further describes faith as arising from “the natural love of our soul” for what is good, and from “the clear light of our reason,” which enables us to think and inform the will in order to make good decisions, as well as from the “steadfast memory” that we have of God in our creation. We might consider faith as a sacred remembrance that never forgets where we have come from: God. It is a spiritual homesickness that longs to return where it belongs. Finally, Julian states that at the precise moment that “our soul is breathed into our body in which we are made sensual,” immediately mercy and grace begin to work, “taking care of us and keeping us with pity and love.” By means of this work, the Holy Spirit nurtures in us the hope that our physical nature will “come again up above and be united to our substance” within the virtue of Jesus Christ and be brought to complete fulfillment. Rather than allowing ourselves to become cast down by the great crises we are living through right now, let us lift up our minds to the reality of divine light that we carry within us, even through our darkest days. Let us keep this light of faith burning in our hearts, in ardent trust that Christ IS at work in every aspect of our lives. And let us be on fire with faith that through the power of Christ’s own suffering, death, and resurrection, he is bringing forth a magnificent love, healing, and transformation beyond anything we could possibly imagine! NOTE: Excerpt above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf Some of you may wonder why I entitled my podcast series on the Revelations of Julian of Norwich: Life, Love, & Light. The answer is simple. I love this trilogy! They are Julian’s own words to describe her understanding of the Blessed Trinity. Near the very end of her Revelations, she tells us:
I had a partial touching, sight, and feeling of three properties of God, in which the strength and effect of all the revelations stand. And it was seen in every showing . . . The properties are these: life, love, and light. In life is marvelous intimacy, in love is gentle courtesy, and in light is endless being. By God’s “life,” Julian means his familiarity, gentleness, and enduring closeness to us in the ground of our being, out of which he will never come. By God’s “love,” she understands his all-embracing and courteous care for our souls. And by God’s “light,” she sees his everlasting Being that will never change or alter its expression toward us. She recognized this trinity of properties as the one goodness of God, to which her mind wanted to be united and her heart wanted to cleave “with all its powers.” She marveled at the sweet feeling of unity she gained from realizing that our human reason exists in God. She appreciated, with much greater depth after many years of contemplation, that this reason “is the highest gift that we have received, and it is grounded in nature” – our human nature. In addition to our reason, she writes: Our faith is a light, naturally coming from our endless day that is our father, God; in which light our mother, Christ, and our good lord, the holy ghost, lead us in this mortal life . . . And at the end of woe, suddenly our eye shall be opened, and in clearness of sight our light shall be full, which light is God our maker, father and holy ghost in Christ Jesus our savior. Thus I saw and understood that our faith is our light in our night, which light is God, our endless day. Julian further identifies the source of our light as none other than “charity” or spiritual love, which is measured out as is most profitable to us, according to the wisdom of God. The light of divine love is never allowed to be quite bright enough for us to be able to see our salvation clearly, nor is the heavenly light kept completely hidden from us, but it is enough light in which to live and work productively, thereby earning “the honorable thanks of God.” Thus charity keeps us in faith and in hope, and faith and hope lead us in love. And at the end alle shalle be love. Julian was also shown three ways of understanding this light of love: uncreated love (which is divine love), created love (which is the soul within divine love), and love given (which is the virtue of love). This gift of love that is bequeathed to us through the working of grace enables us to “love God for himself, and our self in God, and all that God loves, for the sake of God.” Julian marveled greatly at this virtue of love because she realized that even though we live foolishly and blindly here on earth, yet God always beholds our efforts to lead lives of love. And he takes great joy in our good deeds. Julian reiterates that the best way we can please God is by wisely and truly believing that we please him, and “to rejoice with him and in him.” For as truly as we shall be in the bliss of God without end, praising and thanking him, as truly have we been in the foresight of God, loved and known in his endless purpose from without beginning, in which uncreated love he created us. In the same love he keeps us, and never suffers us to be hurt by which our bliss might be lessened. And therefore when the final judgment is given, and we are all brought up above, then shall we clearly see in God the secrets which now are hidden from us. We will not understand how it is that each soul is given plenteous grace to rise again after every fall, or how even the most hardened sinners are converted into saints, until at last we come up to heaven and see in God’s eyes the hidden mystery of the magnificent process of salvation. But we can be sure of one thing: we will see that all has been done by God to perfection. This will be the Great Deed. And then shall none of us be moved to say in any thing: “Lord, if it had been thus, it would have been well.” But we shall all say with one voice: "Lord, blessed may thou be, because it is thus, it is well. And now we see truly that every thing is done as it was thine ordinance to do, before any thing was made.” Let us take these reflections by Julian of life, love, and light into our hearts -- to strengthen our faith, encourage our hope, and deepen our love. That we might become bearers of God's own light, love, and light to our dark and saddened world! NOTE: Excerpt above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf "Julian of Norwich expresses herself in a woman’s voice that sounds decidedly different from the exclusively male voices in which she would have been accustomed to hearing the gospel proclaimed. Her voice is not that of a celibate cleric, nor a canon law expert, nor an ecclesiastical judge. Nor does her writing have a monastic tone to it. Julian’s book is full of a distinctly feminine sensitivity, along with incisive, analytical reasoning, rich imagery, and down-to-earth common sense. It is neither a treatise nor a catechism, nor is it a systematic guide to the spiritual life, yet it is full of rich teachings on prayer, the practice of faith, hope, and love, as well as personal advice on how to deal with one’s own sense of sinfulness, recurring depression, life’s suffering, and the fear of death.
Julian employs a circular, rather than a strictly linear, method of examining and interpreting Christian truths. She chooses favorite themes, words, and phrases, and returns to them again and again, layering them each time with ever-deeper meaning. This circularity does not in any way undermine her ability to analyze, argue, and categorize her teachings in a rational, linear mode when she so chooses. She allows intuition to inspire her logic and rational explanations to support her mystical insights. Throughout, her moral angst drives her to probe relentlessly, to dare to make astounding theological leaps of thought and faith, but she has no desire merely to be clever, to impress, or to compete with the authoritative reasoning of the scholastics or the didactic sermons of the churchmen. In fact, she cuts through theological hair-splitting and well-accepted religious attitudes, “sharper than any two-edged sword” (Heb 4:12), revealing the hidden marrow of meaning. As Thomas Merton wrote of her in the twentieth century: Julian is without doubt one of the most wonderful of all Christian voices. She gets greater and greater in my eyes as I grow older . . . I think that Julian of Norwich is with [John Henry, Cardinal] Newman the greatest English theologian. She is really that. For she reasons from her experience of the substantial center of the great Christian mystery of Redemption. She gives her experience and her deductions, clearly, separating the two. And the experience is of course nothing merely subjective. It is the objective mystery of Christ as apprehended by her, with the mind and formation of a fourteenth-century English woman. Besides being a mystical theologian, Julian is willing to reveal her own inner battles, to admit her personal failings as well as her deeply felt longings. . . . Julian may not tell us a lot of intimate details about her day-to-day life, but she does much more: she opens and entrusts to us her mind and heart. She discloses her mighty struggle to integrate her faith in the God she has been taught to believe in with the God of her mystical Revelations. She confronts her confusion head-on. One might even say she writes the first-ever spiritual autobiography in English. Julian addresses the reader directly. She wants each of us to see as she saw, to hear as she heard, to understand as she came to understand. She speaks as a daughter, wife, mother, and concerned friend on every page of her work. . . . She is, by turns, frankly emotional and searingly self-critical, profoundly tempted by doubt and buoyed up by hope. Julian’s pressing questions are not limited to her time; they resonate in every age. They are the same metaphysical questions we keep asking, over and over again. Julian’s asking of these questions, our questions, and her way of telling us how the Lord answered them, reveal a woman passionately concerned about the salvation and ultimate happiness of people she dearly loved. She also shows herself to be a woman of deep prayer, extraordinary faith, and prophetic powers. Julian grows on us. For every man or woman, young or old, believer or skeptic, Julian has a gift. It is the gift of her questing spirit, her daring conviction. It is the gift of her personal witness to Christ’s immense and incomparable compassion. Julian’s Revelations were not written just for the evencristens of her time. Hers is a timeless gospel, composed over six hundred years ago, by one woman for all women and all men who long for the assurance of a love that can never fail." I sincerely hope that you will draw close to the wisdom of Julian of Norwich by listening to my weekly Life, Love, & Light podcast series on this website that goes in-depth to explore her sixteen Revelations. I also examine how each Revelation is directly relevant to the very plague and protests, sufferings and fears, struggles and hopes of our own time. There is a Guided Meditation at the end of each podcast for you to make your own. May Julian bless you all abundantly! Please Note: The excerpt quoted above is from the Introduction to my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf. All rights reserved. |
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