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In the Fourteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich shares what Christ taught her about prayer:
And all this our lord brought suddenly to my mind, and shewed these words and said: I am the ground of thy beseking [beseeching in prayer]. First it is my will that thou have it, and next I make thee to will it, and next I make thee to beseke it—and thou besekest it! How should it then be that thou shouldst not have thy beseking? In an astounding moment, the Lord completely inverts the idea that prayer is initiated in any way by Julian with the Revelation that it is entirely his own idea. He identifies himself as the instigator and basis of all prayer. First, in his great goodness, Christ wills to give her some grace, then he makes her conscious of the desire for it . . . Next, he inspires her and gives her the desire to enter into prayer in order to beseech it. And then, she actually does beseech it in her prayer. Finally, Christ asks Julian the all-important rhetorical question: “How could it be that you would not receive what you were beseeching me for?” (since it was Christ himself who conceived the grace he wanted to give Julian in the first place!). Of course, this Revelation assumes that what Julian will be led to pray for will be to her most immediate benefit, as well as her eternal salvation, and will bring the greatest blessings upon those for whom she prays. Julian became convinced that when we pray it is in response to God’s desire to grant what we most urgently need. Our prayers of beseeching do not cause graces and gifts to come to us from God. It is God’s own goodness, the ground of all that is, that initiates every good thing he ever chooses to give us. He is ready to give before we even ask. A Mighty Comfort Julian experienced “a mighty comfort” in receiving this divine illumination . . . For it is the most unpossible [greatest impossibility] that may be that we should seek mercy and grace and not have it. For every thing that our good lord makes us beseke, he himself has ordained it to us from without beginning. Julian experiences prayer in an entirely new and radically hope filled way. She is sure that Christ wants all his “lovers on earth” to know how he directs our prayer, because “the more that we know, the more shall we beseech,” if we understand this teaching wisely, as our Lord intends. . . Pray Wholeheartedly Julian also understands that prayer makes us more like Christ through the graces we receive when we pray, as we are already like him in our human nature. Since it is Christ’s will that we be fully restored to the image and likeness of God, Julian describes how he urgently exhorts us: Pray interly [wholeheartedly]: though thou think it savour thee not, yet it is profitable enough, though thou feel it nought. Pray interly, though thou feel nought, though thou see nought, yea, though thou think thou might not [have any strength]. For in dryness and barrenness, in sickness and in feebleness, then is thy prayer fully pleasant to me, though thou think it savour thee not but little. And so is all thy living prayer in my sight.” Even when we have no “savour,” or taste, for prayer, no sense of enjoyment in it, no palpable feeling during it, no strength to persevere in it, we must still try to turn our hearts to prayer. Julian even suggests that Christ is “covetous” to have us praying often in his sight, because of all the rewards and endless thanks he wishes to give us. Regardless of what prayer feels like to us, “God accepts the good will and the travail of his servants,” He is greatly pleased when we work “in prayer and in good living by his help and his grace.” He also cautions Julian that he wants us to be “reasonable with discretion” and not tire ourselves out with endless repetitions of the same prayers which can become mindless. The main directive is to keep our soul’s focus on God’s presence within, until such time as “we have him whom we seek in fullness of joy: that is, Jesus. . .” Three Aspects of Prayer Julian summarizes three aspects that should determine our understanding of prayer. The first, as already mentioned, is to know from whom and how our prayer originates. Christ made clear that he is the instigator of prayer when he said, “I am the ground.” And he revealed how prayer develops because of his goodness when he said, “First, it is my will that thou have it.” The second aspect concerns the manner in which we say our prayers. Our will should always be turned entirely toward the will of the Lord, not in fear but in great enjoyment. Christ clarified this for Julian when he said: “I make thee to will it.” And the third aspect focuses on the fruit and goal of our prayer, which is “to be oned with and like our lord in everything.” And to this meaning and for this end was all this lovely lesson shewn. And he will help us, and he shall make it so, as he says himself. Blessed might he be! Additionally, Julian suggests that both our prayer and our trust should be equally “large,” which in Middle English implies generous and ample, even ambitious. For if we do not trust as much as we pray, we do not give the fullest worship to our lord in our prayer, and also we hinder and trouble ourselves. Julian considers that the reason we become hesitant and lacking in trust is that we think the impetus to pray is coming from ourselves instead of from Christ. If we were absolutely certain that Christ is the “ground in whom our prayer springs” and that prayer is itself “given to us by grace of his love,” then we would naturally trust that we would have “all that we desire.” Disappointment in Prayer But sometimes it comes to our mind that we have prayed a long time, and yet we think that we have not received what we asked for. But therefore we should not become depressed, for I am seker by our lord’s meaning that either we must wait for a better time, or more grace, or a better gift. He wills that we have true knowing in himself that he is being. And in this knowing, he wills that our understanding be grounded with all our strength, and all our intention, and all our meaning. And in this ground, he wills that we make our [dwelling] place and our wonning [home]. Julian knows only too well that even with rightful prayer and persevering trust, sometimes our heartfelt petitions do not seem to receive any answer. Then, we become depressed and perhaps feel rejected by God. It is a too-familiar cycle. Julian is certain that there is a divine reason: a better time, more grace, a better gift. And again, if we rely on our faith that Christ himself is the source of all “being,” all that we could possibly long for, we will not lose heart. In fact, if we ground ourselves in this knowledge, holding this awareness in prayer with all our strength of mind and purpose and intention, we will discover a spiritual dwelling place that is immovable: Christ himself will become the answer to every prayer. Julian considers three things that follow upon this realization. First, our creation; second, our precious redemption, which Julian terms againe-byeing or “buying back”; and third, everything in creation that Christ, out of love, sustains in order to serve us. It is as if Christ said to us, every time we begin to pray: “Behold and see that I have done all this before thy prayer occurred. And now thou art, and prayest to me.” Since Christ has already performed such great deeds in times past, as the church teaches, we should give thanks and pray for the deed that he is doing right now, which is to rule us and guide us to his worship in this life and to bring us to everlasting bliss. Christ wants us both to see that he does everything for us and also to pray for it to be done. If we only pray and do not see that he does every good deed, we feel depressed and full of doubts, and this does not contribute to his glory. And if we see that the Lord is the cause of all good things and yet do not ask that his will be done, we do not fulfill our responsibility to pray. As a result, we may not be able to “see” God’s providence reveal itself in our lives. Julian suggests that, in some mysterious way, our prayer is intimately linked to God’s actual working, and God is worshiped best (and we are most benefitted) when we both acknowledge that he does everything that is done, and pray that he may do it. Julian reiterates this imperative to pray for all that Divine Providence has preordained to do, both in particular instances and in general. This kind of prayer gives such great joy and bliss to Christ and will bring us such thanks and honor that Julian writes: “it passes the understanding of all creatures in this life, as to my sight.” NOTE: Quotations translated from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books).
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At the end of her Revelations, Julian of Norwich writes:
And from the time that it was shown, I desired oftentimes to know what was our lord’s meaning. And fifteen years after and more, I was answered in ghostly understanding, saying thus: “What, wouldest thou know thy lord’s meaning in this thing [the whole revelation]? Know it well, love was his meaning. Who shewed it to thee? Love. What shewed he to thee? Love. Wherefore shewed he it to thee? For love. Hold thee therein, thou shalt know more of the same. But thou shalt never know therein other without end.” Thus was I taught that love is our lord’s meaning. In this one word, Julian learned what she most needed to know: love is the beginning and the end of all true Revelation. God is love and all that God does is because of love, to show his love, and to increase our ability to respond in love. If we hold and cherish Julian’s Revelations, pondering them in our hearts, we shall discover more and more of the ways in which Divine Love expresses itself to us. We shall discover that there is nothing else that is “real” but love, and that for all eternity. We shall begin to glimpse, as Julian did, that everything lasts, and ever shall, from a hazelnut to a universe, “because God loveth it. And so hath all things being by the love of God.” The very fact that anything exists at all is simply because Love loves. And I saw full sekerly in this and in all [the Revelations], that before God made us he loved us, which love was never satiated, nor ever shall be. And in this love he has done all his works, and in this love he has made all things profitable to us. And in this love our life is everlasting. In our creation, we had a beginning, but the love wherein he made us was in him from without beginning, in which love we have our beginning. And all this shall we see in God without end. Deo Gracias [Thanks be to God]. With these last words, Julian sums up all that the Lord has shown her, all that she has heard and understood, all that she has tried to set down in her gospel account. She has spared herself nothing to share with us the depths of her spiritual pilgrimage on this earth. She has revealed her shewings and, in so doing, revealed herself. She has disclosed her own doubt and depression, impatience and sloth, and also affirmed her overarching confidence that the Lord lifts her up out of the ditch after every fall, as he does for each one who turns to him. She has shown us how we should walk: in faith, in seker trust, in hope, and most of all in joyful love, no matter what obstacles and pains we may suffer, even serious sins we may commit. For the soul in love, fear and despair have no place. Indeed, they are temptations away from the truth. Julian’s Revelations are, finally, a gospel of love. They testify that we are created out of love, by love, and for love. Love is the ground and the meaning of our creation, our redemption, our ultimate enclosure in God’s glory. And just as we have been loved since “without beginning,” so Julian bears witness that the Revelations were shown to her for the sake of love, that all might be brought to everlasting fruition. Christ our Mother will never leave us, never stop waiting and working in us until he has brought us up to be with him. He sits within our substance and our sensuality as in his own home. He has become what we are in his incarnation. He cannot shed his humanity; it has become his glory. He is one of us . . . forever. And he has no greater thirst than to transform us into his own Mystical Body, intimately enclosed in Trinity. Indeed, Julian has borne witness that the Heart of Christ thirsts for every soul as if it were the only soul ever created. She assures us that, as we contemplate this marvelous wonder of God’s everlasting and intimate love, dwelling and working within our souls, we shall become transformed human beings. We shall experience our lives as a whole new creation, by the power of the Holy Spirit. When this salvific work is finally completed, within us and within every soul, then indeed: “Alle shalle be wele, and thou shalt see it thyself that alle manner of thing shalle be wele.” This is Christ’s promise. And Julian’s. Indeed, this is the message of Christ’s risen glory on Easter: “All shall be well.” It cannot be any other way! May we rejoice in him who is the source of all our life, love, and light! NOTE: Quotations translated from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). t the end of her Revelations, Julian of Norwich writes: And from the time that it was shown, I desired oftentimes to know what was our lord’s meaning. And fifteen years after and more, I was answered in ghostly understanding, saying thus: “What, wouldest thou know thy lord’s meaning in this thing [the whole revelation]? Know it well, love was his meaning. Who shewed it to thee? Love. What shewed he to thee? Love. Wherefore shewed he it to thee? For love. Hold thee therein, thou shalt know more of the same. But thou shalt never know therein other without end.” Thus was I taught that love is our lord’s meaning. In this one word, Julian learned what she most needed to know: love is the beginning and the end of all true Revelation. God is love and all that God does is because of love, to show his love, and to increase our ability to respond in love. If we hold and cherish Julian’s Revelations, pondering them in our hearts, we shall discover more and more of the ways in which Divine Love expresses itself to us. We shall discover that there is nothing else that is “real” but love, and that for all eternity. We shall begin to glimpse, as Julian did, that everything lasts, and ever shall, from a hazelnut to a universe, “because God loveth it. And so hath all things being by the love of God.” The very fact that anything exists at all is simply because Love loves. And I saw full sekerly in this and in all [the Revelations], that before God made us he loved us, which love was never satiated, nor ever shall be. And in this love he has done all his works, and in this love he has made all things profitable to us. And in this love our life is everlasting. In our creation, we had a beginning, but the love wherein he made us was in him from without beginning, in which love we have our beginning. And all this shall we see in God without end. Deo Gracias [Thanks be to God]. With these last words, Julian sums up all that the Lord has shown her, all that she has heard and understood, all that she has tried to set down in her gospel account. She has spared herself nothing to share with us the depths of her spiritual pilgrimage on this earth. She has revealed her shewings and, in so doing, revealed herself. She has disclosed her own doubt and depression, impatience and sloth, and also affirmed her overarching confidence that the Lord lifts her up out of the ditch after every fall, as he does for each one who turns to him. She has shown us how we should walk: in faith, in seker trust, in hope, and most of all in joyful love, no matter what obstacles and pains we may suffer, even serious sins we may commit. For the soul in love, fear and despair have no place. Indeed, they are temptations away from the truth. Julian’s Revelations are, finally, a gospel of love. They testify that we are created out of love, by love, and for love. Love is the ground and the meaning of our creation, our redemption, our ultimate enclosure in God’s glory. And just as we have been loved since “without beginning,” so Julian bears witness that the Revelations were shown to her for the sake of love, that all might be brought to everlasting fruition. Christ our Mother will never leave us, never stop waiting and working in us until he has brought us up to be with him. He sits within our substance and our sensuality as in his own home. He has become what we are in his incarnation. He cannot shed his humanity; it has become his glory. He is one of us . . . forever. And he has no greater thirst than to transform us into his own Mystical Body, intimately enclosed in Trinity. Indeed, Julian has borne witness that the Heart of Christ thirsts for every soul as if it were the only soul ever created. She assures us that, as we contemplate this marvelous wonder of God’s everlasting and intimate love, dwelling and working within our souls, we shall become transformed human beings. We shall experience our lives as a whole new creation, by the power of the Holy Spirit. When this salvific work is finally completed, within us and within every soul, then indeed: “Alle shalle be wele, and thou shalt see it thyself that alle manner of thing shalle be wele.” This is Christ’s promise. And Julian’s. Indeed, this is the message of Christ’s risen glory on Easter: “All shall be well.” It cannot be any other way! May we rejoice in him who is the source of all our life, love, and light! NOTE: Quotations translated from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). In the Eighth Revelation, Julian of Norwich is led into a realistic vision of the terrible dying of Jesus Christ.
After this, Christ shewed a part of his passion near his dying. I saw the sweet face as it were dry and bloodless with pale dying; and afterward more deadly pale, languring; and then [it] turned more deadly into blue; and afterward more brown blue, as the flesh turned more deeply dead. For his passion shewed to me most explicitly in his blessed face, and especially in his lips, there I saw these four colors—those lips that were before fresh and ruddy, lively and pleasing to my sight. This was a terrible change, to see this deep dying. And also the nose withered together and dried, to my sight, and the sweet body waxed brown and black, all changed and turned out from the fair, fresh, and lively color of himself into dry dying. Julian describes the death process through the four colors of Jesus’ face, but most especially the lips: bloodless pale, more deadly pale, deathly blue, and finally, brownish blue. She is watching Christ expire in front of her, as she watched loved ones die in wave after wave of the Great Pestilence. She knows the shriveling of the nose, of the whole body, the progression of color from the blue of deep bruising to brown and thence to black, as the bodily fluids dry up, the blood clots and ceases to flow. This Revelation is both a concrete image of Christ’s unique death and a reliving of all the individual deaths Julian has ever witnessed. There is more: For in that same time that our blessed savior died upon the rood, it was a dry, bitter wind, wondrous cold as to my sight. And at the time all the precious blood was bled out of the sweet body that might pass therefrom, yet there dwelled a moisture in the sweet flesh of Christ, as it was shewn. Bloodlessness and pain dried from within, and the blowing of the wind and cold coming from without, met together in the sweet body of Christ. And these four, two without and two within, dried the flesh of Christ over the course of time. And though this pain was bitter and sharp, yet it was very long-lasting, as to my sight. And the pain dried up all the lively spirits of Christ’s flesh. The wind blew frigid, as if blasting from the North Sea, across the broad waters and into Norwich. Julian knew the biting saltiness and searing coldness of that unrelenting wind, and it seemed to be howling that day on Calvary. The wind and the bitter cold are nowhere documented in the gospels, nor are there any details of the endless bleeding and descriptions of Christ’s great pains. In fact, the four gospel accounts do not describe his sufferings at all. This is Julian’s own gospel, told with great attention to the drying up of Christ’s face, lips, and all the life-elements of his body. She is finally and truly “there,” in the midst of the passion, as she had longed to be. And it is more dreadful than she ever could have imagined . . . The blessed body dried all alone a long time, with the wrenching of the nails and weight of the body. For I understood that because of the tenderness of the sweet hands and the sweet feet, by the largeness, hardness, and grievousness of the nails, the wounds waxed wide. And the body sagged because of its weight from a long time hanging, and piercing and scraping of the head, and binding of the crown, all baked with dry blood, with the sweet hair clinging the dry flesh to the thorns, and the thorns to the flesh, drying. And in the beginning, while the flesh was fresh and bleeding, the continual pricking of the thorns made the wounds wide. And furthermore, I saw that the sweet skin and the tender flesh, with the hair and with the blood, were all raised and loosened above by the thorns, and broken in many pieces, and were hanging as if they would hastily have fallen down while they had natural moisture. How it was done I saw not, but I understood that it was with the sharp thorns and the rough, grievous pushing on of the garland, not sparing and without pity, that all at that time broke the sweet skin, with the flesh and the hair, and loosed it from the bone. For which reason it was broken in pieces as a cloth and sagging downward, seeming as if it hastily would have fallen for heaviness and for looseness. And that was great sorrow and dread to me, for it seemed to me that I would not for my life have seen it fall. . . . The garland of thorns was dyed with the blood. And that other garland and the head, all was one color, as clotted blood when it is dried. The skin and the flesh that seemed part of the face and of the body was slightly wrinkled, with a tawny color, like a dry board when it is aged, and the face was more brown than the body. Julian does not spare us any aspects of what she saw in her vision. This is perhaps the most graphic account of the crucifixion in medieval literature. It is filled with details that remained indelibly imprinted in Julian’s memory as a result of her keen observation. There is the inexorable “drying” of the body, the enlarging of the wounds in the hands due to the great sagging of the body, with hair clinging to the flesh and thorns, and the thorns mingled with flesh and hair, all caked with dried blood. As we continue our Lenten journey to the cross with Christ, let us take time to read and meditate on Julian's Revelations to enter more deeply into the great sufferings our Savior endured for us, in our stead. Yes, we suffer greatly, as does every human being, but he took on all the sins and all the sufferings of all people of all time. Let us offer our own sufferings, whatever they may be, in union with his, that we may be united with him on the cross, in our death, and rise to the eternal joy of his glorious resurrection. NOTE: Quotations translated from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). Dear Friends,
In the Thirteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich writes: Sinne is the sharpest scourge that any chosen soul may be smitten with. Which scourge beats down man and woman, and also breaks him, and disgusts him in his own sight—so much so that sometimes he thinks himself not worthy, except as it were to sink into hell—till contrition takes him by the touching of the holy ghost, and turns the bitterness into hope of God’s mercy. And then his wounds begin to heal and the soul to revive, turned into the life of holy church. The holy ghost leads him to confession, willfully to show his sinnes, nakedly and truly, with great sorrow and with great shame that he hath so defouled the fair image of God. Then he undertakes the penance for every sinne, enjoined by his confessor, that is grounded in holy church by the teaching of the holy ghost. This passage is a completely orthodox description of the three conditions the church teaches are necessary for forgiveness: contrition for sin, confession to a priest, performance of a penance. It is also the personal admission of a woman who knew the “scourge of sinne” firsthand, who had suffered the shame, the pain, and the near-despair of having spoiled the image of God within her soul. It is, finally, the testimony of a person who has felt the sweet inspiration of grace to confess her sins, experience forgiveness, and willingly perform a penance. Making confession to a priest was (and is) deemed essential by the church for the absolution of mortal sins and was strongly prescribed for the forgiveness of all lesser, venial sins . . . Julian identifies penance as one form of meekness “that greatly pleases God,” and “bodily sickness of God’s sending” as another. As a young girl, Julian requested just such an illness out of an ardent desire to become more like Christ. Now she adds that public humiliations such as outward sorrow and shame, condemnations and being despised by the world, are also forms of overt penance. She even considers temptations to bodily sins (lechery, gluttony, sloth) and spiritual sins (pride, envy, anger, covetousness) as being types of suffering, as did the customary teachings of her time. Through them all, however, Julian affirms that the good Lord protects the soul, even when we seem to be nearly forsaken and cast out by everyone else because of sin, and even though we recognize that we deserve what we suffer. Affliction fosters humility, which leads, by God’s grace, to honor in heaven . . . The fact is, Julian was freed from sin by confessing her sins to a priest on her deathbed and receiving the last rites of the church. She was cured of her fatal illness and relieved of physical pain during the time of her visions. And, in her periods of total ecstasy, she was taken up into heaven in her mind and heart, and for those blissful moments “made even” to the saints. Such is the union in love that mystics enjoy on rare occasions in this life and which they predict will occur at the moment of death. By contrition we are made clean, by compassion we are made ready, and by true longing for God we are made worthy. These are three means, as I understand, whereby all souls come to heaven—that is to say, who have been sinners on earth and shall be saved. At one point, Julian was shown that she would sin and she experienced “a soft dread.” Yet our Lord reassured her: “I keep thee full sekerly” [I protect thee in complete security]. She writes: This word was said with more love and sekernesse of ghostly [spiritual] keeping than I can or may tell. For as it was shown to me before that I should sinne, right so was the comfort shown; sekernesse of keeping [protection] for all mine evencristens. As we near Ash Wednesday and the penitential Season of Lent, let us examine those misdeeds or patterns of behavior that keep us from being totally centered in the love of Christ in our hearts. May we be led to confess with sincere contrition and so experience the grace of the Lord’s forgiveness, as Julian did. Then we will truly rejoice in our Lenten practices and penances, and in the great comfort of the Lord’s “sekernesse of protection” in every aspect of our lives. Lenten Blessings, Veronica NOTE: Quotations translated from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books) In the Thirteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich writes: “There are many evil deeds done in our sight and such great harms suffered that it seems to us that it were unpossible [impossible] that ever it should come to a good end.” Julian simply could not see how the problem of evil could be “made wele.”
And upon this [evil] we look, sorrowing and mourning therefore, so that we can not rest ourselves in the blissful beholding of God as we should do. And the cause is this: that the use of our reason is now so blind, so low, and so simple, that we can not know the high, the marvelous wisdom, the might, and the goodness of the blissful trinity. Julian cannot forget the brutalities that have torn apart the very fabric of her life. She has not been a cloistered nun or a distant observer of the sufferings of her age. She has seen peasants bound by ropes and dragged through the streets, hanging from the back of horse-drawn carts. She has watched severed heads be raised atop pikes on the walls of Norwich. She has witnessed the hands of thieves cut off as punishment. She knows about the evils perpetrated by immoral clergy and the ruling nobility alike. She has heard the stories of rape, murder, and pillage from the war. She has held her disconsolate evencristens, crying aloud in her arms. She has spent years “sorrowing and mourning” and been unable to rest “in the blissful beholding of God.” More than once, she must have asked the question that has no human answer: how could such evil deeds ever come to a good end? Julian is painfully aware that the presence of evil impacts all who look on it, listen to it, smell it, touch it. The effects of evil deeds wreak havoc in our emotional lives and test our faith in the goodness of God. The seeming triumph of evil that, for a time at least, goes unpunished, raises severe questions about God’s lack of intervention. The terrible sufferings produced by evil wear down our hope in ever being set free from its clutches. Evil disillusions and embitters our hearts, making us unable to love or trust God as we should. Evil arouses annoyance, fuels anger, feeds the desire for revenge. And in all this, we become unable to pray, to praise, and to give glory to God as we ought to do. We cannot rest in contemplating the pure goodness of God. We are worn out with weeping. Julian is admitting here that she knows this debilitating process only too well. She has looked on evil and been shaken to the core by her contact with it. Yet she refuses to blame God for evil. She insists that the cause of our despair over the all-pervasiveness of evil is that our reasoning minds are “so blind, so low, and so simple.” What she means is that we simply cannot comprehend the transcendence of the Trinity in its glorious wisdom, might, and goodness. We may find it easier to believe that God may not, can not, will not, and shall not save all humankind, and that we shall never see him make “alle manner of thing wele.” This is due to our inability to comprehend who God is and what God is capable of accomplishing. It is also symptomatic of our lack of faith. It takes a long time for us to allow God’s promise to filter through our fears and find a home deep in our injured psyches. And thus, this is what he means where he says: “Thou shalt see thyself that alle manner of thing shalle be wele,” as if he had said: “Take heed now, faithfully and trustingly, and at the last end thou shalt see truly in fullness of joy.” Julian insists we must take sharp notice of what Christ is saying. We must have faith and trust in his promises, most especially because we cannot see how this or that particular evil in our world could ever “come to a good end.” We must hang on Christ’s words, counting on him to make all things well at the end of time, even though we have no idea how he will ever do it. We must believe that he can and wants to do it. Such belief does not arise easily. It is an acquired habit. It takes continual and determined practice. But if we do practice such belief, then “at the last end,” we will be able to “see truly in the fullness of joy” how Christ has done it. And in this will be our eternal thanksgiving. NOTE: Quotations above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich. (Orbis Books) Dear Friends,
In the Tenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich sees Christ look down from the cross towards his side and reveal his Sacred Heart: And with this, our good lord said full blissfully: “Lo, how I loved thee,” as if he had said: “My darling, behold and see thy lord, thy God, that is thy maker and thy endless joy. See thine own brother, thy savior. My child, behold and see what delight and bliss I have in thy salvation, and for my love enjoy it with me.” Julian hears a direct locution in which Christ speaks, in five words, everything that could be said from his Heart to Julian’s: “Lo, how I loved thee.” And yet, for Julian, the layers of meaning keep pouring forth, as if Christ had told her his love over and over again, as lovers do, in countless different and intimate ways. She tries to find words to express the inexpressible: And also, for better understanding: this blessed word was said, “Lo how I loved thee,” as if he had said: “Behold and see that I loved thee so much, before I died for thee, that I wanted to die for thee. And now I have died for thee, and suffered willingly whatever I can. And now is all my bitter pain and all my hard travail turned to endless joy and bliss to me and to thee. How should it now be that thou should pray to me for anything that pleases me, but that I should full gladly grant it thee? For my pleasure is thy holiness and thy endless joy and bliss with me.” Julian’s use of paraphrase here reaches a fever pitch. It is “as if” Christ had said there is nothing he would not have done to show his love for her, as for every person. From eternity, he knew he would die for love. Then he “suffered willingly” and did die for love. And now, he is in “endless joy and bliss” and wants nothing so much as to share his love with all those for whom he has died. This is the love, past, present, and future, that Julian understood “was without beginning, and is, and shall be forever.” Here, for the first time, Julian introduces the topic of prayer in connection with Christ’s love. Why should he refuse anything that she asks for, if it is pleasing to him? Out of love, he will grant it if it will lead to her holiness and eternal joy. How could he not? This is the understanding, simply as I can say of this blessed word: "Lo, how loved thee." This showed our good lord [to us] to make us glad and merry. Here Julian expresses the source of the true gladness and merriment we celebrate at Christmas: That God became human in Jesus Christ, was conceived in Mary’s womb, born in Bethlehem, raised in Nazareth, then lived and taught and worked miracles of mercy and healing for our sake, and finally, suffered and died – all out of unconditional love for each and every one of us. Our good Lord invites us to “behold and see what delight and bliss” he has in our salvation. And he wants us “to enjoy it” out of love for him! May this Christmas be full of special blessings and an ever-greater capacity to be “glad and merry” in the birth of Jesus Christ and in the joyful reality of our salvation! Veronica Note: Quotations above are from my book: Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). Reflecting on the Second Revelation, Julian of Norwich attests that: 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.
Here, Julian reiterates her understanding 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 “have” 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 of the Lord that become apparent from this vision and its attendant revelation. 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 abide [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 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. May we reflect on Julian’s words and her wise advice, especially in these dark and dangerous times of national and international conflicts, ongoing wars, and so much suffering. May we “trust in him mightily, with full, seker faith,” never giving up hope that the Lord is working in and through all those who seek peace and justice. In this Advent time of “travail,” may we be filled with ardent longing for Christ’s birth in our world. And may we be graced to find him, even in our suffering, and be fulfilled in joy. Note: Quotations above are from my book: Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books) During her writings on prayer from the Fourteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich acknowledges that the extraordinary way of “seeing” God she experienced in her shewings cannot be maintained in this life. Yet faith in God when we do not see him or feel his presence adds to his honor and increases the joy we will have in eternal life. However, it is precisely because we cannot experience God’s presence that we often fail to recognize him at work in our lives. And then we fall back into ourselves, relying on our own strengths and tortured by our own weaknesses. In effect, we experience nothing but the contrariousness (a Middle English word meaning willfulness, opposition, resistance, even perversity) that is in our nature. Julian remarks that this is because of the “old root of our first sin,” with all the sins that have ever followed because of humanity’s propensity to go on sinning. Therefore, we become “travailed and tempested,” that is, belabored and troubled, both spiritually and bodily. Such is the conflicted life Julian knew only too well.
But our good lord the holy ghost, who is endless life dwelling in our soul, full sekerly [securely] keeps us, and works therein a peace, and brings it to ease through grace, and makes it obedient, and reconciles it with God. And this is the mercy and the way in which our good lord continually leads us, as long as we are in this life which is changeable. Julian has just clarified that God’s mercy is not a divine “change of heart” from fury, nor even a gracious act of forgiveness after we have recognized our sin, asked pardon, and done penance. Now she defines his work of mercy as the unceasing, gratuitous outpouring of the Holy Ghost, who is “endless life dwelling in our souls.” This outpouring is like the water that flowed from Christ’s Sacred Heart on the cross. It is the cleansing waters of baptism, of sanctifying grace. This abundant mercy protects us even when we are trapped in our mistakenness. It is a mercy that constantly works to draw us out of the war between our mental afflictions, our inner drives, and our sensual needs. Who knows the willful and contrary “stuff” of our fallen human nature better than Christ does? Who wants our salvation more than the Savior who died to set us free from our own perversity? The Spirit of Christ, the Holy Ghost, will never stop trying to lead us out of our self-defeating ways. This is God’s sublime work of mercy. For I saw no wrath but on humanity’s part, and that God forgives in us. For wrath is nothing else but a rebelliousness and a contrariousness to peace and to love. And either it comes from failure of strength, or from failure of wisdom, or from failure of goodness, which failing is not in God but is on our own part. For we by sin and wretchedness have in us a wrath and a continuing contrariousness to peace and to love, and that he shewed very often in his loving countenance of compassion and pity. Again, Julian bears witness to what she experienced: the Savior does not look on us with anger and a desire to punish, but with divine mercy and a thirst to save. This is the loving face of Christ that Julian saw. . . and she could not see any wrath therein. She clearly articulates that the experience of wrath is all on our side, coming from ourselves, not from God. For the ground of mercy is in love, and the working of mercy is our keeping [protection] in love. And this was shown in such a manner that I could not perceive the property of mercy otherwise but, as it were, all one in love. Just as Julian had been taught that God inspires every grace he wishes us to ask for in prayer, precisely so that he can give it to us, likewise the “mercy” we pray for is also offered by God even before we ask. God’s mercy, as grounded in his love, is inseparable from the reality of God's existence. It is never conditional on us. Our pleading does not earn God’s mercy any more than our prayer bends God’s will. Still, Julian tells us, we must open ourselves to the experience of God’s mercy by requesting it repeatedly in prayer. Otherwise, we may not be able to accept the great blessing of being healed, protected, and inspired. Prayer, in effect, enables our minds and hearts to receive what God longs to give. That is to say, as to my sight: mercy is a sweet, gracious working in love, mixed with plentiful pity. For mercy works, protecting us, and mercy works, turning all things to good for us. May we continue to pray for divine mercy for ourselves, for all those we love, and for all who are suffering in our tortured world. Note: Quotations above are from my book: Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books) In the First Revelation, Julian of Norwich writes: And in this [sight], he showed a little thing the quantity of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand as it seemed to me, and it was as round as any ball. I looked therein with the eye of my understanding, and thought: “What may this be?” And it was answered generally thus: “It is all that is made.” I marveled how it might last, for it seemed to me it might suddenly have fallen into nought [nothing] for its littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: “It lasteth and ever shall, because God loveth it. And so hath all things being by the love of God.”
Here, Julian is suddenly shown, through an imaginative vision, what seems to be a perfectly round hazelnut lying in the palm of her hand. How many times she had held, cracked, and eaten raw or roasted hazelnuts, ground them with a mortar and pestle to make a paste or sauce, pressed them to produce flavorful hazelnut oil, followed a recipe calling for a quantity of butter or lard “the size of a hazelnut,” or saved one half of the nut covering to use as a makeshift measuring spoon for salt and spices . . . She looks more deeply with the inner eye of her understanding and asks the first of many questions in her text: “What may this be?” She makes very clear that she was answered not specifically from the Lord’s mouth but in a general way, through an illumination given directly to her mind. The response was short, direct, precise: “It is all that is made.” The moment is stunning in its simplicity and grandeur. Julian realizes in a flash how precious the little nut is, simply because it exists, and, as such, it encapsulates “all that is made.” But how could it be “all that is made” if it is so small and so innocuous? Why, it could so easily fall into “nought,” or complete nothingness, because of its very littleness, disintegrate into the earth unnoticed, as Julian had seen so many hazelnut casings turn to compost in the garden. It is as if Julian’s inner eye became a floating telescope, zooming out to view infinite space, revealing the minuteness of planet Earth in the immensity of the cosmos. What power allows such a tiny thing to exist at all and cares enough to sustain it in existence? She is approaching the ultimate metaphysical question: How is there anything at all? Again, she is answered not by externally spoken words but by a voice within: “It lasteth, and ever shall, because God loveth it.” And in the same way do all things exist or “have being” from moment to moment, solely because of the love of God. Some people, as they lie on their deathbeds, see their lives pass before them in a flash. Julian (who thought she was on her own deathbed) sees all creation enclosed in the symbol of a something as small as a hazelnut, as miniscule in God’s eye as a tiny round ball floating in space. Nevertheless, the smallness does not mean the hazelnut is any less loved by God for being so little and so ordinary. It is loved equally with suns and moons and stars, all the wonders of nature, and the uniqueness of human beings. In the course of future Revelations, Julian will experience again and again this ever-present, all-pervasive reality of love that alone sustains creation. Rather, creation is nothing else but the expression of Divine Love. Here Julian is given a glimpse into a universe upheld not by physical matter, whether in microcosm or macrocosm, but by the fact of the all-pervasive love of God. . . Julian understands three properties of the hazelnut. Not its hardiness, usefulness, and tastiness. Rather, “the first is that God made it, the second is that God loves it, the third is that God keeps [protects] it.” This trinity of hazelnut attributes strikes her mind with great clarity. Still, she is not sure what the meaning of its sudden appearance in her imagination could be, here and now, for her: “But what is that to me?” she asks, in internal dialogue. The answer comes immediately: “Truly, the maker, the keeper, the lover. . .” Thus, consideration of the humble hazelnut raises her mind once again to the contemplation of Trinity as creator, protector, and eternal lover revealing itself not only in the reality of Jesus Christ, but in and through everything that is made. Now, in a rush of ardor, Julian expresses her life’s longing for God . . . She laments that until she is “substantially oned,” that is, united to God in the very ground of her being, with nothing created interposing itself between herself and God, she cannot have any rest or peace. She feels she must become “fastened” (in her heart) to Christ on the cross, so that there is nothing standing between her and him. This may seem a startling conclusion. Is Julian suddenly denying the holiness and goodness of the “hazelnut,” which she has just understood represents all of creation? How could she? She has seen that it is created, protected, and loved in being by God. But she knows that it is still not God, nor can it ever be. And no matter how good and true and beautiful creation appears, it can never satisfy the soul’s yearning to be “oned” with the One by whom all is created. No creature can ever become God for her. She cannot substitute a hazelnut for a heaven. Julian is echoing the thought of St. Augustine here: “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.” This was a common theme in medieval literature. Julian knows only too well that we continually grasp at what we can see, hear, taste, touch, and hold in the palm of our hands. Too often, what we seek after with such inveterate determination distracts us from the love and service of God, our ultimate destiny. Our ever increasing earthly needs and goals can mount up like a thick wall between the soul and its Creator. We think we are striving after what will make us happy until we either get it and realize it cannot satisfy our fundamental longing, or we lose it and start craving something else. Yet somehow, even though we know our wants always exceed our needs, we start the process over and over again. . . 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. May this become our own daily prayer of divine longing, surrender, and hope. Note: Quotations above are from my book: Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books) 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. 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. . . She 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 invite you to read and ponder Julian of Norwich -- in Julian's Gospel or An Explorer's Guide to Julian of Norwich (both available in paperback and on Kindle). Please don't limit your knowledge of Julian to a few favorite quotations; discover the entire story of her near-death experience and the Sixteen Revelations of Divine Love that transformed her life and have the same power to transform our own. Note: Quotations above are from my book: Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). |
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