As we approach Ash Wednesday, we recall that our Lenten practice should include prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. What if we practiced “a different kind of Lent” this year? What if, in addition to verbal prayer. Liturgy, and reading Scripture, we committed to silent prayer? We would simply sit still in the presence of Christ in our hearts, keep watch on our breath and let go of our thoughts, as well as our emotional attachment to those thoughts. Twenty to thirty minutes of such silent meditation practice every morning and evening would deepen our faith in the Savior on whom we rely for every breath, the ground of our very being, the one who loves us enough to die for us. Is an hour a day too much to offer in return? “Could you not keep watch for one hour?” (Mark 14:37).
What about a different type of fasting—from bickering, complaining, criticizing, gossiping, and judging the words and actions of others? That’s much harder to give up than chocolate, ice cream, or alcohol! We could fast from chewing on the latest scandal, judging people’s motivations, making sweeping condemnations, or spreading lies and fake news. We might even fast from our addictive online news sources, from social networks and newspapers. The world would go on without us knowing about it for forty days. Meanwhile, we would become mentally and emotionally free to send out light, peace, and hope to heal the world from the depths of our silent prayer.
As for almsgiving, perhaps we could care for the poor and persecuted in a special way during this Lenten season. What about a more hands-on approach than just sending a check to our favorite charity or giving a cash handout to a homeless person? What about volunteering for an hour or two a week to offer some service to the needy and marginalized in our community? Our love and compassion could touch many lives and really make a difference this Lent. The need is so great “and the laborers are few” (Luke 10:2).
Notice that silencing our thoughts, speaking only positive words of encouragement, and reaching out to help those in need, express the quality of our faith, hope, and love. And these are precisely the virtues that all Lenten practices are meant to increase. Please let us hear your own thoughts and suggestions for a “different kind of Lent.”

So excited to share an article on Julian of Norwich that I was invited to write for "Transformation" on OpenDemocracy.net.  It will reach 250 countries. Please take time to ponder it and share with family and friends on social media. "What might a medieval recluse say to postmodern activists?" Read and find out. And please post your comments! Thanks.

​“Alle Shalle Be Wele:” Julian of Norwich and the process of transformation
VERONICA MARY ROLF 10 February 2019

Julian of Norwich was born in 1342. No stranger to violence and suffering, she grew up in a world ravaged by the Hundred Years’ War between England and France and torn apart by the Great Papal Schism. She also lived through the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381, during which thousands of disenfranchised tenant farmers and laborers marched all over England looting monasteries, burning records of their serfdom and debt, and killing their hated overlords. Most tragic of all, from the time Julian was six years old, she endured repeated outbreaks of the Great Pestilence - later termed the Black Death - which eventually killed more than half the population of Europe, some 50 million people. It was no less than apocalyptic.
In May of 1373 when Julian was 30, her body broke down. She became paralyzed and was near death. The local curate told her to fix her eyes on the crucifix. Suddenly all her pain was taken away and the figure of Christ on the cross appeared to come alive. For the next 12 hours, Julian entered into a profound mystical experience of Christ’s sufferings and his transformation into glory. She received sixteen revelations and heard locutions that stayed with her for the rest of her life - especially Christ’s personal reassurance that “Alle shalle be wele and alle shalle be wele and all manner of thing shalle be wele.”
At first, Julian could not accept these words. How could she believe that ‘all things would be well’ when her own world was obviously falling apart? She was so tortured by the success of evil and the degradation of suffering that she had often wondered why “the beginning of sin had not been prevented. For then I thought all would have been wele.” She dared to question the vision: “Ah, good lord, how might alle be wele for the great harm that has come by sin to thy creatures?” Julian’s mental anguish was not just an excessive medieval preoccupation with sin; it was indicative of humanity’s innate sense that our lives are terribly broken and that we don’t know how to fix them. We simply cannot save ourselves from the messes we get into because of our pride, anger, selfishness, jealousy, greed and lies.
Surprisingly, Julian was told in a locution that sin could be “behovely” - that is, “useful,” even “necessary”- because it forces us to realize our need for divine mercy and spiritual healing. She further understood that in God there is no wrath or blame - all the anger and recrimination are on our side. God shows only compassion and pity for human beings because of the inevitable suffering we have to endure as a result of our misdeeds. Julian became convinced that everyone is loved unconditionally by God. As she wrote:
“For our soul is so preciously loved by him that is highest, that it overpasses 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 ask of our lover, with reverence, all that we will.”
This revelation filled Julian with immense compassion for her fellow human beings. She longed to bear witness to divine love, mercy, and the revelations she had experienced. Admittedly, Julian did not become ‘politically active’ in our contemporary sense. No woman in her time was allowed to be educated at university (i.e. Oxford or Cambridge), hold public office, instruct others, or preach from a pulpit. Lay people were forbidden to teach religion (except to their children). But if we consider that ‘political’ connotes selfless devotion to serving the ‘body politic’ and showing compassion to those in need, then Julian did become a force for social transformation. There were three things she decided to do: pray, counsel, and write.
Around 1390, Julian chose to be enclosed as an anchorite - literally “anchored” to the side of the church of St. Julian (no relation) in Norwich. There she lived for about 25 years in a small hermit’s cell, attended by a maid who brought her food, clean clothing, parchment and ink. She devoted herself to prayer and contemplation, to counseling those who came to her anchorage window seeking spiritual direction, and to writing.
Julian worked diligently on several versions of the Long Text of her revelations (she had penned a Short Text in the 1370s). She developed a mystical theology of the Trinity; of the goodness of God reflected in a tiny hazelnut; of the lack of wrath or blame in God; of the godly will “that never assented to sin, nor never shall;” of the Great Deed that Christ will accomplish at the end of the world; of divine inspiration that is the ground of our beseeching in prayer; of the value of suffering; and of the ‘motherhood’ of God, so relevant to our time.
She realized that “as truly as God is our father, as truly is God our mother.” By giving birth to humankind in blood and water on the cross and by nurturing and inspiring us throughout our lives, Mother Christ is the paradigm for all earthly mothers, caregivers, advisors, teachers, and volunteers; for all those who dedicate their lives to the works of mercy and social service. All the while, Julian searched for the deeper meaning of all the Lord’s revelations. One day she was answered in prayer: “Know it well, love was his meaning.” Divine love became the meaning of her life and her message to the world.
Although Julian was, by her own account, “unlettered” (she could not read or write Latin, the language of Scripture and theology), she was the first woman ever to write a book in the English language. She implored her readers to receive the revelations as if they had been shown to us, not her. She died sometime after 1416, and her writings were almost destroyed during the Reformation. Providentially, the Long Text was scurried away to France by recusant Benedictine nuns. It was not until 1910 that the Short Text finally resurfaced at a Sotheby’s auction. Since then, Julian’s reputation and influence have grown worldwide. The American mystic and activist Thomas Merton called Julian one of “the greatest English theologians,” and former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams considered Julian’s book to be “the most important work of Christian reflection in the English language.”
What has Julian to tell us about the process of transformation? How can we work to make ‘all things well’ in our world without losing heart? Anyone who has ever served the poor, the persecuted, or the marginalized knows that the two greatest dangers are disillusionment and burnout. The problems are so vast and our efforts so small. In our frustration, we may try to dictate solutions instead of eliciting creative collaboration. We become exhausted, infuriated, and sometimes feel betrayed. We question how we can continue when the odds seem stacked against us.
Julian would tell us that we must go into the “ground” of our being in order to “live contemplatively.” Like her, we must develop a daily practice in which we learn to rest and breathe in silence and stillness, becoming aware of the turbulence in our minds, releasing thoughts and letting go of our emotional attachment to those thoughts. We need to become ever more aware of being aware, in order to experience the deep interconnectedness of our own awareness with divine awareness. And then we must rely on divine awareness working in us and through us if we are to make a difference. We cannot do it alone. And we cannot do what others must do for themselves. We can only evaluate, advise, encourage, and empower.
Will such a contemplative practice transform the world? Not immediately. But it will transform us. Our love will go deeper, our patience will grow stronger, and our service will become more authentic and productive. We will be able to feel compassion for those who challenge us, and keep our balance in situations that threaten to undermine us. We will listen more attentively, evaluate opposing viewpoints more generously, and cooperate more willingly. We will recognize that the real work of transformation - whether of individuals or of nations - is divine work. Nevertheless, we humans play an indispensable part: every act of peace and loving service, and every word of kindness or forgiveness helps to make “alle manner of thing” well. The more we collaborate with the work of divine love, the more we will experience that love bearing fruit in our own lives and in the lives of others. As we are transformed, others will be too.
The revelation that “alle shalle be wele” does not provide an instant cure-all for our personal, family, and global problems. These words are a prophecy and a promise - of an ultimate transformation. Eventually, divine love will convert every evil into good, every inequality into justice, and every suffering into joy. However, we will not be able to see how this will happen until we have been fully transformed from within; until we have been recreated through death and rebirth into the divine dimension. Then at last we will be able to understand how “alle manner of thing shalle be wele” - because the divine dimension is love.

https://www.opendemocracy.net/transformation/veronica-mary-rolf/alle-shalle-be-wele-julian-of-norwich-and-process-of-transformatio
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When I give talks or retreats on the Revelations of Divine Love of Julian of Norwich, I am repeatedly struck by how relevant her teachings are to our nation’s situation and to our world crises. What is it about this fourteenth century mystic that speaks so directly to us in the twenty-first? Why should we read and ponder Julian’s Revelations now?

Perhaps the best answer to the question “Why Julian now?” is that in our age of uncertainty, inconceivable suffering, and seemingly perpetual violence and war (not unlike fourteenth-century Europe), Julian shows us the way toward contemplative peace. In a time of rampant prejudice and religious persecution, Julian inspires us to non-judgmental acceptance and universal compassion. In a world of deadly diseases and ecological disasters, Julian teaches us how to endure pain in patience and trust that Christ is working to transform every cross into 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. 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 so appealing today? 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, 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 divine revelations.

​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.
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PLEASE NOTE: The 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. This article may not be copied or reprinted without the express permission of the author.

As we approach Christmas Eve, let us consider that in the first Revelation, Julian of Norwich had a “ghostly” or “spiritual” vision of the Virgin Mary at the moment she conceived the Savior. Julian glimpsed “the wisdom and truth” of Mary’s soul as the young girl marveled that God “would be born of her who was a simple creature of his making.” Julian realized that Mary was, like herself, uneducated, and without any earthly status. She observed Mary’s “reverent beholding” of her Creator. “For this was her marveling: that he that was her maker would be borne of her that was made.” Julian understood that it was Mary’s recognition of her very “littleness” that made her tell the angel Gabriel, “Lo, me here God’s handmaiden.” But because the Creator chose her, Mary was more worthy than all the other creatures below her. And above her there was “nothing that is made but the blessed manhood of Christ, as to my sight.”

This tells us a lot about how Mary marveled as she beheld her Son in her arms after his birth. Again she marveled that God “would be born of her who was a simple creature of his making.” Again she reverently beheld her Creator and marveled that “he that was her maker would be borne of her that was made.”

Nakedly, Plainly and Homely
Julian was certain that the Lord is greatly pleased whenever a soul comes to him like Mary: “nakedly, plainly, and homely”; that is, simply, humbly, and intimately [like home], full of eagerness to offer him everything. This Christmas, let us consider that God longs to be born of us, into every aspect of our daily reality with all its complexities, joys, and sorrows. Let us approach the newborn Christ Child in Mary’s arms “nakedly, plainly, and homely” -- like the poor shepherds, without anything to offer but our love. Then perhaps we, too, may realize that he who is our maker is being born of us who are made.

Then, contemplating Mary and the Child, we may whisper Julian’s own heartfelt prayer of wonder, adoration, and joyful surrender:
“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.”
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I wish you all a blessed Christmas, full of the love of Christ in your hearts!

PLEASE NOTE: The 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. This article may not be copied or reprinted without the express permission of the author.

In the Fourteenth Revelation, Julian considers what the Lord taught her about different types of prayer. She understands the prayer of thanksgiving as “a true, inward knowing, with great reverence and lovely awe,” whereby we offer all our efforts and energies to the daily tasks that are God’s will for us, all the while “rejoicing and thanking inwardly.”

Notice that Julian stresses the importance of rejoicing in the good works we are enabled to do by the grace of God. Not only that, but she declares that our prayer and our trust should never be timid, but “both alike large,” which in Middle English suggests ample and 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.” We must constantly remind ourselves that “our Lord is the ground in whom our prayer springs” and that prayer is itself “given to us by grace of his love”; then we will be able to trust that we will receive “all that we desire.”
 
This Thanksgiving Day, let us go deeper into The Art of Giving Thanks. Amidst the festivities, let us take some quiet time to discover a “true, inward knowing” whereby we realize that all we are, all we love, and all we have, come from our Creator who gives our lives to us out of love. Let us offer all our efforts from the past year, our joys and sorrows, our works and forms of service, “rejoicing and thanking inwardly” that we were given the grace to accomplish them!

Let our Thanksgiving Day prayer of gratitude be "large" and plentiful toward all those we love and with whom we work. And let us trust “mightily” that the values we sincerely strive to live by will bear fruit eventually. How can we be sure of this? Because, as the Lord revealed to Julian: “I am the ground of your beseeching.” Our longings for justice and truth; for greater compassion for the poor, the suffering, and marginalized;  for healing and mercy; for love and peace that arise in our heart during prayer come directly from the grace of divine love. Therefore, how could it be that our prayers would not be answered?

This Thanksgiving Day, and every day, let us give thanks that the Spirit is always praying within us: “for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Rom 8:26 NRSV). And let us rejoice that the work of the Holy Spirit never, ever fails.

I wish you all a blessed Thanksgiving!

​​PLEASE NOTE: The 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. This article may not be copied or reprinted without the express permission of the author.

In the Fourteenth Revelation, Julian considers what the Lord taught her about different types of prayer. She understands the prayer of thanksgiving as “a true, inward knowing, with great reverence and lovely awe,” whereby we offer all our efforts and energies to the daily tasks that are God’s will for us, all the while “rejoicing and thanking inwardly.”

Notice that Julian stresses the importance of rejoicing in the good works we are enabled to do by the grace of God. Not only that, but she declares that our prayer and our trust should never be timid, but “both alike large,” which in Middle English suggests ample and 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.” We must constantly remind ourselves that “our Lord is the ground in whom our prayer springs” and that prayer is itself “given to us by grace of his love”; then we will be able to trust that we will receive “all that we desire.”
 
This Thanksgiving Day, let us go deeper into The Art of Giving Thanks. Amidst the festivities, let us take some quiet time to discover a “true, inward knowing” whereby we realize that all we are, and all we love, and all we have, comes from our Creator who gives it to us out of love. Let us offer all our efforts from the past year, our joys and sorrows, our works and forms of service, “rejoicing and thanking inwardly” that we were given the grace to accomplish them!

Let our Thanksgiving Day prayer be large and plentiful toward all those we love and with whom we work. And let us trust “mightily” that the values we sincerely strive to live by will bear fruit eventually. How can we be sure of this? Because, as the Lord revealed to Julian: “I am the ground of your beseeching.” Our longings for justice and truth, for greater compassion for the poor, the suffering, and the marginalized, for healing and mercy, for love and peace that arise in our prayer come directly from the grace of divine love. Therefore, how could it be that our prayer would not be answered?

This Thanksgiving Day, and every day, let us give thanks that the Spirit is always praying within us: “for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Rom 8:26 NRSV). And let us rejoice that the work of the Holy Spirit never, ever fails.
​
I wish you all a blessed, holy Thanksgiving!

​​PLEASE NOTE: The 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. This article may not be copied or reprinted without the express permission of the author.

The “godly will” was one of the many insights that Julian of Norwich received during her decades of contemplation on the Fourteenth Revelation. She perceived that there is “a godly will that never assented to sin, nor never shall.” What is this godly will? Julian understood that the godly will is our divinely created nature, fashioned out of nothing in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:26). It is our existential link to our Creator, which may never be broken. It is the indwelling of God’s will in our soul, and it is our soul’s will and desire to be united with God. No one and nothing can satisfy that desire but God.
     Theologically speaking, the godly will is the “higher part,” or pure substance of the soul, which “wills good and works good in the sight of God.” It includes our mental capacities to be aware, to reason, to remember, and to choose the good. Unlike the “lower part” of the soul that conditions our natural appetites for food, procreation, and self-preservation, the “higher part” of the soul wills our spiritual perfection. In truth, “we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life” (Eph 2:10). For Julian, we are not only created good; we are created "godly."
      Of course, we may misuse and abuse our godly will. Because of sin, the rational and sensual faculties of our soul have become weakened, ignorant, easily misguided. Thus we may turn away from the eternal good for which we are created, give in to the carnal drives of our lower nature, and choose lesser goods that involve sinful behavior. Then we may fall into a ditch of darkness and despair through our “feebleness and blindness.” But Julian insists that the soul that shall be saved never fully assents to serious sin; therefore, sin does not nullify the godly will, for it is ever kept safe and secure in the ground of our Christ-redeemed humanity.

      Think of it! Even when we sin, God sustains our soul’s awareness (without which we would not be able to experience anything), as well as our rational ability to know and to choose the good. Even when we go astray, God continues to love us unconditionally and sends his Son to bring us back home. Moreover, because of our glorious redemption, when God “looks” at us, God sees the Beloved, with whom he is “well pleased” (Mt 3:17; Lk 3:22). This is what it means for our essential nature to be kept “whole and safe”: we are inseparably knitted and oned to Christ.
      So let us not grow weary in following our higher nature in being good and in doing good, especially when the world around us seems to be on a dark trajectory. Divine Love upholds the truth and goodness of our godly will and Christ himself is overcoming the world!

​PLEASE NOTE: The 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. This article may not be copied or reprinted without the express permission of the author.

Julian knew well that “God is love” (1 Jn 4:8). In her mystical theology, she will carry that truth to its fullest implication: God cannot stop loving us because that’s who God is. Unlike the anthropomorphic image of a highly volatile God—loving us when we are obedient, then becoming “wroth” and punishing us when we disobey, then relenting and taking pity on us—Julian’s understanding of divine love is that it is eternally constant; it does not change. It is we humans who are changeable. We accept or reject or simply ignore God’s love. But God never ceases loving and protecting us, even in our misdeeds.
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How We View God
The way we view God is really up to us. If we are open and receptive to divine love and willing to share that love with each other, then we will surely recognize God as the wellspring and fulfillment of every love. If, on the other hand, we fail to love God and each other, if we are unjust, unkind, unforgiving, and unfaithful, eventually we become guilt-ridden. Then what do we do? We get angry with ourselves and project that anger onto God: “God must be angry  with me. God is a wrathful God.” What a terrible injustice to God. It may take a long time for us to outgrow our age-old projections of God as changeable, vindictive, and wrathful. Those of us who were terrified as children by the threat of God’s punishment may still be struggling to do so. Julian’s Revelations will help us. In fact, she sees that Christ scorns Satan’s evil designs on us, utterly deriding their (lack of) power. Christ wants us to do the same. This realization was so liberating for Julian, it made her laugh out loud.

Julian's Struggle
Nevertheless, as a devout Christian, Julian could not discount the gravity of sin and the necessity of punishment for wrong deeds, whether by suffering here on earth or after death, in purgatory or in hell. She readily acknowledges that she was never tempted to give up the teachings of the church on sin and restitution; in fact, she “had teaching to love it and like it." She freely admits “that we are sinners and do many evils that we ought to leave, and leave many good deeds undone that we ought to do, wherefore we deserve pain, blame, and wrath." Nevertheless, Julian could not deny the truth of her revelation that God is “never wroth” and assigns “no manner of blame” to sinners.