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Today, May 8th, is the 651st Feast Day of the Revelations of Divine Love of Julian of Norwich. Let us rejoice that we are privileged to read and meditate on these incomparable Revelations that have reverberated through the ages and brought so much wisdom, guidance, and peace of mind to those who take them to heart.
Near the end of her Long Text, Julian advises those seeking her help that if we flee to our Lord he will comfort us; if we touch him “we shall be made clean,” if we “cleave to him” we shall be seker [safe] from whatever peril could harm us . . . Julian assures us that “our courteous lord wills that we be as homely [intimate] with him as heart may think or soul may desire. . .” She summarizes four things that the Lord, in his graciousness, wants us to know. First, he is our ground, from whom and through whom “we have all our very life and our very being.” Second, he protects us powerfully and with the greatest mercy, even when we are mired in our confusion, beset by all our enemies from within and without, as in the midst of a great battle. (She adds that when we give our enemies an opening to take advantage of us, we are in such dire peril that we do not even realize how great is our need.) The third is how courteously “he keeps [protects] us and makes us know that we go amiss.” He is, after all, our watchful Mother. And the fourth is how faithfully he waits for us and does not alter his expression or attitude toward us, “for he wills that we be turned and oned [united] to him in love as he is to us.” This beautiful depiction of God’s infinite courtesy toward the sinner would strain the bounds of human belief had it not arisen from Julian’s personal experience of Christ on the cross. There she watched him suffering his agony without ever once changing his expression from love to anger. She knows for certain that this is the true countenance of God. And she is sure that if we commit these four realities to our hearts, we will be able to see even our sin as potentially profitable, and not fall into despair. As always, this does not mean we overlook the scourge of sin. We need to acknowledge it, and at the sight of its horror become truly ashamed of ourselves, admit our pride and our presumption, and admit that we are, in truth, “nothing but sin and wretchedness . . .” Also our courteous lord, in that same time, he shewed full sekerly [confidently] and full mightily the endlessness and the unchangeability of his love. And also, by his great goodness and his grace inwardly keeping us, he shewed that the love between him and our souls shall never be separated in two without end. And thus in the dread [of sin], I have matter for humility, that saves me from presumption. And in the blessed shewing of love, I have matter of true comfort and joy, that saves me from despair. Yet again, Julian wants to impress upon the reader that Christ’s love is eternal and can not, will not, change. He continually protects us and remains with us so that his love and our love will never be parted. And in this “blessed shewing of love” (which is in all the Revelations), Julian discovers a source of exquisite consolation and deepest joy that keeps her from ever despairing over her own sinfulness. All this homely shewing of our courteous lord, it is a lovely lesson and a sweet gracious teaching by himself for the comforting of our soul. For he wills that we know, by the sweetness of his homely love, that all that we see or feel, within or without, which is contrarious to this [lesson], that it is of the enemy, and not of God. Julian conceives of Christ still standing all alone, as piteously and mournfully as when he was on earth, in anticipation of our homecoming. He is most impatient to “have us for himself, for we are his joy and his delight, and he is our salvation and our life.” On this auspicious Feast Day, let us thank Julian for her life of faith, prayer, trust, and love, as well her willingness to undergo the great labor of writing down her Revelations for her evencristens and future generations. May Julian bless us all abundantly with peace of mind and heart. Happy Feast Day, Julian! Note: Quotations above and translations from Julian's Middle English are from my book: Julian's Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books).
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In the Sixteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich writes:
The place that Jesus takes in our soul he shall never leave it without end, as to my sight, for in us is his homeliest home and his endless dwelling. And in this he showed the delight that he has in the making of the human soul. For as well as the father might make a creature, and as well as the son knew how to make a creature, so well would the holy ghost ordain that the human soul be made. And so it was done. And therefore the blessed trinity rejoices without end in the making of the soul, for [God] saw without beginning what should please [God] without end. Julian is convinced that “alle shalle be wele” in the end because all was well in the beginning, when the Trinity fashioned the human soul in the image and likeness of itself. The making of the soul is so perfect, that, through Christ, with Christ, and in Christ it will be brought up into a perfection greater even than its first creation. This perfection will not be human perfection alone . . . it will be the divine perfection of the God/Man, Jesus Christ. This theme has reverberated throughout the Revelations. Julian understands that “our soul may never have rest in any thing that is beneath itself.” And when the soul rises above all creatures in a state of contemplative prayer, it cannot even rest in beholding itself. It must set its concentration on the vastness of God’s presence within the soul. “For in the human soul is [God’s] true dwelling,” and “the highest light and the brightest shining of the city” within that soul is God’s glorious love. And what could make the soul happier than to know that God “delights in us, the highest of all his works”? For I saw in the same shewing that if the blessed trinity might have made man’s soul any better, any fairer, any nobler than it was, [God] should not have been fully pleased with the making of the human soul. But because the trinity made man’s soul as beautiful, as good, as precious a creature as it might make it, therefore the blessed trinity is fully pleased without end in the making of the human soul. And [God] wills that our hearts be mightily raised above the depths of the earth and all vain sorrows, and rejoice in [God]. This was a delectable sight and a restful shewing that is without end. And the beholding of this while we are here, it is very pleasant to God, and a very great benefit to us. And the soul that thus beholds, makes itself like to him that it is beheld, and becomes one with it in rest and in peace by his grace. And this was a singular joy and bliss to me that I saw him sit, for the sekernesse [certainty] of sitting showed endless dwelling. Julian takes great comfort in this final Revelation that God dwells in her soul. And she is certain that God wants us all to take the same comfort through the practice of “beholding.” This type of contemplative prayer (waiting on God, in stillness, without asking for anything) gives God great pleasure and the soul great profit. Such silent prayer forms the soul into a truer image and likeness of the very One who is being contemplated. Julian is especially delighted that she saw the Lord seated in her soul (rather than standing or moving), because sitting symbolizes the familiar rest one takes at home, in complete contentment, peace, and love. God is not going anywhere. It is we who rush about, too busy with our lives and too distracted by our sufferings to take time to experience his inward presence. He thirsts for us to “Be still, and know that I am God!” (Ps 46:10). And if we come to him with our labors and our heavy burdens, he promises to give us true rest (Mt 11:28). Julian rejoices that God’s true dwelling is forever in the soul. And he [Christ] gave me knowing truthfully that it was he who showed me all before. And when I had beheld this with careful consideration then our good lord revealed words very humbly, without voice and without opening of lips, just as he had done before, and said very sweetly: “Know it now well, it was no raving that thou saw today. But take it and believe it, and keep thee therein, and comfort thee therewith, and trust thee thereto, and thou shalt not be overcome.” Julian receives this tender reassurance of the truth of her Revelations with immense gratitude. She declares that these last words Christ spoke in her heart were said to teach her absolute certainty that all the Revelations had come directly from himself, and that she should accept, believe, and hold onto them with her life. She was also instructed to take comfort in them during times of temptation and suffering, and in moments of darkness to trust all that she had seen in the light. In these desperate times of escalating hatred, divisiveness, and war; famine, disease, and persecution, let us go silently into the center of our own souls to behold the Divine Presence who alone can assure us of unconditional love and speak to us, personally, the promise that we shall not be overcome. Then may our souls rejoice, becoming more and more "like to him that is beheld," and dare to live our lives in hope, as sons and daughters of Christ’s resurrection. Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. In the Thirteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich was taught by Christ about sin and suffering: “It is true that sin is the cause of all this pain, but alle shalle be wele, and all manner of thing shalle be wele. These words were shown full tenderly, showing no manner of blame to me, nor to none that shalle be saved. Then it would be a great unkindness of me to blame or wonder at God for my sin, since he blames me not for sin.”
Here Julian introduces a theme that will reverberate throughout her text. While she never denies or mitigates human responsibility for sin, she also never sees Christ on the cross attaching any blame to human beings for their sin. It is a striking concept, a seeming contradiction of the ancient and medieval teachings on the terrible “wrath of God” ready to strike down sinners and send them to hell. Yet at no point does Julian deny God’s sovereign right to judge . . . She simply recounts what she saw and heard in her Revelations; namely, that God shows only tenderness and not blame toward those “that shalle be saved.” Again and again, in one way or another, Julian specifies that those who turn to God humbly and in contrition for sin will surely feel his tender mercy. As for those who refuse to seek God’s mercy, Julian simply did not see them, any more than she saw sin. There is no way of knowing if, by her use of the phrase, “none that shalle be saved,” Julian was suggesting that there will be some who will not respond to salvation, or if eventually “alle shalle be saved.” (It is interesting to note however, Julian’s preference for inclusiveness: she uses the word “alle” more than six hundred times in her Revelations.) Generally, it may be said that Julian wrote of salvation from the all-encompassing divine perspective that she was privileged to see, not the specifically human one. In a rush of insight, Julian realizes she has no right to “blame or wonder at God” for her sins, since God does not blame her. It is an astounding realization. And in these same words, I saw a high, marvelous privity [a glorious secret], hidden in God, which privity he shall openly make known to us in heaven. In which knowing we shall truly see the reason why he suffered sin to come, in which sight we shall endlessly have joy. While Julian receives an intimation of a wondrous secret God will reveal in heaven (which will explain why he permitted sin to come into the world), she is fully aware that she cannot know this privity now, as long as she is still on earth undergoing the purgative effects of sin. But she is heartened that someday, in that knowledge “hidden in God,” we will understand how “alle shalle be wele,” and this will bring everlasting joy. Here Julian alludes, for the first time, to a mystery she will explore more fully in the future. Could it be that humanity’s overwhelming gratitude for Christ’s salvific death on the cross will make us love, praise, and delight in God even more than we would have if we had not sinned? Thus I saw how Christ has compassion on us because of sin. And just as before in the passion of Christ I was filled with pain and compassion, so in this I was in part filled with compassion for all my evencristens [fellow Christians]. For full well does he [Christ] love people that shalle be saved: that is to say, God’s servants. Julian feels that Christ not only does not blame us for sin, he has compassion for us because of the curse of sin and all the sufferings it produces in our lives. And now the sympathy that Julian had felt for Christ’s pain on the cross is transferred, at least in part, to that of her fellow Christians: the recurring outbreaks of plague, the ongoing papal schism, the war with France, the Lollard heresies, the peasants’ revolt and its aftermath. She is consumed by the thought of how much Christ loves and pities his “people that shalle be saved.” On the night before he died, Christ compared himself to a woman in childbirth, dreading that her hour had come, but then rejoicing that her suffering has brought forth new life into the world (Jn 16:21). And Christ told Julian: “If I might suffer more, I would suffer more.” Christ in his wisdom sees our suffering not from a human and limited point of view but from an eternal one. He knows within our pain the glory that will certainly come of it; in the midst of our great mourning and sorrow, he anticipates the wiping away of every tear and the great reward. This is what God in eternity enjoys. As we enter into the Palm Sunday and Holy Week liturgies, let us meditate deeply on the sufferings Christ endured to free us from all blame for our sins. And let us rejoice that Christ was so willing to suffer and die for us – even to the point of wanting to “suffer more,” if he could have done so. We are his beloved daughters and sons. He died on Calvary and was buried in the tomb to strengthen us in our own sufferings and death and times of mourning – and to reveal his glorious resurrection on Easter that is to come for us all. Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. In the Second Revelation, Julian of Norwich describes how she saw Christ on the cross:
And after this, I saw with bodily sight in the face of the crucifix that hung before me, in which I beheld continually a part of his passion: contempt, spitting, soiling, and buffeting, and many languring [exhausting] pains, more than I can tell, and often changing of color. And one time I saw how half the face, beginning at the ear, was spread over with dried blood till it beclosed the middle of his face. And after that the other half was beclosed in the same way, and thereafter it vanished in this part, even as it came. Julian is full of gratitude for what she sees, but also feels unbearable longing for what she cannot see. For I saw him and sought him. For we are now so blind and so unwise that we can never seek God till that time that he of his goodness shows himself to us. And when we see anything of him graciously, then we are stirred by the same grace to seek with great desire to see him more blissfully. And thus I saw him and sought him, and I had him and wanted him. And this is and should be our common working in this life, as to my sight. It strikes Julian that, because of human blindness and lack of wisdom, even the initial desire to seek God must come through his goodness already revealing itself to the soul before the soul knows how to ask. This is the work of what has been called “prevenient grace.” And then, when the soul “sees” a little, it may be stirred by grace to see and seek even more. Julian must have known that Christ had said to his followers: “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened” (Mt 7:7–8, Lk 11:9–10). What she had not realized before was that it is God’s own goodness that impels the soul to ask, to search, to knock. Julian understands that this is the way the spiritual path must always proceed: forever seeking and seeing, then not seeing (or losing), and seeking again. She admits that even in her vision when she “saw him,” she continued to seek him. And when she “had him” visibly before her, she “wanted him” even more . . . She feels paralyzed, not by her illness, but by the very nature of the vision itself. She can only look on her Lord and receive as much or as little as he wishes to reveal to her. She is so close to seeing him totally, “to have and to hold,” as in the marriage vow. Yet she knows the vision may disappear momentarily and she will not have seen it well enough to last a lifetime. Will he appear to her again? Will she ever touch him? Julian realizes that she must not cling to her deepest heartfelt desire to experience, to see, to hold onto her Beloved Lord. She must now and always walk in the semi-darkness of faith: For he [God] wills that we believe that we see him continually, though we think that it be but little, and in this belief he makes us evermore to gain grace. For he will be seen, and he will be sought, and he will be abiden [waited for] and he will be trusted. In reliving this extraordinary inner journey years later, Julian feels compelled to tell the reader (as if speaking to us, face to face) that it is God’s will that “we believe we see him continually” in every aspect of our lives: in this blessed event, in this hard labor, in this triumph, in this disappointment, in this falling in love, in this birth, in this betrayal, in this illness or accident, in this tragic occurrence, here and now. Under normal circumstances, we do not do this by having extra-sensory visions, but only by the inner sight of persevering faith. She explains further that even though we may think our faith is “but little” and wavering, fragile and sometimes sorely tested, yet through the constant practice of daring to believe in God’s presence when it is hardest to do so we will gain great grace. Julian is adamant that God wants to be seen (implying an eternal desire to reveal himself), and he wants to be sought (suggesting that he wishes us to find him), and he wants to waited for, longed for, and expected. And, perhaps most of all, he wants to be trusted. Every day Julian had prayed in the Pater Noster: “Thy will be done.” Now she is beginning to understand what that Divine Will really desires. During this holy and grace-filled Season of Lent, may we seek the Lord in every aspect of our lives, taking time daily to be still and be in his presence in silence, becoming attentive to his wishes, his warnings, his loving will. And all the time, may we allow ourselves to be healed, forgiven, and most of all, loved. And may we be fully willing to accompany Christ on his own journey to Calvary. No matter the cost. Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. IN THE THIRTEENTH REVELATION, JULIAN OF NORWICH WROTE:
But he wills we take heed thus: that he is the ground of all our whole life in love, he is our everlasting keeper [protector], and mightily defends us against all our enemies that are extremely dangerous and terribly fierce towards us. And our mede [reward] is so much greater if we give him occasion [to love and heal us] by our falling. This theme of Christ as “the ground of our whole life in love” colors and highlights every aspect of Julian’s theology. Christ is not the unapproachable “other,” the distant God-man whose anger must be appeased by every extreme means possible. He is, in a very real sense, what we are, in our flesh and blood and bones, having taken on the fullness of our human nature, save sin, in order to help us combat the suffering of temptation and guilt, and to show his sublime peace and love. He knows exactly how our minds work, what our failings and compulsions are, and longs to teach us how to reorient our attitudes and desires toward the highest good. And he has endured every possible physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual agony we go through. This is the Christ Julian knows to be at the foundation, the very ground, of our being. This is where the “godly will” resides, that never wills sin: in our Christ-redeemed nature. And this is the supreme friendship of our courteous lord, that he keeps us so tenderly while we are in our sinne. And furthermore, he touches us most intimately, and shews us our sinne by the sweet light of mercy and grace. Julian is convinced that even when we are in the midst of harming ourselves or others, and seem to be abandoning God, he does not abandon us. Instead, he whispers in our heart and mind, moves our conscience to feel remorse, and leads us to ask forgiveness, guiding us by his own “sweet light of mercy and grace.” However, Julian is acutely aware that when we sin, “we see ourself so foule,” we think (indeed, we assume) that “God is wroth with us for our sinne.” Here, Julian is describing her own sense of personal guilt, with a keen understanding that Christians persistently harbor a wrong view of God as being wrathful. She explains that though we may remain convinced that God must be angry at us while we are in sin, it is precisely his ever-present mercy and grace which enable us to turn back to him, confess our failure, and ask forgiveness. Christ gathers us up like his prodigal son (or daughter) and encloses us in the royal robe (the restored innocence of our baptism), calls his servants to kill the fatted calf and prepare a banquet (the Eucharist), and invites all the saints to join in the celebration: “because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found” (Lk 15:32). What Julian is describing here is not only the parable of the prodigal son, but also the never-ending story of the exorbitant love of the prodigal Father. And then our courteous lord shews himself to the soul merrily and with the happiest possible expression, with friendly welcoming, as if it had been in pain and in prison, saying thus: “My dear darling, I am glad that thou art come to me. In all thy woe I have ever been with thee, and now see for yourself my love, and let us be oned in bliss.” Thus are sins forgiven by grace and mercy, and our soul honorably received in joy, exactly as it shall be when it comes into heaven, as often as it comes back to God by the gracious working of the holy ghost and the power of Christ’s passion. In contemplating Christ’s mercy and grace in never leaving us alone, even in our sin, Julian understands how “all manner of thing” is already being prepared for us in heaven, “by the great goodness of God.” This is so true that, whenever we feel ourselves “in peace and in charity, we are truly safe.” And we are, by implication, already saved. Julian reports exceptionally intimate terms in this passage, such as “My dear darling" and let us “be oned in bliss,” more often employed between earthly lovers than between the sinful soul and God. She remembers the depth of personal feeling Christ showed her as he conveyed this Revelation about sin. He was not only joyous, friendly, welcoming; he was also deeply loving and all-embracing. His ardent desire for unity is that of a lover for the beloved, not in a sexual sense, but in that of complete spiritual oneing. Just hearing words like these spoken by Christ in one’s heart would be enough to convince the soul of his unconditional love. As we approach this Season of Lent, let us set aside a time for silent meditation every day – to be still and rest in the presence of our merciful Lord. Let us listen deep in our souls to hear him call each one of us by name: “My dear darling, I am glad that thou art come to me.” Whether we are in joy or sorrow, health or sickness, let us express our gratitude to our Divine Lover who is with us in everything we experience, who forgives our faults and misdeeds, and who is always waiting to embrace and heal us. Let us "give him occasion [to love and heal us]," as Julian advised. Let us commit to a daily practice of meditation: sitting in silence and stillness; breathing in and out gently; letting go the tumult of thoughts and needs in our mind; and allowing our hearts to break open in response to Christ’s abounding love for us on the cross. If we are faithful in "dying" to ourselves a little every day, we shall surely rise in joy with him on Easter morning. Blessings to all! Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. Over the years, Julian of Norwich received additional illuminations about three characteristics of God, which were shown in all the Revelations: life, love, and light. By life, she understood God’s “marvelous homeliness” or intimacy in the very ground of our being; by love, God’s “gentle courtesy” and unceasing care for souls; and by light, God’s “eternal being,” which never changes in its attitude toward us. She also marveled at the fact that our faculty of reason functions within God and that it “is the highest gift that we have received, and it is grounded in nature.”
She further realized that, in addition to the gift of reason, we have been given the most precious gift of faith: 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. For Julian, the deep source of both our faith and our light is none other than divine love, which continuously pours itself out to us in the exact measure that we need, and that we can bear to receive, at any given moment. This pure, spiritual love that flows to us from God, which Julian calls “charity,” keeps us firm in our faith and in hope; and faith and hope lead to ever greater charity. This charity is never a selfish love, which would seek its own good. On the contrary, charity loves God, and loves itself in God, and loves all that God loves, solely for the sake of God. Echoing St. Paul, she concludes: “And at the end alle shalle be charity.” Julian reflected that in spite of our simplicity and our blindness, our courteous Lord constantly beholds us and enjoys doing his will in us, though we know not how. She counsels us once more that the thing that pleases Christ Jesus most is for us to believe that he enjoys working out our salvation and to “rejoice with him and in him.” Julian attests that in the same way that we shall truly be in the bliss of God in heaven, thanking and praising God, likewise, in the foresight of God, have we always been “loved and known in his endless purpose from without beginning, in which eternal love he created us.” In other words, God sees us now as we shall be then. Moreover, when the final judgment is given, we shall discover in God the hidden reason for everything that has happened in our lives, and how truly we have been loved. Finally, we will understand how God has saved us. 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.” At this holy season of Christmas, when we celebrate the birth of divinity into humanity, may we each be filled with the spirit of life, love, and light, in these, their most sublime meanings. May we kneel in the straw with the shepherds by the Child’s manger, breathless with awe that God has so loved us as to become one of us. And may we rejoice and give thanks that, through this Child, we are privileged to become sons and daughters of God. Please Note: Translations from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, An Explorer’s Guide to Julian of Norwich (IVP Academic Press) © Copyright by Veronica Mary Rolf. In her exquisite teachings on Prayer, Julian of Norwich stresses The Prayer of Thanksgiving. This is “a true, inward knowing, with great reverence and lovely dread,” whereby we dedicate all our energies to the good work that the Lord directs us to do, “rejoicing and thanking inwardly." Julian reveals that sometimes this prayer of thanksgiving is so overwhelming that it breaks out in full voice saying: “Good lord, grant mercy, blessed may thou be!”
And at other times, when the heart feels dry and empty, or else is undergoing temptations, then prayer “is driven by reason and by grace to cry aloud to our Lord, remembering his blessed passion and his great goodness.” Either way, the strength of the Lord’s own word will enter into the soul, enliven the heart, begin a new spiritual work by means of grace, and enable the soul to pray more blissfully and to rejoice in him. “This is a very lovely thanking in his sight.” Julian summarizes three aspects that should determine our understanding of prayer. The first is to know from whom and how our prayer originates. Christ made clear to Julian that he is the instigator of prayer when he said, “I am the ground of thy beseeching.” 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 shown. 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.” May we pray with hearts full of gratitude and joy on this Thanksgiving Day (and every day) for all the gifts and blessings we have been given, especially for our loved ones. And may we pray “mightily” for all those suffering from the effects of hunger, thirst, illness, persecution, and war in so many parts of the world. May our prayers for divine healing and for a just peace go out from our hearts to theirs as we long someday to celebrate together at the eternal banquet. Blessings to all! Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. In the Fifth Revelation, Julian of Norwich hears Christ speak directly to her in distinct, interior words: “Then he, without voice and opening of lips, formed in my soul these words: ‘Herewith is the fiend overcome.’” The precise words Julian hears within her soul (“Herewith is the fiend overcome”) give voice to the vision of the outpouring of blood she sees before her, by which the power of Satan is forever vanquished. These particular words do not appear in the synoptic gospel accounts of the seven last words of Christ from the cross. They are directed specifically to Julian and form part of her particular gospel account. However, the locution does evoke Christ’s parting words to his disciples as recorded in the gospel of John “I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!” (Jn 16:33)
Christ had been showing Julian the bleeding wounds of his passion, revealing the enormity of suffering that was needed to repair the evil that Satan unleashed upon the world. The power of the devil was greatly feared in the Middle Ages, as it had been from ancient times. Sin had long been considered a state of bondage to devils, a spiritual captivity from which humankind had no power to free itself. In addition to the debt that must be paid to God, souls had to be ransomed from the grip of evil by the payment of a debt to Satan: “For you were bought with a price” (1 Cor 6:20). By showing Julian the abundance of his “dearworthy blood,” Christ also demonstrated to her “a part of the fiend’s malice, and fully his unmight [lack of power] for he shewed that his passion is the overcoming of the fiend” (italics added). Satan is understood to be utterly impotent against Christ’s total sacrifice of love and his example of perfect obedience to the Father’s will. Thus, in his perfect obedience to death on the cross, Christ robbed Satan of any illusory power he might have had over humankind. Notice that Julian does not quote Christ as saying the fiend “will be overcome” but “is overcome.” Christ’s victory is already complete. Humanity is already ransomed by his blood. And in the unbloody sacrifice of the Mass, Christ, the great High Priest, unceasingly offers his suffering and death to the Father so that every person of every generation may be incorporated into the salvific act. Julian is fully aware, however, that human beings have yet to experience Christ’s victory completed on earth. The Lord reveals to her that the fiend still has the same malice and evil intentions that he had before the incarnation. And he works as hard as ever to ensnare souls, especially when he sees that those souls that are saved “escape him honorably by virtue of Christ’s precious passion.” But Julian reassures us that Satan “may never do as ill as he would, for his might is all locked in God’s hand.” Julian does not mean to imply that Satan is literally locked in God’s hand, or that God is in any way complicit in the devil’s evil, only that ultimately the “hand” of God destroys the might of evil. Christ spoke of himself as the Good Shepherd whose sheep hear his voice and follow him: “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand” (Jn 10:28). As we continue to mourn the daily tragedies of suffering and death in Ukraine and Israel/Gaza, let us not be cast down by the apparent power of evil to triumph. Let us never forget that we are all – all – God’s children: loved, cherished, and held in the palm of his hand. God will never abandon us. The mystery of suffering that we must endure because of sin – personal, communal, global, environmental -- is beyond our ability to comprehend. But suffering can humble us and bring us to our knees, begging for divine help. And then we are purified, transformed in the very depths of our being, and inspired to unite our sufferings with those of Christ on the cross. Thus our physical pain, our weeping and mourning, all our tragic losses can become truly salvific. And this is because, as Christians, we believe that Christ has taken on all our sufferings and deaths in his own passion and death on the cross and has already brought us into his own resurrection. Whenever fear, doubt, or even despair threaten to overwhelm us, may we hear Christ reassuring us, even as he did Julian, that by his sacrifice, “herewith is the fiend [evil] overcome.” Every day, may we reaffirm our conviction that “whoever is born of God overcomes the world, and the victory that overcomes the world is our faith” (1 Jn 5:4). May we take refuge in the reality of Christ’s resurrection – and ours to come – by which all suffering is eviscerated in eternal glory. May we become true images of divine life, love, and light in the world. And may we never forget the promise made to those who persevere: “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. There shall be no more death. Neither shall there be any more sorrow nor crying nor pain, for the former things have passed away” (Rev 21:4). As Christ revealed to Julian: “Sin is behovely [necessary, inevitable] but alle shalle be wele, and alle shalle be wele, and alle manner of thing shalle be wele.” Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. How can we know if the experience of a vision is genuine . . . or the product of an unbalanced mind? Though “tests” may not categorically prove anything to a particular individual, it may be helpful to consider the various aspects of extraordinary experience frequently used to establish the authenticity of a vision or locution. First, the authentic vision arrives suddenly and unbidden, without human effort or contrivance. It is immediately experienced as proceeding from a superior source. It carries the weight of divine authority. Sometimes by means of sight and/or sound the mystic is given a directive for action, a precise warning, an instantaneous clarity about a decision to be made, or is shown a prophetic vision of an event that is bound to occur in the future. Often the visionary is graced by an infusion of wisdom and spiritual insight that he or she could not have attained by ordinary methods of study or human effort.
At other times, the visionary may be absorbed in a trance in which he or she becomes privy to things not able to be described in human language, as was St. Paul, who “was caught up to the third heaven” (2 Cor 12:2–4). The sublime experience may be seen either through a lifelike apparition exterior to the visionary, or as a compelling interior picture occurring in the recipient’s imagination, or as a purely intellectual understanding that arises all-at-once, without recourse to specific images or words. In whatever form the visionary receives the divinely inspired revelations, they have a veracity about them that is incontestable. For the recipient to deny that such an event ever took place would be akin to denying the truth of his or her own existence. Likewise, the voice and words of locutions [audible revelations] may be heard as coming from the outside, or as emanating from within, or as purely intellectual inspiration received from the divine source. In any case, it is generally agreed that all visionary and verbal transmissions, if they are genuine, must be distinctly formed, whether by a convincing physical, imaginative, or intellectual illumination, or by means of understandable words. The authentic vision is not confusing, distracting, or obfuscating in its effect on the recipient’s mind. It is reassuring, affirming, sometimes cautionary, even demanding, but always precise. The truth-filled words are clearly spoken in the visionary’s language, and their effect is profoundly empowering, much more so than if the same words had been spoken under normal circumstances. Both image and words are thereafter indelibly imprinted in the person’s memory and can be recalled at will. . . Yet even though the original experience cannot be forgotten, there may be a significant delay in the mystic’s full understanding of the meaning of the revelation. Another and most important indication of authenticity is that the visions and locutions of Christian mystics conform to holy scripture and to the most sacred teachings of the church. They do not contradict revealed truth. They also produce a lasting change in the recipient’s state of mind, enabling the will to act on the directives given, thus dramatically altering the visionary’s course of life greatly to the good. And while the revelations may seem at the time full of mystery to be contemplated for years to come, both visions and words continue to produce a sense of ineffable joy and profound peace. The visionary is forever transformed by the vision and the listener by the words. Julian of Norwich's visions and locutions meet all the above qualifications. Her vision of Christ on the cross appeared suddenly as she lay dying, shortly after all her pain had inexplicably ceased. She specifically records that she saw Christ on the cross, “without any meane,” that is, not mediated through the intervention of an angel or saint, and appearing completely lifelike. She was absolutely convinced that he who revealed himself to her was truly Jesus Christ, the Son of God, bearing all the weight of divine authority. He answered questions that had tortured her soul for many years and deepened her understanding of the nature of the Trinity, the incarnation, the passion, and the resurrection, as well as the divine attitude toward sin, judgment, and personal suffering. In her sixteen Revelations, Julian was given extraordinary wisdom and divine teachings she never could have figured out on her own, but for the grace of the shewings. . . Throughout, Julian’s visions were distinctly formed, either when manifesting in a “bodily sight in the face of the crucifix,” or when being conceived in “ghostly sight” in her imagination, or when arising “more ghostly” and all-at-once “in a point” of profound understanding while she was poised in contemplation. Likewise, Julian understood the words spoken in her own Middle English language, with no sense of obfuscation. Whether heard as words formed in her soul, “without voice and opening of lips,” or “as if” Christ were speaking directly to her mind in “words formed in my understanding,” these locutions were incontrovertible in their truthfulness and power. They brought clarity and peace to Julian’s troubled mind. Most certainly, the visions and locutions that unfolded during the course of the Revelations were indelible. Julian never lost sight of what the suffering or the glorious Christ looked like, nor did she forget the words he spoke to her. She was compelled to write about them all her life. These divine illuminations expanded Julian’s spirit, opening up a level of faith, hope, and love in her heart previously unimaginable. They re-interpreted familiar and firmly held doctrines of the church and pushed the boundaries of what could be thought or written about the mercy and love of God. Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. Julian of Norwich and Noughting
Of this each man and woman needs to have knowing who desires to live contemplatively, that he desires to nought all things that are made in order to have the love of God that is unmade. For this is the cause 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 [the hazelnut] that is so little, where no rest is within, and know not God, who is all mighty, all wise, and all good. For he is true rest. In the First Revelation, 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? The word was not known before the twelfth century, when it meant, literally, “nothing.” In medieval mystical literature, noughting implied the deliberate letting go of 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 needful (Lk 10:42). Norwich and Noughting 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. Her responsibilities for maintaining a household, being a good wife, raising a child, running a commercial business, caring for servants, family members, friends, and apprentices plus the never-ending cycle of shopping for and overseeing the preparation of meals, spinning, weaving, sewing, and bookkeeping must have kept her mind and body mired in the duties of being a working woman, yet ever aching in her heart to “live contemplatively,” as she calls it . . . a life that finds its rest in God alone. We must also consider that, at this point [the beginning of her visionary experiences], 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 something like a hazelnut in the palm of her hand 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 this 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 “liketh that we rest ourselves in him.” Julian will use this intimate term, “liketh” (meaning “enjoys”), often in her text. It is her way of conveying the certainty she feels that God was speaking to her mind directly, telling her what to impart to her evencristens. She adds that the Lord derives very great pleasure from an innocent soul that comes to him “nakedly, plainly, and homely.” 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 in words reminiscent of St. Augustine’s, she writes: “For he is eternity, and he has made us only for himself and restored us by his precious passion, and ever keeps [protects] us in his blessed love. And all this is of his goodness.” Thus, in noughting herself, Julian anticipates receiving, in exchange, the boundlessness of God. May we be inspired to “live contemplatively” like Julian and take time each day to let go of all the unnecessary mental and emotional "stuff" that we carry about in our lives that has become such a burden . . . and just sit still for a while in silent awe of the divine presence within and without. May we dare to “nought” ourselves -- that is, empty out the closet of our mind of our habitual ways of thinking, judging, choosing . . . and clean out the cupboard of our heart, stuffed with old emotional conflicts and hurts we don’t need to revisit anymore. May we make Julian's prayer our own and gradually learn to “rest” contemplatively in the Lord who “liketh” it so much when we come to him “nakedly, plainly, and homely [simply].” He will fill us with all that we seek. And so much more. Please Note: Excerpts above and my translations from the Middle English are from my book: Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books), copyright © by Veronica Mary Rolf. |
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