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In the Fourteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich teaches us what the Lord told her about prayer:
“I am the ground of thy beseeching. First it is my will that thou have it, and next I make thee to will it, and next I make thee to beseech it—and thou beseeches it! How should it then be that thou shouldst not have thy beseeching?” In an astounding moment, the Lord completely inverts the idea that prayer is initiated in any way by Julian (or us!) 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 then 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. Prayer of Thanksgiving In addition to petitionary prayer, Julian stresses the prayer of thanksgiving. This is “a true, inward knowing,” 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.” 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 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.” This Thanksgiving Day (and every day) let us have confidence that the deepest desires of our heart really do arise from “the ground” of our being. And that it is Christ himself prompting us to pray for them, preparing us to receive them, and encouraging us to trust “mightily” that he desires to fill our hearts to overflowing. And let us “give thanks-in-advance” for all that the Lord is accomplishing in and through us, though we know not how. Many Blessings and a very Happy Thanksgiving to all! NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books).
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In the Thirteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich wrote: There is a deed which the blissful trinity shall do in the last day, as to my sight. And what the deed shall be and how it shall be done, is unknown by all creatures who are beneath Christ, and shall be till it shall be done. The goodness and the love of our lord God wills that we know that it shall be. And his might and his wisdom, by the same love, will conceal and hide it from us, what it shall be and how it shall be done. And the reason why he wills we know it thus is because he wills we be the more eased in our soul and at peace in love, leaving the beholding of all tempestes [agitations and tumults] that might prevent us from truly rejoicing in him. This is the great deed ordained by our lord God from without beginning, treasured and hidden in his blessed breast, known only to himself, by which deed he shall make alle thing wele. For as truly as the blessed trinity made alle thing of nought, right so the same blessed trinity shalle make wele alle that is not wele.
The monumental Revelation that Julian received concerning the Great Deed does not explicitly answer her questions about why evil was allowed to come into the world, nor how sin is behovely [necessary], nor how evil will finally be overcome. This crucial section does not even appear in the Short Text. Yet it became paramount in Julian’s soteriology (her understanding of how God saves) over the course of several decades of contemplation on the Thirteenth Revelation. . . . Julian specifies that the Great Deed “is unknown by all creatures who are beneath Christ.” The Blessed Virgin does not know, nor do the angels and saints know, what the Great Deed will be and how it will be done. Yet Julian is sure that Christ wants everyone to know that there will be such a deed that will finally make all things well. In his trinitarian might, wisdom, and love, Christ does not wish us to speculate about what it is and how it will be accomplished because he does not want us consumed by torturous imaginings “that might prevent us from truly rejoicing in him.” Simply receiving the Revelation that there will be a Great Deed should give sufficient comfort to our souls and enable us to be at peace and live in love. The Great Deed has been ordained “from without beginning,” and while we know by faith that Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection make all things well ultimately, it seems Julian is implying another divine action here. It has been suggested that she might be anticipating a decree of universal salvation and the emptying out of hell. But Julian in no way hints at or dares to imply this possibility, much as we might like to read such an interpretation into her text. On the contrary, she does not speculate at all and perhaps neither should we. Suffice it to say that Julian compares the Great Deed with the act of creation itself: as the Trinity creates all things from nothing, so the Trinity “shalle make wele alle that is not wele.” Two Realities The key to Julian’s ongoing explanation is that the Lord is showing her two separate realities. The one, human reality, we experience mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually every day, with both its joys and its sufferings, its blessings and its curses. This reality is constantly in flux, ever-changing from moment to moment for good or for ill. Therefore, it is always fraught with uncertainty, hidden dangers, the pain of dissolution. Nothing lasts. In this reality, we think and feel and make countless choices, some right, some wrong. We try to create safe havens of light and peace and love, but at the same time we are tossed about by conflicts, within and without, over which we have no control. This is what we call our “life.” But it is only one way of existing. This earthly life is not the whole of reality. And it is continually darkened by our deep ignorance about the other Divine Reality. Divine Reality is God’s own life in trinitarian bliss. When we are wrenched away from what we call our “life” and resurrected as members of Christ’s Mystical Body, our minds will become illuminated through and through with God’s life. Then we will be able to see and experience the ever-new creation as it pours forth from the Word of God in perfect wisdom and love. Then it will be made clear what we cannot possibly fathom now: how the resurrection (Christ’s, and ours-to-come in Christ) has changed everything. Then we will truly have “the mind of Christ” (1 Cor 2:16, cf. Phil 2:5) to be able to witness the Great Deed, whatever it will be, and to see that “alle manner of thing shalle be wele.” Once our minds and hearts are completely transformed and incorporated into Christ’s own mind and heart, we will be able to rest in contemplation of the central mystery of the Trinity. This alone is eternal happiness. Yet even now our efforts to persevere in hope – especially in times of tragic wars and daily crises when the world situation looks so bleak and hopeless – can enlighten our minds and reassure our hearts. Faith can enable us to believe that this, even this, illness or tragedy can and will be transformed by Christ. Even now Divine Reality is constantly impinging on human reality through the outpouring of grace, like shafts of sunlight reaching deep into the thick, dark forest of our minds. During her Revelations and in the decades-to-come of contemplation, Julian glimpsed this Divine Reality and gained profound insights concerning its nature. But she could not rest in the promise Christ gave her concerning this Reality until she had first allowed him to calm the raging tempestes of doubts and terrors that plagued her very human soul. In her great distress about the work of salvation, she heard the Lord comfort her with these tender words: “Leave me alone, my dearworthy child, attend to me, I am enough for thee. And rejoice in thy savior and in thy salvation.” May we who long for a Great Deed to end the suffering of the world find rest and peace in the Lord’s words. And may we begin to fathom that the Great Deed is being prepared, even now, in and through the work, and love, and surrender of our own lives. NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books). In the Fifth Revelation, Julian of Norwich tells us how fiercely we must cling to the fact of our salvation:
But in God may be no wrath, as to my sight. For our good lord—endlessly having regard to his own worship and to the profit of all them that shall be saved—with might and right he withstands the demons who out of malice and wickedness busy themselves to counteract and go against God’s will (emphasis added). Julian’s conviction that there is “no wrath” in God is a powerful theme that she will develop throughout her text. For Julian, this revelation was a colossal breakthrough. She had grown up hearing preachers threaten that the wrath of God would send a person to hell for a curse. The Old English word wrath connotes intense anger and moral indignation. Wrath was also a biblical metaphor used to express divine hatred of sin. In theological terms, wrathfulness was considered an attribute of God and an expression of divine justice. However, in recording her visionary experiences, Julian will insist that she never saw the Savior “wrathful.” Jesus Christ, the Son of God, did not stretch out his arms to be crucified, suffer excruciating pain, shed his blood, and die an ignoble death because he was angry. On the contrary, the Son of God hung on the cross in obedience to his Father’s will in order to effect the ultimate salvation of the whole world. Christ did not die to punish us, but to save us from ourselves and the powers of evil. Everything he ever did, he did out of love. If we want to know what divine “wrath” looks like, we have only to contemplate the figure of Christ hanging on the cross, as Julian did. It is the true image of God giving everything to save humanity from itself. Far from accusing us, Julian sees that our good Lord withstands “with might and right” all the demons that could possibly harm or destroy us. He fights for us against our frailty, our temptations, our bad habits. Even in our sinfulness, he does not condemn us any more than he condemned the woman taken in adultery (Jn 8:1-11) or Peter after his betrayal (Jn 21:15-17). Instead of wrathfulness, the Lord repeatedly offers mercy. He counsels us gently but firmly: “Go your way, and from now on do not sin again” (Jn 8:11). He urges more daring faith, greater hope, and the loving service of our lives. Julian knew well that “God is love” (1 Jn 4:8). In her 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. 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. Also I saw our lord scorn his [Satan’s] malice and nought his unmight, and he wills that we do so. For this sight, I laughed mightily, and that made them laugh who were about me, and their laughing was a pleasure to me. It may be difficult to think of laughing at the overwhelming “malice and might” of evil that we see devastating our world right now. But still, with Julian, we may cling to hope that the Lord is always “at work,” especially in times of war and extreme suffering, persecution, imprisonment, fear, and loneliness. He took it all on himself on the cross and he will transform it all into his glorious resurrection. And ours. 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. Available from the Publisher and Amazon worldwide. Near the end of her Revelations, in a confessional moment, Julian of Norwich admits that before her visions began, she had often had a great longing to be delivered from this life of suffering and woe. “And this made me mourn and earnestly long, and also because of my own wretchedness, sloth and weariness, I did not like to live and to travail as it was my duty to do.” In other words, Julian frequently felt weary of life and worn out by her daily struggles. She may also have suffered from bouts of melancholy and even depression that made her unwilling to work and pray as she knew she ought to do. But the Lord answered her:
Suddenly thou shalt be taken from all thy pain, from all thy disease, from all thy distress, and from all thy woe. And thou shalt come up above, and thou shalt have me for thy reward, and thou shalt be filled with joy and bliss. And thou shalt never more have any manner of pain, nor any manner of sickness, nor any manner of displeasure, nor wanting of will, but ever joy and bliss without end. Why should it then aggrieve thee to suffer [be patient] awhile, since it is my will and for my honor? By Christ’s answer, Julian was not only comforted; she was taught the inestimable value of the virtue of patience in waiting for God to release us from our present suffering. She realizes that if we knew the moment of our death, we would not need to exercise any patience. But since we do not know “the day nor the hour” (Mt 25:13), it is greatly profitable to the soul to live as if it were “ever at the point of being taken. For all this life and suffering that we have here is but a point, and when we are taken suddenly out of pain into bliss, then pain shall be nought [nothing].” Julian strongly encourages us to “overpass” our present sufferings and emotional upheavals, and contemplate instead the eternal joys that are being prepared for us in heaven. She is certain that: It is God’s will that we understand his behestes [urgent promptings] and his comforting as comprehensively and as mightily as we may take them. And also he wills that we take our abidings [delays and frustrations] and our distresses as lightly as we may take them, and set them at nought. For the more lightly that we take them, and the less price that we set on them for love, the less pain shall we have in the feeling of them, and the more thanks and reward shall we have for them. . . . And thus I understood that any man or woman who willingly chooses God in this lifetime for love, he may be seker [secure] that he is loved without end, with endless love that works in him that grace [of choosing God]. For God wills we recollect this trustfully, that we are as seker in hope of the bliss of heaven while we are here as we shall be in sekernesse when we are there. And ever the more pleasure and joy that we take in this sekernesse, with reverence and humility, the more it delights him. Julian perceived that Christ wanted her to be bound to him in love “as if he had done everything that he has done solely for me. And thus should every soul think in relation to his lover.” Indeed, she insists that all the Revelations were shown to make us all love our Lord and take the greatest delight in him, and fear nothing but displeasing him. If we do, no temptation or evil or suffering can possibly overwhelm us. “For it is his will that we know that all the might of our enemy is locked in our friend’s hand.” 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. Available from the Publisher and Amazon worldwide: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0830850880? In the Sixteenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich receives the last exemplum or parable. It concerns a creature (Julian, herself) who is allowed to see great nobility and all the kingdoms belonging to a lord on earth. After observing this nobility, the creature is directed “to seek up above to that high place where the lord himself dwells, knowing by reason that his dwelling is in the worthiest place.” Through this parable, 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 man’s soul is his [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, he [God] should not have been fully pleased with the making of man’s 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 man’s soul. And he [God] wills that our hearts be mightily raised above the depths of the earth and all vain sorrows, and rejoice in him. 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 [God] wonneth [unites] 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 [security] of sitting shewed 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. As Christ said to his disciples: “the kingdom of God is within you” (Lk 17:21). Each of us is personally invited to spend time in silence and stillness to “behold” the presence of the Lord within. Every morning and evening, we are called to stop all other activities, let go our worries, fears, and even our hopes, in order to rest in the Lord. There, in silence, we become aware of our breath, allowing it to move through our body gently, without forcing or controlling its rhythm in any way. As the breath calms the body, we experience a sense of equanimity. We become aware of the many thoughts passing by in our mind, as if playing on a movie screen in front of us. But we do not let ourselves become distracted by anything that appears. We do not get involved with the movie! Instead, we simply observe our thoughts arising and fading out, not latching on to any of them. We do not try to understand or change or fix anything. We simply become aware that we are, indeed, aware. And we remain silent in the stillness of this awareness. With practice, we may become aware that the ground of our own awareness is not separate from the ground of Christ’s awareness: God our Father and Mother. Then we allow Christ’s own awareness to enfold and embrace us. As we go deeper and deeper into a state of contemplative prayer, beholding the vastness of God’s loving presence within the soul, we begin to realize what Julian did: that “the soul that thus beholds, makes itself like to him that it is beheld, and [God] wonneth it in rest and in peace by his grace." Blessings to all! NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books, 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf. In the Tenth Revelation, Julian of Norwich saw Jesus looking down from the cross toward his right side. Then, with an expression of pure joy, he led Julian through the gaping wound into his Sacred Heart. And there he showed a fair, delectable place, and large enough for all mankind that shall be saved to rest in peace and in love. For we are his bliss, for in us he delights without end, and so shall we in him with his grace. All that he has done for us, and does, and ever shall, was never cost nor charge to him nor might be, but only that he did it in our humanity, beginning at the sweet incarnation, and lasting to the blessed resurrection on Easter morrow.
Lest we become too literal about such an intimate and graphic image, it is important to distinguish between Christ’s physical heart that was pierced by a spear and poured out blood and water, and his divine heart, the symbol of Christ’s “endless love that was without beginning, and is, and shall be forever.” Julian was invited to enter into that love, and so are we. 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.” In the Eleventh Revelation, Jesus looked further down on the right side, which brought to Julian’s mind where his mother stood at the foot of the cross (as in many medieval frescoes, paintings, and carved wooden depictions of the crucifixion). Christ asked Julian if she would like to see how much he loves his blessed mother, as if to say: “Wilt thou see how much I love her, that thou might rejoice with me in the love that I have in her and she in me?” To Julian, it seemed that Christ was asking “Wilt thou see in her how much thou art loved?” Julian eagerly “expected to have seen her in bodily likeness,” just as she saw Christ on the cross, “But I saw her not so.” Instead, Christ showed Julian an imaginative vision of Saint Mary, rejoicing in heaven with her Son. In this tender revelation of Christ’s boundless love for his mother, Julian understood how much he loves every single person. In fact, it is for love of us that Christ has made Saint Mary “so exalted, so noble, so worthy”; that we might take joy in her and that she might be our inspiration. Then in the Twelfth Revelation, Julian was privileged to see our Lord “more glorified as to my sight than I saw him before.” She was taught that the soul shall never have rest until it comes into God, since God alone is the fullness of all joy: “homely and courteous and blissful and full of true life.” Oftentimes our lord Jesus said: “I it am, I it am. I it am that is highest. I it am that thou lovest. I it am that thou likest. I it am that thou servest. I it am that thou longest for. I it am that thou desirest. I it am that thou meanest. I it am that is all. I it am that holy church preacheth to thee and teacheth thee. I it am that shewed myself before to thee.” This magnificent litany assured Julian that Christ is the only one who can satisfy her longing to praise, to love, to like, to serve, to long for, to desire, to give meaning to her whole life, and to be her “all.” He is also the one holy church preaches and teaches. And the Lord affirms that it is he, and he alone, who has revealed himself to her. The number of the words [Christ spoke] passes my wits and my understanding and all my powers, for they were in the highest number, as to my sight. For therein is comprehended I cannot tell what. But the joy that I saw in the showing of them surpasses all that heart can think or soul may desire. And therefore these words are not declared here. It should be noted that in Middle English, the verb “like” (above) expressed even more intimacy than “love.” Julian understood that Christ wants us to “like” what he is accomplishing in us and for us. Julian was hopeful that everyone, according to God’s grace, will receive these words in whatever way the Lord has spoken them to each one of us, personally. What do they mean for you? May Julian guide you to take these three Revelations into meditation during the feast days of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. And may you be blessed abundantly! PLEASE NOTE: Translations from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, An Explorer’s Guide to Julian of Norwich (InterVarsity Academic Press), © Copyright by Veronica Mary Rolf. Available from the Publisher and Amazon worldwide: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0830850880? Today, May 8th, is the Feast Day of Julian of Norwich, the day on which her Revelations of Divine Love took place in 1373. Let us consider these words Julian wrote in the Second Revelation: “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.” Julian advises us that we are ever to be seeking (longing for) and seeing (experiencing, finding) God, and then seeking once more. Here Julian seems to be echoing Christ’s words: “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 Julian realizes is that even the human impulse to ask, to search, and to knock is the gift of God’s own goodness.
For [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 waited for and he will be trusted. Julian teaches us that God wants to be seen in every circumstance. (The more difficult it is, the more crucial it becomes that we seek his presence within it.) God wants to be sought, so that our hearts remain open and receptive to divine help. God wants to be waited for, in patience and in hope. Most of all, God wants to be trusted! Julian understands that the continual seeking of the soul is very pleasing to God, and the “finding of God” fills the soul with incomparable joy. For [the soul] may do no more than seek, suffer, and trust. . . . The seeking with faith, hope and charity pleases our lord, and the finding pleases the soul, and fulfills it with joy. However, you may object: It is one thing to “seek” God in every love, happiness, creative work, achievement, and birth. But how are we supposed to “seek” God in every disappointment, betrayal, illness, tragedy, or death? At such times, the soul feels completely alone and abandoned. Our faith becomes sorely tested. Where is God in suffering? Yet Julian is insistent that we must continue to seek and walk by faith through the longest days and darkest nights. She assures us that even though we may think our faith is “but little” and fragile, nevertheless through the daily practice of believing in God’s abiding presence, we will gain great grace to endure the tough times. Julian considers this blind “seeking” of God every bit as necessary as enlightened “seeing.” She is certain that, eventually, God will reveal himself and teach the soul how to experience the deep comfort of divine presence in contemplation. This “beholding” is the highest honor and reverence human beings can give to God, and extremely profitable to all souls, producing the greatest humility and virtue, “with the grace and leading of the holy ghost.” For a soul that fastens itself only onto God with great trust, either in seeking or in beholding, it is the most worship that that soul may do, as to my sight.” Julian understands two kinds of divine working from this revelation: seeking and beholding. Both are gifts of God. Seeking is what is given to all of us to do, through the teachings of holy church. Beholding (or mystical contemplation), on the other hand, is given more rarely, directly by God. Julian further defines three ways of seeking. First, we must seek willfully and faithfully, without growing lazy in our efforts. We must seek “gladly and merrily, without unskillful heaviness and vain sorrow,” because these are self-indulgent moods that can undermine the spiritual life. Second, the true seeker abides in God steadfastly, without “grumbling and striving against him.” This is a wonderfully apt description of the complaints and disobedience that obstruct the flow of grace. The third way of seeking is that “we trust in [God] mightily, with full, secure faith.” Julian is certain that these three ways of seeking will bear abundant fruit in beholding. Then God will suddenly reveal his presence when the soul is least expecting it. 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! What difference would it make in our lives if we really sought Jesus within all our experiences? Not just the joyous ones, but the suffering ones, too. Even if people reject us and hurt us; even if events in our lives are painful; what if we chose to trust that the Divine Master is working from deep within the suffering in order to transform it? What if we dared to believe, like Julian, that our fastening onto God with secure trust, “whether in seeking or in beholding,” gives God the greatest possible worship? Would it not make all the difference in how we deal with our problems? Would it not give meaning to our suffering? And might it not change our mental attitude from that of “victim” to a “loving companion” of Christ on the cross? On Julian's Feast Day, let us dedicate ourselves, as she did, to seeking and beholding, trusting and believing, perceiving and rejoicing that God is at work in every circumstance of our daily lives. Then we will come to understand that nothing we experience is ordinary; rather, everything is capable of being transformed by divine grace. Thus everything has the power to become a personal revelation of the Risen Lord. May Julian bless you abundantly. And Happy Mother’s Day! PLEASE NOTE: Translations from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, An Explorer’s Guide to Julian of Norwich (InterVarsity Academic Press, 2018), © Copyright by Veronica Mary Rolf. Available from the Publisher and Amazon worldwide: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0830850880? During this Eastertime during which we celebrate Christ's resurrection, I want to share with you these hope-filled words of Julian of Norwich:
:And I looked for the departing of life with all my might and expected to have seen the body completely dead. But I saw him not so. And just in that same time that it seemed to me, by all appearances, that his life might no longer last, and the showing of the end must needs be near—suddenly, as I beheld the same cross, his face changed into a joyful expression. The changing of his blissful expression changed mine, and I was as glad and merry as it was possible to be. Then our Lord brought this merrily to mind: “Where is now any point of thy pain or of thy grief?” And I was completely merry. Here, in the Eighth Revelation, Julian of Norwich describes her experience of seeing Christ’s sufferings on the cross transformed into perfect joy. It happened instantaneously. She had been plummeted into his cruel pains and now glimpses his resurrected glory. It was such an overwhelming surprise that she became “glad and merry,” implying happy, cheerful, ebullient, almost giddy—as if she might laugh out loud once again, as if she had never had a pain in the world. And the locution that spoke within her mind in that moment was equally startling: “Where is now any point of thy pain or of thy grief?” In that instant, Julian experienced the radical changeability of even the worst suffering. (We recognize the feeling: when we start laughing aloud in gratitude and relief that some near-tragedy has just been averted, even as hot tears still flow down our faces.) Historically, we know Christ did not escape death. He really “bowed his head and gave up his spirit” on the cross (Jn 19:30). His side was really pierced with a soldier’s lance (Jn 19:34). He really was taken down from the cross and wrapped “in a linen cloth”; his body really was laid “in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid” (Lk 23:53, Mk 15:46). However, Julian’s unique gospel account of Christ’s passion and sudden transformation is based on a lifelike vision happening before her eyes. Moment by moment, her mind was inspired by grace to experience the sensory images, the words, the vivid impressions, the intellectual understanding, and the emotional reactions. Like the images we project and perceive every moment of our lives, none of these mental images is absolute and unchanging. Therefore, every situation, every emotion, can (and does) change eventually. For Julian, in a mysterious and wonderful way, the image changed in an instant. By her faith, Julian knew Christ had already died and the resurrection had already occurred. Therefore, even in her vision, she could not actually see Christ die, because she believed from Christian teaching that he cannot die again: “We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God” (Rom 6:9–10, italics added). In this Revelation, Julian’s mind leapt into eternity. In that sublime moment, she saw Christ’s face utterly transformed into a radiant expression, like the instant when Peter, James, and John saw Christ transfigured before their eyes on Mt. Tabor, “and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white” (Mt 17:1–2, Mk 9:3). It was as if Julian herself had died, letting go of all her assumptions about earthly reality and the inevitability of death. Her mind was privileged to glimpse the glory of Christ’s reality in the bliss of heaven, where sorrow and suffering do not exist. I understood that we are now, in our lord’s intention, on his cross with him in our pains and in our passion, dying. And we, willfully abiding on the same cross, with his help and his grace, into the last point, suddenly he shall change his expression toward us, and we shall be with him in heaven. Between that one [the pain on the cross] and that other [being in heaven] shall all be one time, and then shall all be brought into joy. And this is what he meant in this showing: “Where is now any point of thy pain or of thy grief?” And we shall be fully blessed." By the sheer suddenness Julian suggests what a holy death might be like: one moment in pain, the next in bliss. She understands that not only has Christ overcome the curse of sin through suffering, he has eradicated the mighty grip of death altogether: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55). For some, death might even be ecstatic: “because God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living. For he created all things so that they might exist; the generative forces of the world are wholesome, and there is no destructive poison in them, and the dominion of Hades is not on earth” (Ws 1:13–14). In seeing that death is as evanescent as any given moment of life, Julian not only believes, she experiences that death is not final in any ultimate way, either for Christ or, because of Christ, for all of humankind. It is a passage from one form of life to another, not an end, but a beginning. “So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (Jn 16:22). I wish you all the Easter transformation of suffering into joy that Julian herself experienced. May you be graced to see that, in truth, “He is risen!” and that Christ has overcome all our pains, fears, and woes. And may you, like Julian, be “glad and merry” in the Lord’s triumph over sin, suffering, and death. Happy Easter! NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books, 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf. Julian of Norwich wrote that in the Eleventh Revelation our good Lord looked down on the right side, and brought to her mind where our lady stood at the time of his passion, and said: “Wilt thou see her?” And in this sweet word, it was as if he had said: “I know well that thou wouldst see my blessed mother, for after myself she is the highest joy that I might show thee, and the most pleasure and worship to me. And she is most desired to be seen of all my blessed creatures.”
In medieval paintings and sculptures of the crucifixion, Mary was most often depicted standing to the right, beneath Christ on the cross, with St. John the Evangelist on the left. Countless times, while deep in prayer, Julian’s eyes would have moved from the central crucifix in church down to Mary, standing in sorrow, her hands clasped together, and then over to the disciple John, “the one whom Jesus loved” (Jn 13:23). Julian’s great devotion to Mary is apparent here, as her heart longs to see Christ’s mother at the foot of the cross. And Christ is well aware that Julian, like “all my blessed creatures,” longs to see her. Saint Mary was considered to be the most compassionate and powerful mediatrix between sinful human beings and her son. Julian would have sought her intercession in every crisis or moment of need. And for the marvelous, high, and special love that he hath for this sweet maiden, his blessed mother, our lady Saint Mary, he showed her highly rejoicing, which is the meaning of this sweet word, as if he had said: “Wilt thou see how much I love her, that thou might rejoice with me in the love that I have in her and she in me?” Previously, Julian had contemplated Mary standing beneath the cross, suffering with Christ, lamenting her great loss. Now Julian sees Mary rejoicing in eternal bliss with her Son, delighting in his love and he in hers. She understands that the words the Lord spoke to her were intended “in love to all mankind that shall be saved, as it were all to one person.” It was as if he had said to Julian and to everyone: “Wilt thou see in her how thou art loved? For thy love I have made her so exalted, so noble, so worthy. And this pleases me, and I want it to please thee.” In the love Christ has for Mary, Julian recognized how much Christ loves each and every human being. In fact, Christ has made Mary so highly glorified, honored, and worthy in order to be an inspiration for all women and men. He has raised her body into glory to be with his own. He has crowned her queen of heaven and earth. She gives the Lord the greatest worship and pleasure and he wants everyone to take great pleasure in her, too. Yet Julian becomes acutely aware, through an inner teaching, that she is not being encouraged to long to see Mary in a physical presence while here on earth. She is to contemplate her spiritually, in “the virtues of her blessed soul—her truth, her wisdom, her charity,” whereby Julian might learn to know herself better and more reverently fear and serve God. Even so, when Christ asks Julian if she wants to see Mary, Julian answers eagerly: “Ye, good lord, gramercy. Ye good lord, if it be thy will.” She admits, with striking candor, that she had often prayed for just such a vision, and on this occasion, “I expected to have seen her in bodily likeness,” just as she saw Christ on the cross: “But I saw her not so.” Rather, when the Lord asked the question (“Wilt thou see her?”), in that very moment, Julian was shown “a ghostly sight” of Mary, similar to the imaginative vision she had had of her as a girl, little and simple, at the time of the Annunciation. Mary appeared this time “exalted and noble and glorious and pleasing to him [Christ] above all creatures.” Julian is sure that Christ wills it to be known that everyone who “likes” (in medieval English, “like” is an even more intimate form of the word “love”) and delights in him must also truly “like” her, with all the connotations of delighting in everything about her. And Julian realizes that this very “liking,” this most familiar manner of loving, is the purest form of “bodily likeness” that she could possibly have experienced. Julian was not disappointed that she was not allowed to enjoy Mary in a physical manifestation, as she did Christ. And in all her Revelations, she saw no one else “spiritually” or “individually” but Saint Mary. In this showing, Julian was deeply touched that Christ had confided to her his own love for Mary as a young maiden, as a suffering mother, and now, as an exalted and noble lady in heaven. In revealing to Julian his great love for Mary, by extension Christ was showing, in yet another way, his great love for Julian. And for each one of us. In this time of a tragic war in Ukraine, with millions of fleeing refugees, incomprehensible suffering, death, and destruction, we may tend to give up hope that there can be any meaning to such agony. But if we stand with Mary beneath the cross of her Son, as Julian did, we may be reassured that suffering and death are not the end of the tragedy. There is meaning to all our suffering, because Christ is transforming it even now into his own resurrection. We must hold to that with all our hearts as we honor Mary today, on the Feast of the Annunciation. Her “Yes” to the angel allowed her to become the Mother of God. She lived a life of great joy and inconceivable sorrow. Yet eventually, she beheld her Son risen in glory. That is the divine transformation of suffering. Let us stand firm with Mary and with Julian, “highly rejoicing” that in Christ, “all shall be well." NOTE: Excerpts above and translations from the Middle English are from my book, Julian’s Gospel: Illuminating the Life & Revelations of Julian of Norwich (Orbis Books. 2013). Copyright © 2013 by Veronica Mary Rolf Julian of Norwich never knew a world without war. The tortured fourteenth century was the time of the Hundred Years’ War with France, which actually lasted even longer (1337–1453), claiming over three million lives. Like Julian, we, too, are threatened by the impending reality of war: inconceivable suffering, brutality, religious persecution, hordes of refugees driven from their homes and country, wide-spread destruction, and a mounting death toll. How are we to find peace in the midst of war?
Throughout her Revelations, Julian reveals her deep conflict between the realities of life around her and the deep contemplative call that arose within her. Her struggle was not only theological, it was deeply spiritual. She had seen so many evil deeds and atrocities committed in her lifetime; she had heard countless stories about the brutalities of war; she knew about the excommunication and damning of heretics; she remembered those who had died unshriven [without having confessed and received pardon for their sins] during the plagues. She could not shy away from confronting the dichotomy between the unconditional love of Christ towards sinners and the harsh, judgmental condemnations of sinners that she had heard preached from the pulpit. It became essential to her peace of mind to know if sinners are really judged and condemned by the higher judgment of God as they are by the lower judgment of the church. And notwithstanding all this, I saw truthfully that our lord was never wroth nor never shall be. For he is God, he is good, he is truth, he is love, he is peace. And his might, his wisdom, his charity, and his unity do not permit him to be wroth. For I saw truly that it is against the property of his might to be wroth, and against the property of his wisdom, and against the property of his goodness. God is that goodness that may not be wroth, for God is nothing but goodness. In spite of the evil in the world, Julian firmly believed that God was all-loving and all-merciful towards sinners. And she had a wise view of the blindness and corruptibility of human beings. I understood thus: Man is changeable in this life, and by frailty and ignorance falls into sin. He is powerless and foolish in himself, and also his will is corrupted at this time [by sin]. He is in turmoil and in sorrow and woe. And the cause is blindness, for he does not see God. For if he saw God continually, he would have no mischievous feeling, nor no manner of stirring, nor sorrowing that inclines to sin. While Julian admits our common experience of changeability, frailty, and ignorance in this life, she knows that it is not the full picture because it does not take into account “the great desire that the soul hath to see God.” This leads her to reflect on the divine work of mercy that the Holy Spirit is forever accomplishing in us, dwelling in our soul, securely keeping us, bringing us to a greater peace, making us more obedient, more pliant, and reconciling us to God whenever we become angry. Still we may ask: Where does all the hatred and evil in our world come from? Julian responds: 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 showed very often in his loving expression of compassion and pity. Julian understands that God intervenes in our own wrathfulness and contrariousness to show us mercy: “For the ground of mercy is in love, and the working of mercy is our protection in love.” Yet sometimes God’s work of mercy also allows us to fall, within limits, which feels like dying. But in that dying, we realize all the more truly that God is our life. “Our falling is dreadful, our falling is shameful, and our dying is sorrowful. But yet in all this the sweet eye of pity and love never departs from us, nor does the working of mercy ever cease.” Julian beheld the property of mercy and the property of grace as working together in the super-abundance of Christ’s compassion and love. Mercy belongs to “motherhood in tender love” and grace belongs to “royal lordship in the same love,” like two devoted parents who function in perfect harmony. “And grace works with mercy,” raising us up from our misdeeds and even rewarding us (eternally surpassing what our love and our service could possibly deserve), showing us the “plenteous largess of God’s royal lordship in his marvelous courtesy.” This divine mercy and grace are poured out on us “to slake and waste our wrath.” In other words, far from being wrathful toward us, or punishing us, God helps us let go of our own self-hatred and anger [towards our enemies], and teaches us to forgive one another. Julian realizes that if God were to be “wroth a touch”—that is, angry even for a little while—“we should neither have life, nor place, nor being.” We would be wiped out of existence! Have we ever taken time to consider this? God’s unconditional love is a much more demanding belief than divine wrathfulness. The realization that we are always loved, no matter what, is such an overwhelming experience that it humbles and purifies the soul more perfectly than any shame or punishment ever could. We begin to understand, like Julian, that Christ hung on the cross not because God’s wrath had to be appeased, but because God’s love had to be revealed. For this was shown: that our life is all grounded and rooted in love, and without love we may not live. And therefore, to the soul that because of his special grace sees so deeply into the high, marvelous goodness of God, and sees that we are endlessly oned to him in love, it is the most unpossible that may be that God should be wrath. In an age of violence and war (not unlike the fourteenth century), 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 suffering 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 creates us, loves us, and will never, ever abandon us. PLEASE NOTE: Translations from the Middle English and excerpts above are from my book, An Explorer’s Guide to Julian of Norwich (InterVarsity Academic Press, 2018). Available from the Publisher and Amazon worldwide: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0830850880? |
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All text copyrighted © 2013-2018 by Veronica Mary Rolf. All rights reserved. No copying or reprints allowed without the express permission of the Author.  
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