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A Celebration of Woman and A Commemoration of Dame Julian of Norwich
The Seventh Sunday of Easter (Year A, RCL)
May 4, 2008
The Rev. Helen Slingluff White
Hebrews 10:19-24
Do you ever feel just plain ol’ tired? Tired of your job, tired of your daily chores, tired of your family or your friends? Maybe you are tired by
the news—tired of war, tired of environmental destruction, tired of people going hungry? Do you ever feel tired of church? Tired of the weekend
commitment, tired of archaic prayers and complicated readings, tired of never ending announcements? Today our Sunday liturgy is entitled a
Celebration of Women and a Commemoration of Dame Julian of Norwich. Now let’s be real honest for a minute—does that title make some of you a teeny,
tiny bit tired? Or does it fill you with nervous energy?! I want you to know that today’s liturgy is uniquely designed to nurture the exhausted.
We, men and women, bring our tired souls into the sanctuary today and we hope for the veil of fatigue to be lifted. We hope the curtain will be
opened to a new and living way, a way we may encounter the Holy both in ourselves in the world around us.
You might be wondering why I am speaking of sanctuaries and curtains and what this has to do with celebrating Women. I use this language because
it comes from the Book of Hebrews—from one of our readings for today. This reading was assigned for the feast day of Dame Julian of Norwich. The
passage from Hebrews fits well with the ministry of Julian because it is all about reinvigorating the weary. Hebrews is all about inspiring new
energy in tired Christians by assuring them that they are loved and freed from guilt and shame.[1] Hebrews expresses
hope by reinterpreting familiar images of temple worship and sacrifice. Because of Jesus, sanctuaries are no longer off limits for common people,
curtains no longer block off the Holy of Holies, and continual sacrifices no longer need to be made. In the same way, Julian of Norwich
reinterprets the familiar from a fresh perspective and in doing so she reinvigorates the weary.
I have personally experienced spiritual fatigue. When I came to seminary, I was quite exhausted. Eight years as a rector’s wife, along with a
toxic mix of the southern mythology of female perfection combined with the teachings of the social Gospel, had left me high and dry. I felt
overly responsible for everything but with an uncertain sense of my own personhood! We who are weary need our religious imaginations ignited.
We need sermons, songs, liturgies, readings that reinterpret the context of our lives. We need powerful symbols and sacraments to open our minds
and our hearts so that we may experience God’s continual revelation in the world. The teachings of Julian of Norwich have brought life to my weary soul.
As a young woman living in England in 1373, Julian experienced fatigue— she was spiritually tired from the suffering all around her caused by the
Black Plague, constant warfare, a corrupt church. She prayed to know Christ better. Julian became very ill and as she lay close to death she
experienced 16 revelations or showings of God, centered upon the crucified Christ. Julian awoke from the visions and was physically well.
She spent the next twenty years reflecting theologically on what she had seen. Though her voice was long silenced by a patriarchal church, her
writings have been rediscovered and appreciated. Julian’s reflections are now explored as works of profound theological meaning. And her fresh
perspective speaks to our weary souls. Three images from Julian’s writings are particularly liberating to me: sin as blindness, Christ as Mother
and “All Shall Be Well.” I will attempt to explore them with you today.
First of all, Julian reinterprets the concept of sin using a parable of a Lord and servant. A lord sent a servant out on a mission. There was
much love between the lord and servant, and the servant left in great haste and joy to please the lord. As the servant journeyed he fell into
a great pit. While in the pit, he became consumed with his own situation and soon lost sight of the lord’s favor and compassion, even though
the lord planned to reward the servant even more greatly for all of his trouble. Julian struggled with this vision for many years. She asked
questions—why was the servant left alone? Who was the servant? But one aspect of the parable that comes clear is the servant’s consuming
blindness. The servant forgets that the lord’s love and care continues, despite being injured and caught in the hole. The servant becomes
totally consumed with the ordeal of the moment and loses sight of his true identity as beloved. Thus Julian redefines sin as blindness.
Blindness to God’s loving and steadfast care for us, God’s fallen children. My own spiritual fatigue is nourished when sin is redefined by
Julian. In traditional Christian teaching sin is usually related to an overblown sense of self-worth, to pride, hubris. Sermons often
encourage people to be selfless, to realize their own smallness in the presence of God. But that sort of pride is not really my issue and
it is not the issue for most women and many men. Instead, my sin is more often a lack of self-worth. A blindness to my own contribution
to be made. My sin is blindness to God’s persistent pleasure in me--a created child of God. I thank Julian for planting new seeds of hope
in my understanding of sin and redemption.
The second image from Julian that I would like to share is her repeated use of feminine metaphors for Christ. Like other spiritual writers of
her time, including men, Julian does not shy away from the feminine attributes of the divine. Her voice is of great value as we seek authentic
ways to expand our experience of God beyond masculine images. Enriching Our Worship, an alternative liturgical source of our church, includes
a Canticle for Morning Prayer that is by Julian. It is entitled “A Song of True Motherhood.” The line concerning the incarnation of Jesus
says: “Christ came in our poor flesh to share a mother’s care. Our mothers bear us for pain and for death; our true mother, Jesus, bears us
for joy and endless life.” Through Julian we see Christ carrying us in the womb, birthing us, and nurturing us. This is some serious
incarnational theology, and I commend it to your reflection! Julian opens my mind and heart by using female imagery for Christ’s atoning
work—for describing how Christ saves us. She opens the curtain to a new and living way to ponder such mysteries beyond the traditional
notions of debt payment or sacrificial offering. The imagery of Christ as the Mother of Mercy connects deeply with my own personhood and
experience as a woman and a mother.
The third image I would like to share pertains to the most well known phrase that is repeated in Julian’s writings—all shall be well. Through
her own sufferings and searchings, Julian’s “take-home” message was that the true nature of the Divine is Love. And in this love, all things
shall be made well. One might think that sounds typical of a Christian— ending up with “pie in the sky” theology. Just wait for heaven,
everything will be better then. However, this is not a simple answer for Julian. Julian is very St. Mark’s in her persistent wrestling.
Responding to God’s reassurance that all shall be well, she writes:
But in this I stood, contemplating it generally, darkly and mournfully, saying in intention to our Lord with very great fear: Ah, good Lord,
how could all things be well, because of the great harm which has come through sin to your creatures? And here I wished, so far as I dared,
for some plainer explanation through which I might be at ease about this matter.[2]
Don’t we all wish for a plainer explanation for the problems of the world, dear sister Julian! But in my moments of doubt and despair, I can
turn to Julian’s voice because I know she speaks from a lifetime of honest soul searching. Julian did not sit in a place of societal power—she
was not the Bishop or the Pope. She was a single woman living in medieval England, living alone in a cell attached to a church, using her vast
intellect and her humble spirit, to dare to ask God about the suffering of this human life. Her response gives me sustenance and hope--“and
all shall be well, all things shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.”
Like Julian of Norwich, St. Mark’s has nourished my weary soul. I will always be grateful for my time here, and I leave with energy and
excitement for the life adventures ahead. I have experienced a new and living way:
Through worship in the round in this lovely and sacred space
Through creative and relevant liturgy
Through hearing the honest and fervent prayers of the people Sunday after Sunday
Through sermon seminar and the deep connections made with the realities of people’s lives
Through my relationship with Shearon Williams, her guidance and care my first year here.
Through my relationship with Paul. Through his gifted and generous presence in ministry and his continual support and encouragement for me to grow into myself.
Through my lay committee and their faithful questions, insights and care.
Through the nurture my children have received in Sunday School and in worship
Through the space given to my husband as he also rested and the witness to him of open and honest relationships
Through your profound listening and response to my preaching
Through weekly participation in the Eucharist with so many beautiful souls
Through the music that weaves together various threads of history and culture and often moves me to tears.
Through the active witness of countless individuals who give their heart and soul to this community and to the world.
Thank you, my brothers and sisters. I pray that God’s incarnate love will continue to replenish the weary souls that enter this holy sanctuary.
[1] Long, Tom. “Bold in the Presence of God—Atonement in Hebrews.” Interpretation—A Journal of Bible and Theology. (Richmond, VA: Union Theological Seminary and Presbyterian School of Christian Education.) January 1998, Vol. 52, No. 1.
[2] Showings Long Text, Twenty Ninth Chapter
Resources Used:
Jantzen, Grace M. Julian of Norwich, Mystic and Theologian. New York: Paulist Press, 1987.
Julian of Norwich Showings. Translated from the Ciritical Text with an introduction by Edmund Colledge, O.S.A and James Walsh, S.J. New York: Paulist Press, 1978.
Palliser, Margaret Ann, O.P. Christ Our Mother of Mercy. New York: Walter de Gruyter. 1992
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