Julian of Norwich, Mysticism and the Medieval Church

Julian of Norwich is viewed as a Mystic. Mysticism is defined by a state of oneness with the Christian Divine. For a world like Julian’s, which was decidedly Catholic (and therefore a world in which theological workings happened through Church doctrine and conversation with the Divine happened in the presence of clerical intermediates), this was a potentially dangerous narrative to publicise. It is always helpful to view Julian’s work alongside the Norwich that she lived in. By the time Julian had her visions, religious lay women were being questioned in Northern Europe. German Clerics were known to force pious women from their reclusion, something which, as a female recluse herself, Julian must have been acutely aware of. Norwich itself had a very specific relationship to pious women, being the only English city to house Béguines: a group of those persecuted women fleeing Europe and, themselves, connected to Mysticism. Potentially, then, Julian’s home city was a place of religious safety and sanctity. But it was not entirely free of danger. Accusations of heresy were thrown around 14th Century Norwich with growing speed. Julian lived through a great deal of social conflict with a group of proto-Protestants termed ‘Lollards’. The Bishop of Norwich, Henry Le Despenser disliked Lollards intently and many were burned at the stake just outside the city (where there is now a pub, called The Lollards’ Pit!). There were heresy trials throughout her lifetime, and many with beliefs akin to Julian’s own were killed for expressing them. ‘Lollardy’ became a synonym for ‘heresy’, though no one really seemed to have any precise definition of what made someone either a Lollard or a heretic. Instead it became used, in many instances, as a way to silence those who threatened to undermine mainstream Catholic doctrine. It is therefore easy to understand why Julian may have written so cautiously about her Mystic beliefs. To suggest that God is all-forgiving, to express that you have experienced visions, suggests an interconnectedness of humanity with the divine. This moves beyond the bounds of Catholic doctrine, by subtly suggesting that you do not need the intermediary of the Church to converse with the divine. But Julian is careful. She writes of her experiences as catalysed by a Catholic rite: Last Rites, and the worship of the physical image of the crucifix. She returns to the Trinity over and over again, and consistently refers to how much she trusts, appreciates and advocates for the Church’s teaching. Her novel, less-than-orthodox beliefs are tied throughout, with ideas of the Catholic and the mainstream. It is in this careful way that she is able to teach about her understanding of Christianity – something which, due to her use of the vernacular, we can assume was important to her –even in a world defined by fear of heresy. What can we take from Julian’s work? Julian takes an image of horrendous suffering and turns it into a message of forgiveness, and in doing so treads a careful line between safety and religious anxiety. Julian’s work offers a unique perspective on Christian theology, but it also tells us about how people viewed themselves in a religious context. Perhaps inadvertently, Julian delivers a message about the sheer power of the Church in the Middle Ages, and the ways in which people related to this power. That she is so aware of heresy demonstrates much about Late 14th Century Norwich: it was a social world facing religious flux, repeatedly defining itself and un-defining itself. The ordinary person could relate to the Church in any number of different ways. For someone we know so little about, Julian teaches us much. Her Revelations are ground-breaking on so many levels, some overt and some more subtle. Her work is still of great importance to theological thinkers, and expresses a unique, deeply thoughtful, and highly feminine approach to Christianity.