I read this novel after reading I Julian by Claire Gilbert. Margery visited Julian and recorded the visit in her autobiography. So I read this book to find out more about Julian and to also find out more about Margery herself. Below are some of the passages I liked.
Pp 74-76. Her encounter with Julian of Norwich
"They were so real, Margery. I saw Our Lord's passion. I felt his hot blood dripping on my face. And then he opened up his heart and showed me what lay inside. I saw such love endless love. It was so vivid, it ravished my heart. I lost myself in him."
Her words left me swaying.
"What's more," she said. "In all he revealed to me, I saw neither sin nor blame nor wrath nor even hell. I could only conclude that sin has no substance. It cannot be discerned at all save for the pain it causes -for a time. In this sense, you could even say our failings and mis takes are necessary, for they serve to purify us and make us know our- selves and ask for mercy. Think of this, dear Margery-all our trials and anguish are tastes of Christ's passion. But behind the reality of our deepest suffering lies the mystery of God's love. Know that all is well."
Her words lifted me to such a high place that I could gaze down upon the world as though it were a map. I was lifted higher and higher until I could behold this precious tender world and all the starry heavens nestling like a hazelnut in God's palm.
"After that," she said, "I couldn't go on living a worldly life, so I chose this life as an anchoress. It had to be this way, you understand. I couldn't bear to stay on as a Sister at Carrow and have my prioress and her priest cross-examine me about my visions at every turn. I needed privacy and solitude to make sense of it all. I've devoted the past forty years to contemplating all I've seen. But I never for a moment doubted what our Beloved revealed to me. And neither, dear Margery, should you doubt what he has shown to you."
Dame Julian, the holy and high-learned anchoress, spoke to me as though I were her peer. A mystic, like her. This made me weep all the more-in gratitude and wonder.
"When Our Lord visits us with the gift of tears," she said, taking my hand, "it serves as proof that the Holy Ghost dwells inside us. No evil spirit can grant the gift of tears. Saint Jerome wrote that our tears torment devils more than all the agonies of hell." She leaned forward as if intent that I commit her every word to memory.
"The seat of God is in your soul. Dear sister, how can you believe in God if you don't believe in yourself? Until you have faith in your calling and all the grace he has revealed to you?"
The room seemed to shift around me as her words nestled in my heart. Even the air I breathed seemed redolent with blessing.
"Set all your trust in God and don't worry about what the world says of you." She cracked a smile. "If some people dislike you, perhaps that means you're doing something right."
I laughed for the first time in days. All my life I had been seeking someone like her. A wise friend. A spiritual authority. A confidante who understood my womanly condition and to whom I could tell everything, holding nothing back. Dame Julian gave me the greatest gift any human being could give-permission to trust myself.
"So my quest to leave my family and go on pilgrimage isn't selfish?" My heartbeat quickened.
She squeezed my hand. "As surely as I needed to enclose myself in a solitary cell to make sense of what I saw, it seems that you need to go out into the great world as a pilgrim to make sense of what our Beloved has shown to you."
I finally worked up the courage to ask what riddled me most. "How did you know my birthday? Or that I would come?"
The anchoress and I had lived our separate lives in towns more than forty miles apart. We had never met before and were not even the most distant of kin.
"Our Beloved revealed your face and your quest," she said. "I would know you anywhere."
As she spoke, a sleek ginger cat emerged from a dark corner and leapt into her lap.
"Such an infernal creature is allowed inside your anchorage?" I asked in alarm. From earliest childhood I'd been taught that cats were creatures of the night, in league with demons.
Dame Julian laughed. "How can any of God's creatures be infer- nal? Of course, I keep a cat. I live by the river. If it wasn't for dear Ru- fus, this place would be swarming with rats."
Rufus blinked his green eyes at me as though he were every bit as wise as his mistress.
As I laughed with Julian, a sense of buoyancy seized me, as if the two of us could fly away like swift-darting swallows, utterly unbur dened.
"Dame Julian, is it true that you wrote a book?"
"Indeed I have." A shadow fell across her face. But she continued to gaze at me steadily while stroking the cat. "Though many wish I hadn't."
She gave me a look of warning as a priest and his acolytes entered the small church in preparation for the next Mass. Only when the men disappeared into the sacristy did she lean forward and begin to speak in a voice as soft as her cat's purring. "If you so desire, I shall read my book to you in its entirety."
I stayed with Dame Julian for the next seven days, only returning to the priory to sleep. Nell, meanwhile, suffered to sit at the back of the church and fetch ale and fish pies from the market for us. But Julian's words were my true sustenance. They made the outer world drop away.
When there was no Mass being sung nor none milling about the church who might overhear us, Julian read to me her entire long text describing her sixteen visions. She had first begun writing her book the same year I had nearly died bearing my first child, gone mad, and received my first vision. Julian's Revelations of Divine Love filled me with an inescapable sense of divine presence. Of hope and ineffable love and longing. Her words and phrases sang inside my heart as though they had always been there but I'd been too wrapped up in my own petty miseries to hear them until this moment.
Contemplate the Beloved with all your heart. It is by our longing for our Beloved that we are liberated. Know the truth-there is absolutely nothing separating the Divine Soul from the human soul. Know that you are never alone. How could we ever be separated from our Divine Mother? We are all holy creatures of endless life. There is really no such thing as mortal sin. We suffer from the consequences of grave error and then our Mother redeems us. Though we cannot know the ultimate reality with our limited five senses, in the next life we will see our Beloved face-to-face and all that has perplexed us on earth will suddenly become clear. All is well and all shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.
P. 200 after returning from her pilgrimage
After landing in Yarmouth, I hastened to Norwich where I hoped to spill my every tale to Julian. Oh, to sit with her again and receive her wise counsel, her friendship as comforting as coddled wine. But when I arrived at her anchorage window, the shutters were closed. Her maid sadly informed me that Julian was ill and not receiving visitors. Alas, I had no money to stay on in Norwich while waiting for her recov ery, and the Sisters at Carrow Priory accommodated me for only two nights before they packed me off home in a wool wagon. To my deep disappointment, my daughter Anna remained lukewarm to me and seemed relieved to see me depart.
Thus, not a ha'penny left in my purse, I returned to Bishop's Lynn after nearly two years of travel.
When pilgrims first set off on their jubilant and perilous journey to holy places, nobody ever warns them what an ordeal it is to come home. My travels had utterly transformed me. I had witnessed a holy man being burned alive as a supposed heretic. I had conversed with all manner of educated holy women across Europe. Saint Bridget's maidservant had wept in my arms. I had learned to speak Italian. I had crossed the Alps on foot, ridden an ass across the Holy Land, and befriended a Muslim man. I had swooned in thrall of my visions in the Holy Sepulcher.
But what did anyone here in Lynn care? The town was just as money counting and full of snake-tongued gossips as ever. When I crossed the Saturday Market, my pilgrim's staff ringing out against the cobbles, fishwives and cheese mongers pointed and sniggered, as though they were in on some nasty surprise in store for me. I dragged my feet every step down those all-too-familiar streets.
P. 216
"You caused much consternation," he said, "with your cries to Mother God. The canons of Bristol raised the alarm and all but or- dered me to examine you for heresy, such a terror they have of Old- castle and his Lollard plots." He sounded weary, as though he wanted no part of this but his hands were tied.
I had always been able to elude such accusations before, but what defense could I offer after so many witnesses had heard my utterances? My only hope was to defiantly bluster through.
"I'm no Lollard," I declared. "I've nothing in common with poor John Badby."
Badby, I knew, had been sentenced to burn because he had denied the sacrament of the Eucharist and proclaimed that the host was sim- ply a wafer made of flour and water, not the body of Christ.
"All Bristol saw me falling in reverence before the true host," I said. "As for calling out to Mother God, Bernard of Clairvaux and his Cister- cian Brothers did exactly the same three centuries ago. You yourself know me to be a good man's daughter."
I hoped to hide my terror under my boldness. But what if the bishop or his henchmen discovered Julian's manuscript?
If anything, my tirade seemed to relieve the bishop. His hunched shoulders eased.
"I forget my hospitality," he said.
What astonished me most was how he bent with great humility to draw me to my feet even though he was so frail that I feared he might fall.
"You must stay here as my guest, Margery Kempe, until a ship ar- rives to take you to Spain." At that, he smiled, as though in gratitude that we could put this ugly talk of heresy behind us.
P. 237
"Mistress Margery!" the pregnant fishmonger called out. With her flushed cheeks, she looked no older than twenty, so fresh with youth and good health. "May Our Lady and all the saints protect you!"
"I have faith in God and I'm not afraid to die," I told them, even as my heart lurched in dread at what lay in store.
The women exchanged wide-eyed glances before a stout brewer with a broad, kind face stepped forward. Even from the attic window, I could smell the odor of hops and yeast coming off her kirtle and coif. "Mistress, can you tell us any more of what Dame Julian told you?"
"Hush!" a merchant's wife cried. "You'll get poor Mistress Mar- gery into even deeper trouble."
"Peace," I said. "As long as I have a tongue, I'll speak. Dame Julian said Our Lord showed her a little thing as round and small as a hazel- nut in her palm. She looked at it and asked herself what it could be."
The women clustered tightly, their faces raised as they listened.
"God told her, 'It is all that's made.' Yet she wondered how it could last, being so small-it looked as though it could simply disappear."
Despite my every resolve to remain strong and steadfast, my voice broke. "The answer appeared in Julian's mind. 'It lasts forever and will last forever because God loves it."
At the word love, I lost all power to hold back my tears at the loss of her. How could I go on without her, my friend who knew my soul bet- ter than any confessor? Not only that, I feared I had failed her. Failed to keep the oath I'd sworn to her almost four years ago-that I, unwor- thy though I was, would keep her book safe so it couldn't be destroyed. Her precious pages, hidden inside my pilgrim's staff, now lay at the mercy of Master Thwaite. Could he be trusted to keep his word and give it to my husband if I never saw freedom again? If so, what would John do if he discovered the manuscript?
Seeing my tears, the women, too, were moved. The oldest among them cried out to me as though I were her daughter. "Alas, Mistress Margery! Why should you be burned?"
"They might burn me," I called down. "But they can never burn the truth."
P. 286
"What do you say to this, Margery Kempe?" the abbot asked.
"I receive absolution from a priest at least once a year," I answered honestly. It would have been prudent to stop there, but my tongue would not be still. "Yet above all, I believe in the power of divine love and redemption."
Now I understood why these men feared and hated me so much. If I could live in union with my Beloved and seek his grace and goodness in my heart, what need had I for any of them? Unlike Julian and the other Holy Sisters I'd met on my travels, I hadn't renounced the world but was living in it. An ordinary wife of Lynn could touch the divine. And so usurp these men's power.