Lockdown Reading
There was mention in Church Chat a few weeks ago of Julian of Norwich’s ‘Revelations’ as a source of comfort during the lockdown.
I too, have been finding the work of this 14th century visionary something of a go-to. Struggling to reconcile my feeling that ‘staying safe’ at the expense of others is decidedly un-Christian while abiding by the socially responsible rules of ‘staying home,’ has taken a toll on what I can only call my principals. How can we be grateful for our comfort and safety with others imperiled? Is this what it means to “experience a wondrous mix of well and woe?”
One theologian who has recognized Julian as a prophet for the 21st century Is Matthew Fox, who has written a short and accessible guide: Julian of Norwich: Wisdom in a Time of Pandemic—And Beyond. Fox positions the anchoress as a ‘fully woke woman,’ a visionary whose wisdom should resonate with us on more levels than her ability to shelter in place while simultaneously embodying compassion for her community: Julian spoke about patriarchies, environmental sustainability and (most anachronistically) – the theology of optimism.
Fox organises his study of Julian into seven lessons – all of which, through his lens, are indeed ‘woke,’ 21st century, and exceedingly wise in the era of Covid. My particular favourite is chapter three, which ‘calls us to deep reflection on the divinity to be found in nature, and in all beings that dwell in nature.’
Some nights ago, with Julian set aside, wide awake at three am, I went to the shelves and pulled down a book that I have been carrying around for three decades, unread, simply because it has my grandmother’s handwriting on the front cover. This book, written by a woman who lived for some time in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia, about twenty minutes away from where I was brought up, is one of the most beautiful celebrations of the wonders of the natural world I have ever read.
That’s what I thought on page one. On page three, came an even more miraculous recognition, because on page three, the author writes:
An anchorite’s hermitage is called an anchorhold; some anchor holds were simple sheds clamped to the side of a church like a barnacle to a rock. I think of this house clamped to the side of Tinker Creek as an anchor hold. It holds me at anchor to the rock bottom of the creek itself and it keeps me steadied in the current, as a sea anchor does, facing the stream of light pouring down. It’s a good place to live; there’s a lot to think about.
Fox sees Julian the anchoress’ worship of a creative divine alive in the work of Emily Dickinson. I see it in Annie Dillard’s A Pilgrim of Tinker Creek.
May you all find much to think about in your reading this winter…
https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=x94JEAAAQBAJ
https://www.waterstones.com/book/pilgrim-at-tinker-creek/annie-dillard/9781848250789
(unsurprisingly, the UK edition of Tinker Creek is published by Canterbury Press Norwich)
