Abstract
Julian of Norwich, Theologian
Denys Turner
New Haven and London: Yale University, 2011. 262 pp. $40.00
The title may seem obvious: yes, we know that Julian of Norwich was a theologian. So, is there anything new here? Well known for his formidable ability to analyze medieval theology, Denys Turner first admits that, although he had known for years that Julian’s “Revelation offers a complex, rich, and also coherent vision that falls into the shape of a genuinely ‘systematic’ theology,” he “had not got the hang of how it does so” (ix). When Turner, an admirably old-fashioned Thomist, realized that Julian’s method is neither linear (scholastic), nor circular (contemplative-monastic), but rather a sort of spiral progression through a central theme, his careful analysis of her profound work could then probe how she handled the persistent puzzle of sin. How can it be, within a coherent Christian theology, that “sinne is behovely”? Turner’s close reading of Julian’s every word turns on her choice of this one word, “behovely” (fitting), and ponders how sin can “fit” into God’s plan of salvation including, naturally, the incarnation and Christ crucified, so central to Julian’s own experience.
Turner takes on this challenge with skill, arguing at times against other interpreters such as David Aers, and with warmth, openly praising and commending Julian’s guidance into profound matters. Along the way he examines her trinitarian framework, with brief reference to the subtleties of “Jesus as mother,” her christocentric focus on the Cross as a predicament, and the passages where she seems vulnerable to the heresy charges of being an “autotheist” or a Pelagian or a dualist (185–91). For Turner’s Julian, this all hangs together: “Everything in Julian links up with everything else synthetically” (216), and it all hangs on how sin fits in. “The logic of the behovely is narratival” (43). The story that sin tells of itself perversely blames God and projects wrath into the divine purpose. But “the Cross reveals sin for what it ultimately is, the refusal of an absolute and unconditional love” (125). The true story, the one where there is a full coherence of sin and providence, of human freedom and divine causality, the narrative revealing how “God is nothing at all except love” (122, emphasis original) is, however, still unfolding and cannot be known until its end, the ultimate end of the beatific vision. “For theology is story; and the vision of God is the end of the story” (115). Thus, for Turner, Julian was right to say that her book is “not yet performed,” that the narrative is incomplete in this life (115–28), an appeal to the eschatological mystery that is finally an act of faith. Although such a move may not satisfy some systematic theologians, Turner conveys such a sensitive appreciation for the depths of Julian’s thought that most readers will be won over.
Yes, we already knew that Julian was a theologian: Theology Today devoted an issue to “Welcoming Medieval Christian Women Theologians” (April 2003) wherein F.C. Bauerschmidt gave such a glimpse of Julian’s theology, as he does in his new book. But how she was a subtle, coherent, faithful, and even profound theologian of the ultimate mystery is Denys Turner’s welcome contribution to the field.