Why is Julian of Norwich not canonised by the RC Church?

This question arises now and then from visitors to my site. Though Julian has been commemorated by the Church of England since 1980, even John Paul, surely singularly prolific as regards canonisations, has failed to raise her to the altars. I would surmise that, considering the lack of biographical and other information about Julian (we do not even know her name - "Julian" being the name of the church to which she was attached), the process of canonisation in such a case would be akin to that of beatifying an anonymous author.

The only certain information regarding Julian is sparse. There is an account of her vision of Christ crucified, and development of her spiritual insights, in her own writings, then a brief reference to a visit with Julian in Margery Kempe's autobiography. We know that Julian lived to an advanced age, because some residents of Norwich were still leaving her bequests in their wills when she would have been past the point of scriptural old age. (This may not even indicate that they knew her well - benefactors may have been concerned with intercession for their souls.)

In the past, there was speculation that Julian may have been a Benedictine nun or a Beguine - and the current, popular trend (for example, in Kenneth Leech's recent writings) is to depict Julian as a married lady whose spouse and children may have perished during the Plague. I rather dislike such speculation, for all that I should be most interested were there solid facts available about Julian. It seems as if those doing the speculating are trying to construct a biography which would make Julian more 'relevant' to readers, or make it easier for women to 'identify' with her.

Julian's writings show exceptional insight - and a single-minded approach to things divine which is devoid of preoccupation with herself. This seems a common hallmark of the holy ones in any age. I believe the doctrinal richness and depth of understanding which one finds in Julian's writings should be allowed to stand on its own. Let us not ignore truths in her work, which can lead us to growth in our own lives (which we well may be trying to avoid!), by focussing on how Julian was 'more like us.'

At a distance of centuries, it is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that Julian's solitary life, so totally dedicated to prayer, was easily understood in 'her day.' Though her intercession may have been valued then (when torments of purgatory seemed to beckon at every corner, and sudden death meant total dependence on the prayers of the living), consecrated life, let alone that of the solitary, would have been a puzzlement. If the Rule for Anchoresses is any indication, others who wished to consult the solitaries were far more likely to be carrying gossip and personal woes than seeking guidance.

Another point from the Rule for Anchoresses seems quite telling - and let us not let this disappear into a haze of thinking that it merely is a sad example of women acting inferior. Anchoresses clearly were often women of learning and theological insight, and the author of the Rule reminds them to listen to the friars who may visit (whose knowledge may be less.) This seems quite a wise point! When one spends most of the time alone, especially if she is quite gifted and perhaps very advanced in prayer, her own thoughts can be very powerful. The longing for the company of others and an outlet for sharing these ideas can make one forget that the very blessing of turning inward can have another side of blotting out the blessings another may share.

Richard Rolle's poetry contains some of the loveliest reflections on the spiritual life in history. Yet he was never open to insights from others - indeed, he speaks of the larger church, particularly of friars, with unconcealed irritation. His eremetic life may have included intense, unitive prayer, but was somewhat lacking in love of God and neighbour.

Julian was hardly well known in her day. (Let us not assume that Margery trekked to Norwich because of Julian's fame. Margery was always 'trekking' somewhere.) Yet her timeless writing is a treasure that many, 6 centuries later, are only beginning to discover. That reality is far more valuable than speculation.

Not, of course, that everyone is looking for such insights, nor that most would have the slightest notion of what these mystics were encountering. Several years ago, when I visited a Catholic book store, I enquired about a new book regarding mysticism, entitled "The Satisfied Life." Though it was in stock, it was difficult to find... the book shop had placed it on the shelf marked "Human Sexuality."