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By Gertrud Jaron Lewis
Published in (Vox Benedictina 8/2 (Winter 1991),
297–322.)
republished on our website with the author’s
permission
Tradition in the Catholic Church throughout the centuries has been used as a
stringent and weighty argument in many key decisions. In doing so, however, the
Church unfortunately has all but ignored one half of her own tradition, i.e.
our feminine Christian history. To be sure, a number of women were canonised by
the Vatican if they – from the curia’s point of view – could
serve as examples for the rest of us. In their vitae and legends, most often
written by clergymen, these women – and notably Mary heading their
procession – were usually represented as spineless, submissive, and
asexual.
One
way to revitalise our lost history is to pay much more careful attention to the
contributions of women in the Church.(2) Because not very many women saints
left behind documents of their own, the writings of the holy women that are
extant become all the more essential. The works of the thirteenth-century
Helfta scholars,(3) of whom St. Gertrud is one, offer us such an important
focus of studies. The following considerations are based exclusively on the
writings of Gertrud von Helfta (1256–1301/02). They represent an attempt
to contribute to the on-going discussion of “women in the Church.”
What
is extant of the voluminous work of Gertrud of Helfta is the Legatus divinae
pietatis (consisting of five so-called “books,” the second of
which was written by Gertrud herself, while the others were composed by her
sisters in community following her own dictations or ruminations) and the
Spiritual Exercises.(4)
God in the Writings of Gertrud von Helfta
Gertrud’s rich metaphors, while firmly rooted in the imagery of the
religious prose of her time, account for the beauty of her poetic language of
mysticism. A lengthy passage will convey an impression of Gertrud’s hymnic
prose:
O
eternal solstice, secure abode, place of total delight, paradise of perennial
pleasures, flooded over with rivers of inestimable voluptuousness! One is
attracted by the spring-like greening of a manifold beauty, charmed by a sweet
sound, all the sweeter by melodies of the musicians; one is refreshed by the
fragrance of vital spices, inebriated by the free flowing sweetness of inner
savour, and changed by the miraculous tenderness of secret embraces! O three
times happy, four times blessed, and – if one may say so – a hundred
times saintly are those who let themselves be moved by the guidance of your
grace and deign to approach with innocent hands, pure hearts, and clean lips. O
what sight, what sound, what fragrance, what taste, what feeling! But how
little of this can my embarrassed tongue stammer! Although – favoured by
divine grace in spite of my faults and negligence – I was able to enter
there, [but] I am as if surrounded by a thick shell and probably cannot
understand anything. For even if all the capabilities of angels and human
beings were united in one worthy science, it still would not suffice to form a
single word that could, even distantly, come close to express adequately such
extraordinary excellence (L. II, viii, 5).
The
“eternal solstice” (an image also to be found in St. Bernard of
Clairvaux) sets the tone for this passage. Images of flowering and greening are
combined with the fragrance of pleasant spices – often to be found in
Gertrud’s work. We then read of the metaphorical drunkenness, of the
conjuring up of symbolic numbers, and again and again encounter superlatives.
The author also enumerates all the spiritual senses, but finds that even they
are unable to express the ineffable mystical experience. After the unusual
image of the “thick shell” of her negligence which she cannot break,
the writer then states, with St. Paul, that not even all angelic or human
tongues combined could satisfactorily express the enormity of her experience.
The
topos of ineffability relates to the experience of the divine in Gertrud’s
work. Thus most images in her writing make an – often frustrated –
attempt to express something about God and about the mystical relationship
between God and the human being. For the ineffable can only be approached by
means of analogies and metaphors.(5) Some of Gertrud’s images are routine
for mediaeval mystics, although no less impressive for all that, and some
metaphors have become so common in the Church’s liturgical language that
we scarcely stop to think about them any more. Thus, mystical experiences stand
behind such images as “God is light,” “Christ the sun,”
“the divinity as an abyss,” and “the eternal solstice”
found in the above quotation.
Gertrud of Helfta does not compose a systematic theology.)6) Even her
representation of the Trinity is given in the context of a meditation in which
God becomes present in order to alleviate human frailty: God Father the
Almighty [Deus Pater – sua divina omnipotentia], God the Son as the
inscrutable Wisdom [Filius Dei – inscrutabilis sapientia], and the
Holy Spirit as God’s benevolence [Spiritus Sanctus – benignitas
ipsius] (L. IV, xxv, 1, 1–11).
Of
perhaps special interest in our context is the fact that the mediaeval mystics
felt quite comfortable with the notion of the feminine aspects of God.
Something which has been overshadowed for the past three millennia of the
Judeo-Christian religion is that the image of God as male is not a literal
statement of fact but, rather, an analogy.(7) It is therefore essential to
recall that anything said about God is nothing more than an attempt to express
a certain aspect of the divine. To try to understand God by means of analogous
feminine aspects is to make the concept of God viable for women as well.(8)
This desire for an added dimension to our concept of God is nothing new and
certainly not limited to the past few decades.(9)
In
her spiritual writings, Gertrud of Helfta (like many rnediæval authors)
uses abstract terms to denote the divine, such as “goodness,”
“kindness,” “mercy,” “peace,” and
“truth” – terms with a feminine gender in Latin. But her use of
imagery is still more specific. Numerous similes show Christ as a mother:
Christ in his wisdom acts like a wise mother (L. IV, v, 4, 13ff.); shields us
from harm like a protective mother (L. III, lxxxiii, 1, 4ff.); takes care of us
like a mother (L. V, xxvii, 4, 8 ff.); loves like a mother (L. III, lxxi, 2,
2ff.); and is even jealous like a mother (L. III, lxiii, 1, 11ff.).(10)
Sometimes Gertrud combines the notion of motherliness with that of fatherliness
to great effect. Offering paternal protection, “the Lord” presses her
like a mother against her breasts so that she is safe from dangers during the
hazardous ocean voyage of life (L. V, xxv, 3, 6ff.), and similarly we find
elsewhere juxtaposed the benignitas paterna with the quasi mater
(L. IV, xiii, 1, 8ff.). She also uses the image of the pelican, much favoured
in mediaeval writings, ”who opens his side to nurse the young ones with
blood from his fatherly heart, as St. Gertrud rephrases the account (L. III,
xviii, 12,12).
This
pelican image forms part of the metaphoric motif of the Deus lactans
(i.e. the nursing God) which itself is connected with the theme of the Sacred
Heart that played a major role(12) in the writings of the Helfta mystics, as
Caroline Walker Bynum has shown. While many of us may have been repelled from
devotion to the Sacred Heart devotion through the (mainly nineteenth-century)
iconographic kitsch of a thorn-crowned heart placed on the garment of a feeble
Christ image, the Middle Ages understood this theme quite differently because
it was believed that mother’s milk consisted of a mixture of blood and
milk. Hence Christ’s bleeding side wound is seen as his motherly source of
our spiritual food.(13)
There
are further metaphors of God, more or less stereotypical and favoured in St.
Gertrud’s time, such as the many images based on the Song of Songs (in
which St. Bernard was a major influence on the Helfta nuns). Gertrud’s
formulations of bridal images strike us in general as emphasising a mature
relationship between the “spouses” in their union of love. But she
also breaks the cliché-like sameness of many bridal metaphors with an
occasional suggestive erotic image, as when she uses the analogy that serious
sins are as much an obstacle to divine love as a “much folded garment of
the spouse impeding the marital embrace” (L. III, lxxxvi, 1, 13ff.).
In
Gertrud’s writings the terms “God” and “Christ” are
usually interchangeable. But occasionally we find a distinction made: thus,
Christ lets her understand that the sight of God is unbearable for human
weakness and is only accessible in the life after death (L. IV, liv, 3). But
Gertrud also reports two high points in her mystical life – both seen in
connection with the Eucharist – when Christ so—to-speak presents her
to the Father (L. IV, xxviii, 1, 4ff. and IV, xxxvi, 2, 3ff.). Her positive
image of God leads Gertrud to state that it is impossible for God’s loving
kindness not to show mercy to a human being (L. III, lxxii, 3, 4f.). In fact,
God is whatever anyone may need at any given time: mother, friend, spouse (L.
IV, I, 2).
A
typical passage for Gertrud is her visionary image of the Trinity presented in
a scene of a solemn liturgical feast which is celebrated in the heavenly court
in honour of Mary. She here succeeds in describing the joy of the trinitarian
God without a trace of banality:
The
entire Trinity erupts in joy – deep as an abyss, overflowing, and
benevolent – and as if moved by admiration sings most clearly ... (L. IV,
xlviii, 12, 25ff.).
Gertrud’s images are most often characterised by a special dignity. In
contrast to the representations of the suffering Christ figure as found in
literature and art of the Gothic period, Christ in her writings is usually seen
as the king (L. IV, iii, 1, 10 etc.). To be sure, she does not ignore
Christ’s passion, as is amply shown in her Spiritual Exercises
(especially “Life in Death”, E. VII) and in a detailed vision account
of Christ’s scourging (L. IV, xv, 4). But in general, her work reflects
more the image of the triumphant Christ on the cross, as depicted in Romanesque
art”, than the late mediaeval Man of Sorrows picture.
The
incarnated Son of God longs for the human being (L. IV, v, 4, 6ff.), entices
the human being with his love as a fox lures his prey (L. III, xxi, 1, 15). He
encourages the human being, as Gertrud shows in one of her most beautiful
images, to soar through heavenly contemplation high up above himself to my face
like a fast eagle supported by the seraphic wings of daring love .... (L. III,
lxxiii, 1, 16ff).
Gertrud’s accent lies on Christ’s humanity and humanness, as is
typical for the piety of the thirteenth century. She paints a benevolent
Dominus who occasionally smiles at or is even amused at us humans (L.
111, xxx, 12, 3, etc.); he is shown “in a benign cheerfulness”
(Filius Dei cum benigna hilaritate: L. IV, xxiv, 1, 14) and with “a
serene face” (L. IV, xxxv, 1, 11 and similarly xxix, 1, 6). Jesus is her
friend and her spouse who tenderly caresses her chin – a gesture that is
repeated like a motif in her Legatus (e.g. IV, ii, 12, 9; V, i, 15, 7f.
and iii, 1, 18 etc.). Christ is the beloved and loving God made Man who conveys
both dignity and nobility to us humans.
The Human Being in Gertrud von Helffa's Work
A) The Deified Human Being
It is
Gertrud’s understanding of humankind that makes her unique among the
mediaeval women mystics. For Gertrud von Helfta herself speaks as a confident
Christian monastic without acknowledging the Church’s patriarchy. Thus she
writes the entire Spiritual Exercises from a female perspective,
expressed through the feminine grammatical endings in her Latin original. Such
female prayer is – unfortunately – unusual for women in the Church
even now, because for centuries women have been expected to pray under a male
persona in absolutely all liturgical prayers. At the same time, Gertrud freely
adapts well-known Bible passages so that as a woman she can identify with them.
She sees herself, for instance, in the parable of the prodigal son as the
“prodigal daughter” (E. IV, 184), and she takes the place of St. John
by leaning her own head against Christ’s chest in a visionary scene of the
Last Supper (V, xxxii, 2, 3).
Gertrud seems to do all this quite naturally and without being aware of the
uniqueness of her self-confident femininity, for she neither explains herself
nor does she make any excuses. At the same time, it would be missing the point
to interpret her unabashed femininity as a naiveté caused by a life
spent within monastic enclosure. For the Church’s misogyny was so
ubiquitous that a woman as intelligent and well-read as Gertrud von Helfta
could not possibly have missed it. And yet, she is unbroken in her female
self-confidence.(15)
It
may well be Gertrud’s unerring femininity that caused a much delayed and
very jagged reception of her work during the last 700 years.(16) It is also
very likely because of her unabashed womanliness that Pierre Doyère, her
modern editor and translator, has in mind when he derogatorily speaks of her
puérilités.(17)
To be
sure, Gertrud’s writings also carry the inevitable humility topoi that we
find in all contemporary monastic works (e.g. L. III, xxiii, 1, 7). She sees
herself as a “worm on the sand of laxity” (L. II, vi, 1, 5f.), as
“dust” (L. II, ix, 2, 1) and the like. But the fact that she as a
woman was chosen and made to write does not come up as a problem at any place.
When she mentions weakness, she speaks of “human frailty” (L. IV,
vii, 2, 2), rather than using the cliché of feminine weakness.(18)
The
discussion of the following text passages that deal with the image of the human
being relates to both men and women. But we may assume that woman is really in
the foreground of Gertrud’s thoughts since the text is a testimony to her
own experiences and insights.
Of
central importance is the incomparable dignity of the human being. In many
metaphors and similes the author points to the significance of the individual
in the eyes of God.
When
she describes herself in yet another passage as resting against Jesus’
chest in the famous pose of St. John,(19) she believes she ought to free
herself from the embrace in order to serve God more actively (L. III, v, 1).
But Jesus encloses her in his arms, again stating that he cannot live without
her. He explains this with the analogy of an amputated limb of the body which
one would not miss if it had never been there; but since it had been a part of
the body, it is sorely missed. Alluding to the idea of the mystical body of
Christ,(20) Gertrud thus emphasises the irreplaceability of the individual.
Like
most of her contemporaries, Gertrud von Helfta sees a dichotomy between body
and soul (e.g. E. VI, 612f.) and she understands the body as the soul’s
prison (e.g. L. V, xxix, 1, 10). Nevertheless the human being as a whole is
accepted by Christ as an image of the divine. In an account of a visionary
scene which starts with a reference to Genesis 1: 26 Ad imaginem quippe Dei
factus est homo, she explains:
And
then [the Lord] kissed her eyes and ears, and also her mouth and heart, her
hands and feet, and each time he repeated in a pleasant chant the same words
with which he renewed in her soul the divine image and likeness in the most
dignified way (L. IV, xiv, 7, 11ff.).
The
entire creation and the creator share in this nobility and perfection, as is
stated elsewhere (L. I, viii, 1, 17).
The
decisive cause for Gertrud’s positive image of humankind is Christ’s
incarnation. For by becoming human, Christ “in his spring-like youthful
beauty” has ennobled human nature and made it worthy to be given as a gift
to the Father (L. IV, xli, 1, 7-18). Christ’s incarnation is, in fact, a
major theme in Gertrud’s work. But while she does not dwell on particular
events in Jesus’ life, as do many other writers of her time, her interest
centres on the divine human being, the God made man, who in his humanity
exemplifies God’s greatness and at the same time invites all human beings
to participate in the divine nature, thus literally “deifying” us
humans.
Many
passages in Gertrud’s writings express this thought. In one of the hymnic
passages of the Exercitia (VI, 180) for instance, Gertrud calls to
Christ: “You who are seated in my flesh at the right hand of the
Father” and similarly “you, in my flesh, are God and King” (E.
VI, 106f.). In her second book of the Legatus (II, xi, 1, 10), she
writes “he who is with God in my substance” and, as she formulates
elsewhere, the “bodily substance [is taken] from our earth” in order
that Christ be able to espouse the human being (E. III, 103f.). Thus
Christ’s incarnation is the prerequisite for the bridal metaphors: only
the Son of God made man enables her to understand herself as Christ’s
spouse.(21) In her interpretation of the Incarnation, Gertrud even goes as far
as to claim that through his humanity Christ is literally forced to be merciful
to us humans (L. III, vii, 1, 11ff.). And it is here that Gertrud bases the
important notion of “making amends” (suppletio) which plays a
thematic role in her writings (e.g. L. II, v, 4, 1–4) and in many
spiritual works of her time.
Christ’s incarnation sanctifies humankind. Christ’s humanity within
the Trinity enables the human being to participate in the divine (L. II, xi,
1). And the Son of God deifies us humans through his bridal love: “I am
giving you all my saintliness, both of my divinity and my humanity” (L.
III, xviii, 1, 6ff.). Thus the human being is even elevated above the angels as
“the Lord” tells Gertrud in one of her vision dialogues (L. III, ix,
4, 22). And Gertrud emphasises that all humans are the younger offspring of the
firstborn Son of God (L. IV, iii, 7, 12ff.).
Gertrud von Helfta herself fully realised this human dignity in her life. Her
sovereign attitude is based on the liturgical word “to serve is to
reign” (E. IV, 108f.). In that she knows herself standing on an equal
footing with Jesus she is not a hireling who serves her master abjectly (L. II
xiii, 1, I1f.). And while the mystery of the incarnation grants this dignity to
all humans, Gertrud is herself conscious of having been especially chosen (e.g.
L. IV, iii, 2, 7ff.). But she also insists that any human being whose will
conforms with God’s will and who strives for the glory of God can equally
be chosen (L. IV, xiv, 5, 16ff.).
St.
Gertrud’s firm belief in her special standing is based on her mystical
experience of January 27, 1281, of which the Book Two of the Legatus
gives testimony. This text is a hymn of jubilation, praise and gratitude
“from the deepest abyss of humility” for the angelic life that she
has been granted since that day of her conversion. It was then that Gertrud
became conscious of the divine presence within her soul in which Christ treated
her like a friend and a spouse, and where he found his delight from then on (L.
II, xxiii, 5). Except for one short interval, the knowledge of God’s
presence in her soul from then on never left her (L. II, xxii, 1, 13f.). The
author repeatedly refers to St. John 14: 23 in this connection: “If anyone
loves me he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we shall come
to him and make our home with him.” And in one of her typical paradoxical
formulations she states: the more manifest her unworthiness becomes, the more
brilliantly shines the glory of the divine loving kindness within her (L. II,
xxii, 1, 20ff.).
Gertrud’s conscious participation in Christ’s divinity and the firm
knowledge of her chosenness account for her sovereign attitude as revealed in
the many courtly expressions of her prose: The one who shares the King’s
bed must be called Queen (L. III, viii, 1, 30f.); Christ the Emperor made her
his Empress (L. IV, ii, 15, 12f.); Christ awaits the commands of his Domina
regina (L. III, xxxiii, 1, 3f.); and many other similar images. Though
humble, Gertrud shows no false shame, for she knows that her chosenness is not
the result of her own achievements but solely a gratuitous gift of grace (L.
II, xx, 10, 4f.). She freely acknowledges the working of the Holy Spirit in her
and understands herself as a divine tool (L. 11, xx, 2, 16).
B) The Human Being as Priest
For a
proper evaluation of Gertrud von Helfta’s image of humankind, her
understanding of the priesthood needs to be discussed. In her view, the
priesthood belongs to the entire Church, for as “the Lord” had told
her, “Does not the promise I once made to St. Peter belong to the entire
church?” (L. 1, xiv, 4, 5f.). In this context then Gertrud speaks of her
own specific vocation to the priesthood. Grounds for her claim are given in two
passages where the mystic sees herself as Christ’s representative. It is
here that she surpasses by far her previously reported statements about her
chosenness.
II is
in the Third Book of the Legatus (xii, 2) where we find a scene that
begins with a topos of ineffability because “it is impossible to put this
down in writing.” During an experience of a mystical union, Christ grants
St. Gertrud the grace of transfiguration, that is, she becomes transfigured
– just as Jesus was on Mount Tabor – “so that both her body and
her soul appear miraculously in glory brilliant as lightning.” This is to
say, she does not witness a transfiguration as a spectator, as did the three
apostles, but rather she herself is being transfigured just as Christ before
her.
The
second passage is found in Legatus Book Four when Christ tells Gertrud
that
all
those who entrust themselves to your prayers or who think they might wish your
intercession, will thereby receive salvation in the same way as the Israelites
did who were bitten by poisonous snakes and were healed by looking at the
bronze serpent that Moses lifted up in the desert upon my command (L. IV, ii,
10, 14ff.).
The
elevated salvific serpent (cf. Num. 21: 4–8), which in John 3: 14 is
interpreted as a foreshadowing of the Saviour on the cross, is here equated
with Gertrud. Just as the Israelites were saved by looking at the serpent, all
those will be saved who make use of Gertrud as an intermediator. The passage
again suggests a parallel between Christ and Gertrud.
It is
before this background of Gertrud’s full identification with Christ that
the passages in which the mystic speaks of her own priestly power of binding
and loosing must be understood. The most explicit report of Gertrud’s
spiritual ordination is given within a liturgical context. During the gospel
reading in the Easter octave, when she heard that Christ breathed the Holy
Spirit onto his disciples, she too asked for God’s Spirit. And then the
text reads:
Thereupon the Lord breathed on her and gave her, too, the Holy Spirit and said:
Receive the Holy Spirit within you: For those whose sins you forgive, they are
forgiven. To that she replied: Lord, how can this be, since this power of
binding and loosing has been given to priests alone? The Lord answered:
Whenever you, by the judgment of my Spirit, deem anyone as not guilty, I too
will hold this one as not guilty; and whose cause you judge as guilty, he will
also appear guilty before me. For I will speak through your mouth (L. IV,
xxxii, 27–37).
The
text refers verbatim to John 20: 22f., i.e. the calling of the apostles to the
priesthood, and Gertrud applies this passage to herself. Curiously enough, she
specifically questions “the Lord” whether he really means what he is
saying, for she wants to be doubly sure. And, in fact, she is reassured that
this priestly power has been granted to her.
There
are a number of similar passages in the Legatus. In Book One of
Gertrud’s vita, the scene resembles the giving of the sacrament of
ordination. Christ again uses the passage of binding and loosing – this
time from Matthew 16: 19 – and then we read:
And
touching her tongue, he says to her: See, I have put my words into your mouth
[Jer 1: 191]. And I am confirming with my truth all the words that you, under
the guidance of the Spirit, will say to anyone for my sake. And whenever you
promise something to anyone through my goodness, I will certainly confirm it in
heaven (L. I, xiv, 4,11–15).
Gertrud, moreover, receives the assurance that she will never misjudge (ibid.
4, 19ff.), for God will speak through her (ibid. 5, 10ff.). In Book Four we
then read that St. Peter, whom she sees in a vision in his papal vestments,
confirms her priestly calling with reference to the same Matthew passage and
that he blesses Gertrud with his own hand (L. IV, xliv, 2, 1ff.). Essential
components of the sacrament of priesthood are thus given.
In
the Second Book of her own Legatus, Gertrud reports how she actually
made use of her power of binding and loosing in her office as spiritual
counselor. Her grace-given certainty of discernment enabled her to help those
afflicted by guilt:
You
moreover assured me, the utmost unworthy one: everyone who comes to me with a
sorrowful heart and in spiritual humility to reveal a mistake, and whose
mistake will be deemed large or small by me, will be judged correspondingly as
guilty or not guilty by you, merciful God (L. II, xx, 2. 3ff.).
The
text leaves little doubt that Gertrud von Helfta is convinced she was called to
function as a confessor.(22) Other similar situations show Gertrud committed to
such priestly functions as preaching and spiritual counselling. “The
Spirit prompted what she said”(Acts 6: 1), writes the author of her vita
(L. I, i, 3, 14), and she devotes an entire chapter (L. I, xii) to
Gertrud’s pastoral activities. Starting with the Rule of St. Benedict
(64), the biographer compares Gertrud favourably with the apostles: Gertrud is
a skilled and convincing speaker and rarely has bored listeners; she usually
gets what she bargains for, even from stubborn people; sometimes her words of
wisdom are shocking for her sisters in community so that some of them even
prayed that she might lose her zealousness, but Christ defended Gertrud’s
passion for the good cause. And the author of the vita concludes this section
by stating that often a single word from Gertrud’s mouth was more
efficient than lengthy homilies by famous preachers:
Moreover, she talked so pleasantly and compellingly, in such skilled speech and
convincingly, efficient and full of grace, that most people who heard her were
moved in their hearts and converted in their wills and testified in truth that
God’s Spirit spoke out of her (L. 1, i, 3, 10“15).
Thus
a great number of people from outside the monastery sought Gertrud’s help.
Her extraordinary gift of discernment enabled Gertrud to give satisfying
answers to many different questions and solve the problems of those who came
for advice (L. I, xi, 12).
Gertrud was specifically called to function as an intermediary between God and
humankind. After she offered her own will to God, Christ designated
Gertrud’s heart as a source for his grace (L. III, xxx, 2, 16ff.). Her
heart was to be, as it were, a connecting link to lead the fullness of grace
from the divine heart to her fellow human beings (L. III, lxvi, 1, 1ff.). And
the biographer assures us how seriously Gertrud took this task:
… she saw herself as a connecting link through which according to a secret
divine plan, grace could flow to the chosen ones of God (L. 1, xi, 1, 8f f.).
Gertrud’s awareness and acceptance of this intermediary function explain
why she freely talks about the graces bestowed on her (ibid. 35ff.).
Gertrud’s main intention in her priestly mission is to encourage frequent
communion – in contradiction to the official attitude of the contemporary
clergy. She argues that Christ gave us this sacrament precisely so that we
repeatedly receive communion in memory of him, for this is how he intended to
remain with us since he is delighted to be with humankind (Prov. 8: 31).
Therefore nobody must impede others, either by words or suggestions, for
instance from receiving communion, as occasionally happens (L. III, lxxvii, 1):
the value of communion is incomparably higher than abstaining from this
sacrament (L. IV, xiii, 5). And the communicant’s intention of revealing
the divine goodness by receiving the sacrament overshadows his personal
unworthiness. With this critical statement, Gertrud relies on a direct divine
illumination for which she praises God (L. II, xix, 2).
In
connection with this crucial issue, an episode in Gertrud’s life gains
special meaning. During an absence of their confessor, Gertrud once takes over
his function and advises all those who come to her for counsel to receive
communion. Thereafter it is revealed to her in a vision how all the Helfta
sisters who followed her advice were richly showered with graces, but how those
who abstained through fear and did not trust Gertrud’s advice were left
with empty hands. Her priestly decision was thus confirmed (L. IV, vii, 4).
Gertrud’s discussions about communion basically plead for daily communion
which was permitted to the clergy in daily mass, but ruled out for nuns and lay
people.(23) Gertrud complains in her prayers about the huge advantage enjoyed
by priests in this matter, and is given the response that for many priests
there is no real merit in their daily communion because it has become routine
for them (L. III, xxxvi, 1) – a most frustrating answer, as we can sense
even now.
The
vita tells us how Gertrud protested against the many signs of extraordinary
grace given to her, how she saw herself as dust and ashes and unworthy of her
priestly powers. But, the biographer explains, “the Lord” confirmed
her priestly functions by telling her:
All
those who are downcast and sad and who humbly and truly seek to be consoled by
your words, their expectations will never be thwarted, for I, God, am living in
you (L. I, xiv, 5, 20–23).
Gertrud’s priesthood, then, is based on God’s presence in her soul
which, in the Helfta women’s understanding, is the only indispensable
prerequisite for an ordination.
For
Gertrud’s call to the priesthood does not simply rely on a silent
agreement between her divine friend and herself. Her sisters in community know
of Gertrud’s priestly function and recognize it fully and publicly. Thus
Domna M. (presumably Mechthild von Hackeborn) sees in a vision the confirmation
of Gertrud’s role as a mediator (L. I, xiv, 6, 7ff.). Gertrud, who
sometimes doubts her own calling, has asked the other Helfta nuns to help her
in properly discerning her priestly vocation (L. I, xvi, I, 1ff.). All the
answers that are given to her sisters, be it in prayers or visions, confirm
incontestably Gertrud’s priestly position and they confirm that Christ,
with whom Gertrud is mystically united, fully supports her and that her
priestly task will remain with her until the end of her life (ibid.). The
biographer closes this discussion with the lapidary statement: “One thing
therefore, is certain: this gift flows from God” (L. I, xvi, 3, 4f.).
c)
INNER FREEDOM (24)
C) Inner Freedom (24)
Gertrud’s own libertas cordis (freedom of heart) is described by
her biographer in this crucial passage:
Freedom of spirit shone so brightly in her that nothing at all that was
contrary to her conscience was tolerable to her for even a moment. And God
commended her for this, for when a certain devout person asked in prayer what
was most pleasing to God in this chosen one [i.e. Gertrud] he received the
answer: Her freedom of heart. But much surprised, and as if belittling this
response, the person said: I reckon, Lord, that she had through your grace
already achieved a greater knowledge and fervent love of you. The Lord
[replied]: It is, indeed, as you have thought; but this happened by means of
that grace of freedom which is so good that it leads directly to supreme
perfection. For she is found ready to receive my gifts at any hour because she
never permits her heart to cling to anything that would be an obstacle for me
(L. I, xi, 7).
Gertrud herself acknowledges this gift of grace – i.e. her inner freedom
– on several occasions (e.g. E. VII, 495) and she sees it as a consequence
of conscious ascetic striving. We here encounter the key terms of abnegare,
abstrahere, abstinere, adnihilare and the image of the shaking loose of all
enslaving fetters that chain us to the human condition. To be sure, she does
not advocate an asceticism for its own sake but rather as a process of becoming
free for God. The important mystical term of vacare, i.e. the emptying
of the self in order to make possible the Spirit’s in-dwelling, is
combined with the term freedom in the Legatus (IV, xlviii, 15, 24).
Gertrud’s inner freedom renders her carefree. The terms securus
(which originally meant “without care”) and liber (i.e. free),
are often joined together in her writings. But her carefree attitude is based
on full confidence in God and has nothing in common with a naive ignoring of
burning problems. On the contrary, we find again and again how much she was
aware of the frequent wars in the Germany of her time (e.g. L. IV, lii, 5, 3);
how she was involved in helping to solve the many difficulties her own
community encountered (L. III, xvi, 1, 12); and how much she was burdened by
the real needs of the people who came to her for advice. Moreover, like many of
her sisters in community, she herself often falls ill: she once even suffered
from the plague (L. III, iii, 1, 26). But all this cannot detract from her
unconditional freedom for God.
Admittedly, Gertrud’s words and acts are often radical. Her carefree
attitude excludes any trace of fear, even though there was ground for caution
at a time when heretics were already persecuted by the official Church. Her
writings, indeed, testify to a highly critical stand against many of the
aberrations in a Church that badly needed an inner reform. Thus she objects to
the cult of relics (L. IV, lii, 3, 4ff.); she speaks against payments for
indulgences (L. III, xi, 1 and others); and she prays to God the creator that
he simultaneously be a reformer (E. I, 220). And of course, as has been shown,
she claims priestly functions for herself – even though women had long
since been excluded from the priesthood by canon law – and she ignores the
petty ruling of the Church restricting communion for lay people.
Gertrud von Helfta was a personality who had found herself and God in herself,
and who then lived a life which unconditionally followed her convictions. This
is how she obtained an inner freedom which not only made her overcome fear and
worries but which also expressed itself in a subtle humour and in her
magnificent jubilus. Both need to be mentioned briefly because they not
only characterise Gertrud’s personality but they also are an important
aspect of her images of God and the human being.
Some
of the examples Gertrud gives are sure to have struck even her contemporaries
as funny. In Book Two of the Legatus she wants to show how very lukewarm
she was in her monastic zeal before her decisive inner conversion took place,
and she says that she then used to care about her soul as little as she cared
about the soles of her feet (L. II, ii, 1, 5f.). In a discussion of various
forms of prayers she comes up with the unusual simile that string music was at
any rate more pleasant than the bleating of sheep and oxen (L. IV, lvi, 1,
11f.) – and we can only hope that she did not refer to her
community’s liturgical choir. She sees herself as worthless as a scarecrow
but – like the scarecrow – still in charge of a task to perform (L.
I, xi, 3, 4ff.). When she explains how each part of the human body is essential
for participating in the glorification of God, she hesitates when she comes to
speak about the work of her hands because manual labour seems irreconcilable
with her intellectual work; she however finds a sly solution by suggesting that
“the Lord” may accept her holding the book while reading as an
appropriate manual activity (L. IV, xliv, 1, 20ff.).
While
some of the saints leave us with an impression of a rather negative, joyless
life, Gertrud sees herself as “happy, carefree, and liberated” (E.
VI, 790f.). Her joyous attitude explains the eminent place that the praise of
God is given in her work. The mystical jubilus, a song of joy and praise
which she brings to perfection, can be found repeatedly in her work. Perhaps
the best version is given in the sixth spiritual exercise (E. VI). This
jubilus is a hymnic praise of God comprising the entire universe in
which Gertrud’s considerable poetic talent finds its most beautiful
expression.(25)
In
conclusion, we can only deplore the fact that the Church of her time did not
pay heed to Saint Gertrud. We would be part of a happier and more equitable
Church today if in our Christian tradition women like Gertrud had been listened
to. Moreover, much of the suffering which occurred as a result of the
Protestant Reformation could, indeed, have been avoided had there been an
earlier inner reform for which Gertrud and others had called. In the event, it
took several centuries for Gertrud von Helfta to be officially accepted. But
while her canonisation in 1734 rehabilitated her as one of the great mystics in
the Church – and the only German saint with the epithet “the
Great” – her radical ideas have all but been ignored. Judging by her
complex work, I cannot help thinking that if Gertrud von Helfta were alive
today, she would be at the forefront of the current struggle of women within
the Church.
Gertrud Jaron Lewis
End Notes
1.
The following is a loose English adaptation of an essay published in Geist
und Leben 63 (1990) 53–69, a version of which was presented at a
“Peregrination” in Toronto, January 19, 1990.
2.
For a recent comprehensive survey of a feminist-oriented research into the
tradition of the Church, see Karl Elisabeth Børresen, “Women’s
Studies of the Christian Tradition,” in Contemporary Philosophy: A New
Survey, v. 6, eds. Guttorm Floistad and Raymond Klibansky (Dordrecht/Boston
/London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1990): pp. 901–1001.
3.
See the newly revised comprehensive work on the Helfta women by M. Jeremy
Finnegan, The Women of Helfta: Scholars and Mystics. 2nd ed. (Athens:
University of Georgia Press 1991).
4.
The Legatus (i.e. The Herald of Divine Love) and Exercitia
are available in a bilingual (Latin-French) critical edition by Jacques
Hourlier, Pierre Doyère [and others]: Œuvres spirituelles,
Sources chrétiennes 127, 139, 143, 255, 331 (Paris: Cerf,
1967–1987). At the point of writing, only the Exercitia is
available in English translations, the most recent of which is that by G.J.L.
and Jack Lewis: Gertrud the Great of Helfta: Spiritual Exercises,
Christian Fathers Series 49 (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications 1989). All text
references in this paper will be to the Sources chrétiennes edition;
L=Legatus, E=Exercitia.
5.
The mystics’ typical dilemma of not being able to express their
experiences and yet feeling compelled to do so – hence their wide use of
metaphors and analogies – has been much discussed. For a basic study of
this theme, see Alois Maria Haas, “Die Problematik von Sprache und
Erfahrung in der deutschen Mystik,” in Grundfragen der Mystik
(Einsiedeln: Johannes Verlag, 1974): pp. 73–104.
6.
See also Sabine B. Spitzlei, Erfahrungsraum Herz: Zur Mystik des
Zisterzienserklosters Helfta im 13. Jahrhundert, Mystik in Geschichte und
Gegenwart 1, 9 (Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann-Holzboog 1991): p. 61.
7. A
convincing case has been made by contemporary theologians for the hardships
suffered by women because of this one-sided analogy. To have tailored the image
of the divinity to fit the needs of the patriarchal society is, of course, a
travesty of God who, by definition, transcends all.
8.
For those who are comfortable with the image of God as Father, there is no
reason to change. But there are many people – not only a great number
women but also many Natives, for instance – who associate paternity with
oppression and for whom the concept of a male God is repugnant. It is surely of
benefit to all to realise that we are incapable of describing God except by
analogy. If we limit the analogy to one gender, we implicitly limit the
limitlessness of God.
9. We
find feminine God images in the works of Hildegard von Bingen, Elisabeth von
Schönau, Bernard de Clairvaux, and Anselm of Canterbury. For an early
study, see André Cabassut, “Une dévotion
médiévale peu connue – la dévotion à Jesus
notre mère” Revue d’ascétique et de mystique 25
(1949) 234–245 which has been reprinted in an English translation as
“A Mediaeval Devotion to Jesus our Mother” Cistercian Studies
21(1986): 345–355. See the more comprehensive work of Caroline Walker
Bynum, Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle
Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982).
10.
The image of the jealous God who demands sole claim of Gertrud is repeated in
L. I, xvi, 5, 7ff.
11.
The image goes back to the Physiologus, a work which originated in
second-century Alexandria and which became very popular in the Middle Ages and
was extant in three German versions dating from the eleventh and twelfth
century (cf. Wiener Prosafassung XX, 2ff.): “The Pelican is a bird
which lives in the solitude of the River Nile, whence it takes its name. …
The Pelican is excessively devoted to its children. But when these have been
born and begin to grow up, they flap their parents in the face with their
wings, and the parents, striking back, kill them. Three days afterward the
mother pierces her breast, opens her side, and lays herself across her young,
pouring out her blood over the dead bodies. This brings them to life
again” (The Bestiary: A Book of Beasts , tr. T.H. White (1954; rpt.
New York: Putnam’s, 1960): p. 132).
12.
The Sacred Heart devotion is first mentioned in the life of Lutgard of
Aywières: see Vita Lutgardis 1, 14.
13.
See Bynum, Jesus as Mother, 191ff. and Hugo Rahner, “Grundzüge
einer Geschichte der Herz-Jesu-Verehrung” Zeitschrift für Askese
und Mystik 18(1943): 61–83.
14. A
beautiful example of the victorious Christ on the cross is given in the
so-called Gero-Kreuz in the cathedral of Cologne, a Romanesque crucifix
that stems from the tenth century.
15.
See Bynum and Finnegan and their similar findings for the Helfta women in
general.
16.
See Pierre Doyère, “Succès posthume” in Œuvres
spirituelles (SC 127): pp. 14–38 and in an article that attempts to
fill the gaps in Doyère’s survey: GJ.L., “Zur Rezeption des
Werkes Gertruds von Helfta,” in Kontroversen, alte und neue 6
(Gottingen: Niemeyer 1986): pp. 3–10.
17.
Dictionnaire de spiritualité 6 (1967): 334.
18
The passage that Bynurn quotes does not necessarily translate as “weak
woman” (p. 207), even though the French text also translates it as
“faiblesse,” for the Latin word tenera with which Gertrud
refers to herself rather suggests “tender, soft.”
19.
The Christ-St. John topos was much favoured both in mediaeval literature and
art. While its artistic representation can be found in relatively early
manuscript illuminations, it was not until the late Middle Ages that it is
found in sculpture. There are still quite a number extant today.
20.
The image of the corpus mysticum is frequently found in Gertrud’s
writings, but usually in reference to the Church (e.g. L. III, xvii, 3, 13ff.).
21
See also Doyère Œuvres spirituelles (SC 127), p. 208, n. 7.
22.
Doyère’s comments at this point state the official position of the
Church in view of the mystic’s claim to priesthood: “Il ne
s’agit pas d’un rôle sacramental, mais de grâces de
lumière et de persuasion pour mettre au point dans des consciences
timorées les problèmes de la culpabilité et du pardon
…” (Œuvres spirituelles (SC 139), pp. 310f., n. 1). The
history of the sacrament of confession, however, shows that at the time of
Gertrud von Helfta, there was still great uncertainty as to whether a priest
was the only one authorised to administer this sacrament. In the chapter
“Prolonged Struggle to Suppress Confession to Laymen” of A History
of Auricular Confession and Indulgences in the Latin Church (Philadelphia:
Lea, 1896), Henry Charles Lea explains how the opinion in the Church of the
high Middle Ages varied from one authority to the next (v. 1, pp.
217–226). For instance, he quotes Albertus Magnus (ca. 1200–1280) as
stating that “confession to laymen is valid, if it is not motivated by
contempt of religion, and in case of necessity laymen and even women
have authority from God to grant absolution” (p. 222, quoting Alberti
Magni in IV. Sent. Dist. xvii, Art. lviii) [Italics mine].
23.
See Bynum, “Women Mystics and Eucharistic Devotion in the Thirteenth
Century” Women Studies 11 (1984) 179–214 and Karl Boeckl,
Die Eucharistie!ehre der deutschen Mystiker des Mittelalters (Freiburg
i.B.: Herder 1924): pp. 58–66.
24.
For further treatments of this topic see also Lillian Thomas Shank, “The
Christmas Mystery in Gertrud of Helfta” Cistercian Studies 24
(1989): 324–337, esp. pp. 336f. and G.J. Lewis, “Libertas
cordis: The Concept of Inner Freedom in Saint Gertrud the Great of
Helfta” Cistercian Studies 25 (1990): 65–74.
25.
Gertrud’s jubilus passage has been published separately in Vox
Benedictina 1 (1984): 237–247.
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