Medievalish 4.1

Read something medieval this year

Dear friend,

I have three new year’s resolutions, and they are very straightforward. The first is to read the Psalms consistently. The second is to use sunscreen. The last is to floss. This is a new resolution as of two days ago, after I was scolded at the dentist). I know many people have reading resolutions, though I do not this year—one of the joys of diving into a project is that I’ll be reading a lot for the next few months.

A question I am frequently asked: what books should I read from the past? My follow-up question is always How past?? Like 1970, or, you know, the good stuff?! Just kidding, I like a book or two written in the twentieth century. But this question is nearly impossible for me to answer. What do you like? What are you interested in? What have you read?

So with joy, this post is my attempted answer, and also a gauntlet thrown down. You should read something medieval this year. Let’s go, 2025! I have given categories of things to read out of western medieval literature if you’re ready for something that will stretch brain and heart if you’re willing to receive.

Detail, The Education of Mary, English, ca. 1335, Paris, Musee de Cluny

Scenario One: I have never read anything medieval before! Where do I start? If you can only read one book, just one, from pre-1500, then you must read St. Augustine of Hippo’s Confessions. You will not believe it was written 1500 years ago. St. Augustine is often described as the last classical writer and the first medieval writer, and I happily claim him as medieval. Augustine not only writes the first sort-of-biography, his voice feels fresh, startling, modern, in a way that few writers from the past do. This African bishop will exasperate you, thrill you, make you think. He loves his mom. He will at times feel like your college philosophy major roommate who was high all the time (except absolutely brilliant instead of a solid C student). He is one of the most beautiful and influential writers about God who has ever lived. Pick up the clear and elegant translation by Sr. Maria Boulding (New City Press).

Scenario Two: I have not read any medieval literature, but I did read Confessions in college. How about something a little later, a little more “medieval”? You should read Julian of Norwich’s Showings, also sometimes entitled Revelations of Divine Love. This might be my favorite book of all time (if I could muster the strength to pick just one favorite). This lyrical, capacious, joyous and difficult account of a fourteenth-century English woman’s visions on what she thought was her deathbed challenge every reader. Julian of Norwich was the first woman writer in English, and her prose is lovely. Her theological thinking on suffering, the Incarnation, and above all the character of God as Love transformed my own faith. Read the modern English translation by Colledge and Walsh for the Classics of Western Spirituality series (Paulist Press). Or if you’re up for joyful wrestling with Middle English, read the Jenkins and Watson edition (Penn State UP).¹

Scenario Three: I want to read some medieval theology. Let’s be real, there is a definite king of later medieval theology, and his name is St. Thomas Aquinas. But let’s be realer, most of us are not capable of reading him outside of a classroom or church setting under a gifted teacher. Who can you read on your own, without the initial handholding required by the rigorous precision of scholastic language? Enjoy the almost-equally-influential St. Bernard of Clairvaux. You could go several directions with your Bernardine reading. There are some very good collections of his sermons out there, many based on the liturgical seasons. Perhaps you’d like to pick up a copy of his Lenten sermons for Lent reading (Cistercian Publications)!

Scenario Four: I’ve read Bernard. Give me a theology deep cut! I only recently read for the first time the medieval monastic and contemplative theologian, William of St-Thierry. A friend of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, this twelfth-century Cistercian monk is a gentle and prayerful writer. I loved the translation of his Meditations, with Prayer and On Contemplating God by Sr. Penelope Lawson (Cistercian Publications).

Scenario Five: No thanks on the monastic theology… Give me poetry! Give me drama and beauty and weirdness! Oh boy, medieval poetry is so wonderful.

Something short: Middle English lyric poems are strange and wondrous. The language makes me weep and think and laugh. There is a collection that has Middle English poems translated into modern verse for those who want to dip their little toe in the water. However, because they are so short that you can focus, I actually recommend cannon-balling in instead and doing the actual Middle English in a thoughtfully edited collection. My personal favorite is the critical anthology edited by R.T. Davies.

Something long and serious: There are so many I could say here—for instance, The Divine Comedy or Beowulf. Certainly read those if you have not. But I set my sights a little lower, with the poem that first led me to fall in love with Middle English poetry. If you have not read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight yet, you are in for an absolute treat. This glorious poem follows King Arthur’s noblest knight into a conundrum and features incredible alliterative verse, a green knight, a talking head, monsters and magic girdles and temptation and failure and very human things. Read in translation first, because this is written in a very difficult Middle English dialect. Do yourself a favor and don’t read a prose or non-alliterative translation—we all need more joy and beauty in our lives. I recommend either Tolkien for the LOTR fans, just because it’s fun (they also recently updated the previously cheesy cover, for those who care about such things), or Simon Armitage’s translation, which is not nearly as close in language but wonderful poetry that captures the heart of it (this is the version I prefer to teach with).

Something long and funny: Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales would make a fantastic poem for a reading resolution in 2025. At times hilarious, grotesque, sad, bizarre, and beautiful, The Canterbury Tales reminds us that humans have always been the complicated creatures who can appreciate both the humor of Will Ferrell and the philosophy of Boethius, even at the same time. Chaucer’s poem is in the most accessible dialect of Middle English, the London dialect, which directly leads to most modern dialects of English today, so you can definitely give it a shot in the Middle English! However, The Canterbury Tales is very long, so you may want to try an abridged version—the Norton is quite good in this sense, hitting the “highlights” and offering copious and helpful footnotes. If you’d prefer a translation, there’s Nevill Coghill’s translation for Penguin in an attractive clothbound edition, so that you sacrifice none of your sophistication while reading it in public.

Scenario Six: I’m a stubborn cuss/good millennial hipster/professional troublemaker. I want to read what no one else is reading casually. Make it super hard and dialectical and confusing (but awesome). Party person, have you met Piers Plowman? Good luck, and Godspeed.

Do you have any reading resolutions this year? Will you be reading any of these, or other medieval or early modern texts? Let me know in the comments, I’d love to hear about it!

What I’ve been up to this month:

• I gave a talk on Jesus the Bridegroom in medieval art and literature at the Eliot Society in Baltimore in November. If you are into nun art, Middle English contemplative poetry, and weird woodcuts, check it out. Watch it on YouTube.

• The Old Books with Grace podcast is on winter hiatus but will return soon! A special and genuine thank you to Brian, Michelle, and Cate, who all recently “bought a book” and gave a tip to my tip jar for the podcast episodes and Medievalish posts of the fall and the Advent series! I always appreciate the support, which goes straight to hosting platform fees and of course, books.

• I was so excited to share the cover of my new book, Ask of Old Paths: Medieval Virtues and Vices for a Whole and Holy Life, which comes out from Zondervan Reflective in September! Check out this post for a glimpse of what’s coming:

What I’ve been reading this month:

• Nonfiction: Still Evelyn Underhill. Still joy. Seriously can’t recommend enough.

• Fiction: This is embarrassing, but I’ve never read Redwall and am finally doing so!

• Medieval/Medieval-adjacent: back again with my gal Julian of Norwich.

• Article: “On Literary Forgiveness,” from Comment.

A Prayer from the Past

Today’s prayer is from George MacDonald (1824-1905), Scottish presbyterian pastor, nineteenth-century mystic, and profound influence on C.S. Lewis. I found it in Elizabeth Goudge’s Diary of Prayer (Coward-McCann, 1966).

O Father, help us to know that the hiding of Thy face is wise love. Thy love is not fond, doting, and reasonless. Thy bairns must often have the frosty cold side of the hill, and set down both their bare feet amongst the thorns: Thy love hath eyes, and in the meantime is looking on. Our pride must have winter weather.

Amen.

Peace for your January,

Grace

P.S. Medievalish is free, and I’d be delighted if you shared it with a friend!

---

My book, Jesus through Medieval Eyes, is now available. Find it wherever you like to buy your books, including Amazon, B&N, Thriftbooks, and your local bookstore.

1. I do not recommend starting with Middle English if you’ve never read Julian before or have no experience with the language. However, it is not the hardest Middle English text to read so if this is a repeat reading, even if you have no Middle English experience, you should absolutely give it a shot!