My whole dang sermon if anyone cares for a longer read, there may be a youtube recording at some point?

Anna sang a Hildegard piece while John B accompanied with a drone on the accordion, stunning, and then John B did Make Your Own Kind of Music

So awesome, what a dream

I wore a long white dress with my fiber bleeding heart pinned to the chest and had silvery blue makeup tears on my face

“Like a Creature All Wounded with Love”

Call to Worship:

Caritas Abundat in Omnia

Love abounds in all things

Around 1394, at twenty years old, Margery Kempe was “out of her mind” six months after giving birth for the first time.

She was very lost and very frightened, but then one night,

“on a time as she lay alone and her keepers were from her, …Jesus Christ…appeared to His creature who had forsaken Him, in the likeness of a man, most seemly, most beauteous and most amiable that ever might be seen with man’s eye, clad in a mantle of purple silk, sitting upon her bedside, looking upon her with so blessed a face that she was strengthened in all her spirit, and said to her these words: — ‘Daughter, why hast thou forsaken Me, and I forsook never thee?’ And anon, as He said these words, she saw verily how the air opened as bright as any lightning. And He rose up into the air, not right hastily and quickly, but fair and easily, so that she might well behold Him in the air till it was closed again. And anon this creature became calmed in her wits and reason, as well as ever she was before, and prayed her husband as soon as he came to her, that she might have the keys of the buttery to take her meat and drink as she had done before.

Come friends, let us be calmed (hopefully) in our wits and reason, let us worship

Sermon:

This sermon is based around The Book of Margery Kempe, which is the story of the life of a medieval mystic, told in her own words, though dictated to various scribes and edited, in the version I’ll be quoting, by W. Butler Bowden.

This book is widely considered the first autobiography in the English language, and it was almost lost! The book survived only in synopses and fragments until, in 1934, the Butler Bowden family was playing ping pong and found the leather bound book in a cabinet during a search for a new ball.

This book is a really extraordinary, vulnerable, relatable, sometimes silly, sometimes profound, and sometimes genuinely annoying picture of a Middle Class woman living in early 15th century England.

Reading it, I had the sense that 600 years was really no time at all, and I was struck, not necessarily by any sort of great spiritual wisdom in the text, but by the distinct consistent humanity of this character who’s intimate thoughts have somehow survived half a millennium, and are still making people think, and laugh, and feel kinship and roll their eyes.

Margery Kempe, our author and subject, was born around 1374, the daughter of the mayor of Bishops Lynne in England, but through her life she traveled extensively, all around England, to Santiago de Compostella in Spain, to Palestine, Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and of course to Rome, and throughout Europe. She met and spoke with many interesting figures including Julian of Norwich, and annoyed countless others.

Although Margery had that first beautiful vision of Christ which I read in the call to worship when she was around 20, it wasn’t until considerably later that she began living the life of a religious mystic in practice.

In the time that elapsed, Margery had 13 more pregnancies. She also tried, and failed, at both brewing and running a horse mill. The failure of the second business is what convinced Margery that the life God intended for her was much bigger.

So, Margery Kempe became wed to Christ, and she did this with a fervor on par with any superfan, think fainters at an Elvis concert, the fan fiction writing One Directioners, tattooed Twihards (#team edward).

Margery began having rapturous, devastating fits of faith, during which she had dalliances with saints, dwelled on the merriment in heaven, was tortured by her own propencities towards sin, and felt keenly the suffering and all consuming love of Jesus.

“She had these thoughts and these desires with profound tears, sighings and sobbings, and sometimes with great boisterous cries, as God would send it; and sometimes soft tears and secret, without any noise. .“

At Jesus’ behest, this creature, as she always refers to herself, stopped eating meat and drinking wine, and began fasting on Fridays. Her marital debt to her earthly husband, John, also became “so abominable to her that she would rather, she thought, have eaten or drunk the ooze and the muck in the gutter than consent to any fleshly communing.”

And so she began wearing only white, as would befit a bride of Christ.

Now, as you can imagine, in the little medieval town of Bishop’s Lynne, news of a transformation this profound, gossip this juicy, spread rapidly, and inspired lots of opinions.

For the daughter of the mayor, who has been known to her neighbors for all these years, who they have done business with, and who has given birth 14 times, to now be in direct conversation with God? And dressed like a virgin? And soooo loud, the crying! All the time!

One Friday, Margery comes to Church, and during Mass “She hears a great noise and a dreadful…Suddenly there fell down from the highest part of the church roof, from under the foot of the spar, on her head and back, a stone which weighed three pounds, and a short end of a beam weighing six pounds, so that she thought her back was broken asunder, and she feared she would be dead in a little while.”

Now you can imagine the optics on this, the whole town is irritated and scandalized by Margery’s performance of piety, and here she is struck down, literally, by a beam and a stone while in church. But does Margery take this as a reprimand from on high? Absolutely not! In fact, after praying to Jesus, Margery’s pain was alleviated, and she, along with a doctor, concluded that this was a great miracle, a sign of God’s infinite mercy and love towards her.

This is the first lesson I present from The Book of Margery Kempe, belligerent optimism! Throughout the book, when Margery is faced with any hardship, she turns to Christ. And Christ, in his mercy, assures her that everything is meant, every hardship is a lesson or a blessing in disguise, and every critique only increases her goodness in his eyes.

When I was in highschool, it became very important to me that I only believe in, “the truth”. That truth was always something external, decided, in one way or another, by minds greater than mine. As I’ve grown, along my spiritual journey, I’ve begun searching for a truth that is more personal, more internal, more intuitive. I’ve started letting myself believe in what feels true, what I have experienced to be true, and what feels good to be true, rather than looking for definitive approval elsewhere.

Of course there is so much to learn, from so many places. And so many people know so many things that I don’t. And I could be wrong, I could change my mind. But if there’s something that feels true to me, and makes me feel good, and it doesn’t hurt someone else, why not believe it???

Soooo yeah I have a special connection with other Geminis. And the world takes care of me. And when something bad happens to me, like Margery, I try with all my might to find out the thing that’s good about it.

I see that as an intentional act, a continuous practicing of good faith. Certainly, it can be unhelpful when taken to extremes, or in inappropriate contexts, but looking always for good signs, assuming the best, belligerenty insisting that the glass is half full, is vital for me, and joyous.

Like, if a bird poops on your shirt, that could ruin your day! or………baby that’s good luck!

And when your mind is trained to notice the good, it seems like something that keeps compounding, because it’s easier to be kind to the world when you think the world is kind back. That interconnected web shimmers with joy, it echoes.

I realize this may sound a bit cheery to be tying in to a woman famous for her tears, and Margery and the world were certainly not always on the best of terms, so here comes the next lesson, it’s okay to cry!

As important as I think it is to turn towards the good, it’s equally important to give space and attention to pain, and suffering, and anger.

Margery spends a lot of time in her life, and lots of time in her autobiography, dwelling on, and in, the pain of Jesus Christ. She vividly imagines his suffering, his wounds, his sacrifice, and it tears her apart. She is taken with “such great compassion when God would give it, that she fell down therewith and could not bear it. Then she wept bitterly; she sobbed boisterously, and cried full loud and horribly, so that the people were oftentimes afraid and greatly astonished”

It’s not always easy to give space to feelings that large, especially when it inspires fear and astonishment, but in order to see clearly the beauty of the world, I think your eyes also need to be open to hardship.

I have struggled, in the past, with trying too hard to rationalize my emotional responses.

Like Margery, I’m a big crier, and it’s been frustrating for me that the way I explain these feelings in my mind, the way I make those feelings acceptable to myself, is sometimes impossible to articulate in a way that sounds rational, because I just physically can’t get the words out!

It feels uncontrollable, like a storm or a big wave, and it’s embarrassing.

This is why I feel so inspired by Margery’s frequent, public, fervent fits of wailing. She leans into the wave, she gives herself to it so willingly, even describing her tears as “a gift”.

I think tears can be a gift, this physical release, this communicative water.

Anthony Bale, a scholar and editor of the Book of Margery Kempe, discusses the text as an important contribution to the history of emotions,

and he points to the fact that the way we describe and express our emotions is not truly natural, it’s socially determined.

“{Margery’s} crying is social, it’s performative, it makes an intervention with other people”, and she “articulates using her whole body”.

The way I cry has sometimes forced me into this more social space of emotions, even inviting strangers to comfort me, and despite the discomfort of that lack of control, I think it can be a really special space of connection.

Many of us experience our emotional lives very internally- especially now when so much interaction is online, when there is so much pressure to compartmentalize- but when you’re feeling deeply, things slip through.

It is, therefore, a rare, precious event when we get to glimpse real and overwhelming emotions, when we are invited into someones internal life or when someone turns their internal life outward.

Think about how sacred and profound it feels, and maybe even uncomfortable, when you see someone who is overcome,

Without having to articulate the way we feel rationally, we can create a space where we can be understood physically.

And that space can be created even alone, in your room.

Sometimes the things we feel can only be articulated, and given space, with the body.

And I think that, when we are aware of so much suffering in the world, we need all of these open channels to be able to process it. The kinds of suffering that most of us probably think about every day can’t be understood rationally, in order for us to have the capacity to take action for change, I think we need to create space to care for and express the grief that takes up our bodies.

Margery Kempe lived in a much different time, when most of the people she thought of were likely in her immediate physical vicinity, and living quite similar lives. But to Margery, the suffering of Jesus and Mary and the Saints was immediate, real, and alive and the empathy she felt for them was constant and, it seems, nearly debilitating.

And she wasn’t afraid to loudly and publicly express her wild empathy, making an intervention with other people in the process.

Which brings me to the loudest lesson I took away from Margery Kempe’s life, there is virtue in being annoying!

I am someone who is always trying to be acceptable to everyone. I’m always running through all the ways I could be wrong, or insensitive, or embarrassing. I think that sometimes this is a good thing, I try to attend to the needs and feelings of others, but when my focus on other’s perception starts to alter the ways I express myself, I think this impulse inhibits me from making real connections, from showing up as a really authentic version of myself. I tamp down impulses, I ignore preferences, hold in emotional responses.

Margery is so focused on her love of Christ, that despite the people around her constantly expressing their annoyance at her behavior, she stays her course, she shows up loudly, and feels everything out in the open.

Even in her own words, it’s vividly clear why the people witnessing Margery Kempe would be annoyed by her. Margery’s account of her life is steeped in self righteousness and delusion, she suffers so much despite her comfortable financial circumstances, she wants so badly to be God’s number 1 most special girl, and she tries so hard to jump forward into sainthood, even going so far as to interrupt moments of celebration or music with crying because she is reminded of the “full merriment” there is in heaven.

Even 600 years later, people are still talking, about how annoying she was!

That’s incredible! and kind of my worst nightmare.

But the thing is, Margery lived a truly extraordinary life- she traveled widely, she chose to live on her own terms, and she influenced and inspired so many people, and continues to. Margery’s desperation to be good is easy to be annoyed at, but in her striving and wailing and reprimanding, she genuinely opened up the world.

Margery did, herself, doubt the validity of her visions, and sought validation from her peers, but despite this doubt she was clearly unafraid to share the experience of her mysticism with the world.

We can never know, fully, how the things we put out there will be received, will be colored in by another persons mind, but in the same way that we may unknowingly annoy some, we may inspire, comfort, or even free others.

And by showing up as we are, however distasteful that may be to some, we are creating a distinct space of self, and when that space has been asserted, we can begin to welcome visitors.

Margery lived her life, seemingly, with little regard for anyone but God, but because she was so clear, and so open with who she was and what she wanted, she had true connection within the space she created.

The person who perhaps had the most to complain about regarding Margery’s shift into religious enthusiasm was her husband, John. The people of Bishop’s Lynne certainly thought he’d been wronged by being forced into this cocelibacy with his wife, but, though it was dramatically altered, John and Margary Kempe’s marriage continued with what seems to be a genuine tenderness.

This is the passage that strikes me the most in the whole book

"It befell on a Friday on Midsummer Eve in right hot weather, as this creature was coming from York-ward carrying a bottle with beer in her hand, and her husband a cake in his bosom, that he asked his wife this question: —

‘Margery, if there came a man with a sword, who would strike off my head, unless I should commune naturally with you as I have done before, tell me on your conscience — for ye say ye will not lie — whether ye would suffer my head to be smitten off, or whether ye would suffer me to meddle with you again, as I did at one time?’

‘Alas, sir,’ said she, ‘why raise this matter, when we have been chaste these eight weeks?’

‘For I will know the truth of your heart.’

And then she said with great sorrow: —‘Forsooth, I would rather see you being slain, than that we should turn again to our uncleanness.'

And he replied: — ‘Ye are no good wife.’"

And now paraphrasing, John says, okay I'll agree to be chaste with you if you sleep in the same bed as me and pay my debts before you go to Jerusalem and start eating and drinking with me on Fridays again like you used to

After talking it over with Jesus, Margery agrees...

"Then said her husband: — ‘As free may your body be to God, as it hath been to me.’

This creature thanked God, greatly rejoicing that she had her desire, praying her husband that they should say three Paternosters in worship of the Trinity for the great grace that He had granted them.

And so they did, kneeling under a cross, and afterwards they ate and drank together in great gladness of spirit"

In John’s old age, when Margery is away on pilgrimage, he falls down the stairs and hits his head, he is very badly injured and loses the ability to speak and care for himself.

Margery returns and cares for him, and though she complains about the toil and the cost of cleaning the linens, she remembers the pleasure she had with him in their youth, and cares for him, in her own words, as she would for Christ himself.

Margery lived an unconventional life and made unconventional choices, and she was sometimes isolated from the world for her extreme and off putting expression of faith, but in her authenticity she retained true, loving connections. In Margery’s unshakeable conviction and expression of her desires, she creates a space where she can be met, and in this really tender moment with John, he meets her, and they enjoy cake and beer in great gladness of spirit.

I think I will continue to be agreeable, I will always try to be considerate and pleasant, and kind, but I will also try not to let my impulses of agreeablility make me smaller. I will make art that not everyone thinks is good, I will call myself a poet and try not to cringe when I say it, I will share what I think is true even if I might later find that I was wrong, and I will feel hugely, and try to let people see it,

because, despite the fact that Margery in her time and in ours, has been thought of as annoying or fake or wrong

she’s brought me joy and inspiration, and a feeling of kinship. She created a space that I could step into and find comfort in. She opened up the air as bright as any lightning and strengthened me in spirit.

Closing invitation:

From Creative love our thanks we give

Since what we choose is what we are,

and what we love we yet shall be,

the goal may ever shine afar –

the will to reach it makes us free.

Though we may strive to be without fault, to be perfect friends, or colleagues, or poets, though we may make our bids for sainthood, we are all, every one us, necessarily sometimes wrong, cringe, heartbroken, prideful, doubting,

But there is a will that pushes us beyond doubt or fear to reach forwards, and outwards, to share our imperfections, the stories of our lives, the moments when we are out of our minds, our search for meaning, our cliche poetry, our fantasies, our tears, our moments of embarrassment

it is that will that leads to true beautiful kinship, it is that will that connects us

and where we choose to fix our attention in those moments, how we choose to tell our stories and receive others

colors our lives and the lives of those around us

so may we continue to try to choose love, to turn towards it and fix our attention on it, in whatever form that takes, until we become full of it, and it pours out of us

Benediction:

Margery Kempe is not a perfect spiritual teacher, and, try as she might, she hasn't yet become a saint

But the lessons I've taken from her life as she told it, remind me just how many lessons there are to learn from every perfect imperfect person there is

So go forth, friends, and find the lessons in imperfection, and annoyance, and doubt.

Go forth and feel the grief of others, deeply

Empathize across borders, or identities, or a span of 600 years

Go forth and make all the noise you want in your grieving

Go forth and go on about the full merriment in heaven

Go forth and cry, in the street, on your stoop, in your bed, on your commute

travel where you are compelled to go

Go forth and enjoy cake and beer on your way home

and have as much or as little sex as you want

Go forth and tell others where you want to be so they can meet you somewhere close by

And Go forth with beligerent optimism, so that if this parish ceiling were to fall in on your head you'd take it not as a sign of ill will from the universe, but would celebrate your continued survival as assurance that you are divinely, imperfectly, lovingly looked after.

Amen and Blessed Be