This phrase was a question asked by George Fox, the founder of Quakerism, during the 17th Century and seems to be still pertinent today. During this last semester, I studied the Reformation period and wrote my summary essay on George Fox. I included the context of the time along with his life story. I found it quite impactful and decided to share pieces of it here with you.
Outside of Quaker circles, George Fox is not widely known. His life was one of seeking out God and then faithfully following the God he discovered. As he sought out God and lived out his life as faithfully as he knew, people were impacted. What he discovered about God’s character changed how he viewed, lived around, and ministered to people. Even though we haven’t heard much about him in Evangelical Christianity, his thoughts have impacted what we hold true about God.
To understand Fox’s story, we first need to look at the context of the time in which he lived. The 17th Century wasn’t a time when religion was neglected. In fact, religion was generally on everyone’s minds. People talked about doctrine and the practice of living out one’s faith. They argued over the rightness and the wrongness of minute points of doctrine, religious understandings, practices of worship, and proper dietary restrictions. When a public meeting on religion was offered, people attended in crowds. Many came to enjoy the debates and to judge for themselves the validity of the arguments presented.(1)
We see arguments throughout Church History, one side claiming rightness over another. This time, in particular, was a time when people believed in religious liberty for themselves but were unwilling to grant it to others. Intolerance ruled when it came to understanding God and living a life of faith. People felt it not only their right but their duty to enforce their own convictions on one another.(2)
Quakerism, as a movement, started during the English Civil War, when religion was breaking away from the institutional church, the economy was suffering from inflation and depression, and there was a political revolt against the Stuart Monarchy. British historian Christopher Hill is quoted as saying “the world turned upside down.” Quakerism was a response to this tumultuous time. William Penn suggested that Quakerism was “primitive Christianity revived.” It is thought of as a way of life in contrast to living out a set of beliefs, theology, or doctrine. As Fox and his followers shared what they felt were God’s revelations for them and the world, they faced many trials with the religious and legal authorities.(3)
Let’s enter Fox’s journey as he started seeking answers to tough questions. He attended the local parish with his parents until he was 19. At this time, he stopped attending because he became more confused and acted on his feelings of spiritual unrest. He could not understand why religion did not make “bad” people “good.” Those in the church talked about faith and God, yet they looked just like the world. Fox started going around seeking answers from the different streams of Christianity. No one could speak to his “condition.” With no answers that met his questions, he left his friends and family to wander for three to four years. He sensed this move to be commanded by God.(4)
During this time, he read Scripture and sought God. He continued to ask ministers and professors questions and discussed with them his findings. They would reason with him but did not have answers for what he was seeking. God met him in his questions but outside of the leaders of the church or academia. He called these new understandings from God, “openings.” In a world dividing between Protestants and Catholics, he sensed God tell him that all Christians were believers, born of God. Also, he sensed that it wasn’t an education that qualified one to be a minister of Christ in contrast to this commonly held belief.(5)
Understanding that God did not approve of men as ministers due to education and that God did not dwell in specific buildings, brought a freedom to Fox that opened a way to discover God outside of both of those culturally approved means.(6) In anguish at times, Fox continued seeking answers from God to appease his soul hunger. In this place, he sensed God met him and wrote this oft-quoted phrase.
And when all my hopes in them and in all men were gone, so that I had nothing outwardly to help me, nor could tell what to do, then, Oh then, I heard a voice which said, ‘There is one, even Christ Jesus, that can speak to thy condition’, and when I heard it my heart did leap for joy.(7)
In this place as a “heart hungry seeker,” Fox became a “joyous finder.” Other seekers who desired a satisfying experience with God listened to Fox and joined together in small groups. Next time we will discuss more of Fox’s message to a culture being greatly influenced by defining moral rightness and wrongness.(8)
(1) Walter R. Williams, The Rich Heritage of Quakerism (Newberg, Or.: Barclay Press, 1987), 13.
(2) Ibid., 24.
(3) Wilmer A. Cooper, A Living Faith: An Historical Study of Quaker Beliefs (Richmond, Ind.: Friends United Press, 1990), 2.
(4) Williams, The Rich Heritage of Quakerism, 3-4.
(5) George Fox, George Fox, an Autobiography (Philadelphia: Ferris & Leach, 1903), 66; Punshon, Portrait In Grey, 41, 74-75.
(6) Ibid., 76.
(7) George Fox, The Journal of George Fox, ed. John Nickalls (Cambridge England: Cambridge University Press, 1952), 11.
(8) Williams, The Rich Heritage of Quakerism, 5.
One of my favorite hobbies is running because it provides fresh air and a very quick, affordable workout! And yet over the years, I have succumbed to various running injuries of which my initial approach is to try to push through the discomfort in hopes it will heal on its own. This last round I found myself with a tight hamstring that, despite all kinds of stretching, would not subside. So, I threw on some Icy Hot type substance, put on a leg wrap, turned up the grit, and hit the road. It was the next day I felt that the hamstring injury moved to my back with a zing that would not disappear.
Treating running injuries over time has enabled me to befriend a wonderful Physical Therapist, name Kathleen. Kathleen is a true gem, who puts me back together like Humpty Dumpty after each injury. Sometimes she can fix the issue and have me back running within the week, yet other times it takes a bit longer. On this round, she discouraged me from running for a while, but I developed some restlessness and so out of almost sheer necessity to burn some energy and move my body I decided to bust out some push-ups and heavy core work two days later. Sometimes stubbornness pays off; sometimes it bites you in the butt. Literally. In this case, it was my sacrum (lowest part of the spine) that shot pain through my body right before my foot went numb.
The numbness had me pretty concerned, especially heading into a week of vacation in another state. Although Kathleen worked miracles on my back and got everything to a comfortable position, the foot numbness remained. Nevertheless, we packed the car and headed out on the road. The sitting did it wonders but the restlessness built up and I managed to push too hard, mess up my sacrum again, and send my back into muscle spasms while on vacation.
Not one to let a good, sunny vacation go to waste, I limped around Legoland loading my body with two Ibuprofen every 4 hours. As a general rule, I prefer water, eating healthy, fresh air, and a good night sleep to taking any kinds of medication. However, since I would not have access to PT for a week, I was not finding any comfortable sleeping positions, and I could barely move, I rolled the dice with the Ibuprofen.
The discomfort continued. It was frustrating and out of my control. No matter how hard I tried to push, I could not go fast. I encountered forced sabbath. The idleness created more restlessness and frustration, but I could not go for a run (or even a very brisk walk) to blow off the steam. The discomfort caused a complete break in my regular rhythm. I had a choice - I could continue to try to push hard (and make it worse), or I could choose to let go and be vulnerable to a process - to relax, to go slow, to trust others do some heavy lifting, to heal.
We started our road trip home on Good Friday, and it was a long day of driving. Toward the 7th hour in the car, I could feel the sacrum bone shooting discomfort into my muscles. I tried rolling a tennis ball while sitting in the front seat to loosen the tightness. I sat there in agony, rolling the ball, trying to find a position that would ease the pain. And I started reflecting on the day. Good Friday. The profound historical significance of the day hit me. As I was meditating on the circumstances of the moment a Hillsong United song, So Will I, poured through the radio with the line, “If you gladly chose surrender, so will I. If you gave your life to love them, so will I.” And I broke. Tears flowed forth. Surrender. What a place of vulnerability. Letting go, ceasing to push, releasing the illusion of control. Navigating life, embracing the opportunity to do the next right thing, which might not be “more of the same.”
Two days later, on Easter Sunday, I spent some time reading about the Paschal Triduum (the period of time from Holy Thursday to Easter Sunday), which is also referred to as Triduum Sacrum. In a great moment of irony, my eyes fell back on those words, Triduum Sacrum. Sacrum! Could this be connected to the sacrum bone that was healing in my own body? A quick Google search helped me learn that the sacrum part of the Latin Triduum Sacrum, indeed referenced the bone, and it was known as the “holy bone” because the sacrum was, in ancient times, the part of the animal surrendered in sacrifice! Some even believed it was where a person's soul resides. Further reading revealed that the Greek word for the sacrum literally meant “strong bone.” Indeed there was a history of strength and surrender tied to that bone.
Sometimes we encounter problems that we experience as very frustrating and inconvenient, and yet sometimes I wonder if these problems actually have a place in our lives. Through the whole process of injury and recovery, I learned that sometimes discipline and strength are needed to push harder doing more of the same, but sometimes that same discipline and strength is needed for surrender. Strength and surrender seem paradoxical, but they work together. It takes great strength and temperance to surrender. And yet there are times in which it is only through the surrender we can emerge stronger. And maybe, just maybe, it is in the temperance and paradox that one might run well and truly thrive.
We’ve spoken about Hildegard of Bingen in my last couple of posts. If you haven’t followed along, you might want to look back over them. Previously, we talked about the cultural context of Hildegard’s time in history as well as her ability to be a voice to those around her. During this time, it was unheard of for a woman to be in a place of influence.
Hildegard’s writing, Scivias, opened room for her voice as a woman, due to its endorsement by the Pope. As she was writing it, Hildegard wrote the Abbott of the monastery, who oversaw her convent, about her sense that God was inviting her to establish a convent. The Abbott tried to discourage her and Hildegard became severely ill. He finally relented at her bedside when he was unable to lift her head.
Once given permission, she immediately got up and arranged everything that was required. Eighteen nuns moved with her. The new facility had running water, a scriptorium (a place for copying manuscripts often in a monastery), which gave authority to her work, and a document that established its independence from the monastery.(1)
Hildegard continued to struggle through sickness as her convent grew even more independent of male-dominated leadership. She was a gifted leader who courageously spoke to those in authority with what she sensed from God. She was a product of her time in understanding gender roles, yet she was able to speak to both secular and religious leaders, calling them out on their lax and immoral behavior.(2)
In one way she encouraged women to be submissive in society, but she did not hold herself to that same standard due to her understanding of becoming a “spiritual man.” The thought during this time was that a celibate, cloistered woman gained the position of a “spiritual man.” She viewed her weakness as a woman making God’s power visible.(3)
As time went on, Hildegard’s writing and fame increased. She began preaching tours through Germany, Switzerland, and France. Hildegard left behind copies of her sermons for those who were moved by her teachings.(4) A woman teaching outside of her convent was unheard of at the time. Women were not allowed to hold a priestly office, preach, or be a spiritual counselor.(5) Extraordinarily, Hildegard was able to complete four preaching tours.(6)
Hildegard had courage and boldness in the face of injustice. One story concerns an excommunicated nobleman she allowed to be buried in the convent cemetery. Those in authority demanded that she remove the man’s bones from their grounds. Hildegard refused, and she and her convent were punished by not being allowed to take the sacraments.(7) Limiting sacraments as a place of worship was a real hardship for the nuns. Hildegard, at age 81, removed everything that could have been used to dig the man up. Through this time, she wrote continuous letters and eventually the punishment was lifted. She died soon after, in 1179.(8)
Hildegard considered herself a person like Moses as she called the church to reform and to a new age of the Holy Spirit. In this, she hoped to be a voice into a new morality and a changed understanding of how God and humankind relate.(9) She continually called others to live a life of intense virtue. Anything short of that, she considered lukewarm. Hildegard had singleness of purpose and would threaten people to increase their level of commitment.(10)
Beyond the Scivias, she wrote two more volumes: ethics and a scientific treatise. She wrote nine books on nature, a holistic book of healing, liturgical poetry, music, visionary tracts, and the first morality play.(11) We have over 400 letters written to secular and religious leaders, as well as lay people.(12) In addition to her writing and teaching, she formed two convents which housed 80 women in each.(13) Others viewed her as a spiritual mother and cherished friend.(14)
There is a lot of information available on Hildegard, which is impressive considering she was a woman in the Middle Ages. One could judge her for her tendency to support the class and gender hierarchies during her time. It is essential to consider the cultural understandings that surrounded her and informed her view of the world and God. It is astonishing to see the boldness and courage she used to speak to those in power and how much authority she was granted.
In truth, it was due to both her outspokenness and the endorsement of those in authority that gave her the ability to be published and to preach. Her ability to be bold and walk in how she sensed God leading allowed her to be such an example for those who followed after her. As time goes on, we see other female religious writers allowed a platform.
Hildegard is an example of living a life of faith. However, it is essential to understand her life within her own culture and to recognize her courage and faith. What is the invitation for us in our own time? It will probably look different than Hildegard’s. Can we accept the invitation to refuse to accept the status quo? Are we being invited to speak to a new and fresh relationship with God? These are good questions, and we have an excellent model to follow.
Note: The image at the top is Hildegard praying to the Holy Spirit. The other image is a piece of art, created by Hildegard, depicting the six days of creation.
(1) Katharina M. Wilson, Medieval Women Writers (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1984), 110-11.
(2) Julia Dietrich, “The Visionary Rhetoric of Hildegard of Bingen,” in Listening to Their Voices: The Rhetorical Activities of Historical Women, ed. Molly Meijer Wertheimer (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1997), 201.
(3) Ibid., 204, 210.
(4) Carol P MacCormack, “Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th Century Holistic World View,” Blossoming of a Holistic World View (Landenberg, Pa.: Quaker Universalist Fellowship, 1992), 2.
(5) Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, trans. Columba Hart and Jane Bishop (New York: Paulist Press, 1990), 3.
(6) Wilson, 112.
(7) Ibid., 114.
(8) MacCormack, 2.
(9) Ibid., 208.
(10) Elizabeth Dreyer, Passionate Spirituality: Hildegard of Bingen and Hadewijch of Brabant, Hildegard of Bingen and Hadewijch of Brabant (Mahwah, N.J.: Paulist Press, 2005), 95.
(11) Ibid., 77; Dietrich, 199.
(12) Hildegard of Bingen, The Letters of Hildegard of Bingen, trans. Joseph L Baird and Radd K Ehrman, vol. I (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 4.
(13) MacCormack, 1.
(14) Dreyer, 95.
In his Best Lent Ever series, Matthew Kelly encourages the idea, “Don’t give up chocolate for Lent.” Kelly is suggesting here that, while the sacrifice involved in fasting treats and sugar can provide space for refocusing our lives, perhaps Lent gives us an even bigger opportunity to examine the greatest challenges facing our soul. In other words, soul maturation can require growth at a deeper level. To offer an example of this dynamic, the author invites to imagine someone who is shot in the hand and the heart but enters the emergency room seeking only surgery on the hand.
So how do we identify these substantial opportunities for progress in our lives? How do we determine our most important avenues for growth? What are the deeper issues of our heart that are just waiting for healing? Perhaps we encounter the answer when we pay close attention to the little ordinary moments in our daily existence.
On the first Saturday of Lent, I had an amazing opportunity to attend a Companioning Conference at a local church where the theme centered around journeying well with others. The one-day event featured a variety of breakout sessions, some led by close friends of mine, and I was so excited for the opportunity to simply show up, sit back, and absorb their wisdom. After the welcome and opening speaker, we were invited to navigate our way to our first break out session, and I found mine to be down the church hallway. A dear friend, Katie, was leading my first breakout session although I did not find her in the room on my arrival. Grabbing a seat near the door I soon heard Katie’s voice down the hall. She seemed to be in conversation with another woman, although the woman’s voice was somewhat loud and difficult to understand. Glancing up from the session handout I watched Katie slowly enter the room guiding her friend toward the seating. It was in this moment I realized that the other woman’s slow movements, slurred speech, and motor skill impairment were most likely symptoms of cerebral palsy.
Through what seemed like an eternity, I watched the slow, deliberate physical effort required by Katie to guide her friend by the arm. Knowing that I was sitting close to the door, and there was an open chair right next to me, I knew what was coming. At that moment, I became aware that Katie would invite her friend to occupy the seat to my right and I felt my initial response was one of hesitation. This dynamic could demand that I put in a lot of work. This encounter could be uncomfortable. This seating arrangement could require something more of me when I simply desired to sit back and listen on this Saturday morning. On the surface, I did not skip a beat in welcoming the woman as Katie made the introductions, but I knew the reluctance in my heart having intuited the energy that would be required of me. “Hi...there...I’m...Lyla,” the woman offered. We navigated the formalities and then sat back to hear the presentation.
Throughout Katie’s talk, I found myself not only working diligently to help Lyla see the handouts but also inviting her into the “talk at your table among yourselves” moments. Engaging her in the conversation involved providing space for her to complete her sentences and then straining a bit to understand her contributions so that I could engage her with more than a blank stare. No doubt it required a great deal of effort on my part.
As our session ended, I noticed Katie had to leave the room and so I found myself there with Lyla and not really sure how she was going to stand up and make it to her next breakout session. Although I was slightly self-conscious of saying, or doing, the wrong thing in my offer of assistance to Lyla, I found relief when she accepted my invitation to help her stand and make her way forward. Lyla gave me slow, but helpful, verbal guidance, “grab...my...arm…”, but also infused our conversation with great humor! “Shall...we...dance?” was her first line to me as we gradually moved toward the door.
In his book Seizing Your Divine Moment, Erwin McManus suggests that we all encounter these divine moments or opportunities in which we can look to the right and seize the moment, or look to the left and pretend we saw nothing at all. In one chapter, McManus offers an example of witnessing an opportunity to help someone and, in a split second, we decide whether we will look to the right and dive right in, or look to the left and ignore what we saw. McManus proposes that seizing these divine moments requires something from us. Diving in requires initiative, courage, and sometimes even a level of risk but he encourages us to “look right” and seize these opportunities as they become evident because they provide fertile ground for growth.
As I reflected on divine opportunities to look left or right, I realize that choosing to stay back and help Lyla was precisely a space in which I found myself at this “left/right” crossroad. As everyone stood to leave Katie’s session, my internal dialogue was hopeful that someone else was coming to help Lyla so that I could get on with my day. At this moment, I wish I could say that I was eager to be the first person to courageously jump in and walk alongside Lyla, but the truth is that I was actually just waiting around for someone else to take the lead and I waited so long that everyone else had left the room. I “looked right”, and made the decision to assist her, primarily out of awareness that I was the only one there to do so.
Through the day I found my path crossing Lyla’s extensively. I helped her navigate the lunch line, helped her wash hands in the restroom, helped gather and schlep her belongings from one room to the next, and of course, found us sitting at the same lunch table. Did my interactions with Lyla require me to continually take initiative and maintain stamina in doing so? Oh yes. But a funny thing started to happen as we “danced” together. Over the course of the day, I started to really “see” Lyla. Although her speech was slow, her wit was lightning quick and I found us both laughing so much together over her hysterical one-liners. Through these interactions with Lyla, I saw not only her spunk but also her soul. I saw her resilience. I saw her light. I saw her emotional and spiritual fortitude. Through the events of the day I realized that, while I may have been physically stronger than Lyla, Lyla brought a spiritual and emotional strength far superior to mine. While I originally thought I was walking alongside her, helping her, and giving to her, I found that she was actually walking alongside and giving to me. I was actually the recipient.
On Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, I was reminded of the beautiful words of St. Francis:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
Where there is offense, let me bring pardon.
Where there is discord, let me bring union.
Where there is error, let me bring truth.
Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.
Where there is despair, let me bring hope.
Where there is darkness, let me bring your light.
Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.
O Master, let me not seek as much
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love,
for it is in giving that one receives,
it is in self-forgetting that one finds,
it is in pardoning that one is pardoned,
it is in dying that one is raised to eternal life.
When we read this prayer and reflect on it conceptually, we can experience it as such a pure, beautiful inspiration to guide our lives. Yet as we meditate on those divine moments in our lives when we can “look left” or “look right” we gradually come to realize that taking the initiative needed to act courageously and give of ourselves, can require a lot of work. Seeking “to understand” can be really hard when listening to someone, for example, with cerebral palsy, where the words are slow, loud, and sometimes unclear. The opportunity for “giving” can arrive at a time that does not feel convenient in our schedule for the day. And yet, I believe it is in precisely in these brief, challenging, inconvenient, and sometimes messy moments, in which we gain awareness of where we can benefit from “surgery on the heart” instead of merely “surgery on the hand”.
Reflecting on the events of the Companioning Conference, I remember many session highlights. But even more, I remember the way that Lyla shined her light while walking alongside me. Thank you, Lyla, for the invitation to dance!
Note: Lyla has given permission for her name and this story to appear on this blog. Thank you, Lyla! For those who would like to know a bit more about Lyla, she has a blog at: morethanlegs.wordpress.com/ and a book: It Takes More Than Legs to Stand available on Amazon.
We started the story of Hildegard last time. Let’s continue…
Hildegard of Bingen was extraordinary in her time. She continues to be a voice to our theological understanding of gender, the church, and how we relate to God. Through her published writings, letters of correspondence with secular and religious leaders, and her preaching; she called the church back to living a life of purity with God. She felt that the true nature of things was obscured by the “grossness of the fallen world.”(1)
I find it amazing that Hildegard had a voice at all. In her writings, her boldness is evident as she confronted those in authority. This boldness is in sharp contrast to the view of women at this time. As I shared last time, women were considered weaker than men, which made a formal education unavailable.
Hildegard approached her speaking and writing by accepting her weakness based on being a woman. The force and courage she approached in all of her contributions were due to her being a mouthpiece for God. She spoke to both secular and religious leaders boldly because she felt due to her nothingness, all of what she achieved could only be God.(2)
A woman’s voice had to be approved by men as theologically correct. Before her work was able to be published, Pope Eugenius III, upon the encouragement of Bernard of Clairvaux, sent someone to confirm Hildegard’s gift. Upon receiving a positive response from that visit, Pope Eugenius III read her unpublished work, Scivias, to a formal gathered group of church leaders called a synod. This action gave unprecedented approval to Hildegard as an approved theologian in the church.(3) This approval was a big deal.
In her writing and teaching, Hildegard encouraged others to begin to see things clearly. She spoke of a holistic God.(4) We tend to judge and fragment our world, yet Hildegard’s writings invite us to see things outside of a dual perspective. She viewed people both as creators and the created. Her view of humanity held our capacity to be gracious, compassionate, and loving while recognizing our capacity to be destroyers, malicious, and self-indulgent. She was able to hold both our capacity for great good and great evil in tension within her non-dual understanding.
She thought the world spiraled through ages of justice and injustice, continuing until the universe was consummated in love.(5) It was in this hope that Hildegard desired to communicate her message to influence reform in the church, changing things in small ways and still allowing things to be not quite right. As she understood it, God’s provision of restoration and reform was available as long as humankind needed the help.(6)
During this time, the Middle Ages, it was turbulent and disorderly; full of wars, fierce struggles, undisciplined Church leaders. There were popes, anti-popes, emperors, and anti-emperors. There was a bloody conflict between Church and State over control of society and religion. Henry IV was the king of Germany and a punitive ruler of the empire.(7) It was a violent and divisive time.
Even in the harshness witnessed during this time, Hildegard could view everyone having the image of God within. She understood the violence and corruption that was so evident in the Church within the knowledge that these same people were also capable of great good. She believed she could speak as a mouthpiece of God to the need for reform inside the Church by looking past the “fallenness” to also see the beauty, as God continued to bring us to love.
What would Hildegard say to us in our own time? Can we see the Image of God (Imago Dei) in every individual (Gen. 1:26-27)? Can we realize our own capacity for great good and great evil? And allow for that to be true in others? This awareness takes humility - accepting that we do not have all the answers.
Hildegard spoke about the need for us to see things clearly. I trust God to continue to show us clearer and clearer views of the world, God-self, ourselves, and others as we ask for greater and greater clarity. Willam McNamara defined contemplation as a long, loving look at the real. This is the place I have found that offers a quietness which allows my mind to quiet into my heart for a clearer view. May God meet each one of us on the journey to greater awareness and clarity.
Note: The image at the top of this post from Scivias 1.6, titled Humanity and Life. The other is an icon showing God’s illumination while Hildegard wrote Scivias, a book containing her theological understanding which was approved by the Pope.
(1) Julia Dietrich, “The Visionary Rhetoric of Hildegard of Bingen,” in Listening to Their Voices: The Rhetorical Activities of Historical Women, ed. Molly Meijer Wertheimer (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1997), 202.
(2) Marian Bleeke, “Considering Female Agency: Hildegard of Bingen and Francesca Woodman.,” Woman’s Art Journal 31, no. 2 (2010): 42.
(3) Mike Kestemont, Sara Moens, and Jeroen Deploige, “Collaborative Authorship in the Twelfth Century: A Stylometric Study of Hildegard of Bingen and Guibert of Gembloux,” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities, 2015, 201, 205, https://doi.org/10.1093/llc/fqt063.
(4) Hildegard of Bingen, The Letters of Hildegard of Bingen, trans. Joseph L Baird and Radd K Ehrman, vol. I (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 10.
(5) Diana Butler Bass, A People’s History of Christianity: The Other Side of the Story, 1 Reprint edition (New York: HarperOne, 2010), 130.
(6) Ann Astell, “The Eucharist, Memory, Reform, and Regeneration in Hildegard of Bingen’s Scivias and Nicholas of Cusa’s Sermons,” in Reassessing Reform, ed. David Zachariah Flanagin and Christopher M. Bellitto (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2012), 207, https://georgefox.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=nlebk&AN=494528&scope=site.
(7) Hildegard of Bingen, The Letters of Hildegard of Bingen, I, 10.
Hello, I'm Kathi Gatlin. Thanks for stopping by!