You shall have your way with the Son of the virgin, for you are delightfully weary. Come at noontime to the shade of the spring, into the bed of love. There in the coolness you shall refresh yourself with him. I was twenty-five years old before I finally realized my birth in had been the result of an unplanned pregnancy. For the first time in my life, I counted the months from October their anniversary to May my birthday. Mechthild of Magdeburg c. Though her writing shows the influence of a courtly upbringing, as well as a familiarity with several great spiritual writers, she lacked any formal education.
At twelve, Mechthild experienced her first vision of the Holy Spirit. In her early twenties, she joined a Beguine community at Magdeburg that was under increasing pressure from church authorities. Lay women acting like Sisters without any direct ecclesiastical control made the authorities skittish. Mechthild, like many others, became a Dominican tertiary.
It seems to have been a fruitful association, as she evidently read many Dominican writers, and it was her Dominican confessor, Henry of Halle, who encouraged Mechthild to write about her mystical experiences with God. Mechthild wrote about these greetings, as well as the current corruption of Christianity. Her writing was widely circulated, despite calls from some in the church hierarchy to have them burned. Apparently, a woman with little formal education, daring to criticize the clergy and church dignitaries, whilst claiming to have visionary experiences and theological insight, got some beneficed backs up.
In her old ageβisolated, widely criticized, and ultimately blindβshe joined a Cistercian convent in The highly educated nuns offered her protection and support, and Mechthild, uneasy at first because of her lack of formal education, was surprised to find them often coming to her for advice and counsel.
She dictated the final chapters of her book here in this convent. But it is probably her use of erotic imagery for which she is best known. Mechthild, however, took things to another level, as in this extract from a poem on the Virgin Mary:. Both his wounds and her breasts were open. The wounds poured forth. The breasts flowed. The soul was invigorated and completely restored As he poured the sparkling red wine Into her red mouth.
