Religion With a Human Face
One woman’s extraordinary faith reveals much about the ordinary faith of the Middle Ages.
Margery Kempe was not a typical medieval lay person. Far from it: few lay people abandoned spouse, children, work, and ordinary life in search of religious perfection, as she did. People in her company often grew tired of her religious talk, vigorous weeping, and unusual religious practices, such as vegetarianism and wearing white garments. Her visions aroused suspicion that she was possessed or epileptic or a hypocrite or a heretic.
But Margery also had admirers, especially among the clergy, who defended her visions and tears as genuine gifts from God.
It’s difficult to determine what exactly “everyday faith” was in the late Middle Ages. The vigorous and slack all practiced the same religion. Though there were doubters and dissidents, most men and women, masters and servants, kings and cloth merchants were generally moved by the same religious beliefs and rituals.
In spite of, and maybe because of, her extreme devotion, Margery reveals in sharp relief the everyday faith of the late Middle Ages.
Unsatisfied Hunger
One central yearning had great force in later medieval life: an intense desire for religious experience.
In the 1200s, the church, more than ever before, began successfully reaching people through preaching, art and drama, books and pamphlets, and annual confession and Communion, among other things. In response, there was a widespread hunger for religious experience, a hunger, ironically, the church, which created it, could not satisfy. People found parish life humdrum and spiritually undemanding. In unprecedented numbers, devout lay people began seeking a more intense religious life while staying married and working in their secular vocations.
Margery Kempe was one of those people. She was born about 1373 in Norfolk (England), the daughter of a respected merchant and public official. She married merchant John Kempe, with whom she had fourteen children. She died sometime after 1433.
In her younger years, she was orthodox and respectful of the church—though she knew some clergy were spiritually lax and sometimes told them so. Still, she went frequently to her parish church, heard sermons, confessed often, weekly sought the Eucharist, fasted, wore a hair shirt for a time, said her rosary, and gave alms. But she sought something more.
In her twenties, Margery began having visions in which she talked on a friendly basis with Jesus, Mary, and some saints. In one vision, Jesus told her that her religious practices were good, but they were for “beginners,” and that Margery should go deeper.
Thus began her remarkable religious quest. At about age 60, she dictated her memories to two scribes, who put together the first autobiography in English, the Book of Margery Kempe, from which we know her story.
Discovering the Gospels
This passion for religious experience was shaped by a growing awareness of the four Gospels.
Between the 500s and 900s in western Europe, the Old Testament loomed large in religious consciousness. Perhaps the Germans and Celts identified with the Hebrews, who subdued rival nations and conquered the Promised Land. Early medieval clergy were inspired by Old Testament references to incense in worship, anointings with oil, tithing, and strict observance of the Sabbath.
These Christians read the New Testament filtered through their warlike cultures and Old Testament imagery. Jesus was more the stern judge to whom all would answer. The apocalyptic judgment in Matthew 25:3146, with its grand vision of the end of time, with the separation of the just and unjust, held the early medieval imagination.
After the Viking invasions ended in the eleventh century, western Europe gradually became settled, urbanized, literate, populous, and prosperous. Under these conditions, Europe “discovered” the Gospels, which resulted in a deep religious change, comparable to the Reformers’ “discovery” of the apostle Paul in the 1500s.
A Gospel-based faith fostered an emotional spirituality that slowly flowed through society. The religious (monks and nuns), priests, and laity yearned to learn more about Jesus, his mother, and his apostles. The new spiritual yearning, coupled with wider literacy, encouraged the use of personal prayer books, like the lavish “books of hours” made for the rich, and the many plainer books for the less wealthy.
Since Latin was a barrier for most people, vernacular translations flourished—not only of the Gospels but also of the Psalms (which were believed to have been written about Christ), devotional tracts, and sermons of early church fathers.
Even the illiterate had means of learning more about biblical stories. Margery Kempe was illiterate—a surprising condition considering the comfortable surroundings of her youth. However, she gained religious knowledge from readers, confessors, and preachers. In her autobiography, she says (referring to herself in the third person) of one priest, “He read to her many a good book of high contemplation and other books, such as the Bible with doctors’ [theologians'] commentaries on it,” and she mentions specifically, Revelations of Saint Bridget of Sweden, The Scale of Perfection by Walter Hilton, and Bonaventure’s Stimulus Amoris.
Margery also learned the Bible in long conversations she had with confessors (spiritual directors) and clergy. On one occasion, Margery was chastising an archbishop about his swearing. She disliked swearing, especially oaths that referred to Jesus, for example, “By his wounds!” She told the archbishop, “You shall answer for them, unless you correct them or else put them out of your service.” Then she noted, “In a most meek and kindly way, he allowed her to say what was on her mind and gave her a handsome answer. And so their conversation continued until stars appeared in the sky.”























