The Truth of Immaculate Sexuality

[Translators note: This document was discovered in a private collection in the late 19th century. It was supposed at the time to be forgery for the purpose of anti-catholic propaganda, but radiocarbon dating along with strong genealogical evidence that the author in fact was a historical person has recently challenged this view. I have tried to render the text in contemporary language, but at the same time preserve some of the flavor of the original.]

Your Excellency,

I write to you to offer myself for your service. If I may, I humbly suggest to take this letter as an example of my handwriting and command of Latin. I also have some experience as a gardener. It would be an honor and a privilege to be available for your use and enjoyment at all times; I am not as young as when we first met, but I have preserved my virginity and borne no children so my flesh is still firm. I am willing to perform cunnilingus on your command and I assure you that my skills have not declined since I last serviced you.

All I ask as wages are paper, ink, and one hour in the light of noon to write each day, so I can try to reconstruct the Truths about divine and worldly Love that our order uncovered. As much as it pains me to report, the entire corpus was lost in the ruinous fire of last year. (Which some have the audacity to claim was the result of carelessness on our part!) Not a single volume was saved; all of the nearly fifteen thousand pages were lost. Yet, the Truth is so simple and self-evident that it can be presented in a pamphlet. I am sure that you, who has experienced the Truth with both body and mind, understand.

What I aim to create is a document of even greater force than the ninety five theses of the heretic Luther, but in service of Love and the Lord instead of hate and the devil. (If we are to counter the so-called 'reformation' we cannot be afraid to correct old error along with new!) I have included an account of how I found my way to the Truth. Though it is not my intention to bore you with extraneous detail, I have strived for completeness as I suppose that my experience is pertinent to the task for which I seek your patronage.

Your humble servant,

Magdalena Åkesdotter Bonde

Częstochowa, 7:th of June A. D. 1530

[Translators note: What follows was written with not quite as elaborate lettering and on parchment, as opposed to vellum.]

Even as a child, people said I was difficult. No one was surprised that I was sent away to the monastery in Gudhem shortly after my eighteenth birthday, when the cranes returned and pink flowers covered the leaf-less branches of the mezeron. It was a punishment. There was no pretense otherwise. I had sabotaged a marriage arrangement and thereby proven myself to be of no use as a daughter; I was lucky that my father did not kill me in his fit of rage over the ensuing embarrassment. At that time, I self-righteously took my lack of interest in men as an evidence of my chaste virtue. In doing so, I conveniently forgot the unchaste feelings that my chambermaid inspired when she brushed my hair and helped me undress at night. Had I then known the Truth that such urges come from God, and not from the devil as the ignorant claim, I would not have hesitated to invite her into my bed. I still sometimes think about her soft, freckled hands when I masturbate.

When I first bowed my head beneath the stone arches, I thought I had drawn the longer straw. I believed that the nuns led an indolent life of plenty. In other words, I was under the sway of protestant lies. Rather, my new life was not at all like that of a pampered daughter of a nobleman. I was to rise in the morning first of all and make a fire in the hearth, beneath the great cauldron in the cramped kitchen. It was still cold in the mornings. Before the fire took hold I would often tremble in my habit. Just a short while later, I would stir the thin gruel that would break my sisters nightly fast, sweating like a pig in the heat of the fire. While I was allowed to ask the questions necessary to to complete my tasks, I was not to speak to my sisters either during the meal or during the long hours reading scripture that followed. What surprised me the most was that my task was not to merely memorize and copy, as I remembered from my schooling to become a lady, but to understand and to believe. For the first time in my life, I took well to my studies and seldom deserved punishment for inattention.

In the afternoon it was my task as a novice to learn tend the gardens. This was work I knew nothing about. Least of all I knew how to take instruction. Alma, the sister in charge of me, had the patience of an angel. Even when she did administer punishment, as she did when I mistook the herb-of-grace for a weed and pulled it up, she was merciful in that she used her palm against my bare bottom. I was a full head taller than her. It was awkward to lay on her lap as with the lower half of my habit bunched up against my belly. She did not hold back, but I felt the humiliation more acutely than the pain. Physical correction was not supposed to be needed with a novice like me. We were supposed to already be equals to the other sisters before God. But I had not listened, she knew it and I knew it, so this was the way it had to be. The punishments were a privilege and a mercy: the alternative was expulsion from the order. I did try to be virtuous as best I could. I had not masturbated even once after coming to the monastery, for at that time I still believed such acts to be sinful. That night I did give in to temptation. It was the only way I could think of to comfort myself. I bit my lip to keep quiet, so I would not disturb my sisters who were sleeping in the beds beside mine in the dormitory.

With the warmth of spring came a torrent of tasks in the gardens, to be done all at once. I turned the just-thawed earth with a hoe as fast as I could and I wasn't satisfied until the rows were so straight that Alma praised me. Cautiously, over the period of a few weeks, she began to give me more complex tasks again. I was eager to show that I had learned my lesson and grateful for the opportunity to do so. There was no more temptation to 'sin' at night, just a thirst for sleep that could not be satiated in the few precious hours we were given. Then one day, Alma showed me tiny leaves on the herb-of-grace. She had managed to save it. I was so relieved that I cried and she took me in her arms to comfort me.

After midsummer's day, which we did not acknowledge in any way, the work in the garden became less overwhelming. Now I was allowed to talk to my sisters. An hour every other day, I would retreat with a sister into a nook by a narrow window. She asked me questions about scripture and did not punish me when my answers were lacking. Alma was the third of my sisters that I spoke with in this way. Close to the end of the hour she quoted Romans 1:26-27 and asked me what was meant by the words 'against nature'. I replied that women are not to lay with each other as they lay with men, as I had been taught. Alma replied wryly that that women are not equipped to lay with each other as they lay with men and suggested that the unnatural act referred to was sodomy with men. I hesitated to answer. She quoted Leviticus 18:22 and commented that it constituted irrefutable proof that God condemns sodomy between men. Why should it then be allowed between a man and a woman? I remember I was blushing at this point and said something to the effect that the unnatural acts referred to might be copulation with male dogs and horses. Alma smiled and complemented me on my sharp wit. The very next day the matron gave me a worldly text to study, one which she referred to as 'the Aegean poems'. Though she cautioned that the author was a heathen she said that much beauty and truth was contained within the volume.

In the July heat, Alma began in earnest to teach me about the plants we were tending. About which could save a life or take a life, the difference being made by a single pinch of dried leaf. She told me which can be used to heighten a woman's beauty and, in a hushed tone, which could end unwanted pregnancies. I was allowed to make comments and ask questions, almost as if we were holding a conversation. Once she said that a single rose sat atop the bush as "Aphrodite on her intricately brocaded throne." I did not reply as I had not been released from my vow of silence and could think of nothing to say that would not break it, but I think she saw in my face that I recognized the phrase from the poems. I may have even blushed. Only later did I realize that I had never mentioned to her that I was studying the poems.

I am now certain that I was in love with Alma already at that point and in a few brief moments I dared to believe that she felt something similar for me. That was why it was so heartbreaking to see her with Gunhild. I did not make any special effort to watch them. I just came down to the garden to work like I do every day and heard a noise from behind the lilac bushes, the seed pods of which were already ripe. When I looked I saw Gunhild, who was only two years my senior and the cutest one among us, leaning her behind against the sundial in the middle of the circle of lilacs. She held the bottom of her habit in both of her arms, as one has to to keep one's legs bare. In front of Gunhild, someone kneeled with her face buried between her legs and her hands on her buttocks. I was not completely chaste in my life extra murae, but at first I did not understand what they were doing. That particular sex act was then unknown to me. After a few seconds I realized what was going on and my imagination went wild. It was as if I simultaneously felt a tip of my tongue on my clitoris and a clitoris, along with the taste of lust, on the tip of my tongue. My first thought was that I had to tell the matron, but I could not pull myself away from the sight. Nor could I stop my hand from sneaking in underneath my habit. That was where it remained when Gunhild saw me; I was so overwhelmed by contradicting emotion that I forgot that a screen of lilac leaves did not render me completely invisible. Thus, it was I who was taken in front of the matron by Gunhild and the other woman, who turned out to be Alma. The matron scolded me for having violated my sisters' privacy and suggested I be punished by ten lashes of the rod. Gunhild vocally agreed but, again, Alma was merciful. Again, she suggested bare hand against bare behind. The punishment was administered immediately and when the last blow landed, I came. Though I was already crying, I am sure that they could all tell. To this day, I don't know why I reacted so strongly that time.

I could not look Alma in the eyes without blushing for a long time and it was a miserable time for me. I now believed, in error, that I was surrounded by sinners and hypocrites, hell-bent on making me a sinner as well. My behavior became like that of a petulant child. During my work with Alma in the garden I followed my vow of silence to the letter and only spoke when it was necessary for the work. Whenever asked about scripture I would make myself an advocate either for the devil or for the pope in Rome, whichever was more vexing to my sisters. I did not neglect my studies, rather I redoubled my efforts so that I could better frustrate and confound my teachers. My victories were few and far between, but for a while they were my only source of joy. The only thing that restrained me was the circumstance that I had nowhere else but the monastery to go. I was forever banished from my home and had no means to earn a living except my youthful beauty. My nights were haunted by the anticipation of lustful noises; sisters were allowed to share beds 'for warmth' so long as they did not disturb the other sisters' sleep. When I eventually did fall asleep I was tormented by dreams of a kind that I might have welcomed, had not persisted in my error. In one, Alma had a penis with which I begged her to sodomize me. In another, it was my duty to perform cunnilingus whenever any of my sisters commanded me to (I still sometimes have this dream about Your Excellency.) It would always end with Gunhild commanding me to service her while she tenderly kissed Alma; before it was Alma's turn I would always wake up. Yet, I never once succumbed to the temptation to masturbate during this period. Partly, this was in defiance to my 'sinful' sisters. There was also a practical reason: now that I believed that the order had strayed from God I, did not count on having my sins forgiven.

The next time Alma took me aside to talk about scripture, she went on to explain the doctrine that was commonly summarized in the slogan 'the seed makes the sin' within the order. Onan sinned by spilling his seed on the ground. A woman cannot sin in the same way without the involvement of a man. Immaculate [literally: unstained] sexuality between only women could not be sinful as it was a reflection and celebration of the one Immaculate Conception. When she was finished my head was spinning. I could not believe her, not then, but I could not point out her error. During the next few days, I was preoccupied with thought. I desperately wanted to believe what Alma told me but I could not bear the thought of becoming a heretic. After a whole six months of study I believed I understood scripture, as one does when young and inexperienced. I had poured trough the text for weeks to find an explicit prohibition against what Alma and Gunhild had done, but I had found none.

One day when I went to the garden I found Alma with a scarf over her shoulders and a wicker basket in each hand. "Today, we shall pick mushrooms." she said and handed me one of the baskets. It was the first time I went outside the walls since I came to the monastery. She made a broad motion to the landscape below the hill: green pastures interspersed with fields of ripe wheat and patches of forest. To the east was the seemingly infinite mirror that was the lake surface.

"This is where God is. Not in the book, everywhere." Alma said.

That was a violation of her vow of silence and to talk about out Lord in that way was so alien to me that I could not tell if what she was saying was heresy or deep truth. She waited a while for me to break mine and respond. When I didn't, she motioned to her crotch.

"Make no mistake, he is there too."

I blushed.

"They have told you that the sensations in your cunnus are sent by Satan to deceive you. No! They come from God."

The confidence in her voice did make my sex tingle.

"But how can I know for sure?" I said.

"You do know for sure."

Then she proceeded to teach me about edible, medicinal, and poisonous mushrooms. We walked up the forested hill to the southwest. From the top we could see Saint Olof's church and the new buildings that surrounded it; the Danes had burned the town some years prior. Alma broke her vow of silence twice more. Primo, she commented that a cluster of sickly green death caps were for the king. [Translators note: The king in question is, presumably, Gustav Vasa, who initiated the Swedish reformation in 1527.] Secundo, she invited me to come to her bed that night.

I can only liken my decision to go to bed with Alma to a leap into the unknown, in the hope to be caught by strong hands. It was beginning to dawn on me now that such a 'leap of faith' could not be avoided; any chain of justifications would have had to terminate in one. The dormitory was almost unbearably cold now and we still had to save our precious firewood for the winter. Most of the sisters slept together in pairs, whether they had any sexual intentions or not. But when I went to bed with Alma, I could feel curious eyes on my back. The first touch, a light stroke of my thigh, was tentative. As if she asked me if I was sure. As soon as I felt her touch I wanted to scream 'yes', but I could barely whisper for fear of disturbing the other sisters. Alma was almost twice my age and it soon became apparent that she was experienced. If someone watched us, she might have really believed that we were sleeping, though the tip of Alma's index finger traced intricate patterns on my skin. I had to struggle not to moan as she traced circles around my nipples. I realized that I was praying and the thought crossed my mind that I was mocking God, but I knew that it was this doubt that came from Satan. I parted my legs slowly, so the straw we were laying on would not crackle, and one of Alma's hands moved to stroke the insides of my thighs. Alma still did not hurry, not until I though my sex could not bear another moment of anticipation did I feel her fingertip on my clitoris. Even then, her touch was so light that at first, I thought I only imagined it.

It is hard to explain the joy I felt that night. I imagine that worldly women feel something similar on their wedding night, when they for the first time can give themselves to the pleasures of the flesh and know that it is not a sin. Silently, I sang the praise of the Lord. (At least I think I kept silent; if I disturbed my sisters' sleep, none of them complained in the morning.) When Alma finally let me orgasm, the virgin Mary came to me in a Vision. She was fully dressed and her face showed nothing but divine peace. Yet, I knew that what I was feeling was a faded reflection of the joy she felt in the moment when our Lord entered her belly.

We rolled over on our other side. Alma took my hand and placed it between her legs. I felt her labia with the tip of my finger and marveled that they were already slick with her juices. I tickled her clitoris in the same naive way that I masturbated myself. Though I knew that she could not allow herself to make noises, her silence troubled me. I somehow could not allow myself to believe that I had the the ability to make her feel the way she made me feel. She must have felt my heart beat faster because she comforted me by stroking my thigh. That comforted and emboldened me and I moved my finger faster. After a span of time which I remember as an eternity her hand instead grasped my thigh, so hard that it was almost painful. After a while she put her hand on mine to signal that I should stop rubbing. When we spoke about doctrine the next day I apologized for my clumsiness. She reassured me that it felt good and that she did finish. I described my Vision to her, though I did not use that word out of modesty. She embraced me and kissed me and wept with joy, and told me that I had come far in just a few short months. Keep in mind that we were not alone; as always we sat in the nook by the window. Everybody saw but the only one who seemed to really take notice was Gunhild, who glared at me.

I knew well the implications of what I had done and what I now believed. Love overshadowed all my doubts, but I knew I was a heretic in the eyes of the church. Yet, I felt a certitude that we would eventually prevail, that it would be all the others who would see the error in their ways. Even now, I hold this belief, though heresy is canon. I felt a boundless elation each day, but I knew I was not free from sin. Each time I saw Gunhild go to bed with Alma I felt envy and lay awake listening for moans and sighs. I confessed this to Gunhild when we were in the bath together and she helped me do penance by scrubbing my back so forcefully with the rough brush that I bled in places. I am not naive; I know that she was jealous of me too. She may even have hated me, but I turned the other cheek. I offered to service her with my mouth, but she rejected me and said that I was hardly skilled enough for my attempts to be worthwhile.

I fear that the way I have recounted my experience makes it sound like we were fully preoccupied with satisfying our sexual desires. In actual fact, we treated our sexual drives just as our other worldly needs. We satisfied them in a way that followed Divine Law, but we did not indulge. While Immaculate Sexuality is a way to praise the Lord, some of my sisters remained chaste and showed their devotion in other ways. The true preoccupation of the order was to find the Truth. To this end we held debates. For instance: was the mere thought of sexual intercourse with a man sinful, even when the acts they inspired were Immaculate? Alma argued that it was and I worked diligently to find arguments to support her position. As a novice, I was not allowed to present them myself but a single kind word for her was enough to justify countless hours in the scriptorium. It breaks my heart that we had to keep the Truths that we found secret, but Your Excellency understands that we have to bide our time until the right moment.