Book Reviews Autumn 2007

This is OUR Story: Free Church Women's Ministry Janet Wootton (ed)
Review by Miranda Threlfall-Holmes

NUNS: A History of Convent Life 1450-1700 Silvia Evangelisti
Review by Sister Rosemary

"Beating the Traffic" – Josephine Butler and Anglican Social Action on Prostitution Today Edited by Alison Milbank
Review by Ann Gutteridge

Gilead Marilynne Robinson
Review by Revd Sarah St Leger Hills

This is OUR Story: Free Church Women’s Ministry
Janet Wootton (ed)
Epworth Press, 2007, pbk, £16.99, 205pp.
ISBN 978 0 7162 0606 4

THIS BOOK describes the journey to the acceptance (or in some cases re-acceptance) of women’s ministry in many of the free churches of the UK. It is fuelled by a sense of irritability — even sometimes of anger — at the way in which the debate and publicity about women’s ordination in the Church of England has overshadowed and often completely ignored the reality of women’s ministry in other churches. In seeking to redress this balance, ‘This Is Our Story’ combines two distinct genres of reflection. The first part consists of a series of essays on issues relating to women’s ministry in the Free Churches, and the second comprises first-person stories relating the personal experience and reflections of eleven female Free Church ministers.

The essays with which the book begins are wide-ranging and extremely readable. As a historian, I particularly enjoyed the chapter on the history of women’s ministry in the Free Churches, by Kirsty Thorpe, which to my shame was almost entirely new to me. Another essay from which I personally learned a great deal was that examining the idea of ‘traditional women’s ministries’, by Cham Kaur-Mann, which surveyed a range of different cultural and religious world views to show how relative such ideas are. This section also includes an essay on ‘The grounds of dispute: theologies of leadership, ministry and ordination and women’s ministry’ by Jane Craske; ‘Worship and Preaching’ by John Drane and Olive M. Fleming Drane; ‘Women’s Leadership in the Church and Feminist Theology’ by Janet Wootton; and ‘The Ordination of Women and the Ecumenical Movement’ by Jean Mayland. The latter may be of particular interest to WATCH members, as not only is it an extremely interesting survey but it is written by our own Jean Mayland, of the WATCH committee.

The second half of the book consists of a wide variety of personal stories from female Free Church ministers. I must confess that I found these to be somewhat variable in interest and readability. On the other hand, the variety of material covered and forms used to express it (for example one ‘story’ is told almost entirely via the author’s own poetry) may also be considered to be a strength. It certainly illustrates the multifaceted and heterogeneous nature of Free Church women’s ministry. The experiences that the women have had of ministry and of being a woman in ministry are also widely varied. Some have found little difficulty in being a woman minister, others have had to struggle against opposition and negativity.

Overall, I found the first half of the book more satisfying and interesting than the second. This is no reflection on the women’s experiences recorded there, but rather reflects my ignorance about the Free Churches of the UK! I therefore learned a great deal from the essays with which the book began, whilst the stories, though interesting and often engrossing, did not, I feel, move us on in any very significant ways. Nevertheless, they are stories that deserve to be told and heard.

Revd Dr Miranda Threlfall-Holmes is Chaplain and Solway Fellow of University College, Durham, and a church historian. She is also a member of General Synod and of the WATCH committee

back to top

NUNS: A History of Convent Life 1450-1700
by Silvia Evangelisti
Oxford University Press, New York, 2007; Pp301 ( inc 21 Pp of black & white illustrations)
ISBN 978-0-19-280435-8 £19.99

ANYONE WHO picks up this book hoping for racy anecdotes of scandal in the cloister will be disappointed; this is serious history, with copious endnotes and bibliography, though told in an accessible style with abundant contemporary quotations. It concentrates on Roman Catholic convents in Western Europe, mainly in Latin countries.

Since for most of this period religious orders were absent from Britain, readers here may be amazed to discover how integral they were to society in early modern Europe. For young women from rich or noble families (and this is an important limitation), the cloister was effectively the only alternative to marriage, and sometimes more attractive: to parents, because it was less expensive than financing a marriage, and provided a convenient haven for surplus or illegitimate daughters; and often to women themselves, who might prefer it to the prospect of an oppressive husband and the dangers of childbirth. Such families tended to treat the convent as an extension of the family home.

Gifted boys from poor backgrounds at this time might find entrance to a religious community a road to advancement and a fulfilling ministry; it gave them the chance of receiving an education, with the possibility of ordination and even of rising to high office in the Church. No such opportunity was available for poor girls. If they entered a convent, they did so in order to perform the same manual tasks they would have done outside. The class distinctions of the world were reproduced in the cloister.

The upper-class choir nuns who were set free by this labour were not necessarily idle; as well as their duties in church, many of them devoted themselves to literary, musical and artistic work, often to a high standard, and might be in contact with leading figures in the arts outside the cloister. The illustrations in the book — unfortunately in black and white — include some examples of nuns’ paintings.

The Counter-Reformation produced great growth for women’s communities, in both numbers and fervour. At the same time the Council of Trent in its zeal for reform decreed for them strict enclosure and total submission to male superiors, on the grounds of women’s frailty of intellect and character. Some nuns welcomed more secure enclosure, as a safeguard from intrusion and a protection for their contemplative life, but many were aghast at their imprisonment. Strong-minded and well-connected abbesses often resisted indignantly; the better regulated the Church was in their area, the smaller was their chance of success.

The history of the battle over enforced enclosure makes depressing reading. Time and time again visionary leaders, like the Englishwoman Mary Ward, attempted to establish a form of consecrated life for women in which they could respond to desperate need in society and serve the local community in an active way, and the hierarchy always blocked their path.

A particularly sad example of this is found in the story of the Spanish, Portuguese and French colonies which were being established at this time. Male Religious, especially Franciscans and Jesuits, accompanied the colonists, preached Christ to the local people, helped them with health services and education, and did what they could to protect them from the brutality and rapacity of the conquerors. Nuns travelled to the colonies too, and would have liked to play their part in this heroic endeavour; but they were confined behind their walls, and could not meet the local people at all.

In the end, ingenuity (and the Holy Spirit?) found a way to circumvent the restrictions. By not calling themselves nuns, and not making solemn vows, women managed to form communities following a new way of consecrated life — teaching, nursing, serving people where they lived — that set in motion the explosive expansion of the apostolic religious life which lasted well into the twentieth century. At last there was another choice for women besides marriage or the cloister, and it was open to women from the lower classes too.

Dr Evangelisti has explored a very important aspect of both women’s history and church history. She allows these silenced women a voice, by quoting from their own writings. Unlike many writers on monastic history, she gives credit to foundresses as well as founders — how many people who know of Vincent de Paul as the founder of the Daughters of Charity are familiar with the name of Louise de Marillac?

The author’s English style is sometimes awkward, and there are some irritating proof-reading oversights that should not come from an academic publisher, but these are minor blemishes. This is an absorbing account of the lives and struggles of some of our earlier sisters in the faith. The Church may do its best to frustrate us, but you can’t keep a good woman down for ever!

Sister Rosemary is an ordained member of the Convent of The Holy Name in Derby and a member of the General Synod.

back to top

“Beating the Traffic”—Josephine Butler and Anglican Social Action on Prostitution Today
Editor, Alison Milbank;
Published, Winchester, George Mann Publications, 2007,
Pp 188; ISBN. 978095524154
£10, paperback.

JOSEPHINE BUTLER lived from 1828 to 1906. She campaigned tirelessly for women’s suffrage, higher education, and employment opportunities in all trades and professions. Her particular concern was the plight of prostitutes; her vision was female emancipation both from the private home and the public brothel. This collection of nine essays covers reflections on Josephine Butler herself, her spiritual motivation and her considerable political achievements, and then goes on to examine her legacy for the present day Christian and feminist approach to prostitution.

I found this book very inspiring and thought provoking. Josephine Butler’s conviction that by the grace of God she could be effective in revealing and changing the injustices which enslaved prostitutes is very impressive; she used her considerable intellect in research, activism and public communication; she suffered in her lonely and unfashionable commitment to the cause of women caught up in prostitution and was misunderstood by many and vilified and scorned.

The religious convictions that motivated and empowered such dedication sprang from childhood experiences of non-conformist worship and teaching. It is interesting to see the dichotomy between Josephine Butler’s marriage to an Anglican clergyman and yet her apparent indifference to the Church, relying far more on her personal reading of the Bible and private contemplative prayer. Ron Garner in his paper entitled “Truth before Everything” considers Josephine Butler’s failure to use and benefit from the resources of the community of faith and of tradition: “She had little real allegiance to the established Church, choosing instead from her early years the solitary way of the pilgrim soul in search of the truth which would sustain her through life.” Josephine Butler was however deeply impressed by St. Catherine of Sienna to the extent that she wrote a biography of her.

Mary Magdalene became for her the model of all women — Mary was first healed by Christ and then became a witness to his resurrection. In Christ’s treatment of Mary, Josephine Butler saw the love for fallen women that became her own vision and gave her an extraordinary compassion for the wretched and destitute. Christ called Mary by name and in turn her love for Christ conquered her previous life of sin — only love can beget true repentance. Josephine Butler was non-judgemental in her approach to prostitutes whom she regarded as more sinned against than sinning. She wanted to give back to abused women their own original divine identity, their dignity, and a space to regroup and flourish. This led to her founding in 1867 both a House of Rest for sick and indigent prostitutes and an Industrial Home, offering work to the destitute.

The tragic death in an accident of her five year old daughter impelled her across the social divide separating her from abused women — she could say to them, “I understand — I too have suffered.” Her attitude was one of love and acceptance and of female solidarity. She saw her role as giving “a voice to the voiceless” and urged the solidarity of educated women with all other women and especially with the abused who cannot speak for themselves.

The later essays in “Beating the Traffic” deal with modern problems of the abuse of women and the lack of worth accorded to them and with the pastoral care of women in prostitution, striving to help them recognize their own dignity, worth and potential. The issue of non-consensuality is considered, especially where teenagers who have spent their childhood in care go into prostitution. The challenge is presented to the churches of putting into practice a loving response to those engaged in the sex industry — recognizing the ethical and spiritual implications and emulating Josephine Butler’s approach of rigorous research and analysis. In the final paper Carrie Pemberton points activists in our country to examine Swedish legislation with a determination to emulate whatever may be of benefit here. Hope is the concluding message of the book; the conviction that modern Christians will be effective in pursuing social justice and improving the lot of marginalised women when we see them as sisters and equals and help them to help themselves. I commend this collection of essays as stimulating and encouraging and valuable food for thought. I also enjoyed reading them.

Ann Gutteridge is a theology graduate from Manchester University who practised as a solicitor in Buxton until retirement. She is a founder of the High Peak Hospice where she is Company Secretary and worships at St. Peter’s Church in Fairfield.

back to top

Gilead
Marilynne Robinson
Virago Press in Great Britain 2005 (and reprinted twice).
Hdbk, £14.99 (paperback also available)
Pp282 ISBN 1 84408 147 8

When you have nothing more to say, just drive
For a day all around the peninsula.
The sky is tall as over a runway,
The land without marks, so you will not arrive

But pass through, though always skirting landfall.

This extract from ‘The Peninsula’, part of Seamus Heaney’s Death of a Naturalist collection of poetry, floated in my mind as I read Marilynne Robinson’s beautiful prose. Both seem to be speaking the same language, talking of the same things, of transcendent grace-filled accounts of what it means to be alive.

Gilead is a book which reads like poetry, which refuses to be hurried. The writing is as spare as the little backwater town of the title, and poignant in its ordinariness. Gilead is narrated in 1956 by Reverend John Ames, an elderly minister who is coming to the end of his life, and it takes the form of a letter to his seven year old son. It is part reminiscence, part advice, and part theological reflection.

Above all, it is about blessing. John Ames’s life has been suffused with blessing - but it is a concept in which he has both struggled and rejoiced. He describes blessing a litter of kittens, ‘I still remember how those warm little brows felt under the palm of my hand....The sensation is of really knowing a creature, I mean really feeling its mysterious life and your own mysterious life at the same time.’ (p. 26). This ‘really knowing a creature’ is at the heart of his life, the heart of his ministry of embodied grace. But he is not pious. John Ames struggles with feelings of guilt, of making mistakes, of not being enough, especially in his relationship with his namesake, his best friend’s son. This relationship is central to the narrative, and provides the counterbalance to the beauty of the love story between John Ames and his young wife, his son, and his oldest friend.

Relationship and reconciliation are key in his view of blessing, and as such, are rooted in Creation and the incarnation. There are echoes of Jacob and Esau and their father’s mistaken blessing; of the prodigal son; and of course of the ancient wail, ‘Is there no balm in Gilead?’ (Jeremiah 8:21). But ultimately this is a hopeful narrative. Christ seems to appear in the myriad of intensely beautiful descriptions — of the ‘shimmer in a child’s hair’; of ‘the dark (as) a great, cool sea’; of parishioners fixing the TV antenna on the roof, ‘The young men are terribly interested in these things. It makes them happy to do a kindness so perilous and exotic in nature.’ (p 144).

Marilynne Robinson’s book draws you into prayer as you read, almost as in lectio divina. Blessing has the final word as John Ames is finally able and allowed to bless his name sake.

This book is extraordinary in its quiet grace — to quote George Herbert — there is indeed here ‘heaven in ordinary’ (from Prayer 1).

John Ames writes about his town, ‘To me it seems rather Christ-like to be as unadorned as this place is, as little regarded.’ (p281)

This book should be anything but ‘little regarded’ and much like the Seamus Heaney poem, is not about arriving, but about passing through. It is both comforting and disquieting. It draws you in from the world, but also demands in its Christ likeness that you take something of your blessing out into the world. John Ames has the last word: ‘I think there must also be a prevenient courage (as well as grace) that allows us to be brave — that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honour them is to do great harm. And therefore, this courage allows us, as the old men said, to make ourselves useful. It allows us to be generous, which is another way of saying exactly the same thing.’ (p 281)

Revd Sarah St Leger Hills formerly practised as a psychiatrist and is now a curate in Sheffield. Her research interests are peace and reconciliation with special reference to South Africa.

back to top