Saintly Women: Medieval Saints, Modern Women, and Intimate Partner Violence [1° ed.] 0815395787, 9780815395782

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Saintly Women

This groundbreaking volume assesses the contemporary epidemic of intimate partner violence and explores how and why cultural and religious beliefs serve to excuse battering and to work against survivors’ attempts to find safety. Theological interpretations of sacred texts have been used for centuries to justify or minimize violence against women. The authors recover historical and especially medieval narratives whose protagonists endure violence that is framed by religious texts or arguments. The medieval theological themes that redeem battering in saints’ lives—suffering, obedience, ownership, and power—continue today in most religious traditions. This insightful book emphasizes Christian history and theology, but the authors signal contributions from interfaith studies to efforts against partner violence. Examining medieval attitudes and themes sharpens the readers’ understanding of contemporary violence against women. Analyzing both historical and contemporary narratives from a religious perspective grounds the unique approach of Nienhuis and Kienzle, one that forges a new path in grappling with partner violence. Medieval and contemporary narratives alike demonstrate that women in abusive relationships feel the burden of religious beliefs that enjoin wives to endure suffering and to maintain stable marriages. Religious leaders have reminded women of wives’ responsibility for obedience to husbands, even in the face of abuse. In some narratives, however, women create safe places for themselves. Moreover, some exemplary communities call upon religious belief to support their opposition to violence. Such models of historical resistance reveal precedents for response through intervention or protection. Nancy E. Nienhuis, ThD, Harvard University (2002) in Religion, Gender, and Culture, Associate Dean of Student Life at Simmons College, and ­Visiting ­Professor of Theology and Social Justice at Andover Newton Theological School. Her research examines theological responses to intimate partner ­violence and sexual assault. Author of multiple articles on the topic, Nienhuis is also interested in how the intersection of systems of oppression like racism and sexism compromise survivors’ efforts to seek safety. Beverly Mayne Kienzle, PhD, Boston College (1978) in comparative medieval literature, retired as the John H. Morison Professor of the Practice in Latin and Romance Languages at Harvard Divinity School. Her research and writing have focused on medieval preaching, the lives of women saints, heresy, and women’s spirituality. Author of five books on Hildegard of Bingen’s preaching and exegesis, she continues to investigate her long-held interest in how medieval authors employ biblical interpretation to justify or minimize violence against women.

Routledge Studies in Medieval Religion and Culture Edited by George Ferzoco and Carolyn Muessig University of Bristol

3 Tolkien the Medievalist Edited by Jane Chance 4 Julian of Norwich Visionary or Mystic? Kevin J. McGill 5 Disability in Medieval Europe Thinking About Physical Impairment in the High Middle Ages, c.1100–c.1400 Irina Metzler 6 Envisaging Heaven in the Middle Ages Edited by Carolyn Muessig and Ad Putter 7 Misconceptions About the Middle Ages Edited by Stephen J. Harris and Bryon L. Grigsby 8 Medieval Monstrosity and the Female Body Sarah Alison Miller 9 Representations of Eve in Antiquity and the English Middle Ages John Flood 10 Crying in the Middle Ages Tears of History Edited by Elina Gertsman 11 The Barbarian North in the Medieval Imagination Ethnicity, Legend, and Literature Robert W. Rix 12 Saintly Women Medieval Saints, Modern Women, and Intimate Partner Violence Nancy E. Nienhuis and Beverly Mayne Kienzle

Saintly Women Medieval Saints, Modern Women, and Intimate Partner Violence

Nancy E. Nienhuis and Beverly Mayne Kienzle

First published 2018 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2018 Taylor & Francis The right of Nancy E. Nienhuis and Beverly Mayne Kienzle to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data CIP data has been applied for. ISBN: 978-0-8153-9578-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-351-18314-7 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

For Tammy Zambo Edward and Kathleen Kienzle All the survivors who have shared their stories with us

Contents

List of Figures Acknowledgments Preface

ix xi xiii

Introduction 1 1 What is Domestic Violence? 23 2 Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies 50 3 A Theology of Suffering and Patience 63 4 A Theology of Obedience and Subordination 99 5 A Theology of Ownership and Power 121 6 Conclusion 154 Appendix A: A Select Filmography on Intimate Partner Violence 167 Bibliography Index

173 191

List of Figures

0.1 Le roman de la rose (Romance of the Rose), line 9361. Jealous ­husband, wearing tunic and hood, takes wife by plaits, ca. 1390, Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, MS. e Mus. 65, fol. 072v, c. 1390. Unfortunately, this scene of marital discord and abuse was a favorite for illustration. Source: http://library.artstor.org.ezp-prod1. hul.harvard.edu/#/asset/BODLEIAN_10310371607. 14 0.2 Romance of the Rose. Jealous husband, Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, ms. Douce 195, fol. 66v, 1490. Source: http://library.artstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul. harvard.edu/#/asset/ARTSTOR_103_41822003066261. 15 2.1 “Liberation,” Anita Dana, artist, 2017. 52 2.2 Pyramid of Power. 59 3.1 Godelieve of Gistel, Patron’s wife with St. Godelieve, Right panel of a triptych. Jan Provoost, artist (ca. 1465—1529) n.d. Groeningemuseum, Bruges, Belgium; 0.216-17. This panel painting highlights devotion to Godleieve, rather than her murder. Source: http://library.artstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard. edu/#/asset/HARVARD_UNIVERSITY_94913201486. 86 4.1 Umiliana dei Cerchi, relief at Santa Croce, Florence. Source: Photograph, Beverly M. Kienzle. 112 6.1 Guillelme and Pèire Maury plan the escape. Drama at Montaillou, France. Source: Photograph, Beverly M. Kienzle. 156

Acknowledgments

No book is written in a vacuum and over the past decade many people have had a hand in this project. The authors wish to express their gratitude to the persons and institutions that have assisted in various ways in the publication of this book. We are indebted to Christopher Jarvinen for his generous support of Beverly Kienzle’s research for over ten years, to Harvard Divinity School through the Lilly Endowment, Inc., Lilly Fund Course Development Grant that enabled the authors to first do research into the parallels between medieval and contemporary religious responses to survivors. A later grant from the Center for the Study of World Religions at ­Harvard Divinity School enabled us to broaden that research beyond the ­Christian context. We are also indebted to those who invited us to present portions of this work through public lectures and fora (forums), specifically Harvard Divinity School, The Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, The American Academy of Religion, and parishes in the Episcopal ­Diocese of Massachusetts, especially Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury and Church of the Good Shepherd, Dedham, whose rectors Rev. Judith Rhodes and Rev. Dr. Edward Kienzle invited us to lead, and parishioners from both parishes to attend, special sermons and educational panels on domestic violence Valuable input from colleagues encouraged and informed our writing. We are indebted to Constance Buchanan, Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Margaret Miles, Clarissa Atkinson, Martha Minnow, Harvey Cox, Cornel West, Sarah Birmingham Drummond, Sharon Thornton, Brita Gill-Austern, Fredrica Thompsett, Marie Fortune, Julie Miller, Atema Eclai, David Adams, Carolyn Roberts, Alison More, Gene McAfee, Robert Hensley-King, and Claire Sahlin. We have had the wonderful opportunity to teach this material multiple times as it developed, and each time we did so the students in our courses challenged us, engaged us, and deepened our thinking. We also thank our students in courses at Harvard and Harvard Extension; their insights, enthusiasm, and experiences improved this work. In regard to the use of images, we would like to thank Harvard University and ARTstor for sharing collections of digital images at no cost for scholarly purposes.

xii Acknowledgments We are also grateful to the co-editors of this series for supporting our book’s inclusion and to colleagues at Routledge, particularly Commissioning Editor Michelle Salyga and Project Manager Sofia Buono. The comments provided to us by anonymous reviewers also helped significantly. We thank the editors and reviewers at the Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion and The Journal of Religion and Abuse for their contributions to our thinking in earlier articles. Darlene-Marie Slagle skillfully completed the first copy-editing of this volume, and Tammy Zambo completed a second review. We also benefitted from the support we received from staff members at Harvard ­Divinity School, including Kathleen Shanahan, Katherine Lou, D ­ aniel Glade, Cole Gustafson, Kimberly Richards O’Hagan, and Kristin Gunst, as well as Kathleen Hamilton at Andover Newton Theological School, colleagues at the Andover-Harvard Library and at the Information Technology department were also active in their help. Research assistants at Harvard Divinity School: Jenny Bledsoe, Anneliese Duprey, Travis Stevens, Maria Cristina Vlassidis, and Harvard Extension School student Jaclyn, provided diligent work while asking probing questions, all of which made this work stronger. Our colleague Cynthia Col assisted with her scrutiny of the German translation of Dorothy of Montau’s life. Needless to say, the authors wish to thank each other for many years of fruitful and faithful collaboration in teaching, research, and writing. Personal thanks from Beverly Kienzle go to the Kienzle family—Edward, Kathleen, five felines and one canine, Mia—for their immeasurable patience with this project but also for humorous moments of scattering papers and forcing breaks from work. Beverly is grateful to Nancy for almost twenty-five years of friendship, fortitude, and wisdom. Nancy E. Nienhuis wishes to thank her spouse, Tammy Zambo, for her unwavering support of this project and to acknowledge the many students she taught at Andover Newton Theological School who challenged and informed her thinking. Nancy also wishes to thank the women from the Women’s Center of The University of North Dakota and those of the Kitchen Table Project in Cambridge, MA whose personal stories first alerted her to the religious responses survivors receive and their impact. Finally, Nancy wishes to thank Beverly, whom she met as her professor at Harvard Divinity School, but who quickly became first a mentor and now a friend. Beverly’s practice of encouraging and mentoring students is a model for faculty everywhere.

Preface

The idea for this book began to take shape in 1991. When Beverly was preparing to teach a standard course on medieval Latin hagiography, she came across the story of Godelieve, an eleventh-century woman who began to be revered as a local saint when, after her murder by her husband’s henchmen, miracles began to occur at her grave. Leaving aside the miracles and the political undercurrents of the text, her story seemed much like those in today’s morning newspaper. Reading more saints’ lives uncovered that Godelieve wasn’t the only holy woman to have a brutal husband. Beverly felt very uneasy about this type of literature, not only because of the events it recounted but also because of the treatment of the husband in the text. Sometimes he drops out of the story; other times he eventually converts. The woman’s suffering is praised and she is credited with the husband’s conversion when it occurs. In either case, the husband is not punished. His conduct seems sanctioned in an indirect and disturbing way. In terms of narrative structure, the story has a happy ending, a spiritual reward for the heroine such as the husband’s conversion or graveside miracles, and that minimizes the role of violence in the story. In terms of the story’s theological message, the woman’s abuse or even murder and the cruel husband, converted or not, contribute to the woman’s holiness. She demonstrates great patience in enduring suffering. When Beverly found these stories, she didn’t have the resources to deal with them adequately. She knew that the stories needed to be put into the context of other hagiography, and the deep questions of violence and gender in saints’ lives needed to be addressed. She also realized that the stories pose such complex gender questions and are so similar to stories of modern life that they needed a contemporary perspective from both feminist theology and practical experience. Beverly knew that she needed to work with someone versed in feminist theory and theology, and ideally someone who also had practical experience working with victims of violence. Although Beverly couldn’t pursue the project further in 1991, these saints and their stories remained in her thoughts. During the same period, Nancy was working with the very women whose names were likely to appear in the newspapers, as the director of

xiv Preface the Women’s Center at the University of North Dakota. As students using the center began to tell her their stories, she learned how often these survivors had turned to religious leaders for help. What was amazing to her was that they were almost never supported by these leaders. Instead they were given responses that made the violence their fault and theirs to resolve. Nancy determined then and there that she would pursue doctoral work in this area so that perhaps down the road fewer women would be coming into an office like hers to report such abuses of spiritual authority. That quest led her to Harvard Divinity School to pursue a doctorate. When the hagiography course came up again in the course rotation for Beverly, it coincided with the announcement of Lilly course-­development grants for designing courses that dealt with gender and public-policy issues. It was at this moment that our collaborative research on the religious attitudes toward battering in historical and contemporary narratives began. In 1994, we received a Lilly course-development grant through Harvard Divinity School. The challenge was put to us as faculty: how could we use a grant to think theologically about our research, presumably outside the field of theology, and to develop courses that dealt with public policy and gender issues? The Lilly grant began what has become a fruitful collaboration, which culminates in this project. We debated with each other and with members of groups we met. After first teaching together, we began presenting our work to larger audiences. Joint conference presentations prepared the way for these publications and generated quite a lot of interest from publishers: “Historical and Contemporary Reponses to ­Battering,” American Academy of Religion, Atlanta, Georgia, November 25, 2003; “Battered Women and the Construction of Sanctity,” ­A merican ­Academy of Religion, New Orleans, November 24, 1996. Our first studies explored historical attitudes toward violence against women in medieval Latin saints’ lives, demonstrating how an analysis of violence against women in historical narratives enlightens our understanding in the present. The first course we offered at Harvard Divinity School required readings in medieval Latin and supplemented the translation with extra discussion sections focused on feminist theology and interpretation. However, interest was so great among non–Latin readers that we later created a course that had Latin and non-Latin readings sections. Together and individually we have discussed this crucial topic in numerous venues, both inside and outside academia. Harvard's Center for the Study of World Religions awarded us a grant to fund additional research on comparative religious attitudes to intimate-partner violence and sponsored a panel discussion on that topic. We have co-authored two publications: “Battered Women and the Construction of Sanctity,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 17, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 33–61; and “Historical and Contemporary Reponses to Battering,” Journal of Religion and Abuse 7, no. 1 (2005): 81–98.

Preface  xv Further study, research, and eventual translation of some of the sources allowed us to expand the readings to include other hagiographical texts, medieval inquisition registers, modern narratives, and current interviews with survivors of domestic abuse. As a result, and in order to make this material more accessible to a wider audience, we eventually developed and offered a Harvard Extension School course, Historical Narratives of Battering and their Theological Implications, in 2003 and 2004, with readings in translation. We extended the range of texts to the eighteenth-century diary of Abigail Abbot Bailey (found in Ann Taves, Religion and Domestic Violence in Early New England [1989]), slave narratives analyzed by Traci West (Wounds of the Spirit: Black Women, Violence, and Resistance Ethics [1999]), and contemporary narratives studied by Elaine Lawless (Women Escaping Violence: Empowerment through Narrative [2001]). One week in the Extension School course was devoted to a comparative perspective on the responses of religious communities to the problem of violence against women, including articles by Sharifa Alkhateeb, Sharon Ellis, Marie M. Fortune, “Domestic Violence: The Responses of ­Christian and Muslim Communities,” Journal of Religion and Abuse2, no. 3 (2001): 3–24; and Cheryl A. Rubenstein, “Teaching about ­Domestic Violence: Curriculum Suggestions for Jewish Educators,” Journal of ­Religion and Abuse 3, nos. 1–2): 47–70. In response to our own and others’ questioning, we have broadened our source base to fill in the gap between the late Middle Ages and the contemporary world and to provide more current testimonies. While doing her doctoral work, Nancy deepened her commitment to battered women and to her research by working with victims and survivors as part of the Cambridge, Massachusetts, Kitchen Table Conversation Project. The KTCP was begun by Lucie White and Nancy Ryan to provide survivors and their children with a weekly opportunity for a meal and conversation about the violence-related challenges in their lives. Nancy found that their stories were often disturbingly similar to those of their foresisters. She collected narratives of some of these survivors’ experiences with religious leaders. In addition, we have spoken together at various meetings sponsored by the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. Both of us have also served on ­ mpowered the Committee on Women in Crisis, renamed the Women E Committee, of the Episcopal Diocese. We have both preached on ­Domestic Violence Awareness Sunday at Episcopal churches. Nancy has also taught classes and done numerous guest lectures on intimate-­ partner violence at Harvard Divinity School, Andover Newton Theological School, and Boston University, among other places, and has provided training to staff at abuse and rape-crisis centers. Finally, Nancy’s doctoral work at HDS and subsequent research and writing have focused on this field. All of this work has culminated in the current volume.

Introduction

Women represent eighty-five percent of the victims of gender-based violence, according to the United States Department of Justice, and violence occurs in an estimated twenty-eight percent of marriages in the U.S. and Canada. The Guardian (UK) reported in 2016 that, on average, each week in England and Wales two women were killed by a former partner or boyfriend.1 In a survey of 17,000 women and men in Australia, twenty-five percent of women had experienced at least one incident of ­intimate partner violence. 2 Data such as this is available in every nation in the world. In fact, United Nations Women, which manages the ­Secretary General’s campaign against violence against women, reports that globally some thirty-five percent of women experience intimate partner violence in their lifetimes, with some regions reporting numbers as high as seventy percent.3 Male survivors represent approximately fifteen percent of all survivors, and up to fifty percent of people in transgender communities have experienced such violence. These and similar statistics measure, in part, the worldwide scourge of sex- and gender-based violence. Cultural and religious beliefs can facilitate this epidemic, particularly for female survivors, by excusing abuse or by actively working against survivors’ attempts to find safety.4 1 Louise Tickle, “Why is Domestic Abuse Still Not Taken Seriously in UK Courts?” The Guardian, May 8, 2016, www.theguardian.com/society/2016/mar/08/­domesticabuse-court-female-victims-bbc-documentary, accessed July 2017. 2 “Fact File: Domestic Violence in Australia,” May 14, 2016, www.abc.net.au/news/ factcheck/2016-04-06/fact-file-domestic-violence-statistics/7147938, accessed July 2017. We understand that for survivors of sibling abuse and other kinds of violence in the home, the phrase “intimate partner violence” excludes them. However, this work focuses on violence perpetrated between male and female partners and thus uses the less inclusive term of IPV intentionally. 3 United Nations Women, “Ending Violence Against Women and Girls” thematic brief, http://www.unwomen.org/-/media/headquarters/attachments/sections/library/ publications/2013/12/un%20women%20evaw-thembrief_us-web-rev9%20pdf. pdf?la=en. ­Accessed July 2017. 4 When leaders support efforts to fight against gender-based violence, communities can make real progress; on the other hand, when leaders condone such violence in word or in deed, efforts to fight such violence are severely curtailed. See, for example, the

2 Introduction How and why that happens is the focus of this book. By recovering the history of the misuse and misapplication of religious and cultural beliefs, this volume will sharpen the reader’s understanding of historical and contemporary violence against women and will provide new opportunities for intervention and response. Religious beliefs in various traditions, on the one hand, often underlie arguments that women should endure battering, and sacred texts may be used to provide a rationale for female obedience and suffering in the face of such violence. Historical and contemporary narratives reveal striking similarities in religious arguments that praise the suffering obedience of the victim and minimize the culpability of the batterer. In some cases, on the other hand, women or their communities call upon religious belief to support their resistance and responses to violence. Whatever the response, survivors often turn to religious leaders for counsel. The ­information they receive can either facilitate escape or imprison them for decades to come. Public policy and ministry must take the religious dimensions of the problem into account if there is to be any possibility for an effective response. This volume analyzes violence against women in the context of religious beliefs, with emphasis on the history of Christianity and Christian theology, where the authors’ roots and research are located. However, the work includes reflections that are grounded in active work and research, including frequent discussions with Christian, Jewish, and Muslim leaders. Therefore, we take a multidisciplinary perspective (theological, literary, and historical) on Christian narratives and include in the ­I ntroduction and Conclusion information on multifaith efforts to address the problem of violence against women. Moreover, the met­ hodology for studying narratives provides common ground for various fields that grapple with gender-based violence: counseling, ­psychiatry, psychology, and medicine, as well as literature, theology, and history.

groundbreaking work done in Victoria, Australia. In 2016, Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews committed $576 million dollars to fighting domestic violence in his state of 5.7 million people, increasing that amount to nearly $2 billion in 2017. This compares to $30 million per year committed by the Australian federal government over the same period. However, Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull has lent his voice to efforts to fight domestic violence on the national level, tweeting, “Disrespecting women doesn't always result in violence. But violence against women always begins with disrespect.” See Butler, Josh, “Victoria Is Spending More Money On Domestic Violence Than The Federal Government,” HuffPost Australia, July 15, 2016, www.­huffingtonpost. com.au/2016/04/12/victoria-family-violence_n_9675948.html. ­Compare this to President Donald Trump’s 2018 budget proposal, which cuts ninety-three percent of funding to aid victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. See Lindsay Wise, “Massive Cuts to Violence Against Women Programs Just ‘Technical,’ White House Says,” McClatchy DC Bureau, May 25, 2017, www.mcclatchydc.com/news/politics-­ government/white-house/article152705234.html.

Introduction  3 The authors have found that using a multidisciplinary approach ­delivers benefits for multifaith discussions on intimate partner violence. This book will prove useful in that context, as well as in multiple audiences seeking to understand the epidemic of violence against women. Research that does a comparative analysis of intimate partner violence across religious traditions is limited, as is that which investigates religious ­responses to such violence. An important collection of essays on violence against women in world religions examines the attitudes toward violence against women in numerous traditions. 5 Christine E. Gudorf argues for recognizing the following restrictions regarding the role or control of women that appear across religious traditions: 1 Reproduction and control of women’s bodies 2 Male headship of family, including the right to discipline and to use corporal punishment 3 Limitations on, or exclusion from, property ownership 4 Restriction to domestic space 5 Exclusion from religious leadership and knowledge 6 Spiritual inferiority6 All of these concepts can play a role in limiting a woman’s ability to escape domestic violence, and in some cases they actually hold her culpable for the violence used against her. In this work, we propose three additional concepts that emerge from an analysis of Scripture and a variety of other Christian texts: 1 Emphasis on particular texts that mandate husbands’ authority over wives, despite other texts that have a more equitable and justice-­ oriented mandate 2 The salvific role of suffering (either to save the partner, to keep the relationship holy, or as a means to self-purification) 3 Responsibility of the woman to keep the family together It will be useful for readers to keep these parallels in mind and evaluate them as they reflect on the material in the following chapters and on the perspectives they offer from the history of Christianity. With respect to solutions for violence against women, the study of the religious context for such violence poses certain vital questions: What 5 Daniel C. Maguire and Sa’diyya Shaikh, eds., Violence against Women in Contemporary World Religions: Roots and Cures (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 2007). 6 See Christine E. Gudorf, “Violence against Women in World Religions,” in Violence against Women in Contemporary World Religions, ed. D. C. Maguire and Sa’diyya Shaikh, 9–28 at 10–12.

4 Introduction evidence is there that institutionalized religion and its representatives work or have worked to act against intimate partner violence?7 Do historical texts reveal precedents for ecclesiastical intervention or protection? Do other historical sources and research point to women creating safe places for themselves? Are there parallels between historical and contemporary solutions for violence against women and women’s ­response to them? Progress has been made in collaboration among religious groups in the fight against domestic violence. In April 2006, more than eighty leaders from across religious traditions came together to sign the National Declaration by Religious and Spiritual Leaders to Address Violence against Women, condemning intimate partner violence and abuse.8 More recently, many religious organizations began to make public statements against domestic violence in the wake of scandals in the National Football League. For example, the evangelical organization Sojourners has a campaign area of women and girls that now focuses primarily on gender-based violence. It has supported domestic-violence research and created a resource for people of faith. A quick search of the Sojourners website brings up numerous articles about domestic violence.9 Moreover, Interchurch Medical Assistance (IMA) World Health has partnered with Sojourners and the Harvard Divinity School to conduct research on the impact of church membership on gender-based violence.10 In addition, information on intimate partner violence available from within diverse religious communities is growing, and many of these communities have developed organizations to address these issues specifically; examples include the Muslim Peaceful Families Project, the Sufi Women Organization, the Jewish Coalition against Sexual ­Assault/Abuse, and the evangelical Christian Focus Ministries.11 Other ­organizations have diversified their work to include a variety of religious 7 There are more than 270 theological schools in the U.S. and Canada that are accredited by the Association of Theological Schools, a certification recognized by the U.S. Education Department (and dozens of nonaccredited schools). In August 2015, the Carter Center and the Faith Trust Institute sent an invitation to every professor they could locate who wrote or taught classes or portions of classes on responding to domestic violence. Their invitation list included only approximately fifty faculty members out of the thousands of faculty that teach in these schools. The good news is that there are that many people teaching now; the bad news is that not all of the fifty professors on the list teach classes on the topic. 8 “National Declaration by Religious and Spiritual Leaders to Address Violence against Women,” Journal of Religion and Abuse 8, no. 2 (2006): 71–77. 9 Sojourners, https://sojo.net/join/campaigns/women-girls. 10 http://projects.iq.harvard.edu/files/srcp/files/rla-sgbv_final_report.pdf. 11 Peaceful Families Project, www.peacefulfamilies.org/; Sufi Women Organization, www. sufiwomen.org/projects.html; Jewish Coalition against Sexual Assault/Abuse, www. theawarenesscenter.org/domesticviolence.html; Focus Ministries, www.­focusministries1. org/.

Introduction  5 traditions. One of the earliest was the Faith Trust Institute, one of the first key resources for information on the impact of religious belief on violence, which added Muslim and Jewish representatives to its board and began providing interfaith resources some fifteen years ago. The National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence now has a section dedicated to violence in communities of faith. Safe Havens Interfaith Partnership against Domestic Violence and Elder Abuse in Boston has a diverse board and regularly trains Christian, Muslim, Jewish, and Unitarian Universalist groups.12 Developments such as these are promising, but for the most part, organizations focus on the impact of violence in their own religious communities and do not have the resources to expand. Rarely do historical studies support or accompany the work of these groups.

Historical Narratives of Violence against Women What is the value of studying historical narratives of violence? For one, historical narratives answer the question, “Have things always been this bad?” Some say that if this problem began in the twentieth century, it might just go away in the twenty-first; they refuse to treat the underlying misogyny. Others deny that violence against intimate partners exists, even when arrests occur in their own cities. Narratives tell us that intimate partner violence has deep roots in history. It is not a new or an imagined problem. It is not “fake news.” Moreover, historical narratives offer perspectives on the contemporary problem. Uncovering attitudes that excuse battering and recovering the history of those attitudes sharpens our understanding of violence against women in the present. In addition, historical scholarship provides a context for contemporary efforts at social change. It strengthens the call to provide needed responses. And finally, challenging and interrogating historical texts sharpens the ability to perceive and challenge current day situations of violence. The contemporary crisis of violence against women has a history that can be found in narratives of various types. In Christian history, such narratives include lives of medieval holy women, Inquisition registers, and court documents. Crucial questions need to be addressed about texts that relate stories of violence, notably saints’ lives. When the narrator displays a religious orientation in recounting stories of violence against women, the role of religion needs to be questioned. Does the narrator recount violence against a woman with an aim to construct a model of virtuous behavior? How does the

12 Faith Trust Institute, www.faithtrustinstitute.org/; National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence, www.ncdsv.org/publications_religion.html; Safe Havens Interfaith Partnership against Domestic Violence, www.interfaithpartners.org/.

6 Introduction suffering of violence depicted in the text contribute to the victim’s virtue and even holiness? Is the author’s attitude discernible toward the violent action and its perpetrator? What religious message do the textual models convey? In addition to the questions about responses to violence, these are queries to keep in mind when reading narratives of violence, especially hagiographic narratives. The term hagiography derives from Greek, ‘agios and γραθη, and thus literally means writing about the holy, the saints. As a genre of writing, hagiography’s primary form is the saint’s life, but it encompasses other types of texts such as the text-based performance of saints’ lives in liturgy and drama, passion stories devoted to narrating the deaths of the martyrs, edifying stories and teachings, miracle stories, and histories of relics.13 The saint’s life was the centerpiece for building a sense of communal religious identity around a holy person. It also constituted the central piece of the canonization dossier, once that formal process had begun in the thirteenth century. But, how do stories of abuse and murder fit into a process aimed at declaring someone a saint? Does the author of a saint’s life make a connection between holiness and suffering violence? According to the noted historian Guy Philippart, the saint’s function in medieval culture was polyvalent: he or she served as a moral model, a hero to inspire the imagination, an active intermediary between heaven and earth, and the exemplar of a certain group.14 How does violence relate to those saintly functions? From the narratives examined in this book, it will be clear that struggle with intimate violence was not unusual. However, escape or refuge for victims was rare in historical accounts. A better historical understanding of religious and cultural attitudes toward battering contributes to the search for solutions to problems of violence against women. We endeavor to analyze historical examples of intervention, escape, and refuge in order to identify effective patterns for contemporary responses to violence. Many Christian narratives of battering present a complex theological grounding involving themes of suffering, obedience, and ownership. Deep-rooted ties between patient suffering and appropriate religious servanthood have ongoing consequences for women.15 13 On historical hagiography, see Guy Philippart, “Introduction,” Les hagiographies, Histoire internationale de la littérature hagiographique latine et vernaculaire en Occident des origines à 1550, International history of the Latin and vernacular hagiographical literature in the West from its origins to 1550, Corpus Christianorum. Hagiographies 6 vols. (Turnhout: Brepols, 1994–) I, 13–14. 14 G. Philippart, “Introduction,” Les hagiographies, I, 14. Note that the English translations of hagiographic texts can sometimes tone down the suffering that the husband causes. Hence we cite the Latin texts. 15 The association between battering, suffering, and certain theological formulations is explored by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Sharing Her Word. Feminist Biblical Interpretation in Context (Boston: Beacon Press, 1998), 137–59; Marie M. Fortune, “The Transformation of Suffering: A Biblical and Theological Perspective,” in

Introduction  7 ­Medieval and contemporary narratives alike demonstrate that women in abusive relationships feel the burden of religious beliefs that enjoin wives to endure suffering and by so doing maintain stable marriages. Moreover, through the centuries preachers and writers have reminded women of their responsibility for obedience even in the face of abuse and have warned them of the repercussions should they fail in this duty. For example, Chapter 4 looks at the teaching of two Italian friars, one a well-known preacher and the other a preacher and author of a marriage manual. Among the most famous of Christian figures, Martin Luther wrote, “The rule remains with the husband and the wife is compelled to obey him by God’s command.” Luther explained that his wife, when “saucy,” got “nothing but a box on the ear.” John Calvin reflected that “we do not find ourselves permitted by the word of God... to advise a woman to leave her husband... even when he beats her.”16 T. DeWitt Talmage, a popular evangelical preacher, wrote in 1886 that “the death of a good wife in sacrifice and love [was] her final and greatest glory, ‘a queen’s coronation.’”17 Christian theologies of women’s suffering and patience, obedience and subordination, as well as ownership and power, emerge clearly from these and many other similar statements, both historical and contemporary.18 Violence against Women and Children: A Christian Theological Sourcebook, ed. Carol J. Adams and Marie M. Fortune (New York: Continuum, 1995), 85–91. Many feminist scholars have examined the appearance of violence in religious texts and traditions. Some useful references include Elizabeth Clark, Women in the Early Church (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1983); Elizabeth Clark and Herbert Richardson, eds., Women and Religion: A Feminist Sourcebook of Christian Thought (New York: Harper & Row, 1977); Pamela Cooper-White, The Cry of Tamar (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1995); Phyllis Trible, Texts of Terror (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1984); Rosemary Radford Ruether, Religion and Sexism: Images of Women in the Jewish and Christian Traditions (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1974); Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Bread Not Stone (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1984); and Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza and Mary Shawn Copeland, eds., Violence against Women, Concilium 1 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Press, 1994). 16 Cherubino da Siena, Regole della Vita Matrimoniale, cited in Julia O’Faolain and Lauro Martines, Not in God’s Image (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), 177; Luther’s Works, vol. 1, Lecture on Genesis, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan (St. Louis, MO: Concordia, 1955), 68–69; Preserved Smith, ed., The Life and Letters of Martin Luther (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1911), 180; Johannes Calvin, Opera quae supersunt omnia, trans. Hughes (Geneva: C.A. Schwetschke and Son, 1877), 27 vols., v. 17, col. 539. Citations from Joy Bussert, Battered Women: From a Theology of Suffering to an Ethic of Empowerment (Kutztown, PA: Kutztown Publishing, 1986), 11–14. 17 In the rise of Christian fundamentalism in the late nineteenth century, an identical belief in the theology of suffering was espoused. See T. DeWitt Talmage, “The Choice of a Wife,” in Christian Herald and Signs of Our Times, January 1886, 21; and Betty A. DeBerg, Ungodly Women: Gender and the First Wave of American Fundamentalism (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 47. 18 For example, the Promise Keeper’s movement of the 1980s and 1990s offered a “kinder, gentler patriarchy”; leaders such as Bill Bright claimed that although men

8 Introduction

Culture and Religion Specialists in the history of preaching and sermons point out that the preacher serves as a bridge from learned to popular culture, from the world of the educated elite to that of the uneducated populace. M ­ artha Howell and Walter Prevenier define culture as “the system of meaning through which people experience the world” and urge historians to take seriously the cultural production of non-elites.19 Since “non-elites” generally were not literate for several centuries, some medieval historians look to the discourse transcribed from sermons to the people to see what was being said to them. That exchange, they argue, may reveal an “in-between” level of culture, neither high nor low. Preachers and hagiographers were sometimes the same people, and sermons and saints’ lives were often nearly interchangeable. Therefore, before a formal canonization process developed in the thirteenth century, saints’ lives held the possibility of reflecting something about “low” or “in-between” culture. Although New Cultural Historians and “postmodern” critics more generally problematized this division in culture, scholars in the nineteenth century and much of the twentieth operated with something termed the “two-tiered” model of society: elite and people. 20 Peter Brown soundly thrashed the validity of the “two-tiered” model for the

should respect women, men are “the head of the household and women are the responders.” See Michael S. Kimmel, “Promise Keepers: Patriarchy’s Second Coming as Masculine Renewal,” Tikkun 12, no. 2 (1997): 48. The movement promotes male entitlement and female submission, and thus a theology of obedience, “for the sake of your family and the survival of our culture,” according to the best-selling text Al Janssen, and Larry K. Weeden, eds. The Seven Promises of a Promise Keeper (Colorado Springs, CO: Focus on the Family, 1994). Print. Ironically, the right of men to assert leadership over women is rationalized by an appeal for men to become “servants of Christ” at home, meaning that they administer or head their families just as Christ heads the church. Here, “submission to Christ,” when done by a man, actually means claiming his proper role as head of the family. For women, submission to Christ means simply submission to the patriarchal order. 19 Martha Howell and Walter Prevenier, From Reliable Sources: An Introduction to Historical Methods (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001), 117. 20 To expand the material for this book to encompass the numerous debates on the concept of culture would require another volume or more. I am grateful to George Gonzalez for his comments on the field of cultural studies and his suggestion to explore in future research the work of Clifford Geertz and Frederic Jamison, his notion of culture as bricolage. Clifford Geertz established the definition of religion as a cultural system, meaning that it is a (1) a system of symbols which acts to (2) establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by (3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and (4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of facticity that (5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic.C. Geertz, “Religion as a Cultural System,” in Anthropological Approaches to the Study of Religion, ed. M. Banton (London: Tavistock, 1966), 1–46.

Introduction  9 veneration of saints in late antiquity, particularly the assumption that worshipping saints was popular nonsense that the enlightened elite struggled to control. 21 As in the Middle Ages, the saintly whom people venerated revealed what the culture valued, and suffering violence was foundational to what was considered holy. While preachers could be authors of hagiography, they also authored manuals on marriage. The religious elite sometimes worked against popular religion manifested in the oral stories of saints. The Life of Godelieve reveals a process where the hierarchy encounters a popular story and cleans it up to mold an acceptable theology around it. Preachers heard such stories and testimonies in the vernacular, and, in the later Middle Ages, they composed in the vernacular. Examples from popular literature, and popular culture more broadly, served to liven up sermons and to ground moral teaching. Many stories in medieval sermons show strong currents of violence and misogyny—popular stories about wives or husbands are set within the theological framework of sermons. Such stories will appear in later chapters of this volume. The notion of a class-based divide in medieval culture may seem odd to a twenty-first-century reader. As we write, the phenomenon of “culture” manifests itself in so many media and currents of thought that it surpasses by far the limits of a medieval theology curriculum and a body of medieval popular or learned literature. Low literacy rates define the medieval period as an oral culture. Yet medieval theology and literature arguably have the same “bottom line,” so to speak, where women are concerned. They both malign the character of women, and they both have roots in the medieval schools’ curriculum. Students in the monastic and cathedral schools studied not only exegesis, the study of the “Sacred page,” but they also advanced their knowledge of Latin by imitating selected passages from the best-known Latin authors from Virgil to the satirists Ovid and Juvenal. Clerics, widely defined as young men who belonged to holy orders from the first (those studying to be ordained) to the third, studied a basic curriculum at monastic and cathedral schools. Priests pursued more advanced study in theology. 22 Misogynism permeates clerical culture at the same time that it runs throughout “popular” culture—songs and plays performed in public, folkloric tales that emerge from bawdy stories (the French fabliaux), and derogatory sayings

21 See Peter Brown and Robert Lamont, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, c1981). Haskell lectures on history of religions; new ser., no. 2, 34–42. 22 See F. J. E. Raby, A History of Secular Latin Poetry in the Middle Ages, 2nd ed., 2 vols (Oxford: Oxford Press, 1957), 2, 45–51, 69. For a general view on medieval education and its context, see Olaf Pedersen, The First Universities. “Studium Generale” and the Origins of University Education in Europe, trans. Richard North (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997, rpt. 2000, digit. 2009), 92–154.

10 Introduction about women that circulate both orally and in writing. We highlight sources from France, home to the earliest and most expansive vernacular literature in Europe. While certainly an overly simplified and problematic concept, the idea of levels or divisions of culture still enters discourse, however inadequately. Polls attempt to quantify voting according to education level. “Fact-checking” now proves necessary to winnow the material broadcast by television or found on websites, tweeted, and then recounted by word of mouth. But the circulation of false material may originate from the educated who intend to deceive. Oral transmission of culture today differs enormously from what it was in the Middle Ages. The internet and its increasing number of electronic social media supplement and, for some people, replace the now old-fashioned forms of printed communication and publication. News, accurate or false, now takes ­seconds to transmit internationally, whereas relaying events in the Middle Ages ­depended on couriers and travel over long distances by horseback on land and ships on the sea. News of the siege of Jerusalem in 1099 during the First Crusade or the sack of Constantinople in 1204 during the Fourth Crusade reached Europe weeks after the events. Today, the firing of a missile from North Korea can be traced in “real time” and broadcast within minutes. With a few exceptions, literary historians long dismissed charges of misogyny in medieval literature by insisting upon the comic purpose for negative portrayals of women: that such writings were humorous, ­critical of both male and female in society, and therefore, not more ­biased against women than men. However, Edmond Faral, an early twentieth century historian who did some of the first writing about what medieval French literature reveals about society, concluded flatly in his landmark book, La vie quotidienne au temps de Saint Louis (Daily Life in the Time of Saint Louis): “Le moyen âge est misogyne” (The medieval ­period is misogynist). 23 Studies on misogyny in medieval culture finally began to multiply under the influence of feminism. A brief overview of misogyny in medieval literature and culture ­follows. Readers are encouraged to consult in-depth studies if they wish to pursue this topic. 24

23 Edmond Faral, La vie quotidienne au temps de Saint Louis (Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1938) 130. 24 Alcuin Blamires offers an excellent and thorough study, The Case for Women in Medieval Culture (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), following his co-edited Woman ­Defamed and Woman Defended. An Anthology of Medieval Texts, ed. Alcuin ­Blamires, with Karen Pratt and C. W. Mark (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). ­B everly M. Kienzle, “The Flowering of Satire in Medieval Picardy,” Dissertation, Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA, 1978, surveys a broad range of literature but appeared before the flourishing of feminist criticism in various fields.

Introduction  11 Women in both Christian theology and in literature occupy an ambiguous position. How paradoxical is it that Christians believe that a woman, namely Eve, led humankind to perdition, while another woman, Mary, mother of Jesus, allowed redemption to take place through her son? The paradox appears in medieval literary culture as well. The poets, influenced by the southern French troubadours, idealized the noble and beautiful woman, the unattainable object of longing expressed in their poetry. The noble lady occupied a pedestal in courtly literature, while the very author of the manual on courtly love (De amore, c. 1185), Andreas Capellanus, reserved the third part (De Reprobatione amoris) of his book for denouncing women. 25 Around three centuries later, the well-known fifteenth-century poet Alain Chartier staged a satirical ­debate between a courtly woman and the suitor whom she refuses. The woman, known as La Belle Dame sans merci, rebuts every argument the suitor proposes. 26 The woman of the developing bourgeoisie appears in comic and satiric literature as the dominating combative spouse or the adulterous wife who made her cuckolded husband the subject of ridicule. 27 No female figure captures the paradoxes and the irony of literature depicting a medieval married woman more forcefully than the inimitable Wife of Bath (Alisoun). Geoffrey Chaucer skillfully wove countless elements of ­misogyny into her discourse, along with both expected and novel apologies for women, as the Wife of Bath both embraces and overturns stereotypes while she recounts her experiences with her five husbands. 28 Numerous works mocked the institution of marriage in the tradition of the molestiae nuptiarum (“Troubles of Marriage”), either blaming both genders or displaying the vices of the wife and their impact on the husband. 29 In fifteenth-century France, parodic works such as the Quinze joyes de mariage (Fifteen joys of marriage) proliferated. The spouses frequently exchanged blows in bawdy tales, such as the fabliaux, which revolved around adultery and household battles. One of the most

25 Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love (De amore et amoris remedio. ­English), intro., trans., and notes John Jay Parry (New York: Columbia University Press, 1990); excerpts included in Alcuin Blamires, ed., with Karen Pratt and C. W. Marks, Woman Defamed and Woman Defended. An Anthology of Medieval Texts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 114–15. 26 Alain Chartier, La belle dame sans mercy; et les poésies lyriques, ed. Arthur Piaget (Paris: Droz, 1945). [i.e. 1946]; and in recent translation, Alain Chartier, The Quarrel of the Belle dame sans merci, ed. and trans. Joan E. McRae, Routledge Medieval Texts (New York: Routledge, 2004. 27 Kienzle, “Flowering of Satire in Medieval Picardy,” 159–66. 28 Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, trans. Nevill Coghill (New York: Penguin Classics, 1951; rpt. 1982), 276–310. Excerpts in Alcuin Blamires, Woman Defamed, 198–222. 29 Alcuin Blamires, The Case for Women in Medieval Culture, 75–82.

12 Introduction bitterly misogynistic of French satirists, Matheolus, a thirteenth-century cleric (not ordained but a member of minor orders) composed his major work the Lamentations in Latin, but it was translated into French around 1320. Matheolus blames his wife for all his misfortunes and with her, all women.30 A woman’s voice resounds in the Chanson de mal mariée (the song of a battered woman, literally a woman who married badly), which recounts the regret of a wife who suffers beating by her husband, generally an older man. The young woman pokes bitter fun at the husband, revealing the poet’s comic intent, but she also cries and complains about being beaten. Peasant women appear in another genre of literature, the pastourelle, where they suffer violence from knights. The pastourelle recounts the journey of a knight on horseback into the countryside. Typically he sees a woman working on the side of the road and decides to woo her. Note the vast class difference between a peasant working on a farm and a knight riding on horseback. Usually the knight ends up forcing sex on the woman—that is, he rapes her. These poems have been presented as comic, not to be taken seriously as violence against women. Kathryn Gravdal first challenged this easy dismissal of sexism and violence. Critics of a feminist point of view claim that the stereotypical setting, theme, and characters of these poems indicate that they are not serious. Feminists realize that the same thing is said even now about real women who suffer beatings and rape. Violence against women is not taken seriously.31 The older woman also became the object of mockery. Students learned Latin composition from set Roman models that lasted for centuries, such as the description of a once beautiful woman whose physical features declined in old age. The medieval poetic arts by Mathieu de Vendôme and Geoffroi de Vinsauf included rules for composing the feminine portrait that were based on the writing of the fifth-century Gallo-Roman author Sidonius Apollinaris and on earlier portraits by Ovid. 32 From one physical feature to another, a woman’s appearance declined for the worst. Perhaps the best-known poem in this genre, “Les regrets de la Belle Heaulmière” was composed by François Villon, considered the greatest French poet of the Middle Ages. Heaulmière describes old age as a batterer:

30 Les Lamentations de Matheolus et le Livre de leesce de Jehan Le Fèvre, de Resson (poèmes français du XIVe siècle), édition critique, accompagnée de l’original latin des Lamentations, d’après l’unique manuscrit d’Utrecht, d’une introduction et de deux glossaires, by A.-G. van Hamel, 2 vols. (Paris: É. Bouillon, 1892–1905). 31 Kathryn Gravdal, Ravishing Maidens: Writing Rape in Medieval French Literature and Law (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991). 32 Edmond Faral, Les arts poétiques du XIIe et du XIIIe siècle (Paris: Champion, 1962).

Introduction  13 Oh, old age, proud in wickedness, You’ve battered me so, and why? Who cares, who, for my distress, Or whether at all your blows I die? She also loved a violent man but remembers his kisses with deep regret: But, by my soul, I loved him bad…., He could drag me through the dirt, Trample me underfoot, I’d love him, Break my back, whatever’s worse, If only he’d ask for a kiss again, I’d soon forget then every pain. A glutton, full of what he could win, He’d embrace me – with him I’ve lain. What’s he left me? Shame and sin.33 Here again, violence goes hand in hand with romance. The young woman seeking physical satisfaction at the price of violent blows belongs to medieval culture, as does the beautiful, highborn, unattainable woman and additionally, the male who exploits the young woman. Villon gives voice to the woman. When women are victims of men, they are presumed to like the experience. In fact, the two sorts of women appear in one of the major works of literature, where courtly love is turned upside down. The first part of the widely read Romance of the Rose (21,780 verses composed by Guillaume de Lorris around 1230–1235) idealizes the courtly lady, The Rose, whom he seeks in an allegorized garden. 34 The unfinished text circulated widely and influenced other works of literature that adopted its key allegorical characters. It also proved to be a favorite text for illustration.35 A well-educated and bitter satirist, Jean de Meung set out in the late thirteenth century to add his own ending to the Romance (17,722 verses between 1275 and 1280). His bitter satire sought to destroy the courtly, refined airs of the Romance, attacking the Rose and devastating her allegorical garden. Among his bold assertions, he denounced marriage as an institution, while advocating avant-garde ideas such as “free love” and the political concept of the social contract (Figures 0.1 and 0.2).36

33 François Villon, “Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmière,” trans. A. S. Kline © Copyright 2004, All Rights Reserved, www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/French/Villon.htm#anchor_Toc71175994. 34 See Alcuin Blamires, Woman Defamed, 39–49, 219–230. 35 Bibliothèque universitaire Ste Genevieve or another ms. 36 Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun, Le Roman de la Rose, trans. André Mary (Paris: Gallimard, 1949). Excerpts included in Alcuin Blamires, Woman Defamed and Woman Defended, 148–166.

14 Introduction

Figure 0.1  L  e roman de la rose (Romance of the Rose), line 9361. J­ ealous ­husband, wearing tunic and hood, takes wife by plaits, ca. 1390, Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, MS. e Mus. 65, fol. 072v,  c.  1390. Unfortunately, this scene of marital discord and abuse was a favorite for illustration. Source: http://library. artstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu /#/asset / BODLEI A N _ 10310371607.

The venomous second part of the Romance of the Rose stirred up debate over the character of women. Christine de Pisan, the first woman in France to earn her living as a writer, sharply criticized Jean de Meung in the early fifteenth century and wrote several books in defense of women. 37 Jean Gerson, an eminent theologian at the University of Paris, took her side. What was called “La Querelle des femmes” (The Quarrel about Women) continued in learned literary debates in France, England, and other countries in Europe through the eighteenth century.

37 Excerpts included in Alcuin Blamires, Woman Defamed and Woman Defended, 148–166.

Introduction  15

Figure 0.2  Romance of the Rose. Jealous husband, Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, ms. Douce 195, fol. 66v, 1490. Source: http://library.artstor. org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/#/asset/ARTSTOR_103_4182200 3066261.

Narratives of Holiness and Suffering The Christian narratives relevant to our study date from the fourth to the twenty-first centuries. However, many narratives structure their themes and emphases around the interpretation of much older texts: biblical passages, from the creation and place of woman in Genesis to the social codes in the pastoral letters. Saints’ lives provide a rich source for examining the historical reconstruction of a holy person. The saint functioned as a moral model or hero(ine) to inspire awe and the imagination, an intermediary between heaven and earth who in some cases illustrated exemplary behavior. Paradigms of holiness are socially constructed; that is, they often reveal more about the attitudes and values of the society in which the text was composed than about the actual events of a saint’s life.38 Moreover, 38 Guy Phillipart, introduction to Les hagiographies (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1996), 1:13–14. Robert Sweetman, commenting on hagiography, notes that [t]he motifs ­common to the vitae of women who lived centuries apart and different cultural milieus mark out a continuity of imaginative project, namely the effect which medieval religion … had on the social structures and relationships of ‘this world.’ “Christianity, Women, and the Medieval Family,” in Religion, Feminism, and the Family, ed. Anne Carr and Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), 128.

16 Introduction the analysis of violence against women in historical narratives enlightens our understanding in the present.39 The clear majority of persons who were recognized as saints in the Middle Ages were men.40 It was very difficult for women to achieve recognition as holy persons, because their physical bodies were associated with temptation and the demonic in a way that men’s bodies were not, thus impeding their quest for holiness. In addition, women were perceived as innately inferior, an idea rooted in exegesis of ­Scripture, ­particularly Genesis, the Pastoral Epistles, and the Pauline letters. Achieving holiness was all the more problematic for the married woman, as her husband and children gave evidence of her sexuality. A woman’s familial ties thus stood as an encumbrance to holiness, unless her physical ties to her family could be dissolved and replaced by spiritual ones.41 Among the married women who were venerated for their holiness, several are described as patiently and obediently undergoing trials inflicted by their husbands in what we today consider psychological or physical abuse. The stories of holy women abused by spouses, like other historical narratives, need to be informed by scholarship on women’s piety and views of the body, as well as by what can be gleaned about an author’s often complex historical circumstances and purpose in writing the life of a particular saint.42 A series of questions can be asked of these hagiographical narratives: Does the hagiographer recount episodes of violence or battering to use as evidence for a woman’s holiness? How does the suffering of violence depicted in the text contribute to the victim’s holiness? Is the importance of abuse accentuated? How does the role of abuse compare to that of good

39 Mary Potter Engel argues that we need to open ourselves to the possibility that discoveries of the interconnection of the ideology of gender inequality and the practice of violence against women in the Middle Ages, Renaissance, and Reformation may inform our understanding of patriarchy and our practice toward women in the present.“Historical Theology and Violence against Women: Unearthing a Popular Tradition of Just Battery,” in Adams and Fortune, Violence against Women and Children, 258. 40 André Vauchez finds that between 1198 and 1431, 85.7 percent of the saints recognized by the church were men. Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, trans. Jean Birrell (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 269. 41 See Rosemary Radford Ruether on the theological inferiority of women, “Christian Understandings of Human Nature and Gender,” in Carr and Van Leeuwen, Religion, Feminism, and the Family, 95–110; and Sweetman on the subordination of social and biological bonds to spiritual ones, in “Christianity, Women, and the Medieval Family,” 127–47 passim. 42 Within the rich scholarship on medieval women, see Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982); Caroline Walker Bynum, “The Female Body and Religious Practice in the Later Middle Ages,” in ­F ragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion (New York: Zone Books, 1992), 181–238; and Elizabeth Petroff, Body and Soul. Essays on Medieval Women and Mysticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994).

Introduction  17 works? What is the author’s attitude toward the violent action and its perpetrator? What theological message do these textual models convey? The first account we examine from Christian history dates to fourth-century North Africa, the birthplace of Christian Latin literature, with the life of Monica, mother of Augustine of Hippo (d. 430). Monica was praised for her suffering; on the one hand, she tearfully prayed for her son’s conversion, and on the other, she counseled her friends to remain silent, subservient, and obedient in order to avoid their husbands’ blows. Augustine never states that his father, Patricius, beat his mother, but her son’s influential Confessions recounts Monica’s patience and suffering, including her advice on avoiding beatings, with the result that Monica was held up as a model for later Christian wives and mothers. Radegund (ca. 525–587), kidnapped at the age of six by Clothar I, king of the Franks, was later forced to marry him. After Clothar had her brother murdered around 550, she appealed to high-placed churchmen to enter a convent, became a deaconess, and thwarted her husband’s attempts to regain her. Radegund and several other royal women of the Merovingian and Carolingian eras, roughly the fifth to the ninth centuries, succeeded in using their power and wealth to achieve some measure of safety. At times, they persuaded powerful clerics to intervene for them. In other instances, the families of high-placed women exacted revenge on the brutal husbands.43 Godelieve of Gistel (1052–1070) faced a different political and ecclesiastical situation in the eleventh century. Papal reforms strove to increase centralized power of church leaders over secular authority and to establish the collaboration of sacred and secular powers to enforce the church’s rulings. The church took measures to eliminate clerical marriage and called upon secular authority to enforce ecclesiastical views on the marriage of laypeople and the subordinate place of women.44 When Godelieve escaped once from her abusive husband, she was sent back to her husband’s home under orders of the local count and bishop, only to be murdered by her husband’s henchmen. After miracles began to occur at her grave, she was revered by local people as a saint, and a learned monk was sent in by the local bishop to write the official account of her life. Early versions of Godelieve’s life omit the husband’s fate, but a later version expands the tale and reports that the husband eventually converted.45

43 “Radegund,” Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, ed. Jo Ann McNamara, John E. Holborg, and E. Gordon Whatley (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 1992), 60–99. 4 4 Dyan Elliott, Spiritual Marriage: Sexual Abstinence in Medieval Wedlock (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 98–104. 45 Medieval Hagiography: An Anthology, ed. Thomas Head (New York and London: Routledge, 2001).

18 Introduction Biographies of several thirteenth- and fourteenth-century women refer vaguely to abuse by a spouse, as if such abuse constituted a requisite for the degree of suffering necessary for sanctity. Several examples include Umiliana dei Cerchi (c. 1219–1247), Angela of Foligno (c. 1248–1309), Rita of Cascia (1381–1457), patron of abused wives and hopeless causes, Maria Sturion of Venice, who was abandoned by her husband, and Catherine of Genoa (1447–1510), a member of one of Italy’s prominent families who was pressured into a political marriage and spent five years in near isolation while her husband mistreated her, gambled, and pursued other women.46 The fictional tale of Griselda, a peasant who was claimed for marriage by the local Marquis and then tested inhumanely by her husband, circulated widely in different languages and with varying lessons. The great writers Bocaccio, Petrarca, and Chaucer told her story in the fourteenth century, entitled respectively Decamerone, novella 10; De Obedientia et Fide uxoria; and The Canterbury Tales (The Clerk’s Tale). A 1395 French mystery play features Griselda: Le Mystère de Grisélidis. ­Unpublished but attributed possibly to the French writer Phillipe de Mézières, the manuscript is held by the Bibliothèque nationale de France, 2203. A French translation, La Patience de Grisélidis, appeared in 1484. The tale inspired Charles Perrault to include it in Tales from My Mother Goose, and many visual depictions exist as well. Dorothy of Montau (1347–1394) underwent years of beatings from her husband without a murmur or a complaint, according to her hagiographer. After one severe beating, her confessors intervened to approach her husband for his excessive cruelty. Yet Dorothy reportedly welcomed the suffering she endured and modeled her obedience on the example of Christ. After her husband’s death, she lived as a recluse and dictated her visions to her confessor, who promoted her canonization as Prussia’s first native saint. In contrast, the brother of the Cathar woman Guilhelme Maury (d. ca. 1311) arranged her escape from the violent barrel maker she married. Supported in the escape plan by a Cathar perfect (equivalent to a clergy member in this medieval dissident group), her brother led her to refuge in Cathar safe houses. The renowned French historian Anne Brenon reconstructed her life.47 Shortly after Guillelme’s marriage (June 1306), her brother Pèire left the sheep he tended in the mountains and

46 Maiju Lehmijoki-Gardner, Worldly Saints Social Interaction of Dominican Penitents Women in Italy 1300–1500 (Helsinki: Bibliotheca Historica), 123. 47 Anne Brenon, “Guillelme Maury, de Montaillou (c. 1288–1309), une femme de conviction,” in Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie (dir.) Autour de Montaillou, un village occitan – Histoire et religiosité d’une communauté villageoise au Moyen Age, ed. Anne Brenon and Christine Dieulafait, Actes du colloque de Montaillou, 25–27 âout 2000, Castelnaud-la-Chapelle: L’Hydre, 2001, 213–34.

Introduction  19 went to buy rams in the village where his newly married sister lived. While spending the night at his brother-in-law’s home, he heard the brotherin-law beat Guillelme. She had just fled from her husband for the first time. “She told me then,” he said, “that if I did not take her to a place where she could serve the good Christians, she herself would start to wander through the world, because dead or alive, she refused to stay with her husband!” The Cathar pastor recommended that Guillelme should be placed in the home of a Cathar believer where she could serve the community. A few days later at nightfall, brother and sister met at the cross in the cemetery. In four days they arrived at a town where Guillelme lived in a small community house of the last Cathar church. Sometime later, ­Guillelme disguised herself as a man in order to journey secretly through the mountains. Guillelme was a victim of the 1309 inquisitorial search that closed in on the clandestine church in those areas. She and her ­family were condemned to prison, their house in Montaillou was destroyed, and all the family’s belongings confiscated. Guillelme probably died with family members, of starvation and exhaustion, in the inquisitorial prison. Her religion allowed her escape from a violent husband, but she died as a victim of persecution by the church she opposed. Natalie Davis underscores how men and women who appeared before Royal courts in sixteenth-century France on charges of violence told their stories in different ways.48 The courts hesitated to pardon any woman who did not seem to be long-suffering and pushed to the brink from beatings, whereas men who acted out of rage achieved pardons for uncontrollable anger.49 Sixteenth-century England obtained notoriety for ordering the beheading of wives, notably by Henry VIII, who put two wives to death.50 In the same era, manuals about marriage appeared with advice on wife-beating. The account of French Jesuits’ encounter with the Montagnais people of New France in the seventeenth century provides another illustration of how religious belief was used to facilitate violence against women. The Jesuits left a remarkable account of their years among the indigenous peoples of New France. Begun by Paul LeJeune in 1632, The Relations, as the diaries were called, span forty-one years, with the last one published in 1673.51 This Jesuit’s journals and letters share many 48 Natalie Zemon Davis, Fiction in the Archives: Pardon Tales and Their Tellers in 16th century France (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1987), 36–110. 49 Davis, ibid. 50 Frances E. Dolan, Marriage and Violence: The Early Modern Legacy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008). 51 LeJeune served as the superior of the Jesuits in New France from 1632 to 1639. After arriving, in 1632, LeJeune sent a letter to Rev. Fr. Barthelemy Jacquinot, provincial of Paris, recounting his arduous journey to New France and his first encounter with the native people. The letter was 216 pages long, and Fr. Jacquinot published it immediately. From that point on, the Jesuit’s life “relations” in New France were documented in annual letters, all of which were published as The Relations, forty-one reports in

20 Introduction characteristics common across missions and missionaries. Such documents, as Mrinalini Sebastian points out, “generally contain narratives that exemplify the certitude of the writer in the Christian faith and also his (or sometimes her) conviction in the superiority of the Christian way of life.”52 This is certainly true for The Relations. As with the narratives described earlier, the voices of indigenous women in New France are rarely, if ever, heard in LeJeune’s account. LeJeune’s detailed letters tell the story of how, under guidance from the Jesuits, men’s violence toward their wives began and became commonplace and was understood as a sign of the Christian nature of their marriages. The violence that men came to use to “control” their wives, which was lacking prior to the encounter with the Jesuits, was considered testament to the men’s holiness. The acquiescence of the women to the men’s control was interpreted as evidence of their conversion and chaste behavior. More than a century later, not much had changed as Abigail ­Abbot Bailey (1746–1815) recorded in her diary the abuse she endured during twenty-five years of marriage in New Hampshire. As she struggled to understand her suffering in terms of God’s will, she wrote, “I now begin to learn, with trembling, that it was the sovereign pleasure of the allwise God to try me with afflictions in that relation, from which I had hoped to receive the greatest of my earthly comforts.” She finally fled under the harshest of circumstances and achieved a divorce in 1793. Elizabeth Canori (1774–1825), a Roman woman, responded “with absolute fidelity” in the face of “physical and psychological violence” from her husband, in the words of a 1994 newspaper report on her canonization. A lawyer marked by “psychological fragility,” her ­husband deceived Elizabeth, abandoned the family, and left them destitute. ­Elizabeth supported her children, cared for other families in need, and joined the Trinitarian Third Order. After Elizabeth’s death, her husband became a priest. The newspaper’s subheadline does not focus on ­Elizabeth’s service to her community but proclaims, “Her patience and prayer won the conversion of a faithless husband.” The husband’s conversion—the narrative’s “happy ending”—is presented as a spiritual reward that justified the abuse and suffering she endured. Finally, the article moralizes, “There are no excuses, conveniences or interests that all, from 1632 to 1673. LeJeune wrote the first eleven reports and four subsequent reports, and he contributed to all of them. The documents inspired French at home to contribute to the cause, thereby sustaining the Jesuits’ costly mission. The Relations also inspired women to become missionary apostolates. The Ursulines and Hospitallers arrived in Quebec in 1639, the first time “cloistered nuns had crossed seas to carry out an apostolic mission.” See Lēon Pouilot, “Paul LeJeune,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, 18, www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBioPrintable.asp?BioId=34488. 52 See Mrinalini Sebastian, “Reading Archives from a Postcolonial Feminist Perspective: ‘Native’ Bible Women and the Missionary Ideal,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 19, no. 1 (April 2003): 6.

Introduction  21 can justify any detraction whatsoever to the code of fidelity which is of love and of total surrender.”53 The implication is that the responsibility for the marriage and the conversion rests on the woman. The account of Elizabeth Canori’s canonization exemplifies the tendency to associate battering, suffering, and sanctification. 54 Finally, contemporary narratives, based on interviews with survivors, reveal religious arguments that echo age-old sacred texts. In one account, a Christian woman went to her pastor to discuss the battering she was experiencing. The pastor chastised her for “airing the family’s dirty laundry” and suggested that the violence in her life might be punishment from God for her premarital pregnancy. He then promptly reported his conversation with her to her husband. A Jewish woman was told by her rabbi that she was responsible for shalom bayit, peace in the home, and should remain in the marriage while trying to modify her behavior so as not to upset her husband. A young Muslim woman was also encouraged to modify her behavior as a way to manage her husband’s anger and abuse. Unlike the medieval saints described earlier, whose patience in the face of abuse was lauded as revelatory of holiness, the contemporary women included in our study never reached sainthood. Instead, they were vilified for reporting the abuse or told that it was their responsibility to change abusive behavior through virtuous actions.

Chapter Outline Chapter 1 establishes the foundation for this study, explaining what battering, or “intimate partner violence,” is and how pervasive a problem it remains, an epidemic whose victims are primarily women. This chapter also delineates the dynamics of domestic violence, a necessary step if the reader is to fully understand the role religious and cultural belief can play in facilitating or disrupting such violence. Chapter 2 describes the theoretical method utilized to analyze the narratives as narratives and as prescriptive theological texts. This method, grounded in feminist theory and feminist liberation theology, seeks to analyze both the actual words of the narratives and the historical context and power dynamics behind the words. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 center on sources and their salient theological models, but before moving forward, it will be helpful to differentiate the theological themes analyzed in each of these chapters: suffering, obedience, and ownership. Although all three are interconnected and function 53 L’osservatore romano (Vatican City), 17, no. 1338, April 27, 1994, 2. 54 For others who suggest an association between battering, suffering, and certain theological formulations, see Schüssler Fiorenza, Sharing Her Word, 137–59; and Fortune, “Transformation of Suffering,” 85–91. Many feminist scholars have examined the appearance of violence in religious texts and traditions. See references cited in n. 4.

22 Introduction at some level in each of the narratives, there are clear distinctions between them, with varying results for the victims of violence. A theology of suffering and patience, the topic of Chapter 3, encourages the sufferer to see suffering as sent from God, and obedience in the face of it as a sign of godliness. Moreover, this theological thinking encourages women to endure suffering for some greater good. The notion that God ordained female suffering is often grounded on the Christian interpretation of Genesis 3:16. Suffering and patience stand out as model virtues for the women discussed, notably Monica, mother of Augustine of Hippo. A theology of obedience and subordination, the subject of Chapter 4, is built upon assumptions that there is a God-ordained “natural” order to relationships, with God first, men second, and women and children third in terms of power and authority. This theology functions in harmony with social forces of subordination and can result in a theological interpretation of violence against women as action in concert with God’s divine will. A theology of obedience undergirds the story of Godelieve of Gistel and others discussed in the chapter. A theology of ownership and power occupies center stage in ­Chapter 5 and is rooted in the early belief that women have an inferior moral ­nature and thus must remain under male control lest society find itself in chaos. In this theological view, a male-headed household reveals God’s divine will for how human relationships are to be structured. Men as primary representatives of God are at the helm. Women, associated with the world of matter, are secondary and inferior. This theology is usually based on the creation myth that woman was created second to and under the authority of man. A theology of ownership and power is evident in the stories of Dorothy of Montau, Catherine of ­G enoa, and the literary figure of patient Griselda. This theology’s power to facilitate violence is readily apparent in the account of the J­ esuits’ encounter with the Montagnais people in New France, where the theology they introduced literally led to domestic violence among the ­Montagnais, something unknown to them before the Jesuits arrived. The Conclusion focuses first on historical stories that include some resistance to violence. The victim herself may resist battering or she may be assisted by a family member, by clergy, or by a religious community. The authors also examine contemporary efforts of resistance to battering and the growing number of religiously based programs that are aiding victims and working to end gender-based violence. In summarizing the volume’s findings, the conclusion also discusses the theological lessons we must learn from this history and how they can provide a broad base of resistance to male-centric theology. The resulting critical feminist theology of resistance and empowerment builds upon other feminist and liberation theologies to provide a new basis from which people of faith can fight the scourge of intimate partner violence.

1 What is Domestic Violence?

This chapter explains what intimate partner or “domestic” violence is and how pervasive a problem it remains. Intimate partner violence (IPV) is overwhelmingly a crime perpetrated by men against women. Although some U.S. studies have suggested that IPV is perpetrated equally by men and women, deeper exploration of the facts reveals that this is simply untrue.1 There may be equal rates of conflict instigated by men and women, but when it comes to violence that rises to the level of criminal activity, offenders are overwhelmingly male. Typically, eighty-five ­percent or more of restraining orders are obtained against male abusers.2 A 2007 National Institute of Justice (NIJ) study found that “more than 90 percent of ‘systematic, persistent, and injurious’ violence is perpetrated by men.”3 The study found that when areas had higher numbers of female perpetrators than other areas had, the violent crime tended to be abuse of elderly by adult children rather than IPV.4 More recently, the National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey found that one in four women (22.3 percent) and one in seven men (fourteen percent) had been victims of severe physical violence by an intimate partner, reiterating 1 See Michael S. Kimmel, “‘Gender Symmetry’ in Domestic Violence: A Substantive and Methodological Research Review,” Violence against Women 8, no. 11 (November 2002): 1332–63. 2 Andrew R. Klein, Practical Implications of Current Domestic Violence Research: For Law Enforcement, Prosecutors, and Judges, U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, National Institute of Justice, NCJ225722, June 2009, www.ncjrs. gov/pdffiles1/nij/225722.pdf. See also Ross Macmillan and Catherine Kruttschnitt, Patterns of Violence against Women: Risk Factors and Consequences, U.S. Department of Justice, National Institute of Justice, NCJ208346, August 2004, at www. ncjrs.gov/pdffiles1/nij/grants/208346.pdf. For an example of a study that claims that rates are equal between women and men, see Murray A. Straus, Richard J. Gelles, and Suzanne K. Steinmetz, Behind Closed Doors: Violence in the American Family (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1980). 3 National Institute of Justice, “Measuring Intimate Partner (Domestic) Violence,” October 24, 2007, www.ojp.usdoj.gov/nij/topics/crime/intimate-partner-violence/­measuring.htm, accessed July 27, 2009. 4 Klein, Practical Implications, 15. See also Kimmel’s excellent review of research claiming equal levels of IPV by men and women.

24  What is Domestic Violence? that IPV happened disproportionally to women.5 ­Nonetheless, it is critical to remember that survivors almost uniformly underreport and downplay the abuse they experience, often dismissing it as not serious or underestimating its seriousness, which means that the actual numbers of abused women are likely higher than the surveys report. This study aims to compare medieval and modern religious and theological responses to IPV. In these diverse contexts, directions for submission in the face of abuse are generally given to women who are partnered with men. Therefore, the focus here will lie on heterosexual female victims.6 Moreover, while fewer records exist for earlier eras of history, social historians can explore a wide variety of sources and point to consistent patterns of battering in distinct environments. The surprising consistency of patterns in narratives from medieval and modern sources offers a strong and convincing argument for comparing violence across various periods. Regardless of the time period, a consistent message from many religious leaders appears to be that submission in the face of violence denotes virtue in women. IPV often follows specific patterns, sometimes referred to collectively as the “cycle of abuse,” which includes three phases: an explosion, when the violence occurs; a “honeymoon phase,” when the batterer apologizes and promises it will never happen again, often bringing the victim flowers and showing affection in similar ways; and a tension-building phase, in which victims often describe life as walking on eggshells, knowing that at any provocation the batterer could explode again in violence.7 5 Matthew J. Brieding et al., “Prevalence and Characteristics of Sexual Violence, Stalking, and Intimate Partner Violence Victimization—National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey,” Surveillance Summaries, Centers for Disease C ­ ontrol and  ­Prevention, September 5, 2014, www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/ ss6308a1.htm?s_cid=ss6308a1_e, accessed January 25, 2016. Often, IPV studies do not differentiate among different kinds of violence and so may find, incorrectly, that levels of IPV are fairly even among women and men. When women commit acts of violence against heterosexual men, it is most often in self-defense. For information on this and on IPV statistics generally, see Michael P. Johnson, “Where Do ‘Domestic ­Violence’ Statistics Come From, and Why Do They Vary So Much?” (conference presentation for the National Resource Center on Domestic Violence, May 13–15, 2009, http:// search.tb.ask.com/search/GGmain.jhtml?searchfor=Where+Do+%E2%80%98­Dom estic+Violence%E2%80%99+Statistics+Come+From%2C+and+Why+Do+They+Var y+So+Much&st=kwd&ptb=5B7169CE-E297-45F7-BC89-121ED7100EC2&n=780 c2298&ind=2014061208&p2=^UX^xdm297^YYA^us&si=245051_ JEM-AD-USMapsD-Chrome, accessed September 18, 2016. See also Klein, Practical Implications. 6 Anyone can be a victim of IPV: straight, bisexual, and lesbian women, straight, bisexual, and gay men, and transgender individuals are all vulnerable. While heterosexual women may be more victimized by IPV overall, all victims experience similar kinds and similarly severe levels of abuse regardless of who they are or with whom they’re partnered. 7 Lenore Walker coined the phrase “cycle of abuse” in 1979. See Lenore E. Walker, The Battered Woman (New York: Harper & Row, 1979), 55–70.

What is Domestic Violence?  25 In such relationships, the threat of violence is always present, and there is no time when the victim feels completely safe. The honeymoon phase may be affectionate from the batterer’s standpoint, but the victim is keenly aware that her safety is in jeopardy all the time.8 In fact, the gifts a victim receives in that phase are yet another form of abuse, as the batterer is trying a new tactic to keep her from leaving. There is no rhyme or reason to the timing of violent events; the cycle may repeat monthly, weekly, every few months, or less frequently. A batterer will find any excuse to perpetrate violence, because the violence is a tool he chooses to use. Nothing the survivor can do can prevent the violence; only a batterer can stop the violence. IPV is about power and control. It is about the batterer doing anything he can to ensure that the victim stays under his control, resorting to violence whenever he thinks he needs to in order to maintain that control.9 One cannot underestimate the length to which a batterer will go to force a victim to do as he wishes—and no one knows this better than the victim herself. She lives with him; she is the person most fully aware of what he is capable of doing. Experts who work with batterers say that survivor’s intuition is the best gauge one has for assessing the level of danger a batterer presents.10 Violence is not the only compelling reason survivors stay with batterers. Sometimes they hope their situation will change—he says he won’t repeat the violence, and she wants to believe him. She wants him to once again be the man she fell in love with. Sometimes, a victim has few ­options; she may not have the economic means to leave or anyplace to go. Shelters can have long waiting lists, and parents or other family members may not be a viable means of escape—they may blame the woman for the violence, or she may fear the batterer will harm her relatives if she turns to them. And many victims feel great shame about the violence in their lives. They may not want anyone to know, and thus they do not turn to acquaintances for help either. Still other women may feel that it is better for children to have any father, even one who is abusive, rather than no father at all. Cultural or religious pressures also compel some survivors to stay. When survivors are members of groups that face routine racism in society, they may see police as dangerous to them rather than as a

8 Ann Jones, Next Time, She’ll Be Dead: Battering and How to Stop It (Boston, MA: Beacon, 1994). Elaine Lawless points out that the cycle paradigm originates from the batterer’s perspective. See Elaine Lawless, Women Escaping Violence: Empowerment through Narrative (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2001), 156. 9 Many authors have written about the dynamics of power in IPV. For examples of ­different forms of power exerted on different types of victims, see the power-and-­ control wheels of the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence, available at www.ncdsv.org/publications_wheel.html 10 David Adams, Codirector of Emerge, personal communication fall 2015.

26  What is Domestic Violence? source of support and aid. They may fear that the batterer will be victimized in a system they perceive as hostile to their group; or they may not want to admit there is violence in their home, fearing that doing so will reinforce a negative racist or homophobic stereotype that the dominant society already holds about them. They decide not to “air their dirty laundry” for all to see.11 A victim may be disabled and unable to leave or may be undocumented and fear being deported.12 She may be a recent ­i mmigrant and is not aware of her options, or may be unable to exercise them because of language barriers. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender survivors may fear that a shelter will not take them or that police will not believe them.13 Many, many reasons factor into a woman’s decision to stay in an abusive relationship. Psychological abuse plays a role in the ability to make decisions, just as physical abuse does.

Psychological Abuse The psychological abuse that victims experience further compromises their ability to leave by limiting the personal resources they have at their disposal. Psychological abuse often falls under the rubric of verbal abuse or symbolic abuse, and among the forms it takes are the following:

11 See, for example, “Women of Color Network Facts and Stats: Domestic Violence in Communities of Color,” fact sheet, National Resource Center on Domestic Violence, June 2006, http://www.doj.state.or.us/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/women_of_ color_network_facts_domestic_violence_2006.pdf. Accessed January 25, 2016. See also “Cultural Considerations when Responding to Domestic Violence,” Colorado Bar Association, www.cobar.org/index.cfm/ID/21097. This report also discusses fears among immigrant populations. 12 For information on abuse among people with disabilities, see Nora J. Baladerian, “Abuse of People with Disabilities,” Spectrum Institute Disability and Abuse Project, 2013, http://disability-abuse.com/survey/survey-report.pdf. For information on immigrant survivors, accessed January 25, 2016, see Leslye E. Orloff, Deeana Jang, and Catherine F. Klein, “With No Place to Turn: Improving Advocacy for Battered Immigrant Women,” Family Law Quarterly 29, no. 2 (1995): 313; and Mary Dutton, Leslye Orloff, and Giselle Aguilar Hass, “Characteristics of Help-Seeking Behaviors, Resources, and Services Needs of Battered Immigrant Latinas: Legal and Policy Implications,” Georgetown Journal on Poverty Law and Policy 7, no. 2 (2000): 245–305. 13 For a comprehensive study on barriers GLBTQ survivors face see, Taylor Brown and Jody Herman, Intimate Partner Violence and Sexual Abuse Among LGBT ­People: A Review of Existing Research. The Williams Institute, University of California School of Law, 2016, https://williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/wp-content/uploads/­Intimate-PartnerViolence-and-Sexual-Abuse-among-LGBT-People.pdf, accessed October 10, 2017. See also, “Lesbian, Gay, Transgender, Queer, and HIV Affected IPV,” National Coalition of Anti-violence Programs, 2011, https://avp.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/2015_ ncavp_lgbtqipvreport.pdf, accessed November 10, 2017.

What is Domestic Violence?  27 • • •

•

• •

• •

Coercion: Making and/or carrying out threats to harm the partner, threatening to leave, to commit suicide, or to report the partner to welfare, or making partner drop charges or do illegal things. Intimidation: Making the partner afraid by using looks, actions, and gestures; smashing things; destroying the partner’s property; abusing pets; and/or displaying weapons Emotional abuse: Putting the partner down, making her feel bad about herself, calling the partner names, making her think she’s crazy, playing mind games, humiliating the partner, and/or making her feel guilty Exercising male privilege: Treating the partner like a servant, making all the big decisions, acting like the “master of the castle,” being the one to define men’s and women’s roles, appealing to religious texts and teachings to reinforce his “rights” Isolation: Controlling what the partner does, whom she sees and talks to, what she reads, and where she goes; limiting the partner’s outside involvement; using jealousy to justify his actions Minimizing, denying, and blaming: Making light of the abuse and not taking the partner’s concerns about it seriously, saying the abuse didn’t happen, shifting responsibility for his abusive behavior, saying the partner caused it Using the children: Making the partner feel guilty about the ­children, using the children to relay messages, using visitation to harass the partner, threatening to take the children away Economic abuse: Preventing the partner from getting or keeping a job; making her ask for money; giving her an “allowance,” taking her money, not letting her know about or have access to family income14

Batterers use these various tactics in combination as part of an overall system of coercion, with the ultimate goal of controlling their partners’

14 This list is drawn from the “Power and Control Wheel” developed by the Domestic Abuse Intervention Project, Duluth, Minn., in 1996. It may be found at www.ncdsv. org/images/PowerControlwheelNOSHADING.pdf, accessed July 27, 2009. For more on psychological and emotional abuse in IPV, see Maria Angeles Pico-Alfonso, “­Psychological Intimate Partner Violence: The Major Predictor of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder in Women,” Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews 29 (2005): 181–93, www.genderbias.net/docs/resources/full_text/intimate_partner_violence/ psychological_intimate_partner_violence.pdf, accessed January 25, 2016. For more on economic abuse, see, for example, the 2009 NIJ study Economic Distress and Intimate Partner Violence, www.ojp.usdoj.gov/nij/topics/crime/intimate-partner-­ violence/economic-distress.htm, accessed 27 July 2009; and Michael L. Benson and Greer Litton Fox, “When Violence Hits Home: How Economics and Neighborhood Play a Role,” National Institute of Justice, 2004, www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles1/nij/205004. pdf, accessed July 27, 2009.

28  What is Domestic Violence? behavior. Thus, when a victim reports that her batterer insulted her, swore at her, or refused to call her by name, it is not an isolated incident. The abuser will use all of these tactics on an ongoing basis to constantly degrade and belittle the woman until she begins to believe, for example, that his insults are true, rather than that they are insults meant to harm her. For example, one survivor relayed, “I had to be able to sort out what is real and what’s not, because at a certain point, like I said, I didn’t even know who the hell I was anymore. I mean, I’m thinking, maybe I am—I must be crazy.”15 This woman had come to doubt herself so completely that she no longer believed what her own eyes told her. Her batterer had successfully supplanted her as the master of her world. What he said, no matter how ludicrous, became more believable to her than her own thoughts. Survivors report severe psychological consequences of sustained abuse. One survivor reported: I wouldn’t feel anything. I’d keep low. I didn’t want to do anything and I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to visit anybody. Especially when he was around I was more depressed than ever. I didn’t want to do anything that would make him angry. I was like a robot. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t want to feel anything.16 This survivor felt confused even when she came to a shelter to get help for herself and her children: I felt helpless. I didn’t know what was happening to me. At the time, I just couldn’t stand my kids with me. I loved them, but I just couldn’t cope with them around me at the time. I felt like putting my fist through something or jumping out a window, or… quitting.17 This survivor’s reactions are typical. Studies show that victims experience severe psychological symptoms from IPV: sleep disturbances, eating problems, fatigue, and psychophysiological indicators of stress, such as headaches, back pain, skin reactions (hives, shingles), high blood 15 Interview by Nancy E. Nienhuis, transcript, spring 2003. For an extensive example of the impact of psychological abuse, see Ann Jones’s description of Hedda Nussbaum in Next Time, She’ll Be Dead, chap. 6. 16 J. Jean Giles-Sims, “Social and Psychological Consequences of Partner Violence.” The United States Air Force Domestic Violence Literature Review; Synthesis and Implications for Practice (1997). This is a U.S. Government publication and also appears on the internet. For a summary of the overall effects of IPV, see the Center for Disease Control’s “Intimate Partner Violence: Consequences,” March 3, 2015, www. cdc.gov/violenceprevention/intimatepartnerviolence/consequences.html, accessed 18 ­S eptember 16. 17 Interview by Nienhuis, 2004.

What is Domestic Violence?  29 pressure, and heart problems. They also experience heightened levels of depression, dissociation, sexual problems, low self-esteem, substance abuse, anxiety, hopelessness, suicidality, and somatization.18 Over time, women who experience chronic battering also experience generalized anxiety, low self-esteem, social withdrawal, and intrusive recollections, such as nightmares or flashbacks to incidents of violence. All survivors— men, women, and transgender persons—experience severe psychological stress in reaction to IPV. Prevalence of symptoms rises sharply with the number of violent episodes: the more violence there is, the more severe its psychological effects. Women suffer about twice the number of consequences from partner violence as do men. Researchers suggest that this may be due to the higher level of violence experienced by women, both in terms of number of incidents and intensity of assaults,19 or it may be because male survivors of female IPV generally find physical violence from women to be less threatening. In addition, women are less likely to try to exercise systematic control over their male partners. 20 In fact, one recent study found that IPV was a predictor of post-traumatic stress disorder in women but not in men.21 The psychological symptoms delineated here are a direct result of the violence and not due to other factors. Research shows that women in violent relationships experience far more of these symptoms than do women who are not in violent relationships. For example, women who suffer ongoing abuse report twice the number of headaches, four times the rate of depression, and five and one-half times the suicide attempts than women experiencing no violence.22 Moreover, the psychological effects of violence often severely compromise a survivor’s ability to access the help they so desperately need, making them that much more vulnerable. 23 18 Sara Perez and Dawn M. Johnson, “PTSD Compromises Battered Women’s Future Safety,” Journal of Interpersonal Violence 23, no. 5 (2008): 636. 19 For a comprehensive review of the multiple health effects of IPV, see Ann L. Coker, “Opportunities for Prevention: Addressing IPV in the Health Care Setting,” Family Violence Prevention and Health Practice (January 2005): 3. 20 See Lotta Nyberg, Viveka Enander, and Gunilla Krantz, “Theoretical Considerations on Men’s Experience of Intimate Partner Violence: An Interview-Based Study,” Journal of Family Violence 31 (2016): 191–202. 21 Kathleen Gates, Chitra Raghavan, and Ann Marie Kavanagh, “Gender Symmetry and Victim Responses to IPV,” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Society of Criminology (ASC), December 16, 2013. In another study, eighty-one percent of female survivors suffered long-term effects from violence, such as PTSD, compared with thirty-five percent of male survivors. See “National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey” summary, Centers for Disease Control, National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, Division of Violence Prevention, December 2011, www.­janedoe.org/site/assets/docs/Learn_More/NISVS/NISVS_MA_2010.pdf. 22 Giles-Sims, “Psychological and Social Impact,” 7. 23 Perez and Johnson, “PTSD Compromises,” 637.

30  What is Domestic Violence? Violence produces these symptoms more predictably than any other social or demographic factor. When variables such as marital conflict, total family income, health of wife, and age of wife are taken into account statistically along with the effects of violence, “researchers [have] established that partner violence contributed to negative psychological impact… over and above the negative effects of these other factors.”24 Violence is an independent and significant cause of these psychological effects. Other factors in a woman’s life do not have a comparable impact on her, and not surprisingly, women with more frequent and more severe abuse suffer more symptoms. And women who experience long-term abuse require more medical treatment for these psychological effects than do other women.

IPV and Children IPV also has severe negative effects on children, even before they’re born. 25 When children witness IPV, it has a greater negative effect than does witnessing other types of violence. 26 Children experience physical, psychological, and emotional effects, and without intervention these can have a lifelong impact. 27 Depending upon the age of the child, physical effects may include low weight gain, bed-wetting, digestive problems, stomach pain, headaches, ulcers, insomnia, and nightmares. They may also include eating disturbances such as anorexia (primarily because food may be the one thing the child can control), and older children may develop severe acne. 28 In addition, children are at high risk for psy-

24 Giles-Sims, “Psychological and Social Impact.” See also Perez and Johnson, ibid., 636. 25 Researchers in one study said, “Our findings indicate that almost 1 in 5 perinatal and neonatal deaths could be prevented with the elimination of domestic violence.” Eighteen percent of their subjects experienced IPV during pregnancy. The rate in the U.S. as a whole is eight percent. See Saifuddin Ahmed, Michael A. Koenig, and Rob Stephenson, “Effects of Domestic Violence on Perinatal and Early-Childhood Mortality: Evidence from North India,” American Journal of Public Health 96, no. 8 (August 2006): 1423–28. 26 Sandra Graham-Bermann and Honore M. Hughes, “Intervention for Children ­E xposed to Interparental Violence (IPV): Assessment of Needs and Research Priorities,” Clinical Child and Family Psychology Review 6, no. 3 (September 2003): 189–204. 27 For an overview of these effects, see YWCA of Seattle, Through Their Eyes: The Impact of Domestic Violence on Children (Seattle, WA: YWCA, 2007). See also C. ­Nadine Wathen and Harriet L. MacMillan, “Children’s Exposure to Intimate Partner Violence: Impacts and Interventions,” Paediatrics & Child Health 18, no. 8 (October 2013), 419–22. www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3887080/, Accessed September 18, 2016. 28 YWCA of Seattle, Through Their Eyes, 15. See also “Children and Domestic ­Violence,” National Child Traumatic Stress Network, at www.nctsn.org/content/ children-and-domestic-violence.

What is Domestic Violence?  31 chological effects such as anxiety and depression, low self-esteem, hypersensitivity or hypervigilance (often misdiagnosed as attention-­deficit disorder), extreme levels of guilt, shame, or self-blame, and ­suicidality. As well, they may exhibit more aggressive, antisocial, inhibited, and fearful behaviors than other children. 29 Studies find that even limited amounts of social support can be ­immensely helpful to abused women, while the lack of such support has wide-ranging negative effects. Researchers report that since “traditional norms tend to support both family privacy and the sanctity of marriage even when there are serious problems,” these norms lead to an absence of or lesser social support for battered women. 30 As Jean Giles-Sims reports, Research has found that more traditional, less-assertive, more isolated and restricted women, and those with fewer economic alternatives to their marriages sought help less and were more severely battered. Overall, women with the least social support sought help less frequently, remained for longer periods of time in abusive relationships and experienced both more severe abuse and more symptoms.31 Although some early researchers claimed that women with low self-­ esteem either choose violent partners or attract them, more recent research indicates that there is no direct evidence that the level of a woman’s self-esteem contributes to future abuse, but low self-esteem may be a risk factor.32 It is certainly the case that one effect of IPV is diminished self-esteem in the survivor, thus one task of recovery and healing

29 YWCA of Seattle, Through Their Eyes, 12. See also Einat Peled, Peter G. Jaffe, and Jeffrey L. Edleson, eds., Ending the Cycle of Violence: Community Responses to Children of Battered Women (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1995), 4–5; and Mary Kenning, Anita Merchant, and Alan Tomkins, “Research on the Effects of Witnessing Parental Battering: Clinical and Legal Policy Responses,” in Woman Battering: Policy Responses, ed. Michael Steinman (Highland Heights, KY: Academy of Criminal Justice Sciences, Northern Kentucky University, 1991), 238–39. 30 Giles-Sims, “Psychological and Social Impact,” 7. See also Coker, “Opportunities for Prevention,” 5. 31 Giles-Sims, “Psychological and Social Impact,” 7. See also the 2009 NIJ study “­E conomic Distress and Intimate Partner Violence,” at www.ojp.usdoj.gov/nij/topics/ crime/intimate-partner-violence/economic-distress.htm, accessed July 27, 2009; and Benson and Fox, “When Violence Hits Home.” 32 See the United Nations report Causes, Protective and Risk Factors, Virtual Knowledge Center to End Violence against Women and Girls, United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women, 2012, www.endvawnow.org/en/ articles/300-causes-protective-and-risk-factors-.html, accessed January 26, 2016.

32  What is Domestic Violence? is to restore that self-esteem.33 While low self-esteem does not predict that women will experience IPV, a key characteristic “that consistently distinguished battered women from others… was that battered women were more likely to have witnessed violence in the family of origin.”34 Witnessing IPV as a child is one of the best predictors that a woman will be abused as an adult. Battered women have a higher level of suicide attempts than do women who are not battered, and the risk of suicide is similar whether women are physically and psychologically abused or psychologically abused alone.35 Studies show that as many as twenty-six percent of all female suicides that come to the attention of hospital officials are associated with battering.36 A large majority of these women have been seen before by the hospitals when they went in for injuries sustained in beatings. What that means is that the women did not get appropriate intervention and assistance in those visits. Suicide attempts also increase with the severity and frequency of battering. The overall picture that leads to suicide includes the following: • • • • • • • • • •

An accelerated pattern of battering Attempts to seek help from others Retaliatory violence in some cases Increasing isolation Negative self-esteem An increase in physical illness and somatic symptoms Increasing negative attitudes toward the husband Decreasing love and realistic hope for changing the violence Increasing attempts to leave, seek help, and change Feeling that there is no other escape but suicide37

Another particularly devastating psychological effect of IPV is “traumatic bonding.” Lundy Bancroft calls traumatic bonding “one of the great tragedies of all forms of abuse.”38 This phrase refers to the way in which a person who is abused may become emotionally dependent 33 See, for example, Courtney Fae Higgins, “Self-Esteem and Battered Women: Do Violence Shelters Help?” (Master’s thesis, Ohio State University, 2011). 34 Giles-Sims, “Psychological and Social Impact,” 8. See also ibid. 35 Maria A. Pico-Alfonso et al., “The Impact of Physical, Psychological, and Sexual Intimate Male Partner Violence on Women’s Mental Health: Depressive Symptoms, Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, State Anxiety, and Suicide,” Journal of Women’s Health 15, no. 5 (June 2006): 599. 36 See Perez and Johnson. “PTSD Compromises,” 636. 37 Giles-Sims, “Psychological and Social Impact,” 9. For more on what health-care settings can do to assist battered women, see Coker, “Opportunities for Prevention.” 38 Lundy Bancroft, Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men (New York: Berkley, 2002), 220.

What is Domestic Violence?  33 upon the abuser. This dynamic tends to occur when victims are severely abused by another from whom they believe they cannot escape. Abused children often exhibit traumatic bonding, meaning that they become more strongly attached to the abusive parent than to the nonabusive parent. Traumatic bonding is as likely to happen to men as to women. For example, the dynamic has been documented in the case of hostages or prisoners of war. In fact, the impact of IPV and that of being a prisoner of war are very similar. 39 Traumatic bonding can be difficult to understand. When a woman has been subjected to a terrifying, painful assault, she naturally feels tremendous relief when it stops, regardless of who stops it. As Bancroft points out, when a woman has gone in and out of abusive episodes with a batterer, she may feel great relief and gratitude during those times when he is finally kind or loving or simply finally leaves her alone.40

Who Is the Batterer? The male violence and power that determined the fate of people and nations also dominated stories in oral tradition and in literature—from epic poems like the Iliad to courtly novels and Arthurian legends. ­Women’s role, if any, in such literature was minor and subordinate. While women seemed to have the upper hand in the poetry of courtly love, which flourished in twelfth-century southern France, most of the poems voice the longing and desire of the male. Women’s position in society showed no such leverage over men. Indeed, male characters such as Achilles or Jason Bourne have dominated historical and contemporary narratives. Consequently, contemporary culture is replete with media that seem to condone violence as an effective problem solver, and violence is glorified in film, video games, and television. Given the plethora of messages about using violence, is it any wonder some men are abusive? Yet millions of people experience this same culture but would never consider using violence against a spouse or partner. Who are batterers, and what, if anything, makes them different? Therapist Lundy Bancroft developed a definition of batterers in his work with thousands of abusive men:

39 When traumatic bonding occurs with hostages, it is referred to as the “Stockholm syndrome.” See ibid., 220–21. See also Ann Jones’s comparison of Amnesty ­I nternational’s work on hostages with characteristics of battered women, in Next Time, She’ll Be Dead, 90–91. 40 Bancroft, Why Does He Do That? 221. Lundy Bancroft, a therapist and one of the leading authorities on characteristics of batterers, has decades of experience working with abusive men.

34  What is Domestic Violence? A batterer is a person who exercises a pattern of coercive control in a partner relationship, punctuated by one or more acts of intimidation, physical violence, sexual assault, or credible threat of physical violence. This pattern of control and intimidation may be predominantly psychological, economic, or sexual in nature or may rely primarily on the use of physical violence.41 Bancroft has developed an inventory of eleven characteristics of batterers:42 •

•

• •

Control: This characteristic emerges slowly and intensifies over time. It is most likely to begin when the couple first live together, just after marriage, during pregnancy, or after the first birth. Batterers try to dominate all areas of life: arguments, decision making, household responsibilities, sex, money, children, outside social contacts, household tasks (they don’t want to do the tasks but want to decide who will do them, how, and when), and so forth. The central characteristic of a batterer is control. Everything he does is about getting his partner under his control. Entitlement: The batterer thinks he has rights and privileges without reciprocal responsibilities (religious beliefs about appropriate or “God-ordained” male and female roles may reinforce this belief). A sense of entitlement with regard to females is one of the best predictors that boys will become violent adults. Batterers think family life should center on their needs, so some treat their partners as servants. Batterers are more likely than other men to use their children sexually to meet their needs. Selfishness and self-centeredness: Batterers think the world should revolve around them and that their needs trump those of all others. They believe that partners are there to serve their needs. Superiority: Batterers feel superiority, especially in relation to their victims, a recurring element of which is contempt for them. Children tend to adapt to the batterer’s view over time (in part as a way to

41 Lundy Bancroft and Jay G. Silverman, The Batterer as Parent: Addressing the Impact of Domestic Violence on Family Dynamics (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2002), 3. Bancroft is the former codirector of Emerge, the first treatment center for abusive men in the U.S. He has counseled thousands of batterers and written broadly on the topic of how to help abusive men change and be accountable. 42 These characteristics and myths about batterers are taken from Lundy Bancroft, Jay Silverman, and Daniel Ritchie, The Batterer as Parent, 2nd edition (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2012), 6–22. One recent study found that eighty-nine percent of batterers arrested in Toledo, Ohio, had had a prior arrest for domestic violence, and several studies have found that batterers who are arrested have been arrested before for domestic violence and other offenses. See Klein, Practical Implications, 16.

What is Domestic Violence?  35

•

•

•

• •

•

•

ensure they don’t “cross” a dangerous parent), developing similar attitudes toward their mothers. Possessiveness: A batterer sees a partner as an object he owns and sees the marriage license as a sign of her obligation to consent to sex. Ninety percent of partner homicides occur when the survivor tries to leave, and this is not because batterers fear abandonment, as some claim—it is due to their desire to control their partners. Those who terrorize their partners most are those who are most possessive. They also view children as possessions, so they feel they have the right to abuse them as well. Confusion of love and abuse: A common line batterers use is, “I only act this way because I love her so much.” But this is a myth. A batterer gets abusive to control his victim. Sometimes friends, family, even therapists agree with this confusion and reinforce it. This conflation of love and abuse may confuse children; they may grow to believe that if they are not abused, they are not loved. Manipulativeness: This is a batterer’s primary control tactic. Batterers create a dominant narrative of themselves and of their partners, and they craft a public story accordingly, showing themselves positively and damaging the victim’s reputation. Contradictory statements and behaviors: A batterer tells anyone who intervenes what he thinks that person wants to hear. Externalization of responsibility: Nothing is ever the batterer’s fault. He’ll say, “She pushes my buttons.” His belief that the victim is responsible for the abuse excuses him. He also believes that any effects of abuse are her fault; for example, if she is depressed, he calls her lazy. The batterer often also blames children for causing the violence when he abuses them. Denial and minimization: Denial occurs even in the face of absolute evidence, and police reports of the violence can be very helpful here; it may take a photo of the victim’s injuries before a batterer will stop saying he did not really hurt her at all. The most common excuse men who are abusive use for attacks is self-defense, another way to deny responsibility. Serial battering: Men who batter usually batter more than one partner. Their violence does not end when a particular relationship ends.

The many misconceptions about batterers and about why they abuse include the following myths:43

43 This list of misconceptions is based on the work of Lundy Bancroft. See Why Does He Do That? 21–48. For information on racial differences among abusers, see 163–67.

36  What is Domestic Violence? •

•

• •

•

Substance abuse causes abuse: Most partner violence involves no substance abuse, and Bancroft found that eighty percent of alcohol abusers do not abuse their partners. Batterers admit that they give themselves permission to be more violent when drinking because they can use the alcohol as an excuse.44 Mental-health problems cause abuse: Most batterers have no mental-health problems. In fact, fewer than one percent of B ­ ancroft’s clients did suffer such problems, and other research r­ eports that ninety percent of batterers have normal mental health. A 2009 NIJ study also found that batterers were no more likely to have ­mental-health problems than were nonbatterers.45 Moreover, because batterers are not mentally ill, psychotherapy is largely ineffective. In part, psychotherapy fails because of batterers’ strong sense of entitlement and their ability to manipulate the therapy. Therapy may even make things worse, because many batterers use the therapy against their partners: “You need to work on your intimacy issues, they’re driving us apart.” Conflict resolution also doesn’t work with IPV. Self-esteem, intimacy issues, and stress cause abusive behavior: None of these cause domestic violence. Tendencies toward criminality or generalized violence explain the abuse: Bancroft found that most batterers were violent only toward their partners. However, the 2009 NIJ study’s review of the literature found that a high percentage of batterers who were arrested for partner violence had criminal histories.46 Some races or ethnic groups are more violent than others: Although rates of violence are often reported as being higher in nonwhite populations, when researchers account for economic levels, the discrepancies disappear.47 However, because a bias exists that nonwhite

4 4 A survey of recent studies found that from twenty-four percent to ninety-two percent of batterers had used alcohol or other drugs prior to assaulting their intimate partners. See Klein, Practical Implications, 17. 45 For the report by Bancroft, see Bancroft and Silverman, Batterer as Parent, 21. For the NIJ study, see Klein, Practical Implications, 18. Batterers do have narcissistic tendencies, believing that they are the center of the world and that they deserve to be so. For a discussion of characteristics of batterers, see David Adams, “Danger Assessment Training Video,” March 14, 2013, www.youtube.com/watch?v=owa7-BabD6c, accessed September 18, 2016. 46 For the NIJ study, see Klein, Practical Implications, 18. 47 A 2004 study found that when African American and white batterers of similar economic levels are compared, there are no differences in their rates of battering. See Michael L. Benson and Greer Litton Fox, Economic Distress, Community Context, and Intimate Violence: An Application and Extension of Social Disorganization Theory, National Institute of Justice Study NCJ193434, 2004. The role of economics in battering requires further research, however. Another study found differences in how economic levels affected white, Latino, and African American batterers. See

What is Domestic Violence?  37 male partners are more likely to be violent than white male partners, therapists’ or other professionals’ own biases may result in incorrect judgments of violence (perhaps missing it in white clients while seeing it in others). Overall, the best predictors of violence in men are the characteristics Bancroft lists here, although research shows that economics and age are also important factors. Younger men tend to be more violent than older men, and at times as men who batter age, they eventually stop physical violence against their partners.48 And yet, other studies show that recidivism rates for abusers are severely underreported, particularly in the area of emotional abuse.49 The abuser who ceases physical violence may continue to be psychologically and verbally abusive, a fact that many women report as being more hurtful than physical violence. Rates of violence are lower in societies in which women have more power and authority both inside and outside the family. The secretary-general of the UN cites women’s status in society as a particularly critical contributing factor in intimate violence, writing that “[p]­atriarchal disparities of power, discriminatory cultural norms and economic inequalities serve to deny women’s human rights and perpetuate violence. Violence against women is one of the key means through which male control over women’s agency and sexuality is maintained.”50 Moreover, education does not prevent violence; in fact, some studies have suggested that the better educated male abusers are, the more chronic the battering. It is very difficult to rehabilitate batterers. National studies find that many programs to reverse abusive behavior do not work, and this is true in part because about half of all batterers do not complete the programs. The Emerge program finds that men who complete their program are two to four times less likely to reoffend. But, many of the batterers in their programs have to return to the program two or three times before Jane L. Jasinski, “Physical Violence among White, African American, and Hispanic Couples: Ethnic Differences in Persistence, Initiation, and Cessation,” National Institute of Justice Study NCJ199704, 2004. 48 The 2009 NIJ study found that although batterers ranged in age from thirteen to eighty-one, most were in the eighteen to thirty-five age range. Given that younger women are most vulnerable to IPV, this makes sense; these women are likely to be with partners their own age. See Klein, Practical Implications, 16, on age of batterers; and for data on women and risk, see Shannon Catalano, “Intimate Partner Violence in the United States,” U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, 2005, www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/intimate/ipv.htm. 49 Safe Horizon New York City, “Introducing a Child Focus into a Batterer Program Curriculum: Does an Emphasis on Children Improve the Response?” U.S. Department of Justice document 223099, June 2008, 8. 50 Ending Violence against Women: From Words to Action, study of the ­S ecretary-General of the UN, executive summary, October 9, 2006, www.un.org/ womenwatch/daw/vaw/launch/english/v.a.w-exeE-use.pdf, accessed July 27, 2009.

38  What is Domestic Violence? they finally “get it” and change their behavior. 51 There is only weak evidence that various court-directed domestic-violence remedies are effective. One recent study concluded, “Most existing research does not demonstrate program effectiveness.”52 Although this is disheartening, the study did show that the rates of change were much higher for men who had been arrested strictly for IPV versus those who had an arrest record of partner violence and other criminal activity. But, much more work is needed in this area. What then can be done about IPV? The mixed record of the effectiveness of intervention programs and of the judicial system in changing abusive behavior, and the widespread danger batterers pose to women do not inspire confidence that change is possible. Given that the attitudes a man endorses are the most significant predictor of violence, perhaps the answer lies in analyzing the origins of such norms and the measures that may be taken to advocate alternate norms today. 53 Religious beliefs, central to the analysis in this book, play a significant role in originating and reinforcing such norms. In premodern and some modern narratives, religion motivates the composition and the plot of the texts. In contemporary events, men still claim religion or a pretense of religion as the justification for their violence.

Religion and Violence Violence against women occurs in all religious traditions. Three examples will show how sacred writings can be used to justify violence, including beatings and even rape by extremist groups. In August 2015, the

51 David Adams, codirector of Emerge, in lecture given at Andover Newton Theological School, October 2016. 52 Douglas Wilson and Andrew Klein, “A Longitudinal Study of a Cohort of Batterers Arraigned in a Massachusetts District Court, 1995–2004,” unpublished Institute of Justice Study, 2006, i, available at www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles1/nij/grants/215346.pdf, accessed July 28, 2009. See also Lynette Feder and David Wilson, “A Meta-Analytic Review of Court-Mandated Batterer Intervention Programs: Can Courts Affect Abusers’ Behavior?,” Journal of Experimental Criminology 1, no. 2 (2005): 239–62; and Julia C. Babcock, Charles E. Green, and Chet Robie, “Does Batterers’ Treatment Work? A Meta-Analytic Review of Domestic Violence Treatment,” Clinical Psychology Review 23, no. 8 (2004): 1023–53. 53 As one study concluded, “[E]ndorsement of violent norms, regardless of ethnicity and income level, more than doubled the odds of husband-to-wife assault.” See Carolyn West, “Partner Violence in Ethnic Minority Families,” In U.S. Air Force ­Domestic Violence Literature Review, Synthesis and Implications for Practice, ed. L. M. W ­ illiams and J. L. Jasinski (Cooperative Agreement No. 95-EXCA-3-0414). ­Supported by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, University of Missouri, St. Louis, and the U.S. Air Force. For a more recent study by West see: Carolyn M. West, “­Partner Abuse in Ethnic Minority and Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Populations.” Partner Abuse 3, no. 3 (2012): 336–57.

What is Domestic Violence?  39 New York Times reported that ISIS fighters felt that rape was condoned by their religious beliefs. The Times wrote, In the moments before he raped the 12-year-old girl, the Islamic State fighter took the time to explain that what he was about to do was not a sin. Because the preteen girl practiced a religion other than Islam, the Quran not only gave him the right to rape her—it condoned and encouraged it, he insisted. 54 On January 7, 2016, the United Kingdom Metro reported that Braulio Rodriguez, the archbishop of Toledo, Spain, had recently given his congregation a sermon in which he blamed disobedient wives for domestic violence.55 At this writing, in 2016, Orthodox Judaic laws governing women’s behavior still dictate that wives must always be submissive to their husbands. According to scholar Meredith Blackman: While Jewish law forbids physical contact with the opposite sex outside of the family, sexual relations and physical contact between husband and wife are required; it is the man’s duty to have intercourse with his wife, and she is prohibited from refusing him…. There is no clear way, then, for an Orthodox woman to conceptualize her husband’s actions of violence as the law allows him to touch her as he chooses in all situations. 56

54 Rukmini Callimachi, “ISIS Enshrines a Theology of Rape,” August 13, 2015, New York Times, www.nytimes.com/2015/08/14/world/middleeast/isis-enshrinesa-theology-of-rape.html?_r=0, accessed December 2015. For excellent work refuting the belief that Islam condones violence against women, see Abdullāh Hasan, “The End to Hitting Women: The Qur’ānic Concept of Ḍarb (‘Hitting’): Islamic Perspective of Spousal Reprimand, Domestic Violence, and Intimate Partner ­V iolence (IPV),” Imāms against Domestic Violence (IADA), http://imamsagainstdomesticabuse.org/and Zainab Alwani, “Domestic Violence: Islamic Perspective,” http://karamah.org /wp-content/­u ploads/2012/07/ Domestic-violence-Islamic-­ Perspective-FINAL.pdf, accessed February 2, 2016. 55 Read more in “‘Disobedient Wives’ to Blame for Domestic Violence, Says Spanish Archbishop,” at http://metro.co.uk/2016/01/07/disobedient-wives-to-blame-for-­domesticviolence-says-spanish-archbishop-5606606/#ixzz3yGX5OtC1, The Catholic bishops of the U.S. have repeatedly provided resources in the way of pronouncements and teaching materials that indicate that any form of abuse is forbidden by church teaching. See the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops website at www.usccb.org/ issues-and-action/marriage-and-family/marriage/domestic-violence/. 56 Meredith Blackman, “American Orthodox Jewish Women and Domestic Violence: An Intervention Design,” Advocates Forum 2010, University of Chicago, https://ssa. uchicago.edu/american-orthodox-jewish-women-and-domestic-violence-intervention-­ design, accessed January 25, 2016.

40  What is Domestic Violence? Such beliefs are not condoned by the majority of Muslims and Catholics, and there is a growing movement to raise awareness of domestic violence among Orthodox Jews.57 And yet, these recent news stories are potent ­reminders that there are still people within all religious traditions who claim that their religious beliefs provide a basis for views that put women and children at higher risk for sexual assault and IPV. Most women and men in the U.S. were raised in religious homes. As Marie Fortune points out, when one such woman is battered or assaulted, she brings her religious background and teachings into the incident with her and so does the batterer. 58 That background can have a huge impact on how women respond to the violence in their lives. For example, many women believe (or their spouses or partners argue) that their religion dictates that their husbands are entitled to have sex with them anytime they wish, even without the women’s consent (that is, he is entitled to rape her).59 For battered women of faith, the abuse crisis is physical and emotional, certainly, but it is also often spiritual. Abused women have deep questions about their faith as a result of the violence in their lives. In one interview, a Christian woman who had been beaten as a child said, “I stopped believing in God, because why would God let little children like us get beaten?”60 Abused women reevaluate who they believe God or the holy is and what it means to be a person of faith, and they often turn to religious leaders for counsel. This is borne out in studies of clergy who report that they are frequently approached by women experiencing IPV.61 57 The Faith Trust Institute has excellent FAQ sheets on domestic violence in various religious traditions that indicate how these traditions view domestic violence today. See, for example, “Domestic Violence and Jewish Women FAQs,” at www.faithtrustinstitute. org/resources/learn-the-basics/dv-jewish-women-faqs. The first broad statement condemning evangelical Christians for not assisting abuse and rape survivors came out in 2013; see “A Public Statement concerning Sexual Abuse in the Church of Jesus Christ,” GRACE: Godly Response to Abuse in the Christian Environment, www.netgrace.org/ resources/2015/2/12/a-public-statement-concerning-sexual-abuse-in-the-church-of-­ jesus-christ-multiple-authors. 58 See Marie Fortune, Keeping the Faith: Guidance for Christian Women Facing Abuse (San Francisco, CA: Harper & Row, 1987), xii. 59 In Beijing in 1995, all countries in the United Nations voted to “abolish the marital privilege to sex on demand.” Seth Faison, “Women’s Meeting Agrees on Right to Say No to Sex: A Spouse’s Prerogative, Draft Wording Asserts Right to Make Sexual Decisions Free from Coercion,” New York Times, September 10, 1995. In January 1996, religious leaders across the U.S., and across all faiths, made a public statement declaring a woman’s right to consent to sex in their faiths. Roy Rivenburg, “When the Laws of God and Man Converge,” Los Angeles Times, February 5, 1996. 60 Interview by Nancy E. Nienhuis, spring 2003, Cambridge, MA. The interviewee prefers to remain anonymous. 61 For example, in a 2004 study, eighty percent of clergy reported having IPV-related contacts in a twelve-month period. See Rob J. Rotunda, Gail Williamson, and

What is Domestic Violence?  41 How leaders in faith traditions respond to these questions depends upon what their theological interpretations of gender, marriage, suffering, and obedience are. Their responses are often an important factor in a victim’s willingness to leave an abusive relationship and thus in the victim’s ability to survive. Survivors often feel they must choose between their beliefs and their physical safety, that they cannot have both, because they understand their faith to require them to remain married even if the marriage is abusive. Religious leaders who are roadblocks reinforce that belief; religious leaders who are resources set women free to leave abusive marriages. One poignant example of this comes from a student’s account of battering. This student explained that she had been married to an abusive man for decades. Periodically, she went to her priest for help. He told her repeatedly that she could not leave her marriage. The priest was clear that marriage was a sacrament and that she had no right to leave hers, regardless of the violence. Her faith was very important to her and, much like women of earlier periods in history, she would not go against the church’s authority, so she did not leave her violent husband. Many years passed, and eventually a new priest replaced the old one in her parish. Somehow, she mustered the courage and strength to once again go to her priest and seek help. This time, however, the result was different. After listening to her story, the new priest said, “When your husband hit you the first time, he broke your marriage sacrament, and from that point on you were not bound by it.” The woman, in her sixties at the time of the class, turned to the class and said, “When he said that, it was like he opened my prison door and I walked through.” Clergy play a critical role in the lives of abused women. One study showed that “[c]ompassionate clergy counseling can have a positive influence on psychological outcomes of women in abusive relationships.”62 This study of 476 women who lived at home but who sought assistance from domestic-violence centers asked the women if they had approached their religious leaders for help and whether their clergy had been helpful. Using psychological tools, the researchers tracked a number of outcome variables, such as self-esteem and self-efficacy. They found a strong correlation between higher self-esteem measurements and the reports of women who found their clergy to be helpful and compassionate. A clergyperson simply being a compassionate listener made a big and measurable difference for these survivors, who were still living with their batterers. Fortunately, in this study, seventy-nine percent of the women who confided in their clergy rated those clergy helpful. Other studies Michelle Penfold, “Clergy Response to Domestic Violence: A Preliminary Survey of Clergy Members, Victims, and Batterers,” Pastoral Psychology 53, no. 4 (2004): 353. 62 Barbara A. Anderson et al., “Women Experiencing Intimate Partner Violence: Effects of Confiding in Religious Leaders,” Pastoral Psychology 55, no. 6 (2007): 773–87.

42  What is Domestic Violence? have shown a less empowering response from clergy. Clearly, the way clergy respond to survivors in supportive ways can have a huge impact. Clergy can also be important resources for batterers. One study found that when clergy referred batterers to a batterer program, the men were more likely to attend (and graduate from) the program than were those whose attendance was mandated by a judge. When the clergy and the courts both referred such men, their rates of program completion were even higher.63 When batterers are held accountable by their faith communities, it is good for the batterers and for the survivors. However, too often religious voices are not resources but roadblocks. Women often depend on churches for support, yet for most women their specific experiences with churches are negative. Churches, particularly the pastors, may not be sympathetic, may blame the woman for the ­violence, or don’t know enough about the law to be helpful.64 Women in other faith traditions have had similar experiences when they turned to their places of worship for assistance. Yet the fear that shelter workers will be disrespectful or will lack understanding of their beliefs is one of the things that prevent religious women from seeking assistance from domestic-violence shelters.65 Religious women who are battered thus find themselves unsure of where to turn for support. Depending on how they respond, religious representatives may not just be unsympathetic or unknowledgeable, but they may actually compromise the survival of abused women. Studies of what clergy actually advise women are revealing. In a 2004 study, only thirty-seven percent of clergy who counseled those involved in IPV referred them to agencies that offered services to victims of such violence. Although eighty-seven percent of clergy recommended that the victims temporarily separate from their partners, a staggering ninety-three percent suggested couples counseling as way to work out the problems in the relationship.66 Couples counseling is not only ineffective when violence is present in the relationship, but it is also dangerous. A victim is not able to speak truthfully about the violence when the couple meets with a counselor, for fear that the batterer will retaliate. Either she lies to the counselor or the violence escalates. 63 Nancy Nason-Clark, “When Terror Strikes the Home: The Interface between Religion and Domestic Violence,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 43, no. 3 (2004): 303. 64 See Steven R. Tracy, “Clergy Responses to Domestic Violence,” Priscilla Papers 1, no. 2 (Spring 2007), http://mendingthesoul.org/wp-content/uploads/ClergyResponsesDomesticViolence.pdf, accessed September 18, 2016. 65 For numerous examples of this across religious traditions, see Jean Anton, ed., ­Walking Together: Working with Women from Diverse Religious and Spiritual Traditions (­S eattle, WA: Faith Trust Institute, 2005). 66 Rob J. Rotunda, Gail Williamson, and Michelle Penfold, “Clergy Response to ­Domestic Violence: A Preliminary Survey of Clergy Members, Victims, and Batterers,” Pastoral Psychology 52, no. 4 (March 2004): 362–63.

What is Domestic Violence?  43 Over her many years of working with survivors of abuse, Marie ­ ortune found that women often get harmful advice from religious leadF ers. For example, many Christian battered women have been told to be better wives, to simply pray about the abuse, to “give the abuse to God,” or to be more submissive.67 What all of these responses have in common is that they leave the violence unchallenged and make it the woman’s responsibility to change it. Even worse, many women receive responses from religious authorities that blame them for the violence in their lives and/or put them in greater danger. For example, one orthodox Jewish woman was told by her rabbi to give her abusive husband an ultimatum about the violence. When she did so, his violence became worse than it had ever been. The rabbi’s “advice” nearly got her killed.68 The dangerous advice women receive from many religious leaders raises critical questions about the connections between theology and violence and abuse. What leads clergy to believe that submission is the appropriate advice? How did self-sacrifice and obedience, even in the face of terrible abuse and violence, come to be understood by some as the hallmark of a faithful religious identity? If a battered woman believes her religion condones the violence in her relationship, or at least prevents her from leaving it, it will be impossible for her to be safe. She won’t feel able to leave the violence unless she can understand her religious beliefs in a new way or unless she is willing to abandon those beliefs or defy spiritual authority. Most women won’t act against religious power, which is why it is critical to analyze theological messages and to challenge those that may facilitate or condone violence or be otherwise dangerous and disempowering for abused women. The sources analyzed in this study contain the seeds of these dangerous messages. Theologies of suffering and patience, of obedience and subordination, and of ownership and power have long been a part of the Christian tradition and have influenced religious leaders and followers alike. This book delineates the powerful negative impact such theologies have had and continue to have in the lives of victims of IPV.

Using Feminist Theory to Understand the Impact of Intimate Violence Strategies for analyzing narratives of violence, whether contemporary or historical, will be introduced in Chapter 2. Here we discuss how the battered person moves her self-understanding to “transformative 67 See Fortune, Keeping the Faith, 88. See also Marie Fortune, “A Commentary on Religious Issues in Family Violence,” in Violence in the Family: A Workshop Curriculum for Clergy and Other Helpers (Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim, 1991), 137–51. 68 Diane Ruth Gardsbane, “The Jewish Community and Domestic Violence,” in Anton, Walking Together, 157.

44  What is Domestic Violence? re-membering,” altering the narrative of her experience.69 Elaine Lawless introduces this term from Janice Haaken, whose Pillar of Salt discusses hearing women’s stories.70 As Lawless summarizes Haaken, “[W]omen should dare to look back, remember, and tell their stories as an act of defiance and transformation.”71 Haaken herself explains that transformative re-membering “refers to the recollection of an event that serves as a psychological marker from an early to a later form of self-knowledge.” This phenomenon provides “a new vantage point from which to see the past,” according to Haaken.72 Furthermore, feminist theory offers the one who experienced the events of the narrative and us, as listeners or readers, perspectives that open the path to reconstructing the narrative into a story of survivorship. The trajectory of IPV is such that over time, a battered woman begins to doubt her grasp of reality. The batterer has repeatedly told her that she is crazy, incompetent, out of control, inept at parenting, and lousy at everything, and she begins to believe his description of her world rather than her own inner voice. She internalizes his psychological abuse. One survivor reported that after a time, “if he’d told me a teacup sitting on the counter didn’t exist, I’d have believed him.”73 It is critical that a survivor relearn how to trust her own instincts and her own narrative. Hearing someone into voice74 happens when we are with a survivor of violence long enough that she begins to share her story with us. As a victim tells the story, Elaine Lawless argues, she begins to escape the violence. She finds a voice, a sense of her own story that has been utterly and violently silenced for years. As Lawless puts it, “Her speaking of the violence expands her beyond the borders of her once negated self.”75 In this way, narrative has the power to speak a self into being, to give a survivor a kind of “auditory space” in which, for the first time, it is her story, her truth that stands as truth. In speaking, the survivor begins to unmake the world of power and control her abuser has created.

69 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 155–56. 70 Janice Haaken, Pillar of Salt: Gender, Memory, and the Perils of Looking Back (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1998). 71 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 155–56. 72 Haaken, Pillar of Salt, 14, 15. 73 Nienhuis personal interview, Cambridge, MA, 2004. See also Ann Jones’s description of the psychological demise of Hedda Nussbaum in Next Time, She’ll Be Dead, 167–98. 74 Nelle Morton coined the feminist principle of “hearing to speech.” See “Beloved Image: Feminist Imagining: Seeing and Hearing A-new” (manuscript), American Academy of Religion, December 28, 1977, Nelle Morton archives, Presbyterian History Center, Montreat, NC. 75 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 157.

What is Domestic Violence?  45 Lawless further argues that “to tell our stories is to re-create ourselves… [B]reaking the silence, narrating a life, constructing a self” happens when women speak about their experiences of violence.76 But why is it that women who have experienced such violence have to break silence? How is the silence about their lives created? Lawless builds on Elaine Scarry’s work to begin to explain this. Scarry writes, “The political advantage of [delivering] physical pain is that it can deconstruct speech and transform the reality of pain into a ‘fiction of [the abuser’s] absolute power.’”77 The batterer has the power to create a world around the battered woman in which he is the absolute master, defining truth in that world and setting the agenda for it. His is the God’s-eye view from the top of a sort of pyramid of privilege and power.78 He forges his own identity and hers as well.79 The abuser has a lot of support for his particular version of the truth and for how things should be. Lawless explains: In the case of violence in our homes… public and private, popular and religious, discourses conspire with the oppressor to support the following ‘master narrative’: The man is the head of the household; the man is the boss; the man is dominant and the woman is submissive; and, what goes on behind closed doors is ‘our’ business. Master narratives and dominant discourses arise from every corner of our cultural and religious lives, and they work together to reinforce in both the abuser and the victim his right to stand at the apex of the pyramid, his right to be the king of his own small kingdom. He believes he owns her and has the right to do anything he wants to her. This language, the rhetoric of the politically powerful man who is endorsed by our society as justified in his oppressive actions (covertly if not overtly) ‘unmakes’ the world of the women and children who must live with him…. There is no world outside the boundary of fear he creates for those who dwell with him.80

76 Ibid., 160. 77 Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 27. 78 Here, it is useful to think of systems of power as creating a “pyramid” of power in society. See discussion of these concepts above. Nancy E. Nienhuis builds this modern pyramid on one developed by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza to analyze power in the patriarchal or kyriarchal construction of Greek society. See Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, But She Said: Feminist Practices of Biblical Interpretation (Boston, MA: Beacon, 1992), 117. 79 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 102. 80 Ibid.

46  What is Domestic Violence? His interpretation of the world becomes normative, canonical. He ­defines right and wrong. Feminist ethicist Margaret Urban Walker explains that, by virtue of their privileged position, dominant theories take on a moral quality. They can have the power to define for all what is acceptable and obvious to only a select few. In other words, they represent the view of morality at the top of the power-and-privilege pyramid. But how does it actually happen that some theories gain a power that others do not have, and what are the ramifications? Walker argues that one of the ways that moral theories exercise power is by giving authority to some claims but not others. An effective feminist liberation theology and ethics, then, must make claims to authority transparent.81 Intuitions that we or others have, narratives we tell of our lives and the lives of others, and interpretations we learn about how wonderful the world around us is are not neutral. They carry a particular authority. As African American studies scholar Wahneema Lubiano explains, the work of creating particular understandings of the world on behalf of dominant powers goes on because the media, along with other public and private entities (including institutions, churches, schools, families, and civic organizations, among others), constantly make available particular narratives and not others. In turn, such consistently reinforced presences reproduce the world in particular ways: what we see becomes what we ‘get,’ what we believe.82 When we question where the authority of such a “text” originates, we open up critical space. We find that the voice of authority is a particular voice situated in a particular context, not a voice that represents persons outside of that context; in fact, it might not even know that the later voice exists. Moral and epistemic authority become clear when we make claims to authority transparent. This transparency enables us to answer the question, who has this authority and who does not, and why? A particular group has epistemic authority—the power to define which knowledge is heard or counts as truth—only if other groups are somehow rendered invisible. This is a critical way that oppression functions: nondominant 81 Margaret Urban Walker, Moral Understandings: A Feminist Study in Ethics (New York: Routledge, 1998), 72. 82 Wahneema Lubiano, “Black Ladies, Welfare Queens, and State Minstrels: Ideological War by Narrative Means,” in Race-ing Justice, En-Gendering Power: Essays on Anita Hill, Clarence Thomas, and the Construction of Social Reality, ed. Toni Morrison (New York: Pantheon, 1992), 329–30.

What is Domestic Violence?  47 persons are rendered invisible, and race, class, gender, and other power systems play a critical role in the creation of this invisibility. Describing some people in American society as “lazy” or “slow” or “inferior” may attempt to legitimize treatment of them as less than equal. Such negative descriptions also seek to influence punitive policy. Those in positions of privilege can justify their standing without admitting that they are privileged by assigning to others an identity that “demonstrates” that they themselves are not privileged but better than those others who have not “made it as far” in society. In order to hold on to that power and keep their own identity above scrutiny, those at the top must keep other voices from being heard—for, as Urban Walker notes, once heard, a subjected people’s voice changes the configuration of an epistemic community: “[A] newly public voice of subjected people is itself already a change in the configuration of epistemic community, of who can say and claim to know. It may not by itself confer credibility, but it is an opening wedge.”83 When new voices are heard, claims to authority and privilege begin to become transparent; they begin to be seen for what they really are: the voice and perspective of a small and interested group. When a battered woman tells her story, her voice disrupts dominant messages about relationships, male privilege within a home, obedience, submission, and more. At its most basic level, violence against women impacts all women negatively, because it reflects cultural and religious norms about what women are for and what they may and may not do. Most societies do not tolerate such violence formally, but it is still rampant among intimate couples, as is indicated by the available data. Fear of such violence constrains women’s decisions and actions— whom they visit, when they take walks, where they go alone, what time they head for home, and so forth. A battered woman is often not allowed by her abuser to go out alone or at all. Often her efforts at economic 83 Urban Walker, Moral Understandings, 176. An epistemic community is a group of people who have both a similar understanding of themselves and of how the world works AND the power and privilege to make that understanding of life the norm under which others with less power and privilege have to live. For example, powerful whites have produced epistemic norms about black people using terms like “welfare queen” to suggest that black women are lazy cheaters of the welfare system. That norm discredits all black women. Urban Walker explains epistemic communities this way, “All would-be knowers are situated in (typically multiple, overlapping) epistemic communities. It is communities, not individuals, that maintain the resources for acquiring and certifying knowledge.” The voices of subjected people become heard when they finally have the opportunity to be heard in a respectful and dignified context, for example, like that in the Truth and Reconciliation hearings in South Africa. Silenced people could finally speak about the horrors they endured. Those in power were no longer discrediting them as liars or ensuring that their complaints were never heard in public realms. The epistemic community that said everything is fine in South Africa was disrupted by the voices of previously subjected people.

48  What is Domestic Violence? self-sufficiency are curtailed as well. The batterer does not want her to be financially independent, so he sabotages existing jobs and prevents her from getting new ones.84 Accordingly, violence against women serves as an effective way to ensure women’s continued subordination. As legal scholar Clare Dalton points out, The husband who beats his wife for a dinner late or a floor unswept may experience the incident as a conflict in which he was provoked to violence: ‘she knows I can’t stand it when…’—without stopping to consider that the rules he is enforcing are ones his partner had no hand in shaping, and that the provocation he experiences is nothing more than an assault to his authority and control. Another way that IPV curtails a woman’s freedom is in her “independence of thought and spirit, the capacity to identify one’s own interests and one’s own opinions, the capacity to reach relatively competent judgments, and [her fear] of expressing them or acting on them.” All of these freedoms are beyond the reach of the victim or at least compromised by the violence she experiences.85 Religion plays a critical role here. Religious views often provide the scaffolding upon which cultural norms and definitions of morality are based. Systems of power like sexism are often defended as “God’s revealed will.” It is at this point that religious texts and interpretations may be used by those with power and privilege to further rationalize and reinforce their “right” to power and privilege. Religion has often played a powerful role in the way differences between people become evaluated morally, and labels used to differentiate people have led to differences in perceived moral obligations. In much of Christian history, the autonomous, moral person—the person seen as innately capable of theological and ethical competence—was generally a European man of the upper class. Those outside this norm were viewed as morally inferior and thus dependent upon these particular men to convey God’s will for them and

84 Batterers may show up at the victim’s work and disrupt the workplace, demand that she report in several times an hour to tell him what she’s doing, or use other methods to control her while she is at work. In addition, the combination of physical effects of severe stress and injuries due to the batterer’s violence may require her to take disproportionate amounts of sick and leave time. Disruptions such as these may result in the woman being fired. See, Costs of Intimate Partner Violence Against Women in the United States. 2003. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Centers for Injury Prevention and Control, Atlanta, GA. See also, Corporate Statistics, ­C orporate Alliance to End Partner Violence, www.caepv.org/getinfo/facts_stats. php?factsec=3, accessed March 1, 2016. 85 Clare Dalton, “The Impact of Violence on Women’s Civic Participation,” public address in the “Voices of Public Intellectuals: Feminisms and the Practice of ­Democracy” series, Radcliffe College, Cambridge, MA, February 7, 1999.

What is Domestic Violence?  49 to assess moral action. Those outside the norm were not seen as fully human (at least, not as immediately representative of God), and thus they were not as deserving of certain rights as were those who matched the norm. Those outside the norm were considered morally inferior, and they could be treated accordingly. When ideology is dressed up as God, it becomes particularly cunning and evil. As a result, elite ideologies create lies about the world at the behest of the politically, socially, and religiously privileged. How particular people come to be defined as morally normative and elite brings us back to the power pyramid. For example, positive values are most readily identified with people on the top of the pyramid, negative values with those on the bottom. The impact that these moral valuations have, tied as they are to power and privilege, is apparent everywhere. These valuations “explain” why abused women often face scorn in the courtroom or why people believe that a man’s home is his castle and that what happens there should be considered private. The list of such “explanations” is endless.

Conclusion Male violence against women is not isolated but systemic and culturally rooted. Religion is an important aspect of cultural practices and an important part of a larger system of messages that people receive. As long as interpretations of sacred texts reinforce male privilege and power and remain uninterrogated and unchallenged, clergy in all traditions will continue to enforce sexist norms in their advice to abused women while believing they are following the will of God. Abused women will believe that accepting abuse indicates proper behavior for women of faith, batterers will believe that God’s natural order for men and women is for men to be the masters, and batterers will rationalize their use of violence to enforce this order. Silence in the face of such interpretations is tantamount to consent to the violence they facilitate. The foregoing perspectives of feminist thinkers lead to further ­questions when reading or listening to narratives of domestic violence: • • • • • •

Why didn’t women leave the situations they were in? What mechanisms of power and control were affecting them? What were the attitudes of churches and religious leaders? What were the societal expectations and attitudes? What theological or scriptural models are operating in the text? What role does language play in how the violence is conveyed?

These questions will be addressed in subsequent chapters.

2 Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies

Literary criticism provides methods for closely analyzing texts, from parsing and linguistics to the philosophically influenced methods of ­cultural theory. Scholars in the humanities have long studied the complexities of narrative, eventually distinguishing the field of narratology and that of narrative theology, where the critic looks at how the elements of the narrative convey theological meaning. Textual analysis i­nvolves identifying components of a text, from the overall structure and its respective elements, to the function and force of a particular word or phrase. Ferdinand de Saussure (1857–1913), theorist and linguist, began the movement called structuralism, which developed from the fields of linguistics and anthropology over roughly the first half of the twentieth century. Structuralism, with its search for an ultimate or collective structure in language, led to the conclusion that meaning did not depend on a transcendental or metaphysical structure but lay within a closed structure of signs. This key point contained the seeds of deconstruction and cultural theory, simply put, that meaning is constructed and that social constructs can be deconstructed. Deconstruction itself was dominated by the philosopher Jacques Derrida. His significant impact on philosophy in the U.S. dates from a landmark lecture he delivered at John ­Hopkins in 1967. Among the concepts Derrida either introduced into textual analysis or shaped in a new way is that of the subtext—a key element in differentiating the voice of the author from that of the subject.1 When our study refers to the process of deconstructing a text, it denotes the literary method that discerns the elements of the text and how they contribute to its impact. By reading texts from this approach, we discover that narratives from medieval and modern sources reveal surprisingly consistent elements and narrative patterns that provide a 1 Extensive debate and scholarship have been devoted to deconstruction, and the term has been stretched, notably in politics, far beyond its suitable context. A simple guide with abundant bibliography is found in: A Dictionary of Cultural and Critical Theory, ed. Michael Payne (Oxford and Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1996, 1997) Paul Innes, “Ferdinand Saussure,” 484–85 and “Structuralism,” 513–17; Paul Norcross, “Jacques Derrida”, 140–44, “Deconstruction”, 136–39.

Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies  51 framework for comparing violence across various periods. From this ­ econstructive point of view, a reader asks what and who are omitted d from the text, what is the subtext, whose point of view is included, whose is neglected, and which viewpoint predominates in telling the story. It is at this critical moment that the need for feminist literary criticism becomes urgent. The powerful combination of deconstructive and feminist theories places canonical works in a new light, toppling previous understandings of core documents by exposing how both the voices and texts of women have been excluded from the master canon and male-centric deconstruction. 2 The dominant or master narrative of historical texts more often than not rests on male dominance and the norms that reflect ideas of masculinity to the detriment of all matters considered part of the world of women, violence among them. Consequently, feminist criticism and ethics prove indispensable for constructing and advocating for a new master narrative that takes women’s lives seriously and values equality—an all-encompassing vision that includes gender, sexual orientation, race, ethnicity, and status or class, among other factors. This sort of analysis aims at taking apart in order to both expose the male-centric foundation and rebuild, to reveal the makings of a text’s argument in order to advocate for a new line of reasoning. In Women Escaping Violence: Empowerment through Narrative, Elaine Lawless applies her research on narratives of dominance to contemporary stories she has gathered from her work at a shelter for abused women. Lawless argues that, although the “cycle of violence” is discernible in the stories that women tell, the concept of “cycles” does not adequately describe the abuse that women suffer in violent relationships.3 Moreover, the repetition of the cycle can become a master narrative in itself, directing the focus to the abuser (most often male) and hindering attention to the female voice.4 Lawless observes that women have to adjust their stories in order to be believed; the outer calm that a woman in everyday danger may achieve in order to survive can work against her when she contacts law-­ enforcement officials.5 Moreover, Lawless finds that narratives of violence often contain disruptions or silence. These disruptive moments or silences 2 See, for example, the powerful analysis of sexism among even those deconstructionists who claim to take feminism seriously, in this review article by Bernard Duyfhuizen, “Deconstruction and Feminist Literary Theory,” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature 3, no. 1/2, Feminist Issues in Literary Scholarship (Spring–Autumn, 1984): 159–69. 3 Elaine Lawless, Women Escaping Violence: Empowerment Through Narrative (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2001). 4 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 12–14. 5 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 48–51. In addition, recent work in the field of the neurobiology of trauma demonstrates that the body literally closes down and silences itself when faced with inescapable danger. See, for example, Eric Peper and Stephen Porges, “When Not Saying NO Does Not Mean Yes: Psychophysiological Factors Involved in Date Rape,” Biofeedback 43, no. 1 (2015).

52  Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies can be misconstrued and seen as a lack of violent action, when in fact they may mark the most violent moments of the story, moments that the narrator finds herself unable to retell, the “unspeakable” for which no words suffice.6 Furthermore, Lawless asserts that such narratives “reveal a ‘truth about how the women view themselves and their world,’” a truth that matters more to Lawless than the accuracy of factual reporting.7 Lawless and anthropologist Ruth Behar contend that “no work is worthy of our time and attention unless it ‘breaks our hearts.’”8 Lawless sets forth strategies for a person who has been battered and brokenhearted to gain a transformation of herself. Telling the story represents an act of defiance, an assertion of self-understanding on the road to transformation. Transforming the memory of events allows the person to look back on the experience and see herself moving toward and arriving at a new self (Figure 2.1). The inspiration for this painting was from the poem, “Liberation” by ­Desanka Maksimovic (1898–1993), Yugoslavia’s leading female literary ­figure for seven decades. She was a model of achievement for women writers in the field of lyric poetry and one of the founding members of the ­Committee for the Protection of Artistic Freedom, which sought to end government censorship.

Figure 2.1  “  Liberation,” Anita Dana, artist, 2017. 6 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 57–72. 7 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 6. 8 Lawless, Women Escaping Violence, 2.

Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies  53 The authors see in this powerful painting the process of transformation for a woman living in violence. Lawless’s insights come from conducting interviews, and she connects those to work on narrative done by Janice Haaken.9 Discerning such a development in a historical text is not possible, although diaries may ­allow for a glimpse into the writer’s self. What understanding can readers gain from written texts? How do they apply to interviews and situations of listening in contrast to reading? Analyzing how people tell stories has proven valuable to counselors, therapists, and ministers, and attentiveness to the stories of patients has also been recommended for physicians, who need to evaluate what their patients tell them in order to make proper diagnoses. Jarmila Mildorf, a specialist in sociolinguistics, applies her knowledge of theoretical work on narrative and discursive strategies to the accounts of interviews with general practitioners about their meetings with patients who relate experiences of domestic violence. Mildorf advocates for developing curricula in medical schools that would focus on narrative studies to improve doctors’ sensitivity to domestic violence, to increase their awareness of stereotypical notions about domestic violence, and to teach them how they have incorporated preconceived notions into their own use of narrative and thus have recounted those notions to their wider communities.10 Mildorf alerts readers to twelve assumptions or myths on domestic violence, including the myth that the victim “asked for” the violence or that the victim enjoys the abuse. She notes that practitioners at times take recourse to such myths in an attempt to understand the problem.11 Mildorf finds overall that physicians demonstrate more attention to the signs of physical abuse than to signs of psychological or verbal abuse, that the time limitations of office visits result in unfinished or interrupted stories, and that practitioners in lower-income areas are more aware of domestic violence than their counterparts in affluent neighborhoods.12 What Mildorf observes about general practitioners extends to those who hear or read trauma narratives in other walks of life and see them through stereotypical scenarios, blaming the violence on such factors as alcohol or drug abuse and low social status.13 Whereas similar strategies are used for analysis of both contemporary and historical narratives, understanding texts removed from contemporary reality poses different challenges. Some readers hesitate to ask hard

9 See Chapter 1, 5–15. 10 Jarmila Mildorf, Storying Domestic Violence: Constructions & Stereotypes of Abuse in the Discourse of General Practitioners (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2007), 180–85. 11 Mildorf, Storying Domestic Violence, 35–37, 110. 12 Mildorf, Storying Domestic Violence, 52, 84. 13 Mildorf, Storying Domestic Violence, 106–8.

54  Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies questions of authors and of stories from the past, particularly when the stories are found in established genres of literature. Literary critic Terry Eagleton states that inquiring into the “conventions and operations” of a literary institution or a mode of discourse without adopting a “­critical attitude will certainly mean enforcing the power of the institution itself.”14 Not to interrogate the texts leaves their message unchallenged. Readers must take care not to mine a source for episodes of violence alone and thereby neglect the writer’s crafting of the narrative and persuasive casting of the persons and events. The study of historical narrative emphasizes how events are described and texts are interpreted. As the ­historian Brian Stock asserts, “If the means by which actors interpret reality are ignored, the texts are effectively broken up into a junk heap of facts.”15 When examining historical texts, readers must ask questions such as how the text may reflect the author’s intentions and the culture and politics of society. Recent historiography acknowledges and debates at length the complexity of any narrative, whether it is a story told by a source or a history composed by a historian.16 Events are placed in a story or narrative by someone, and the way that person tells the story holds interest in itself. Historian Natalie Zemon Davis remarks, “When I was a student, we were ordinarily taught as scientific historians to peel away the fictive elements in our documents so we could get at the real facts.”17 Of particular interest to this book, Natalie Zemon Davis’s Fiction in the Archives examines court records of domestic violence and studies how the narratives are crafted and how sixteenth-­ century people “through narrative made sense of the unexpected and built coherence into immediate experience.”18 Davis points out that texts reveal patterns in theme, ­structure, point of view, and references to time.19 She also finds that truth and fiction potentially and probably dwell side by side in any account of events and that women and men tell stories differently.20 Studying how people interpret experience provides insight into their atti-

14 See Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), 194–217. 15 Brian Stock, Listening for the Text. On the Uses of the Past (Baltimore, MD/London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990), 88. Stock argues for combining literary and historical, synchronic and diachronic perspectives, Listening for the Text, 90–94; and in Implications of Literacy, 89, he advocates including literary analysis to gain benefits often overlooked by a strictly historical method. 16 The extensive and interesting discussion among historians on narrative is well represented by the chapters in On Narrative, ed. W. J. T. Mitchell (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1980). 17 Natalie Zemon Davis, Fiction in the Archives (California: Stanford University Press, 1987), 3. 18 Davis, Fiction in the Archives, 4. 19 Davis, Fiction in the Archives, 28–35. 20 Davis, Fiction in the Archives, 36–110.

Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies  55 tudes and culture, whether in the sixteenth century or in the contemporary narratives studied by Elaine Lawless and Jarmila Mildorf. In addition, the system of religious meaning underlying narratives of battering—or more broadly, domestic violence—is often overlooked, both in contemporary testimonies and in historical narratives that involve violence against women. Overlooking this meaning misses another rich source for cultural insight. In hagiographical accounts, it is crucial to analyze the role that suffering violence from a spouse plays in the construction of a “virtuous woman” and to ask how the suffering relates to concepts of obedience and ownership, either enunciated in the text or underlying it. The virtues that the authors choose to exalt, and the sacred passages they highlight, serve as keys to the religious meaning that underlies the texts or that the authors impose upon the stories; both the virtues and the sacred texts function as a foundation for the role violence plays in the construction of virtue. The passages that discuss battering may elucidate the authors’ point of view, but searching for the women’s voices within is even more challenging, if not impossible. In order to identify and challenge religious complicity in practices that have colluded in domestic violence, the stories must be read “against the grain,” not accepting the narrator’s viewpoint at face value. 21 A strategy of critical feminist interpretation allows for a questioning of assertions within the narratives that may otherwise ignore the women’s point of view. 22 Often, narrators use stories of holy women who endure abuse in order to claim that suffering incurred by the women in the stories was ultimately good for them, even that it was experienced with joy. The social sciences, especially psychology, inform both the method of reading narratives of violence and the study of historical battering by revealing the psychology of victims and batterers, and the cycles of violence that victims endured. In addition, the insights of social theory have enhanced rhetorical criticism in the search to illuminate the social construction of a text by its author and readers, as well as its reception by the audience of the period. A greater awareness of cultural differences enlightens the diversity of interpretive strategies that contemporary scholars bring to bear on texts.

21 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Sharing Her Word, 152–59 calls this sort of challenge to the tradition a “hermeneutic of proclamation” and discusses the role it may play in challenging misogynist theological interpretation and practice. 22 Ibid., 86 asserts that: “Historical and religious meaning is always socio-politically constructed insofar as biblical interpretation is located in social networks of power/ knowledge relations that shape society, university, and biblical religion. Hermeneutical theological discourses that remain unconscious of their rhetorical functions and abstracted from their socio-political-­ecclesial contexts … hide and deny the social constructedness and relativity of their claims to divine revelation.”

56  Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies Among the social interpretations of rhetoric, feminist rhetorical historiography is that forged by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, who offers arguments pertinent to the analysis of historical narratives. 23 Schüssler Fiorenza’s advocacy for a hermeneutics that “challenges the dichotomy between historical reality and text” bears on the problem of approaching narratives of violence that overwhelmingly reflect the dominant narrative of the authors and at times relegate the social reality of the victim to the subtext. 24 Schüssler Fiorenza argues that this subtext is recoverable: feminist literary criticism takes “a reading position different from that engineered by the text.” The rhetoric of the text “at once displays and hides” a historical reality or at least a plausibility. To find it, one must interrogate the text and its rhetorical strategies. 25 Moreover, a feminist methodology seeks to uncover cultural patterns and attitudes in order to advocate for the possibilities of change. A feminist viewpoint asks how male authors deal with the lives of women, and whether they impose on women male-centered narratives and religious beliefs and practices. When dealing with violent texts, feminist scholars clearly state their commitment to question the violence and to uncover and overturn the justifications made for it. Other scholars take a similar stance, although not feminist, on power and violence in texts. René Girard (1927–2015) spoke with the perspective and methodology of a literary critic, a historian, a philosopher, and an anthropologist. Grounded in the careful examination of texts from his study at the école des Chartes, Girard often delved into religious matters and moved his work on mimetic theory to the deconstruction of scapegoating in the Bible. When writing about violence and the sacred, specifically about the persecution of minorities in the Middle Ages, Girard states: “one must either do violence to the text or let the text forever do violence to innocent victims.”26 Battered women count among the innocent before and during the Middle Ages and up to the present day.

Theological Analysis One critical piece of the narrative is the theological meaning that authors embed in the texts. Often these meanings provide a context for the actual 23 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her (New York: Crossroads Publishing, 1983); Bread Not Stone: The Challenge of Feminist Biblical Interpretation (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1984); But She Said. Feminist Practices of Biblical Interpretation (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1992), 80–101. See also B. M. Kienzle, “Preaching as Touchstone of Orthodoxy and Dissent,” Medieval Sermon Studies 43 (1999): 18–53. 24 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza refers to this as the “hermeneutics of suspicion”. See Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Bread Not Stone, 15–18. 25 E. Schüssler Fiorenza, But She Said, 80–101; Bread Not Stone, 93–115. 26 René Girard, The Girard Reader, ed. James G. Williams (New York: Crossroad Publishing, 1996), 102–6.

Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies  57 events that render them “reasonable” or “justifiable” or even God-ordained. It is critical to analyze any theology that appears to facilitate violence, but doing so is complex because theologies of suffering and abuse function at different levels. The theology justifies the suffering and encourages the sufferer to be patient, yet a saint’s belief that God was with her even in the depths of pain was a source of comfort, even if the pain was seen as a trial sent by God. The obvious problem with this understanding of suffering is that if the suffering is from God and for one’s own good, then to alleviate it is to go against God’s will in some fundamental way. And on a larger scale, this theology ultimately leaves suffering in place—it promises the victim a reward of heaven, but for women suffering at the hands of spouses, it does nothing to keep the next woman from similar abuse. In fact, it does the opposite. Untangling the functions of such theology poses challenges. Feminist theory and feminist liberation theology can be especially helpful here. Feminist scholars such as Joanne Carlson Brown and ­Rebecca Parker have challenged the place of suffering in Christianity and its impact on women. They focus on theology of atonement and argue that, although how redemption occurs is variously understood, all ­ allmark “theories of atonement commend suffering to the disciple.”27 A h of the Christian life is the imitation of Christ. Often that imitation has been interpreted to mean that Christians are to willingly endure suffering, knowing that all is in God’s hands. It will all work out to the good because it is part of God’s plan. Women have often been encouraged to accept the abuse they receive as a way to share in Christ’s suffering. One of the baldest examples of this comes from T. DeWitt Talmage, one of the most popular preachers of the nineteenth century. Talmage gave women this advice in 1887: Some of you will have no rest in this world. It will be toil and s­ truggle and suffering all the way up…. But God has a crown for you…. He is making it, and whenever you weep a tear He sets another gem in that crown; whenever you have a pang of body or soul, he puts another gem in that crown; until… God will say,… “The crown is done; let her up, that she may wear it.”… Angel will cry to angel, “Who is she?” and Christ will say, “… She is the one that came up out of great tribulation…. She suffered with me on earth, and now we are going to be glorified together.”28

27 Joanne Carlson Brown and Rebecca Parker, “For God so Loved the World,” in ­Violence Against Women and Children: A Christian Theological Sourcebook, ed. Carol J. Adams and Marie Fortune (New York: Continuum Press, 1995), 39; ­Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Introduction,” Violence Against Women, Concilium (London: SCM Press, 1994), 14–16. 28 Betty Deberg, Ungodly Women: Gender and the First Wave of American Fundamentalism (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 48.

58  Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies For centuries, a theology of suffering has operated in Christianity to encourage followers of Christ, especially women, to endure pain and anguish for a greater good. A theology that interprets a loving God as both allowing and sending suffering for a person’s own good conflates love and violence. One is not to understand the suffering as suffering, but rather as a sign of love. Feminist analysis reveals that the result of this theology is the shoring up of particular systems of power. 29 Three specific theoretical steps prove helpful in analyzing the theologies that permeate the lives of the women discussed in this book, all of whom suffer abuse from spouses. The first step deals with understanding how systems of oppressive power are interconnected; the second focuses on the constructed nature of narratives and of authority; and the third step examines what this means in relation to specific texts. First, how do systems of power function and how are they related to each other? Conceptualizing systems of power like sexism on a pyramid can illustrate how individuals throughout human history have been subject to them (Figure 2.2).30 Generally, the more privileged people are in a given social structure, the less aware they will be of the systems of power that encircle and benefit them. Systems of power render those with less power invisible to those with more.31 So people will be far less likely to know anything about the lives of those below them on the pyramid than they will to know about those who are above them, those with more power and privilege than they have. The pyramid acts as a mirror, revealing each person’s location in a social structure. At the top of the pyramid are those with the most power in society. For example, in the U.S., those at the top would generally be white, wealthy, well-educated, male, able-bodied, citizens, native English speakers, and so forth. These people benefit from the kyriarchy of society. Beyond patriarchy, which is a reference to the inequality that exists between men and women because men are valued in society more

29 A system of power is a system of bias like sexism or racism. These are referred to as “systems” because they operate around people without their knowledge. They affect what people think and how they see the world, and elements of them are embedded in everything from books, movies, and sacred texts, to hymns, and more. And more importantly, they affect how certain people are treated in society. The more systems that affect you, the worse you’ll be treated. For an example of how systems of power work, see: Elisabeth J. Tisdell, “Interlocking Systems of Power, Privilege, and Oppression in Adult Education Classes,” Adult Education Quarterly 43, no. 4 (1993): 203–26. 30 This pyramid model is adapted from a pyramid Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza uses to illustrate hierarchies in ancient Greek society. See Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, But She Said: Feminist Practices of Biblical Interpretation (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1992), 117. 31 Maria Lugones, “On the Logic of Pluralist Feminism,” in Feminist Ethics, ed. Claudia Card (Lawrence, KS: University of Kansas Press, 1991), 23.

Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies  59

Figure 2.2  P yramid of Power.

so than women, the term kyriarchy is wider reaching. Kyriarchy, a neologism coined by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, comes from the Greek kyrios meaning “lord” and archein “to rule or dominate.” It refers to the domination of others who are disenfranchised by multiple systems of power, racism, sexism, class bias, and more. Any analytical method that hopes to expose kyriarchal practices must pay particular attention to the voices and experiences of those at the bottom of the pyramid—that is, those with the least amount of power and privilege in a given situation. Furthermore, the pyramid model helps to identify who acts as the norm in a particular cultural or historical context. Who is it that everyone else is measured against? Feminist philosopher Margaret Urban Walker calls this person the one with the “canonical body.”32 The person at the top of the pyramid has power to define himself as normative and all others as derivative in some way. Therefore, to understand how systems of power in this hierarchy function at a given moment, one must ask whose voices are dominant and whose are not heard? Who defines what is credible? In other words, who speaks for God?

32 Margaret Urban Walker, Moral Understandings: A Feminist Study in Ethics (New York: Routledge, 1998), 186.

60  Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies A second theoretical step focuses on the constructed nature of narratives and of authority. Narratives are generally written from the standpoint of people in authority. They decide what is written at all. Hence, the texts reflect the way those with power and privilege understand the world and those in it. For example, often saints’ lives were written after someone with high rank authorized their writing. So the reader must ask whose interests are served by such narratives? What theological understandings do the narratives reinforce or authorize? Whose voices are silent or absent? What is left out? And why is one particular story told and not another? Often only the narratives written by those with privilege or power are heard, and the narratives they write support the status quo. 33 For example, a monk writing an account of a saint’s life is going to write it in such a way that it supports church teaching because he is under the authority of an abbot or a bishop. The church determines what is true, namely that which reinforces its doctrines and teaching. This is an example of the master narrative that Lawless describes. Writers with other versions of a narrative may wish to be heard but they lack the opportunity, the credibility, or the social standing they would need for their narrative to be accepted. The monk who writes with the church’s approval will have his narrative circulated and repeated, such that it becomes the authority of a given saint’s life. Systems of power and privilege reinforce the right of some and not others to be the authorized voice for a narrative, the voice from the top of the pyramid. These kyriarchal systems systematically disqualify those who occupy lower positions of power on the theoretical pyramid from being heard. Marginalized people will not fit dominant norms and expectations, because dominant norms and perspectives— the canonical voice—reflect the interests and the theological worldview of those at the top, those with most power and authority in a given context. For example, if one of the women in the medieval hagiographical texts flatly stated that her abuse was wrong and not in God’s plan and further, that she was going to leave her abusive husband, and proclaimed that doing so was part of God’s will, she would usually be decried as mad, possessed, or heretical. Resistant women like the fourteenth-century Cathar believer Guillelme Maury, were buried in historical records. Their actions did not fit the standard expectations created by church hierarchy for what Christian women were and how they were supposed to behave. Their voices were lost, retrieved only rarely by diligent historians. In this way dominant narratives—those with approval by church authorities—can be coercive, allowing only certain voices or stories to be heard and rendering all nondominant voices invisible because they do

33 Urban Walker, Moral Understandings, 125–26.

Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies  61 not conform to prescribed expectations for women and men in a particular context.34 Thus, most of the narratives that have survived were written because they reinscribed particular theological and, in many cases, political expectations or ideologies. These ideologies make particular claims about how women are supposed to act. Effective feminist theoretical analysis can make these claims to authority transparent and expose whose interests are being served (and whose aren’t) by a particular narrative.35 One sees from this description of how texts were written and function that saints’ lives and their theological interpretations are not neutral. Thus, when Augustine of Hippo writes that only men fully reflect the full image of God and that women can reflect the image of God fully only as patient wives and mothers, he is defining women as somehow “theologically challenged” because of their “natural” greater distance from God. The women’s bodies get in the way. This teaching makes male theological privilege legitimate: the power to name and define holiness. Women’s only option is to seek holiness on male terms, i.e., through obedience to male theological norms in the face of suffering. How, then, can analysis expose this sort of theological bias? It must render audible those voices and experiences that have been silenced or omitted, because once the stories of those who were silenced are heard, how one understands the message of a particular narrative changes radically. A subjected people’s voice changes the configuration of an epistemic community.36 It changes what counts as truth by disrupting the master narrative. When new narratives are heard, or when old narratives are analyzed in this way, the claims to authority and privilege that the powerful few embedded in those narratives are rendered transparent; they’re shown for what they really are—strategies for upholding systems of unjust power. Powerful and privileged actors can exercise theological bias in narratives in one additional way. They utilize theology to identify women as morally inferior to men by nature. If women understand themselves to be inferior to men by birth or by creation, then the coercion needed to keep them in subservient roles is minimized. When inferiority is mapped onto physical characteristics or body types, it is particularly effective and believable. For example, in Christian literature such as hagiography, the body is already viewed as problematic theologically, and women tend to be equated more with the body than men are, so women are “naturally” further from God or holiness than men are. 37 When women 4 Urban Walker, Moral Understandings, 128. 3 35 Urban Walker, Moral Understandings, 72. 36 For a thorough discussion of these dynamics, see Urban Walker, Moral Understandings, 176. 37 See the early narrative of Saint Perpetua, who had a vision wherein she became male in order to do battle after being condemned to death in the arena in Carthage. Her

62  Analysis of Narrative and Reading Strategies patiently endure great physical trauma, in a sense they live above the body and close the gap between themselves and God. Theological marginalization and the silencing of those with little power are at work in contemporary accounts of domestic violence as well. In a culture where white, elite men are seen as the norm, systems of dominating power work most effectively if the coercion required to keep them in place is unseen. Contemporary violence against women is so widespread that it controls women’s behavior (and affects men’s behavior) without obviously doing so. It’s what Robin Morgan calls “the democratization of violence.”38 Women frequently make decisions based on the knowledge that violence against women exists—when to take a walk or go jogging, where to eat, where to park, who to go out with, and so forth. Because women appear to be making these decisions of their own free will, the coercion rendered by violence isn’t visible. In addition, the vast majority of IPV takes place in the home, outside of public scrutiny. Its invisibility fosters disbelief of the narratives of victims who disclose abuse. The widespread occurrence of violence, combined with its privatization, reinforces a master narrative that minimizes or masks such violence and allows it to continue unchallenged. Unfortunately, it is still too often the case that this master narrative is reinforced by religious authorities through appeals to sacred texts and stories, sources that often convey to women that they must endure battering and to men that they have a right to inflict it. As subsequent chapters will show, the need for analyzing historic narratives in order to unearth bias and systems of power that facilitate violence against women has contemporary parallels. Echoes of hagiographic texts that portray women as duly subservient in the face of abuse are still with us. One hopes the analysis in the present volume will begin to disrupt this legacy.

female body was deemed too weak to be successful. See Margaret R. Miles’ discussion of female martyrs becoming male in Carnal Knowing: Female Nakedness and Religious Meaning in the Christian West (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1989), 53. Ideas of female bodily inferiority are frequent in teachings of the Church Fathers. Tertullian describes women as “the devil’s gateway.” See Tertullian, On the Apparel of Women, trans. S. Thelwall, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe, vol. 4 (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885); revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight, www.newadvent.org/ fathers/0402.htm. Aquinas specifically denigrates women as a whole and their bodily nature. For specific quotes and a discussion of St. Thomas Aquinas, see Wingaard Institute for Catholic Research, “Thomas Aquinas and Women’s Lower Status,” www. womenpriests.org/theology/aqui_inf.asp, accessed September 18, 2016. 38 See Robin Morgan, The Demon Lover: On the Sexuality of Terrorism (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1989), Chapter 1.

3 A Theology of Suffering and Patience

For centuries, Christians have chosen to emulate and imitate the ­suffering of Christ; they have also been admonished to do so patiently. C ­ hristian thinkers have found significant models and praise for suffering in the Scriptures, the New Testament, and the Hebrew Bible as well. They have appropriated and interpreted the “suffering servant” passages in Isaiah (Isaiah 50:4–9, Isaiah 52:13–53:1–12), as well as certain of the Psalms expressing suffering, as indicators pointing to Christ and his death on the cross. Jesus himself, according to the Gospel of Matthew, uttered the words of Psalm 22:1 on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Christians have read the Hebrew Scriptures or Old ­Testament retrospectively and in a supersessionist mode to locate numerous foreshadowings of Jesus’s death on the cross, heightening the emphasis on suffering in the Bible. In the Gospels, Jesus frequently warns his followers that they will be persecuted, and he reminds them in ­Matthew 5:10: “Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” The epistles often speak of suffering, as in Philippians 1:29: “For to you it has been granted for Christ’s sake, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake,” or 2 Timothy 1:8: “Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord or of me His prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the gospel according to the power of God,” or again, 1 Peter 3:17: “For it is better, if God should will it so, that you suffer for doing what is right rather than for doing what is wrong.” Additional biblical texts concerning suffering abound, as in 2 ­Corinthians 1:5: “For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.” Hebrews 8–9 associates suffering with obedience when it asserts that Christ’s obedience was learned through suffering: “Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.” While imitation of Christ on the cross doubtless poses the predominant mode of thinking about suffering in the Christian tradition, the suffering of Eve complicates the thinking about the suffering that women endure. Eve was sentenced to bodily suffering as well as subordination

64  A Theology of Suffering and Patience because of her transgression. In Eve’s story and its interpretation by Christian exegetes, the theology of suffering is intertwined with a theology of obedience and with a theology of ownership. In the stories of Christian women in abusive relationships, the three concepts can be turned implicitly or explicitly to the conclusion that suffering imposed by a man on a woman is justified. Suffering, obedience, and ownership often join together in one narrative, yet, as we noted in the introduction, each theme plays a slightly different role in male-centric theological justifications of female suffering. Hence, this chapter will emphasize the theme and the theology of patient suffering, while recognizing its close relationship to obedience and ownership. Chapters 4 and 5 will examine the themes of obedience and ownership, respectively. Many Christians seek to find some good outcome for the inevitable and unjust suffering in life, often finding some consolation in Jesus’s example. His suffering brought redemption to humankind; perhaps what they suffer will also result in some good. Other Christians have welcomed and even sought after suffering, desiring to imitate Christ and the early martyrs. Theologians have attempted to fit the problem of suffering into a broad model for understanding what is sometimes unfathomable. Early church fathers such as Irenaeus (ca.130–202), bishop of Lyons, argued that God permitted suffering for the benefit of humanity, while Origen (ca.185–254) saw suffering as a way to educate the soul.1 Augustine, moreover, did not think that suffering and misery were incompatible with a view of God as compassionate. He used the deaths of martyrs as reminders of the fleeting nature of human life and of the rewards awaiting those who eschew worldly things and set their hopes in God. 2 Augustine’s views dominated the interpretation of Genesis in Christian thought for centuries. Exegetes tended to focus on the passage of Genesis in which God creates Adam first and Eve later from Adam’s rib (Gen. 2:21–22), rather than the simultaneous creation of male and female in God’s image (Gen. 1:27). Moreover, they emphasized God’s punishment of Eve (Gen. 3:16), whereby she will endure pain in childbirth and Adam will rule over her as a result of her sin. Women bore a heavier burden from the Fall than men and were punished by the suffering of pain in childbirth. Furthermore, Eve was responsible not only for her punishment but also for sin and death—that is, for the suffering of all humankind. In this view, suffering is the direct consequence of Eve’s disobedience. About two centuries before Augustine, Irenaeus of Lyons (d. 202) wrote, “Eve having become disobedient was made the cause of death 1 Mark S. M. Scott, “Suffering and Soul-Making: Rethinking John Hick’s Theodicy,” Journal of Religion 90, no. 3 (July 2010): 313–34. 2 Peter Iver Kaufman, “Augustine, Martyrs, and Misery,” Church History 63, no. 1 (March 1994): 1–14.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  65 for herself and for all the human race.”3 Augustine saw Eve as the prototype of women, necessary for procreation but limited in rationality and therefore dangerous to men. In his far-ranging work On the Literal Interpretation of Genesis, Augustine writes, “For the woman was the first to be deceived and she deceived the man. Whence the Apostle Peter recounted that holy women were subject to the stronger vessel, obeying their husbands as lords.” Citing 1 Timothy 2:13–14, Augustine observes that “through her the man became guilty of transgression”; and again, “The woman, therefore, is the originator of the man’s wrongdoing, not the man of the woman’s.”4 Augustine expands on these thoughts in On the Good of Marriage where he writes, “woman deserves to have her husband for a master,” and he warns that “if this order is not maintained, nature will be corrupted still more, and sin will be increased.”5 Saint Monica (331–387), the mother of Augustine of Hippo, urged, prayed for, and witnessed the conversion of her son to Christianity. That she became a prototypical mother and wife for many centuries of ­Christian women6 is due in part to the formidable influence of ­Augustine on ­Christian theology and, in particular, on Christian interpretations of Adam and Eve’s sin and subsequent suffering in the second and third books of Genesis (Gen. 2:21–22; Gen. 3:16). The reinforcement of that interpretation occurs in the New Testament, notably in 1 Timothy 2:11–13, and follows in the writings of Christian exegetes.

3 Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies, quoted in Elizabeth Clark, Women in the Early Church (Wilmington, DE: Glazier, 1983), 38. 4 Augustine of Hippo, On the Literal Interpretation of Genesis, IV, 24, quoted in Clark, Women in the Early Church, 30, 40–41. 5 Augustine of Hippo, On the Good of Marriage, quoted in “Human Nature,” Oxford Cambridge Religious Studies Assessment, www.philosopherkings.co.uk/ augustineonhumannature.html, accessed September 18, 1996. See also Margaret Miles’s discussion of Augustine’s thought in relation to violence against women in, “Violence against Women in the Historical Christian West and in North American Secular Culture: The Visual and Textual Evidence,” in Shaping New Vision: Gender and Values in American Culture, ed. Clarissa Atkinson, Constance Buchanan, and Margaret Miles (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1987), 1–29. This sentiment has been remarkably durable throughout Christian history. Even today, one finds Christian spokesmen warning that civilization is in danger if men aren’t firmly in charge. One example of the danger some believe our society faces if men are not firmly in charge is an article titled “Men without Chests: Education and Character,” published by the Family Research Council, a conservative think tank. The article argues that a lack of character education has put the nation in grave danger. Moreover, problems such as illegal drug use, violence, illegitimacy, and venereal disease, among others, are a direct result of this lack of character education. The authors clearly believe that the solution to our problems lies in fostering more masculine men. See Jennifer A. Marshall and Robert G. Morrison, “Men without Chests: Education and Character,” Family Research Council, Washington, DC, 1997. 6 Clarissa Atkinson, epilogue to Sanctity and Motherhood: Essays on Holy Mothers in the Middle Ages, ed. Anneke Mulder-Bakker (New York: Garland, 1995), 355–58.

66  A Theology of Suffering and Patience Augustine and other Christian writers in late antiquity saw implicit in the creation of Eve a certain ontology made apparent in the story of the Fall of creation. Eve’s role in the Fall is, according to historian R. Howard Bloch, “merely a fulfillment or logical conclusion of that which is implicit to the creation of Adam and then Eve.” Woman, Bloch continues, “secondary, derivative, supervenient, and supplemental, assumes within the founding ­ hristianity the burden of articulation of gender of the first centuries of C all that is inferior, debased, scandalous, and perverse.”7 The theological ­rationale for women’s inferiority went further. It gave men social and theological sanction to correct or chastise women as needed, in order to keep their deviant nature in check. Thus, for example, in 400  CE the Council of Toledo decreed that clerics had a right to beat their wives even more severely than men who were not clerics: A husband is bound to chastise his wife moderately, unless he be a cleric, in which case he may chastise her harder…. [I]f wives of clergy transgress their commands, they may beat them, keep them bound in their house and force them to fast but not unto death.8 By causing his wife to suffer, the husband might be a vehicle for her salvation.9 These early theological ideas about women, based on interpretations of a few key passages in Genesis and their repetition in 1 Timothy and 1 Peter, influenced the direction of theological interpretations of women for centuries. The man is formed directly from God and thus partakes most fully in God’s divinity. He was equated with the world of the mind. Woman, in contrast, was relegated to the world of the body and then to the world of matter.10 Women are thus seen as rightly under the authority of men, both in the order of creation and in society more generally. Women held up as models of virtue and godliness were women who, in their actions, supported or reinforced this understanding of creation and of men’s and women’s roles.

Hildegard of Bingen Women in the Middle Ages did not have access to the schools where men pursued theological education and the formal interpretation of 7 R. Howard Bloch, Medieval Misogyny and the Invention of Western Romantic Love (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 25. 8 Council of Toledo, quoted in Joy M. K. Bussert, Battered Women: From a Theology of Suffering to an Ethic of Empowerment (New York: Division for Mission in North America, Lutheran Church in America, 1986) 12. 9 Either way, women are to suffer violence; they suffer to save themselves, or they suffer to save abusive husbands. 10 Bloch, Medieval Misogyny, 11.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  67 Scripture. Yet the exceptional Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179) distinguished herself as the only known female systematic exegete during the Middle Ages. Her exegesis at times provides somewhat different interpretations of Scripture, notably the culpability for the Fall and the relationship of women to men. Hildegard of Bingen expressed her theological views perhaps most directly in the Solutions, a work in which she provides answers to thirty-­ eight questions posed to her by monks, a striking reversal in authority and authorship from the more usual pattern by which holy women consulted with learned men.11 In Solution 13, Hildegard attributes the coming of death to Adam, not Eve: “Likewise Adam was stripped from the glory of paradise on account of his transgression and became a son of death. Therefore, Adam was not able to obtain what he was seeking before the Lord.”12 To Question 8, about the loss of spiritual vision at the Fall, Hildegard replies, “This is because of the disobedience of Adam, who was deprived of spiritual eyes in paradise and transferred his own blindness to the whole of humankind.”13 Moreover, in Solution 5, ­Hildegard blames the serpent, not Eve, for deceiving Adam: And again, Adam, after being estranged from us through the serpent’s counsel, scorned the good, which he had known earlier through experience. Through the taste of pleasure, Adam preferred the evil by consenting to that which he had not experienced earlier. In response to a question about free will, Hildegard of Bingen wrote, Through free will the human, whether faithful or unfaithful, in whatever he professes or thinks, perceives himself to have God. He turns toward evil choosing it through his own knowledge just as Adam did, who knew God’s command but turned toward evil through the serpent’s advice.14 Again Hildegard speaks of the serpent’s evil influence on Adam and not Eve. The only mention of Eve in the Solutions assigns joint culpability to the “first parents,” who had spiritual eyes before the original sin, for the soul had mastery over the body then through innocence. But after the sin, when their eyes were deprived of spiritual vision and they were made mortal 11 Hildegard of Bingen: Solutions to Thirty-Eight Questions, trans. B. Kienzle, S. Behnke, and J. Bledsoe (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2014). 12 See Hildegard, Solutions 3, 4, 5, and 8, on Adam, and Solution 25. 13 On spiritual vision, see both the question and the solution in Hildegard, Solutions 3 and 6. 14 Hildegard, Solutions 25.

68  A Theology of Suffering and Patience through the condition of sin, their carnal eyes were opened. Thus through the knowledge of evil, they were doing sinful works by seeing and knowing according to carnal desires, as the devil tempted them.15 Hildegard’s interpretation of Scripture interests twenty-first-century readers, but her authority and influence until the twentieth century was largely limited to her prophecies. Women’s prophecy and vision, in which echoes of Scripture abound, generally found a receptive audience, but if women stepped into male territory such as preaching, they sparked strong opposition. Hildegard carefully navigated the boundaries of gender and genre, writing exegesis—exegetical letters and solutions specifically interpreting a problematic passage in S­ cripture— upon male request and authorization, making clear the Spirit’s inspiration. She built her own creative interpretation of Scripture and wove it around elements of traditional exegesis learned from the writings of male exegetes whose lessons she heard read in the liturgy and discussed with her secretaries.16 Men overwhelmingly formulated Christian thought, among them Hildegard’s contemporary Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1163), the most influential theologian of the twelfth century, and the scholastic theologian Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), who above others incorporated and “Christianized” material from Aristotle into the teaching of Christian theology in his Summa Theologica. Bernard of Clairvaux, writing about pride, signals Eve’s curiosity as the cause for the Fall. The serpent “holds out an apple and snatches away paradise. . . . This is the heavy burden you have laid on all your children up to this very day” (Sirach 40:1).17 Aquinas built upon Aristotelian philosophy to systematize Christian theology. Whereas Aristotelian thought held a view of the human being as a composite of body and soul rather than a soul trapped in the fleshly body, ultimately Aquinas once again divided the soul from the body by saying that the ultimate fulfillment for humans—life with God—is effected by the operation of the rational soul. Aquinas perceived women as rationally inferior to men and thus naturally further from God; he considered women to have value solely for their reproductive capacities.

15 Hildegard refers frequently to the devil in Solutions 6, 13, 17, 19, 21, 25, and 31, and in the Homilies on the Gospels (Trappist, KY: Cistercian Publications, 2011) notably 24 (108–13) and 25 (114–16). 16 Hildegard, Solutions, Kienzle, Introduction, 10–15. Beverly Mayne Kienzle, Hildegard of Bingen and her Gospel Homilies: Speaking New Mysteries, Medieval Women and Texts 12 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009). 17 Bernard of Clairvaux, On the Steps of Humility and Pride, in Bernard of Clairvaux, Selected Works, trans G.R. Evans, Intro. Jean Leclercq, Preface Ewert H. Cousins (New York, NY; Mahwah, NJ, 1987: Paulist Press, 125).

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  69 In any other activity, a man would be better served by another man.18 Moreover, Thomas Aquinas described women’s bodies as having deleterious effects on women’s souls. In the Summa Theologica, he argues that, at her essence, woman is her sexuality, and since her sexual being is weaker and inferior to the spiritual being of the man, it in turn affects “the intelligence upon which moral discernment is based.”19 Aquinas’s view held firm for centuries. As it was crystallized in the university, so it was transmitted through universities and in some cases, still remains in those milieux without any rebuttal. Reformation theologians regarded suffering much as late antique and medieval predecessors had done. John Calvin saw suffering as something God allowed or even ordained for the good of humanity, and taught that when sufferers cried out to God, they became purified, and that God ensured that victims didn’t have more suffering than they could endure. 20 Martin Luther argued, A theologian of the cross (that is, one who speaks of the crucified and hidden God) teaches that punishments, crosses, and death are the most precious treasury of all and the most sacred relics which the Lord of this theology himself has consecrated and blessed, not alone by the touch of his most holy flesh but also by the embrace of his exceedingly holy and divine will, and he has left these relics here to be kissed, sought after, and embraced. Indeed fortunate and blessed is the one who has been deemed by God to be worthy that these treasures of the relics of Christ may be given to such a one; nay rather, who understands that they are given. For to whom are they not offered?21 Suffering was not something to be avoided but rather something to be embraced as a blessing from God. The point of suffering was God. 22 18 See discussion in McLaughlin, 214–17. For Aquinas’s comments on the inferiority of women, see In II Sent., d. 22, q. 1, a. 3, obj. 2; 6:580, “Infirmitas peccatum excusat. Sed mulier infirmior viro.” See also ST-II-II, q. 156, a. 1, ad 1. The quote about men being better helpers than women comes from Summa Theologica I, qu. 92, art. 1. 19 McLaughlin, 218; Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II-II, 70, 3, conclusion. 20 For a discussion of Calvin’s views of suffering, see Joseph Hill, John Calvin: Suffering; Understanding the Love of God (Webster, NY: Evangelical Press, 2005). 21 Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, ed. Helmut T. Lehman and Jaroslav Pelikan, American ed. (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress; St. Louis, MO: Concordia, 2002), 31:225–26. 22 Timothy Wengert argues that Luther was not advocating suffering as a path to God here, but rather simply stating suffering as a fact of life. In an age when people bought indulgences to try to avoid suffering, Wengert argues that Luther was providing an understanding of the occurrence of suffering in life and evidence of God’s presence in it. See Timothy J. Wengert, “Peace, Peace … Cross, Cross: Reflections on How Martin Luther Relates the Theology of the Cross to Suffering,” Theology Today 59, no. 2 (July 2002): 190–205.

70  A Theology of Suffering and Patience With the Enlightenment, philosophers and theologians challenged the thinking of previous centuries. Friederich Schleiermacher (1768–1834) saw humanity as essentially good, with infinite capabilities for growth in reason and Christianity as the highest product of Western culture. Schleiermacher argued that Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection were not central to redemption and, in fact, that redemption occurred apart from these actions. He thereby undercut previous theological arguments for a moral or salvific role of suffering. 23 The English theologian John Hick (1922–2012) expounded similar themes, arguing that suffering benefited human beings morally and spiritually. 24 However, traditional theological ideas on suffering had remarkable staying power in some circles. A number of nineteenth- and twentieth-­ century theologians, such as Rudolf Bultmann (1884–1976), Paul ­Tillich (1886–1965), and Karl Barth (1886–1968), critiqued Enlightenment theologians’ beliefs in the goodness of humanity, emphasizing ­instead the sinfulness of humankind, from whence suffering arose. They agreed  that Christians must respond with righteous action in the face of evil and suffering, with the goal of eliminating suffering and creating just social structures here on earth. 25 However, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) was among those who critiqued these theologians for their lack of specific analysis of the social structures that caused suffering, a theme that would be picked up and amplified by feminist and liberation theologians across the world. Bonhoeffer went on to emphasize that because the God of Jesus saves us through suffering, those who suffer in life are connected to God in a unique way. They are participating in God’s suffering; they are living in the way of Jesus. So, those seeking to understand God must understand this suffering; they must see the world from the perspective of those who suffer most. 26 Gustavo Gutiérrez (b. 1928), who is considered by many as the founder of liberation theology, built upon these ideas by arguing that those who suffer most must be the starting point of analysis and Christian action in the world. Injustice and oppression result from sin in the world. God is with people who suffer, but suffering is not a tool to bring people close to God. Theology must be a voice for those who suffer violence 23 For an excellent discussion of these issues, see Catherine L. Kelsey, Schleiermacher’s Preaching, Dogmatics, and Biblical Criticism: The Interpretation of Jesus Christ in the Gospel of John (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2007). 24 John Hick, Evil and the God of Love (1966; reprint, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 253–61. For a discussion of Hick’s view on suffering, see Scott, “Suffering and Soul-Making.” 25 For an example in Karl Barth, see Against the Stream: Shorter Post-War Writings, 1946–52 (New York: Philosophical Library, 1954), where he argues that it is the job of the church to mold the state toward the kingdom of God. 26 See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (New York: Macmillan, 1953).

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  71 and oppression. Moreover, the church is a visible sign of God’s encounter with history when it enacts God’s salvific activity in the world by opposing suffering and creating justice. 27 Other liberation and feminist liberation theologians amplified these points by demonstrating that unless theology was done with a focus on those who were most marginalized, even liberation theologians could reauthorize dominant power structures. Feminist theologians critiqued the exclusionary nature of white, male-centric theology; mujerista, Asian, and womanist theologians critiqued male theologians in their communities for ignoring the lives of women. 28 An influential group of female voices arose during the nineteenth century to challenge the male-dominated view of Eve’s culpability and women’s inferiority. Lucretia Mott wrote her Discourse on Woman in 1849 and rose to debate men at the National Women’s Rights Convention in 1852 and 1854. Mott and other women, including Susan B.  ­A nthony, worked with Elizabeth Cady Stanton in forming a committee to constitute an international committee that would write a commentary on the Church of England’s new translations of the Bible 1881, 1885, 1894. The result of their efforts, The Women’s Bible, whose two volumes were published in 1895 and 1898, was widely decried as Satan’s work. 29 ­Challenges to sexist biblical interpretation arose again with strength in the 1960s and 1970s, led by Mary Daly, Rosemary Radford Reuther, and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza. Around 1950, an exceptional woman, Virginia Cary Hudson ­Cleveland (1894–1954), renowned primarily for her best-selling childhood essays published as O Ye Jigs and Juleps!, taught a Bible-study class for women at Calvary Episcopal Church in Louisville, Kentucky. Virginia made her

27 See Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1988), 147ff., and The Power of the Poor in History: Selected Writings (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1983), 152–56. 28 Valerie Saiving was one of the earliest white women to critique white, male-­centric theology; see “The Human Situation: A Feminine View” (1960), reprinted in ­Readings in Ecology and Feminist Theology, ed. Mary Heather MacKinnon and Moni ­McIntyre (Kansas City, MO: Sheed & Ward, 1995). An early African American voice, Pauli Murray critiqued both black male theology and white feminist theology in 1978 in “Black Theology and Feminist Theology: A Comparative View,” in Black Theology: A Documentary History, ed. James H. Cone and Gayraud S. Wilmore, 2nd ed. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1993), 1:304–22. Marίa Pilar Aquino published Our Cry for Life: Feminist Theology in Latin America in 1993 (1992 in Spanish) (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis); Hyun Kyung Chung published Struggle to be the Sun Again: Introducing Asian Women’s Theology in 1990 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis); and Virginia Fabella and Mercy Amba Oduyoye published With Passion and Compassion: Third World Women Doing Theology in 1988 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis). 29 See Mace, Emily, “Feminist Forerunners and a Usable Past: A Historiography of ­Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s The Woman’s Bible,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion. 25, no. 2 (Fall 2009):5–23. Indiana University Press.

72  A Theology of Suffering and Patience interpretation of the Bible through the eyes of the women characters and through the minds and hearts of female readers. She lamented the lot of Eve and her daughters. Poor Eve has been the clay-pigeon toward which all the pigeon-­ hearted theologians and estimable Bible commentators have taken aim with their popguns. As a result countless generations of otherwise relatively sane human beings have been bamboozled into believing that the daughters of Eve are the root of all evil. 30 Virginia’s solution was to reject the authority of established “bewhiskered” commentators and to proceed according to two techniques that feminist critics and readers would later advocate: “reader response criticism,” the subjective reaction to reading a text, and the practice of telling the story from the perspective of the person in the story whose voice was silenced.31 Virginia explains her first approach: So let’s leave the bewhiskered Bible commentators in their stuffy towers! Instead of their bloodless exposés about Eve—may she rest in peace—let us consider her as only women can. What I shall read here is according to my own instinctive feelings.32 As for the second technique, Virginia gives Eve a voice to express her sorrow at the death of Abel. Between the lines of Holy Scripture I would like to add these words: “And when he that was first dead upon the earth was covered by the earth, the mother of all living cried unto God, saying, ‘Oh, give me back my boy.’ But neither God nor her reason answered her, and looking about she girded herself to live … The tears Eve shed over the body of Abel never ceased.”33 Virginia’s comments throughout her lesson imagine what Eve might have felt. Adam, from her point of view, did only two important things: “‘he ate’ and ‘he begat.’” “How many of his descendants to this very day,” she exclaims, “seem chiefly to be interested in only these two pastimes!”34 30 Virginia Cary Hudson, O Ye Jigs and Juleps! (New York: Macmillan Company, 1962); Close Your Eyes When Praying (New York: Harper & Row, 1969), 30. 31 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Bread not Stone: The Challenge of Feminist Biblical Interpretation (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1995). Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza differentiates between reading as a woman, which my grandmother did, and reading as a feminist with an agenda of social change—a movement that emerged and strengthened in the 1970s and 1980s. 32 Hudson, Close Your Eyes, 24. 33 Ibid., 35. 34 Ibid., 32.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  73 Virginia’s teaching was not constrained by the scrutiny and conventions of academe. The rector of her church supported her teaching at the church and preaching at chapels in the city of Louisville. She consulted commentaries from a Roman Catholic priest when she found Protestant sources inadequate and limiting, notably because they omitted the apocryphal books, particularly the story of Judith. Virginia educated herself about the Fathers of the Church as well. Speaking as a mother, she sympathized with Monica, mother of Augustine of Hippo, when she wept over her disobedient son’s wanderings before he converted to Christianity.35

From Interpreters to Subjects of Interpretation Monica Within the Christian tradition of biblical interpretation, how were women to seek holiness, then, when they were burdened with the weight of sin? Monica, the mother of Augustine of Hippo, was praised for succeeding in avoiding physical abuse; her son’s articulation of her silent, patient suffering and obedience in the face of her husband’s rage set the stage for the literature of later centuries. It served as a model for the wife’s role in a Christian marriage. Augustine devotes one short section of book 9 in the Confessions to his mother’s treatment of her husband’s anger. 36 The passage in question belongs to Augustine’s account of Monica’s life and virtues, a sort of flashback. The mystical experience of mother and son at Ostia Antiqua follows, where she reveals to him that the end is near. Her holiness, demonstrated in obedient, patient suffering and in active care for her family, is enhanced by this contemplative experience. Her earthly work has been accomplished with Augustine’s conversion, and the spiritual bonding of mother and son reaches its apex. 37 Augustine observes that his father, Patricius, was as extraordinary in his goodwill as he was heated in his anger. 38 Monica knew that she should not resist an angry husband, even with words. Augustine recounts what he calls ­Monica’s method (institutum suum): waiting until Patricius  calmed

35 Close Your Eyes, 87–94. Some of this material appeared earlier in Beverly M. Kienzle and Nancy E. Nienhuis, “Battered Women and the Construction of Sanctity,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 17, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 33–61 at 45–51. 36 Augustine of Hippo, Confessiones: Livres IX-XIII, trans. Pierre de Labriolle (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1969), IX.9.19–22; 2:225–27. 37 Ibid., IX.viii.17; 2:222: “Et cum apud Ostia Tiberina essemus, mater defuncta est”. IX.x.26: “Unum erat, propter quod in hac vita aliquantum inmorari cupiebam, ut te christianum catholicum videre, priusquam morerer.” IX.xi.28, p. 2:231: “Ergo die nono aegritudinis suae, quinquagesimo et sexto anno aetatis suae, tricesimo et tertio aetatis meae, anima illa religiosa et pia corpore soluta est.” 38 “Erat uero ille praeterea sicut beniuolentia praecipuus, ita ira feruidus.” Ibid., 2:225.

74  A Theology of Suffering and Patience down and then reasoning with him. This quiet posture, her son explains, kept her face from the disfigurement that other women bore from their husbands’ blows. 39 Monica’s practice was not only efficacious but also rooted in righteous obedience. Elsewhere, Augustine comments that his mother always obeyed her husband “because by obeying him she obeyed your [God’s] law, thereby showing greater virtue than he did.”40 Thus, obedience to God and to husband were one and the same for Augustine. Scholars have disagreed about Patricius’s character.” Brent Shaw assumes that Monica “bore up stoically under the quarrels and beatings.”41 Certainly, beatings were a frequently used tool of the Roman paterfamilias, a practice confirmed by research on the Roman family and apparent in Augustine’s other works.42 On the other hand, Kim Powers objects to the characterization of Augustine’s father as brutal and the implication

39 “Sed nouerat haec non resistere irato uiro, non tantum facto, sed ne uerbo quidem. Iam uero refractum et quietum cum oportunum uiderat, rationem facti sui reddebat, si forte ille inconsideratius conmotus fuerat. Denique cum matronae multae, quarum uiri mansuetiores erant, plagarum uestigia etiam dehonestata facie gererent.” Ibid. 40 Confessions I.11, trans. Pine-Coffin, 32. PL 32: 669: “Et in hoc adiuvabas eam, ut superaret virum, cui melior serviebat, quia et in hoc tibi utique iubenti serviebat.” 41 Brent D. Shaw, “The Family in Late Antiquity: The Experience of Augustine,” Past and Present 115 (May 1987): 31–32. 42 For general discussions of the Roman family, see Peter Garnsey and Richard Saller, The Roman Empire: Economy, Society, and Culture (London: Duckworth, 1987), 126–47; Jane E. Gardner, Women in Roman Law and Society (London: Croom Helm, 1986), 67–80; Power, in Veiled Desire, 26, 76, points out that in Roman sine manu marriages, husbands did not have the right to beat their wives. However, Garnsey and Saller, in Roman Empire, 134, echo Shaw’s conclusion on Augustine’s family and make this general observation: [T]he fact that the wife was not in her husband’s legal power may not always have exempted her from such domination. In his On Anger (3.35) Seneca asked how man could complain of the state being deprived of liberty when he in his own household became angry at his slave, freedman, client and wife for answering back to him. The inclusion of the wife in this series of inferior members of the domus is suggestive. The authors go on to repeat Shaw without Augustine’s disclaimer: “Much later St. Augustine wrote more explicitly that his mother meekly suffered regular beatings at the hands of his father and that most other wives in the small African town of Thagaste had similar bruises to show.” Shaw, in “Family in Late Antiquity,” 6, 17–32, includes references to Augustine’s sermons and other works that reveal the prevalence of physical punishment. Power, in Veiled Desire, 263n60, also acknowledges the prevalence of physical punishment in Roman families and refers to Augustine’s Speculum, De libro legis, xxi, PL 34: 890C. There, he enumerates cases of offense against the laws, mostly dealing with the striking of slaves, but he includes this:   Si rixati fuerint viri, et percusserit quis mulierem praegnantem, et abortivum quidem fecerit, sed ipsa vixerit; subjacebit damno, quantum expetierit maritus mulieris, et arbitri judicarint: sin autem mors ejus fuerit subsecuta; reddet animam pro anima, oculum pro oculo, dentem pro dente, manum pro manu, pedem pro pede, adustionem pro adustione, vulnus pro vulnere, livorem pro livore.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  75 that Monica was caught in Patricius’s violence against his son. She asserts, “Patricius never raised a hand to Monica.”43 Augustine may not be the most reliable chronicler of the relationship between his parents. First, he was only sixteen when Patricius died, and for part of his early years he was away at school. Any beatings Monica endured could have occurred during his absence or even before he was born. Clearly Monica was fearful of Patricius, as Augustine recalls her efforts to avoid her husband’s unpredictable rage. The fact that Augustine did not witness beatings does not mean they did not occur. Second, Augustine’s aim in his remembrance of his mother is in part ideological. He intends to portray her as a saintly woman, and her avoidance of beatings, especially given that Augustine understands beatings to be the fault of the women who receive them, is critical in his portrayal of Monica as one whose submissive behavior far exceeded that of the women around her. If she, too, had acted in ways that elicited beatings, as Augustine believed her peers did, she would be no better than them. One wonders if Augustine’s memory was selective, especially since he wrote the Confessions thirty years after his father’s death and with an ideological program in mind.44 Even if his recollection that his father never struck his mother is correct, his references to Patricius’s rage and to Monica’s efforts to avoid it nonetheless convey a sense of a household living in fear of potential outbursts and indicate probable emotional and psychological, if not physical, abuse. Eventually Monica won over her husband for God, an outcome that made her obedient silence worthwhile in Augustine’s view and probably in her own. The ability to move others to conversion was a hallmark of sanctity. According to Augustine, after Patricius’s conversion, near the end of his life, Monica never mentioned his infidelities to him. Augustine follows that observation with praise of Monica as the servant of servants (serva servorum tuorum), the feminization of a standard formula. He continues, summarizing her virtues with scriptural phrases that capture her worth as a faithful wife and child, and a wise manager of her household whose actions spoke on her behalf.45

43 Kim Power, Veiled Desire: Augustine’s Writing on Women (London: Darton, ­L ongman, & Todd, 1995), 76. Power agrees that Monica is a model of obedience and subordination: Augustine is clearly offering his mother as a model to other Christian wives whom he perceives as at best ill-judged, and at worst contentious and haughtily defiant of legitimate authority. Wives who followed Monica’s advice thanked her for its value. The dire alternative was to be abused into submission. (76) 44 On Augustine’s ideology, see Shaw, “Family in Late Antiquity,” 7: All the formative years of his life up to the age of thirty, when he was part of his parents’ family, are … seen through the prism of a later ideological commitment that profoundly distorted his conception of his own earlier life. 45 “Quisquis eorum noverat eam, multum in ea laudabat et honorabat et diligebat te, quia sentiebat presentiam tuam in corde eius sanctae conversationis fructibus

76  A Theology of Suffering and Patience In dealing with the battering of wives in his society, Augustine voices no lament for their predicament, which would parallel his concern for his own beatings in school.46 Instead, he makes his mother a spokesperson for the necessary suffering of chaste Christian women.47 It is she who reminds other women that, through the marriage contract, they are made servants of the masters who are their husbands.48 The son tersely remarks that the women who heeded his mother’s advice were grateful to her, while those who did not were mistreated.49 Augustine equates opposition to the husband with defiance to the social order, which deserves punishment. Augustine places the blame for beatings squarely on women themselves, 50 without any apparent compassion. If Augustine had recounted an episode of his father’s physical violence against ­Monica, he would have undermined his attempt to portray her as a model wife, able to avoid beatings because of her patient and godly obedience. The theology at work in this passage is clear: religion is in harmony with social forces of female subordination. Augustine viewed marriage in connection to the social order and the divine order. Marriage is the

testimonibus. Fuerat enim ‘unius viri uxor’, ‘mutuam vicem parentibus’ reddiderat, domum suam pie tractaverat, ‘in operibus bonis testimonium’ habebat.” Scriptural references are from 1 Timothy 5:9, 4, 10, regarding instructions to church leaders on the proper treatment and conduct of widows. Vv. 9 and 10 pertain to older widows enrolled in Christ’s service. Augustine, Confessiones, 2:227. 46 Augustine, Confessiones (I.IX.14), 1:13: Deus, deus meus, quas ibi miserias expertus sum et ludificationes… Et tamen, si segnis in discendo essem, vapulabam. Laudabatur enim hoc a maioribus, et multi ante nos vitam istam agentes praestruxerant aerumnosas vias, per quas transire cogebamur multiplicato labore et dolore filiis Adam. The beatings are described as “plagae meae, magnum tunc et grave malum meum.” Augustine then speaks of the terror felt by children (I. IX.15; 1:13–14). The same subject appears in the City of God, XXI, xiv. 47 For a discussion of the historical impact of Monica’s life on the construction of motherhood, see Clarissa W. Atkinson, “‘Your Servant, My Mother’: The Figure of St. Monica in the Ideology of Christian Motherhood,” in Immaculate and Powerful: The Female in Sacred Image and Social Reality, ed. Clarissa W. Atkinson, Constance H. Buchanan, and Margaret R. Miles (Boston, MA: Beacon, 1985), 173–200. 48 “[I]nter amica conloquia illae arguebant maritorum uitam, haec earum linguam, ueluti per iocum grauiter admonens, ex quo illas tabulas, quae matrimoniales uocantur, recitari audissent, tamquam instrumenta, quibus ancillae factae essent, deputare debuisse; proinde memores conditiones superbire aduersus dominos non oportere.” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:225. 49 “Quae obseruabant, expertae gratulabantur; quae non obseruabant, subiectae uexabantur.” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:226. 50 Rosemary Radford Ruether argues that historically, Christianity defined women as inferior and subordinate to men and even prone to the demonic. Particularly, Christianity assumed that if a woman experienced physical and/or emotional abuse, she was responsible for the abuse. See Ruether, “The Western Tradition and Violence against Women in the Home,” in Christianity, Patriarchy, and Abuse: A Feminist Critique, ed. Joanne Carlson Brown and Carole R. Bohn (New York: Pilgrim, 1989), esp. 35–38.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  77 microcosm of the relationship between God and the church; concord in marriage mirrors the divine order. 51 Monica is described as a young woman subservient first to God, then to her parents, and later to her husband.52 Her principal communication is with God, and in the relationships of this world she acts as God’s instrument, speaking in conformity with God’s will and not in a separate voice of her own. 53 Patient, obedient, and voiceless, she endures her husband’s anger and infidelity without opposition. 54 Indeed, her endurance and her quiet reserve—­obvious survival strategies in a marriage to a man prone to violent rages—­enhance the path to holiness for herself and her husband. Christian servanthood for Monica includes obedient patience in suffering, but it also leads to another important mark of saintliness: conversion. Monica influences her husband’s conversion, just as her patient love for her son also brings about his turning to Christ. 55 Conversion provides a spiritual happy ending that affirms Monica’s conduct and minimizes Patricius’s sinfulness. Moreover, the husband’s conversion accentuates the spiritual ties between husband and wife, thereby deemphasizing the physicality of the marriage bond, an obstacle to holiness for women. It is realistic to suppose that a difficult marriage, by making the physical bond more burdensome, would increase the ascetic holiness of the woman who endures it and transforms it through conversion. When Patricius converts, Monica keeps complete silence about his past wrongs, thus winning praise from Augustine, who sees her behavior as a perfect model of obedient servitude. For Augustine, women who are battered have defied the husband’s rule in marriage and the household. Therefore, they deserve their punishment—an echo of the idea that Eve, and hence women in general, disobeyed and should be punished.56 In Augustine’s eyes, Monica is ultimately subservient because of Eve’s 51 Shaw, in “Family in Late Antiquity,” 10, notes the influence of Stoic ideas (the household “accepted as part of the natural order of society as a whole, represented at its pinnacle by the state”) on Augustine and stresses that for Augustine, the “atom of society” was not the family but the union of man and woman. See also Power, Veiled Desire, 236–37, on Augustine’s view of the church. 52 “Educata itaque pudice ac sobrie potiusque a te subdita parentibus quam a parentibus tibi, ubi plenis annis nubilis facta est, tradita uiro seruiuit ueluti domino.” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:225. 53 Monica is described as speaking about God through her actions: “loquens te illi moribus suis,” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:225. 54 “Ita autem tolerauit cubilis iniurias, ut nullam de hac recum marito haberet umquam simultatem,” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:225. 55 “Denique etiam uirum suum iam in extrema uita temporali eius lucrata est tibi nec in eo iam fideli planxit, quod in nondum fideli tolerauerat. Erat etiam serua seruorum tuorum,” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:227. Clarissa Atkinson notes that Augustine “saw Monica as the agent of his conversion and perhaps of his salvation” (epilogue, 75–76). 56 Ruether, “The Western Tradition and Violence against Women in the Home,” in Christianity, Patriarchy, and Abuse, 32–33.

78  A Theology of Suffering and Patience culpability, but because Monica avoids punishment, she stands closer to Mary here than to Eve.57 Monica, like Mary, humbly acquiesced to the will of God. Rather than acting independently, as Eve did, Monica suffered in patient silence. Accounts of Mary’s silence serve as the paradigm for much literature claiming that women should keep silent in a range of contexts.58 Thus, by paralleling Monica’s behavior with that of Mary, Augustine simultaneously reinforces Monica’s holiness and a specific kyriarchal order as exemplary of the divine. In Eve’s case, God emerges as the rightful castigator, while in the case of the nonsubmissive wives of Augustine’s day, it is the husbands who play that role. The rule of the paterfamilias, whom Augustine himself apparently feared, is thus held up as the appropriate mode of family relations. 59 In summary, Augustine likens Monica’s servitude to the earlier obedience of the child. The obligations of motherhood, marriage, and childhood are combined for him when he states, “She took care, as if she had engendered all, just as she served as if she had been begotten by all.”60 Thus, Monica represents the model mother and wife to the extent that she exhibits the dependent obedience that befits the model child or the slave in a kyriarchal hierarchy. Augustine praises her lifelong obedience and servitude as the perfect model of a Christian life. Patient obedience, as Augustine presents it, not only reflects personal holiness but also has the added potential for evoking conversion: Augustine’s and his father’s. By acclaiming Monica’s obedience and servitude, Augustine reinforces what gradually became a hallmark of Christian theological ­understanding—that suffering, self-sacrifice, and obedience are characteristic of Christian virtue in women and may be used by God to elicit the conversion of others.61 Around the time that Augustine praised his mother’s suffering, stories and texts about the lives and deaths of martyr saints were emerging around the Mediterranean. The Christian theology of self-sacrifice and suffering emerged as early followers of Christ tried to make sense of his death on the cross. The persecution of Christians resulted in the death

57 Power, in Veiled Desire, 91, presents parallels between Monica and Mary, but she does not include silence. 58 Karen King, “Afterword: Voices of the Spirit,” in Women Preachers and Prophets Through Two Millennia of Christianity, ed. B. Kienzle and Pamela J. Walker (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press, 1998), 336–37. 59 Power, Veiled Desire, 122–24; Shaw, “Family in Late Antiquity,” 28n104. 60 “… ita curam gessit, quasi omnes genuisset, ita seruiuit, quasi ab omnibus genita fuisset.” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:227. 61 Joanne Carlson Brown and Rebecca Parker, “For God So Loved the World?,” in Brown and Bohn, Christianity, Patriarchy, and Abuse, 2. Although Monica’s cult was not popular until the later Middle Ages, most Christian Latin authors would have been familiar with the Confessions and hence with Augustine’s moral portrait of Monica because of the wide-reaching influence of his works throughout the centuries.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  79 of many martyrs who refused to deny their faith; storytellers and writers praised and glorified their suffering and deaths. In their view, the martyrs were true imitators of Christ; their death and suffering meant a sure reward in the next world. When Christians no longer endured widespread physical martyrdom, suffering as a martyr persisted as an ideal. Desert monks adopted ascetic practices that resulted in physical suffering, such as hair shirts and the denial of physical needs. The idea of a bloodless martyrdom, or at least one that did not lead to death, held strong in saints’ lives. The thematic representation of martyrdom in the lives of female saints appears as follows and again in later chapters. These narratives illustrate in further depth what sort of theological narrative medieval writers employ to frame suffering. Radegund Early medieval saints continued this rigorous asceticism. The poet Fortunatus (530–600) wrote of his friend Radegund (ca. 520–586) that even as a child, Radegund desired to become a martyr if the opportunity presented itself: “She would often converse with other children there about her desire to be a martyr if the chance came in her time.” Radegund also burned herself with a brass plate bearing the image of Christ, as Fortunatus recounts: “She drew it to herself, so that she might be a martyr though it was not an age of persecution.” In sum, she sought after a living martyrdom.62 An eleventh-century illustrated book on Radegund depicts her in a cell as if in a prison. The ideal of suffering martyrdom remained vivid in the mind of the artist.63 Radegund was kidnapped by Clothar, king of the Franks, when he launched an expedition against the Thuringians, his longtime enemies. Clothar saved Radegund for his bride, keeping her at his villa at Athies and marrying her around 540. It is not clear how many wives he had at the same time, but Radegund was possibly the fifth. Earlier, Clothar had married the widow of his brother Clodomir and then murdered her sons. Clothar’s violent actions changed Radegund’s life again when he murdered her brother around 550. Radegund then withdrew to a villa at Saix. She obtained permission from Bishop Medard of Noyonto to enter a convent. At that time, she had probably been married to Clothar for ten years. She also persuaded Medard to ordain her deaconess, which allowed

62 Fortunatus, Life of Radegund, in Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, ed. and trans. Jo Ann McNamara, John E. Halborg with E. Gordon Whatley (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 1992), 71, 81. 63 On the Libellus, see Magdalena Carrasco, Art Bulletin 72 (1990): 414–35; “Sanctity and Experience in Pictorial Hagiography: Two Illustrated Lives of Saints from Romanesque France,” in Images of Sainthood in Medieval Europe, ed. Reante Blumenfeld Kosinski and Timea Szell (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991),

80  A Theology of Suffering and Patience her to live safely away from her husband. Her ordination as deacon took place around 544; we are told that it occurred prior to the customary age of 40. In 558, Clothar indicated in some way that he wanted his wife back, and according to tradition, she then fled to Poitiers. He came to Tours to repent for murdering his son Chramn and his family and to support the rebuilding of the church of Saint Martin, which Chramn had burned during his rebellion. Apparently, Bishop Germanus of Paris intervened to block Clothar’s wishes to take Radegund back. In Poitiers, Radegund founded the convent of the Holy Cross and settled there, probably after Clothar’s death in 561. She chose the Rule of Caesarius of Arles for her convent; Caesarius wrote it specifically for his sister and designed it for communities of women. At Poitiers, Radegund became the friend of Venantius Fortunatus (530–609), who immortalized her in his poetry. The two major sources for Radegund’s life are the Acta composed by Fortunatus and the Altera Acta by Baudonivia, a sister in Radegund’s community of the Holy Cross in Poitiers. Fortunatus wrote the Acta Radegundis not long after her death, as did Baudonivia. Baudonivia saw herself as adding to what Fortunatus had already written. She wrote sometime in the early 600s, at the request of her abbess.64 The theology that frames the Acta written by Fortunatus and by ­Baudonivia is one that prizes active servanthood, martyrdom, and asceticism. Radegund’s self-inflicted suffering through ascetic practices also plays a large role in Fortunatus’s texts. Those ascetic practices are placed in the context of a chosen path of martyrdom in the religious life. ­Fortunatus places attention immediately in the Prologue on the saint’s conflict with her body and identifies mortification as an element of ­female saintliness: “Mortifying themselves in the world, despising earthly consort, purified of worldly contamination, trusting not in the transitory, dwelling not in error but seeking to live with God, they are united with the Redeemers’ glory in paradise” (70). In Fortunatus’s portrait, Radegund strove to surpass male standards of asceticism.65 Concerning Radegund’s relationship with Clothar, Fortunatus tells of her escape from the king’s villa at Athies even before her marriage to him around 540. Fortunatus also recounts the queen’s attempts at avoiding Clothar during her years of marriage and residence with the king at ­Soissons. The biographer remarks that: “Always subject to God following priestly admonitions, she was more Christ’s partner than her husband’s companion.”66 Three stories involve her avoidance of the

64 McNamara, Sainted Women, 64. The two lives, translated in the same volume, are introduced with care and explained with meticulous notes. 65 Caroline Bynum further asks whether women “had to stress the experience of Christ and manifest it outwardly in their flesh, because they did not have clerical office as an authorization for speaking.” Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Holy Women (California: University of California Press, 1988), 194–95, 204. 66 Sainted Women, 72.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  81 marriage bed, illustrating her asceticism, distaste for sex, and preference for the heavenly bridegroom. Fortunatus also makes direct references to Clothar’s anger and harshness. After telling of her departure from the bedroom at night, Fortunatus remarks: “Her goodness provoked him to harsher irritation but she either soothed him to the best of her ability or bore her husband’s brawling modestly.” Fortunatus also refers to Clothar offering Radegund gifts in order to make up for his offenses: “This caused strife with her husband and later on the prince compensated her with gifts for the wrong he did her with his tongue.”67 In contrast, Baudonivia devotes little attention to Radegund’s years of marriage, but echoes the theme of the queen’s preference for the king of heaven. Radegund’s escape is mentioned by both authors, however, with Fortunatus giving the precise details. The effects of Clothar’s threats after Radegund entered the religious life are described twice by Baudonivia and not by Fortunatus. It is she who tells of Clothar’s desire to get his queen back, so strong that he wished to die if he could not have her, and of Radegund’s fear and desire to die herself if she had to be reunited with her husband. According to Baudonivia, Clothar repented after a second attempt to regain Radegund, an effort that was motivated by the workings of the devil and followed by the punishment of his advisors.68 While she was still in that villa, a rumor arose that the king wanted her back again, that he was grieving over the grave loss he had suffered in letting so great and good a queen leave his side and that within himself he had no wish to live unless he could get her back again.69 This threat from Clothar was to be followed by Radegund’s move to Poitiers. Clothar’s suicide threat strikes us as part of the portrait of the batterer. Furthermore, Baudonivia makes a direct link between ­Clothar’s threat and Radegund’s response: Hearing this, the blessed one shook with terror and surrendered herself to the harsher torment of the roughest of hair shirts which she fitted to her tender body. In addition, she imposed torments of fasting upon herself, and spent nights in vigils pouring out prayers. Thus, a frightened Radegund reacts with a rougher hair shirt, fasting, and sleepless vigils. Baudonivia also describes Radegund’s fear and desire to die herself if she had to be reunited with her husband: For she said that if the king truly did want to take her back, she was determined to end her life before she, who had been joined in the embrace of the heavenly King, would be united again to an earthly king. 67 Sainted Women, Baudonivia, Acts, 71–74. 68 Sainted Women, Baudonivia, Acts, 71–74. 69 Sainted Women, 88.

82  A Theology of Suffering and Patience Radegund threatens suicide when she pleas for help and a new hair shirt. The cause-effect linkage between her fear of Clothar and her mortification does not appear in Fortunatus’s accounts of even more severe ­mortification. Baudonivia also states that Radegund “scorned to rule her fatherland…” She points out the difficulty for Radegund of ­being the queen of her people’s conqueror, another aspect of her desire to be free of the marriage.70 According to Baudonivia, Clothar attempted to regain Radegund a second time, an effort that was motivated, in the author’s mind, by the workings of the devil. Clothar repented and blamed the actions on bad advisors. They are punished like heretics; Baudonivia reports that they suffered the same fate as Arius, losing all his bowels.71 The event inspired fear in the king who begged Radegund’s forgiveness. The advisors’ lot implies an association with Arianism. Perhaps they were attempting to persuade Clothar to support Arianism, or perhaps the association was another way to discredit Radegund’s foes who did not sufficiently recognize her holiness. In this episode, Radegund again sought help from a holy man, this time Bishop Germanus of Paris, who was in the king’s company.72 Why did clergy play an active role in protecting Radegund from her husband? Radegund herself occupied a high rank in society. Moreover, ecclesiastical power was relatively free from secular rule in Merovingian Gaul, prior to the conversion of the Franks and to what Jo Ann McNamara describes as the “seventh-century rapprochement between church authorities and secular monarchs.”73 Three clergymen intervene in the two versions of Radegund’s vita: Medard, bishop of Noyon; Jean, hermit of Chinon; and finally, Germanus, bishop of Paris. Fortunatus recounts the action of Medard who, persuaded by Radegund’s forceful eloquence, consecrates her a deacon, allowing her to enter the religious life without dissolving her marriage. Radegund’s plea to Medard follows her brother’s murder, and Fortunatus explains: “Her innocent brother was killed so that she might come to live in religion.”74 Medard confronts violent resistance in his attempt to veil the queen. In Fortunatus’s account, Radegund intervenes and issues Medard a holy threat, whereupon he consecrates her a deacon. Fortunatus paints the scene with cinema-like vividness: …nobles were harassing the holy man and attempting to drag him brutally through the basilica from the altar to keep him from veiling the king’s spouse lest the priest imagine he could take away the 70 Sainted Women, 88. 71 Sainted Women, 90. 72 Sainted Women, Baudonivia, 90. 73 Sainted Women, 6. 74 Sainted Women, 75.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  83 king’s official queen as though she were only a prostitute. That holiest of women knew this and, sizing up the situation, entered the sacristy, put on a monastic garb and proceeded straight to the altar, saying to the blessed Medard: ‘If you shrink from consecrating me, and fear man more than God, Pastor, He will require his sheep’s soul from your hand.’ He was thunderstruck by that argument and, laying his hand on her, he consecrated her as a deaconess.75 The other two episodes of clerical assistance appear in Baudonivia’s text. Terrified by the prospect of a forced return to Clothar, Radegund appeals to the venerable hermit Jean, asking him to pray that she not be returned to the world. After spending the night awake in prayer, Jean informs the king that God will not allow Clothar’s will to be fulfilled and will punish him if he takes back Radegund. In the second instance, the king sends messengers to Radegund’s monastery announcing his intent, and Radegund dispatches a written appeal to Germanus, bishop of Paris, who was then with the king. The bishop, weeping at the king’s feet before the tomb of Saint Martin, persuades the king not to continue on to Poitiers.76 In some cases, Merovingian women brought the wrath of their families against their husbands. Clothild—daughter of Radegund’s mother-inlaw, also named Clothild—obtained violent revenge against her spouse. Clothild the mother converted Clovis I from Arianism, while her granddaughter Theodolinda converted the king of the Lombards. Clothild the daughter was given in marriage to Almaric, king of the Goths, an Arian. He despised his wife’s adherence to orthodoxy and threw dung at her and beat her: “…he would beat her severely with whips but she would in no way let herself be torn from her catholic faith.” Clothild summoned her mother and brothers, who raised an army against the Arian. A Frankish soldier pierced him with a spear as he was attempting to seek refuge in a church.77 Another story pertinent to the theme of suffering in marriage is that of Ingritude, a holy widow who persuaded her daughter to enter a monastery and leave the married life. Gregory of Tours returned the daughter to her husband and quarrels between husband and wife, and mother and daughter, ensued. The daughter obtained revenge on her mother by pillaging the monastery after her death.78 In this case, the bishop, Gregory of Tours, overruled the mother’s wish, and the daugh-

75 Sainted Women, 75. 76 Sainted Women, 75. 77 Sainted Women, 46. McNamara, Sisters, 53. On discipline in the convent, see Jo Ann McNamara, “The Ordeal of Community: Hagiography and Discipline in Merovingian Convents,” https://monasticmatrix.osu.edu/commentaria/ ordeal-community-hagiography-and-discipline-merovingian-convents. 78 McNamara, Sisters, 53.

84  A Theology of Suffering and Patience ter took revenge. Gregory of Tours’s Historia francorum is the source for yet another wife who escaped from her husband. The wife of Duke Ragnovald took refuge with her attendants in the church of SaintSernin in Toulouse.79 Merovingian women overall provide strong examples of resistance to violence: they display daily resistance and avoidance of their husbands; they receive intervention from clergy and family; and wealth and social status enable their energetic fights. Moreover, the political situation allows clerics to ally with them against kings. Authors do not praise their obedience to spouses or their passivity. They stand out for service to others and for ascetic practices that enhance their personal holiness and strengthen the power of sanctuary they offered to others, especially women escaping violent situations. However, the severity of Radegund’s self-mortification exceeds the self-harm in lives of Merovingian women who sought in convents a refuge from forced marriages. Evidence of the frequency of this practice appears in the Second Council of Tours’s prohibition of remarriage for women who took the veil to avoid abduction.80 Women also created havens in monasteries where they would be safe from the violence of their husbands.81 A queen such as Radegund succeeded in persuading churchmen to intervene against her husband’s attempts to seize her even from the monastery. As Jo Ann McNamara argues, the accounts of women’s sanctity not only enhanced their holiness but also increased their protective power when they took in other refugees from violence.82 They offered a model of resistance to secular violence, a model that would fade from view after the conversion of the Franks and the increased alliance between ecclesiastical authority and secular power.83 Theologians have long held that imitation of and participation in Christ’s suffering is normative for Christians, and in some cases even salvific. The glorification of suffering in Western Christianity suggests that to impose suffering may actually be helpful in some way to the

79 Gregory of Tours’s Historia francorum is the source for this. See also: http://­ societearcheologiquedumidi.fr/_samf/saint-sernin/cloitre_St-Sernin.htm. 80 McNamara, “The Ordeal of Community: Hagiography and Discipline in Merovingian convents,” Introduction to The Rule of Community, trans. Jo Ann McNamara and John Halborg (Toronto: Peregrina), 14, 17. 81 Jo Ann McNamara observes three roles for Christian women in Gaul: providing a bridge between the Christian community and the kings and persuading them to be baptized; serving as patrons, foundresses, and rulers of monastic communities; and serving the community. McNamara, “Living Sermons: Consecrated Women and the Conversion of Gaul,” in Peace Weavers, 19–39. 82 McNamara, “Introduction,” Sainted Women, 8–10; “Hagiography and nunneries” on fear. 83 McNamara, “Introduction,” Sainted Women, 6.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  85 victim.84 However, there is a notable difference between martyrs and women who attained sainthood for their patient suffering of abuse inflicted by violent husbands. Those who tortured martyrs were blamed for the violence they perpetrated, whereas abusive husbands were rarely chastised for the violence they wrought.

Godelieve of Gistel Just as the ideal of imprisonment and martyrdom is evident in the eleventh-­century illustrations of Radegund’s life and ascetic practices, so a theology of suffering and martyrdom dominates the story of Godelieve of Gistel.85 Born in 1052 and married at age fifteen, Godelieve was murdered a few years later, in July 1070.86 Her cult still thrives in Belgium, where an abbey is dedicated to her, and an annual July festival commemorates her death with a procession of her relics and a large-scale drama including more than a thousand participants. Actors represent episodes from Godelieve’s life and death, and local people honor her service to the poor, which is praised in an oratorio (Figure 3.1).87 Godelieve’s life and death took place against the background of eleventh-­century Flanders, where feudal violence was erupting in conflicts between northern and southern feudal lords. The Gregorian Reforms, initiated by Pope Gregory VII (1073–1085), endeavored to impose moral reform of the clergy, establish the church’s freedom from control by lay power, and sanctify all of society in conformity with monastic ideals. Both sides attempted to harness the intense power of the growing cult of the saints.88 Godelieve’s cult probably arose

84 Miles, “Violence Against Women,” 20. 85 For an earlier discussion of these issue, see Beverly Mayne Kienzle and Nancy E. Nienhuis “Battered Women and the Construction of Sanctity,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 17, no. 1 (1 April 2001): 33–61. 86 See Renée Nip, “The Canonization of Godelieve of Gistel,” Hagiographica 2 (1995): 145–55; and Renée Nip, “Godelieve of Gistel and Ida of Boulogne,” in Sanctity and Motherhood, ed. Mulder-Bakker, 191–223. The best edition of the Latin Vita Godeliph is Maurice Coens, “La vie ancienne de sainte Godelieve de Ghistelles par Drogon de Bergues,” Analecta Bollandiana 44 (1926): 125–37. A Flemish edition was published by Nicolaas N. Huyghebaert and Stefaan Gyselen, Godelieve van Gistel: De “Vita Godeliph” van de monnik Drogo (1084) (Tielt, Belgium: Lannoo, 1982), 34–71. Later versions of the text date from the thirteenth and probably fourteenth centuries, the latter usually referred to as the Legenda. See BHL 3592, ed. J.B. Sollerius, AA.SS. Iul. II (1867), 359–444; and BHL 3593, AA.SS. Iul. II, 414–36. 87 Information from Gistel is now online: http://godelieve.net/godelievegistel/index. html. The 2010 procession can be seen on www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9uW9Y8-9Gw; and the 2013 took place on July 7: https://sites.google.com/site/ godelieveprocessie/. Other resources and videos are also available. 88 On the Gregorian Reforms, see Georges Duby, The Chivalrous Society, trans. ­Cynthia Postan (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1977), 123–33; Barbara

86  A Theology of Suffering and Patience

Figure 3.1   G odelieve of Gistel, Patron’s wife with St. Godelieve, Right panel of a triptych. Jan Provoost, artist (ca. 1465—1529) n.d. ­G roeningemuseum, Bruges, Belgium; 0.216-17. This panel painting highlights devotion to Godelieve, rather than her murder. Source: http://library.artstor.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/#/ asset/HARVARD_UNIVERSITY_94913201486.

among the people who venerated her after her murder, 89 and the regional church hierarchy intervened to gain control of her cult and use it for political advantage. A native of the region of Boulogne, now in France, Godelieve married Bertolf, lord of Gistel, a town located farther north, near Bruges,

Abou-El-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints: Formations and Transformations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 13–14; and Giles Constable, The Reformation of the Twelfth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 4–5, 300–28. 89 See George Duby, “The Matron and the Mismarried Woman,” in Love and Marriage in the Middle Ages, trans. Jane Dunnett (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 44–54; Nip, “Canonization of Godelieve of Gistel,” 146–48 and 154, where she concludes, “From the life of Drogo it is evident that the veneration of Godelieve as a martyr originated from the people.” See also Nip, “Godelieve of Gistel and Ida of Boulogne,” 192–97.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  87 in present-day Belgium. The marriage was probably arranged by the counts of Boulogne and Flanders in an attempt to form an alliance to promote peace. Furthermore, the composition of the Vita Godeliph was influenced by the church’s efforts to create stability. Bishop Radbod II of Noyon-Tournai (1068–1098), who elevated Godelieve’s relics on July 30, 1084, probably was cooperating with the count who was trying to consolidate his power in Flanders after a 1083 revolt in the south.90 The relics’ elevation in 1084 provided the occasion for the composition of the earliest extant version of Godelieve’s vita by Drogo, monk of the abbey of St. Winocsbergen. Drogo, writing for his bishop, composed the text to assert the primacy of episcopal authority through the martyrdom of a young woman who demonstrated complete obedience to it through her patient suffering. He addresses the text to Radbod II, praising him for his learning and outstanding reputation. The final v­ ersion of the text depended on the bishop’s authority, as Drogo sent the account to Radbod first and bade him edit and improve it as might be needed. If Radbod found the vita worthy, it would gain authority before it reached a wider audience. The account is termed a “life” and also a “passion,” accentuating its heroine’s martyrdom.91 According to the vita, conflict marked the marriage before it took place: the future husband, Bertolf, came under the devil’s influence, as the hagiographer puts it.92 Bertolf’s mother insulted the bride-to-be as a dark-haired foreign crow,93 and Bertolf did not even attend the wedding 90 Baldwin, Count of Flanders, died in July 1070, and two camps vied for his authority. Boulogne, Godelieve’s region, supported the count’s widow and sons; and Bertolf’s area, maritime Flanders, supported the count’s brother, Robert the Frisian, the eventual successor to Baldwin. Godelieve presumably was murdered around the time of Baldwin’s death. The dates are not entirely sure. See Nip, “The Canonization of Godelieve of Gistel,” 148. 91 See Nip, “Canonization of Godelieve of Gistel,” 154. See also Nicolaas Huyghebaert, “Un Moine Hagiographe: Drogon de Bergues-Saint Winoc,” Sacris Erudiri 20 (1971): 191–256, but especially 221–25, where he suggests that Drogo’s abbot, Englebert, a descendant of Baldwin IV, had connections with a powerful family that sought to glorify Godelieve after her death. 92 Vita sanctae Godeliph, in “La vie ancienne de sainte Godelieve de Ghistelles,”128: “Sed ipse eadem die qua sponsam detulit domum, iaculatus mentem ab inimico, eam odio habere coepit, tum interdum paenitere coepti [sic], nonumquam etiam se ipsum ob peractam rem incusare.” 93 Ibid.: Nam et verbis suae matris cogitur ad odium, quae more bonae genitrics congaudere deberet maritati filii auspiciis ...’Num, inquit, in tua patria, care fili, cornices haud poteras reperire, qui cornicem unam ab alia patria domum voluisit deferre? … His ergo et aliis genitricis dictis exagitatus maerore gravabatur et magis in dies etiam nimis magna per se aegritudo animi augebatur.

88  A Theology of Suffering and Patience ceremony; his mother stood in for him.94 After the three-day wedding observance, Bertolf returned, but went to live at his father’s house,95 leaving Godelieve alone. He undertook a deliberate plan to harm her,96 first ordering the servants to provide her with only bread and water97 and later cutting that meager ration in half.98 Godelieve escaped once and appealed for justice through her father, whereupon Bertolf was ordered by the local count and bishop to take back his wife. The count voices the Gregorian Reform’s view of the distribution of authority between secular and ecclesiastical power: It is the office of a bishop… to rule Christendom as well as correct anything deviating from holy practice…. Episcopal authority should compel this man to take back what is his. If he refuses, and considers the bishop’s order of little significance, then I will address the matter and demand satisfaction for your cause with every resource available to me.99 Angry at the verdict and frustrated at his failure to break Godelieve’s spirit, Bertolf was driven to even greater evil and plotted with two of his

94 Ibid., 129: “Celebrat mater ipsius quamquam invita nuptias; ea loco sponsi adest; maestam frontem serenat occultans virus quod animo gestabat.” 95 Ibid.: “Per totos tres dies filius eius abfuit dum ymenei a matre et ab inimicis celebrati sunt. Et revertitur post diem tertium; dimissa propria domo cum coniuge una cum familia, patris aedem ivit habitatum.” 96 Ibid.: “Cum id quidem videret vir suus, cum utroque parente tractare coepit quomodo vivendo deturparet eam, quod scilicet illi dedecori vitaeque detrimento esset.” 97 Ibid.: Famulus suus sibi proponitur qui ei male serviret quique illi panem unum in die et in statuta hora nichilque aliud offeret…. Utebatur vero ea solo pane cum sale et aqua semel in die. Vir enim suus servo illi famulanti indixit ut nichil aliud acciperet. 98 Ibid.: “‘Auferam itaque ab ea colorem quo viget, mentem tollam ut ne quidem de Deo neque de se ipsa queat cogitare.’ Haec siquidem meditatus est sponsus; dixit ac pariter cum dicto factum indixit. Datur ei panis dimidius.” 99 Ibid., 131: episcopi est, inquit, christianitatem regere, tum si qua sunt extra viam sancti ordinis corrigere; meum vero habetur in his quae per se superare non quit hunc ipsum adiuvare. Hunc primum episcopalis auctoritas suam resuscipere adigat. Qui si noluerit episcopique iussum parvipenderit, tunc ego ipse ad id veniam et quantum in me erit rem tuae utilitatis exigam. On the count’s speech and the goals of ecclesiastical reform, see Nip, “The canonization of Godelieve of Gistel,” 145, where she argues that, in summary, “the canonization of Godelieve of Gistel formed part of the well-timed political efforts of Count Robrecht the Frisian (1071–1093) in close cooperation with Bishop Radbod of Noyon and Tournai (1068–1098) to bring peace to, and to consolidate his power, in Flanders”; and 147–48, where she discusses the address and its amplification in the thirteenth-century version of the text.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  89 servants to have his wife murdered.100 His deceit reached its peak when, the night before the murder, he came home, kissed Godelieve, sat down next to her, and expressed the desire for a reunion of their minds and bodies. He tricked her into agreeing that his two servants could lead her to a go-between, who purportedly would ensure that the love between the two spouses be cemented.101 Instead, the two servants led Godelieve to a gruesome death in a well and then placed her back in her bed, to be discovered in the morning by the members of her household.102 Drogo portrays Godelieve as a model of Christlike suffering and compares the deceitful Bertolf to Judas.103 Ridiculed, despised, starved, deceived, and finally murdered, Godelieve in Drogo’s praises is patient, God-loving, and God-loved, as her name is translated in German. Her biographer underscores her patient suffering, obedience, and subservience, having her echo Scripture such as Romans 12:14, saying, “Bless those who persecute you, bless and do not curse them.”104 He also establishes a textual parallel to Mary, based solely on obedience, when he has Godelieve, isolated and starved by her husband, paraphrase the Magnificat (Luke 1:46–55): For I am exalted over all the women of the whole of Flanders…. Indeed, let him who is the most powerful do what he wills to me, he who enriches whomever he wills with his virtues and raises the needy from the ground of misfortune.105 The night before Godelieve’s murder, in the face of her husband’s treacherous plan to have his henchmen lead her to death, she replies to him, 100 Ibid., 133: “Tunc duos servos, sciliet Lantebrtum et Haccam, vocat; consilium quaerit quod super ea cnari queat, quo tormentorum genere dederet eam neci… Statuunt diem, inveniunt genus tormenti quo facilius perire queat et factum occultius fiat.” 101 Ibid., 133–34. 102 Ibid., 135–36. 103 Ibid., 134: “Imitaris Iudam traditorem Domini in scelere. Fert ille agno miti oscula composita fraude; tu tuae coniugi basia porrigis et doloso corde innocentem alloqueris… tu servis coniugem a te remunerandis quovis muneris praemio.” 104 Ibid., 131: “Benedicite persequentibus vos, benedicite et nolite maledicere.” 105 Ibid., 132: “Etenim super omnes mulieres totius Flandriae quae hodie vitales auras carpunt extollar… Id quidem erga me faciet qui potentissimus habetur, qui quem vult suis virtutibus ditat quique egenum ab humo suae infelicitatis elevat.” While these passive declarations of obedience certainly represent the theological message of patient, obedient suffering that the author wants to convey, it is interesting to note that contemporary studies on battered women discuss their passivity and language of submission and point out its roots in the continual fear that the women experience. See Ann Jones, Next Time, She’ll Be Dead: Battering and How to Stop It (Boston: Beacon, 1995), 94–95 and 167–98 on “traumatic bonding” and the case of Hedda Nussbaum; and Marie Fortune, Keeping the Faith (San Francisco: HarperOne, 1995), where Jones provides examples of this sort of passive religious language.

90  A Theology of Suffering and Patience “I am the servant of the Lord; I entrust all things to him. If this can be done without any wrongdoing, I agree to it.”106 Thus, God’s will is inextricably tied to the husband’s plan. Then, before leaving the house with the murderers, Godelieve says, “I commend myself to the Almighty. I am his creature; … I surrender myself to faith in [him].”107 The hagiographer controls the text through the words he places in Godelieve’s mouth and the emotional interjections of his own words. Drogo constructs a sort of running commentary on the heroine, underscoring the obedience a wife owes a husband: “O woman blessed and devoted to God!… You comply with your spouse so that you may not lose the Lord, the joiner of marriage.”108 Drogo also links patient perseverance with obedience to God’s will, equated with obedience to the bishop’s will for her marriage, even unto death: O love of holy will! O patience persevering whole and the same, united in a woman! Your husband curses you, but you bless him. He casts an evil eye on you; you may reconcile him to God by your prayers and your intention, if the good may be reconciled to the wicked. He threatens to choose even death for you; you always pray to God that he may live.109 The antithesis of the wicked Bertolf, Godelieve endures patient suffering—a sign of her obedience, even up to death. In this, she proves worthy of being cast as a Christlike figure by Drogo. For Bertolf, there is neither remorse nor punishment in the story, and the hagiographer raises no questions about justice. A later version of the story claims that Berthold converted, but Drogo does not assert this claim.110 Although Bertolf is described as similar to Judas because of his betrayal, the treacherous husband meets no unfortunate end. He simply disappears. It is difficult to retrieve Godelieve’s own voice in this text or to reconstruct any aspect of her life other than what Drogo emphasizes. Early 106 Vita sanctae Godeliph, 134–35: “‘Famula Domini sum; ipsi omnia mea committo. Attamen si sine aliqua ammixtione scleris id valet fieri, concedo.’” 107 Ibid., 135: “Omnipotenti me commendo. Creatura illius sum; quod de me fiat elementissimus videat.” 108 Ibid.: “O felix Deoque devota femina! … Ea ratione optas coniugium, ne perdas coniugii coniunctorem Dominum.” 109 Ibid., 130: O piae voluntatis affectus, o patientia una ac eadem perseverans in femina! Eadem semper in contrariis perseveras. Te maledicit sponsus tuus; tu illum benedicis. Tibi hic invidet, tu ei et precibus et mente Deum concilias, si valeat bonus impio conciliari. Quin etiam tibi mortem optat, minatur; tu, ut vivat, semper Deum oras. 110 BHL 3593, AA.SS. Iul. II, 414–36. On dating the life, see August Keersmaekers, “Het leven van de H. Godelieve in handschriften,” Vlaanderen 200 (1984): 12–16, cited by Nip in “Canonization of Godelieve of Gistel,” 146n4.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  91 signs of sanctity, a hagiographical commonplace, are limited to one sentence: that Godelieve began to be devoted to God as a child, “obeying her parents’ instructions to pity the oppressed and strive to keep her childhood pure and righteous.”111 Godelieve keeps her vow to aid the poor, sacrificing one half of her meager ration of bread, and she foretells her death, a sign of the gift of prophecy. However, her holiness is based almost exclusively on her death. To make her murder into a martyrdom, she must suffer and die for the faith. Here, that constitutes dying for the ecclesiastical authority upheld by the Gregorian Reforms. Drogo emphasizes the sanctimony of marriage, which Godelieve upholds with complete obedience while she suffers and while her spouse violates that sanctimony throughout the marriage. Godelieve is martyred because, in her patient suffering, she maintains to the death the ideal of marriage as it was viewed and imposed by the ecclesiastical authorities. Regardless of the cost, she obeys her husband, her father, her bishop, and her count, and ultimately, in Drogo’s eyes, she is perfectly obedient to God. Her story, born from popular legend, is appropriated and recast by a clerical biographer to illustrate that a heavenly reward follows a martyrdom incurred out of obedience to the church as signified by patient suffering. At the beginning of Godelieve’s vita, Drogo prepares the reader to understand the suffering in Godelieve’s life in the proper way. He writes, “A faithful soul, undefeated and perseverant amidst many trials of the crafty enemy, grows stronger: the more constant it remains among insults and disgrace, the greater the glory of its coronation.”112 In short, the greater Godelieve’s suffering, the greater her glory. Later on, at the height of Godelieve’s suffering, Drogo writes that she “had foreknowledge that she would inhabit heaven by means of the things she patiently endured if in fact, persevering to the end, she were distinguished by virtue and good works.”113

Scandinavian Holy Women in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries Several holy women from Scandinavia are remembered from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries: Margaret of Roskilde (d. 1176), a Danish woman whose story appears in two short accounts; Magnhild

111 Vita Godeliph, 150: “Verum educanda adhuc in teneris pueritiae suae annis coepit esse devota Deo, obediens parentibus, tum omni compresso compati, tum aetatulam suam mundam et pro posse rectam agere.” 112 Vita Godeliph, Vita Godeliph, 127: “Verum cum valletur fidelis anima, invicta et perseverans plurimis callidi hostis, insidiis tanto potiore gloria coronatur quanto in obprobriorum contumeliis inventa fuerit constantior.” (683) 113 Vita Godeliph, 689.

92  A Theology of Suffering and Patience of Fulltofta, a woman from southern Sweden who was remembered in an archbishop’s letter from 1383; Helen of Skövde, a widely ­venerated ­Swedish woman, whose life is recounted in a liturgical office; and ­Mechthild of ­Skänninge, a Danish noblewoman who is mentioned in the 1555 Historia septentrionalibus (History in the North) written by Olaus Magnus.114 All four women were subjected to family violence. Margaret of Roskilde was murdered by her husband in 1176. He reportedly beat her to death and then hung her body to make the murder look like a suicide. Miracles occurred at her grave, even though she was buried in unconsecrated ground; Bishop Absalon of Roskilde, a relative of Margaret’s, investigated the miracles and had her body moved and entered at a Cistercian convent.115 The bishop’s account u ­ nderscores his leading role in the story, according to Sahlin, while Herbert of ­Clairvaux’s miracle story accents Margaret’s patient endurance of the suffering inflicted by her husband. Her quiet tolerance of beatings is described as Christlike, and she is even buried between two thieves. Margaret’s life, as we have it, echoes elements of Godelieve’s story. Both endure suffering patiently, taking Christ as a model, until they meet a violent death, Margaret at the hands of her husband and Godelieve through her husband’s henchmen. The murderers try to hide their culpability in both stories. Furthermore, miracles occur at the graves of both holy women, prompting a reaction from the church. Finally, both stories accent the authority of the local bishop, a prime concern of the era during and after the Gregorian reforms. The exact circumstances of Magnhild of Fulltofta’s death are not known, but the 1383 letter of Archbishop Magnus Nilsson tells that she was murdered by her mother-in-law.116 More widely venerated than Magnhild, Helen of Skövde was also a victim of family violence, as was her daughter. The daughter’s husband beat her, and her servants reportedly killed him to stop his abuse. The son-in-law’s family blamed Helen for causing their son’s death and murdered her. Helen is venerated as a martyr, as was Godelieve, and she is praised for her patience in enduring suffering, as were other holy women.117 Finally, Mechthild of Skänninge stands out for her strength and resistance. Engaged to a violent man, she fought back when he tried to rape her, which precipitated his fall down a flight of stairs. He broke his neck

114 Claire L. Sahlin, “Holy Women of Scandinavia: A Survey,” in Medieval Holy Women in the Christian Tradition c.1100–c.1500, eds. Alastair Minnis, Rosalynn Voaden (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010), Chapter 290, 689–723. 115 Sahlin, “Holy Women of Scandinavia,” 690–91. Sources are the anonymous Relatio de translatione sanctae Margaretae Roskildensis (c. 1200), and the Liber miraculorum (c. 1178–82) by Herbert of Clairvaux. See Sahlin for further information. 116 Sahlin, “Holy Women of Scandinavia,” 692. 117 Sahlin, “Holy Women of Scandinavia,” 692–93.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  93 and died instantly. Mechthild devoted her life thereafter to good works and joined a female Dominican community.118 We know of no other medieval female saint who resists a fiancé or husband or partner with force. Would that more women had had the strength of Mechthild to fight back and avoid their own murders. When women were generally praised for silent suffering and martyrdom in marriage, how did Mechthild win an argument for self-defense and earn a place in Scandinavian history? Given the lack of sources, we will probably never know. In contrast, numerous Italian saints’ lives from the thirteenth through fifteenth centuries portray women trapped in abusive marriages. ­Family feuds often background the husband’s enmity to the wife, as in the eleventh-­century story of Godelieve. Hagiographers emphasize the ­Italian women’s suffering, but also stress heavily their duty to God, husband, and family. Several find a means to escape marriage or achieve freedom through the husband’s death. Their vitae reflect the culture of medieval Italy, rather than northern Europe, and we consider them together in the Chapter 4, organized around the theme of obedience. Natalie Zemon Davis’s work on early modern Europe119 has brought to light varied sources that record battering in that era, as well as the complex cultural and religious attitudes on wife-beating. The sixteenth-­ century Protestant consistory of Lyon (established in 1560) disciplined men for wife-beating, among other offenses such as drunkenness and flirting, and refused them communion. Other Calvinist cities also brought wife-beaters under the same threat. This protection of wives prompted some to call Geneva “women’s Paradise.” Yet at the same time, a woman who was overheard insulting her husband could receive a punishment as severe as three days imprisonment on bread and water.120 The dynamics of beatings emerge as complex phenomena. Apprentices endured beatings from their masters or even their masters’ wives. During the month of May, which constituted a period of reprieve for wives, husbands who violated the truce period became the targets of mockery at the charivari, festivals of public ridicule. Wife-beaters and cuckolded husbands were led through the crowd seated backwards on an ass.121 One historian observes that by the nineteenth century, a wife-beater was more likely than the henpecked husband to bear the brunt of ridicule in England, America, and France.122 Eighteenth-century colonists in Elizabethtown, New Jersey made nighttime raids on wife-beaters and

118 Sahlin, “Holy Women of Scandinavia,” 694. 119 Natalie Zemon Davis, Society and Culture in Early Modern France (Stanford: Stanford Univ. Press, 1975). 120 Natalie Zemon Davis, Society and Culture, 5, 11, 66, 70, 90–91. 121 Natalie Zemon Davis, Society and Culture, 100, 150. 122 Natalie Zemon Davis, Society and Culture, 315, n. 45, citing Thompson, Rough Music.

94  A Theology of Suffering and Patience flogged them. These “Regulars,” as they called themselves, donned female ­clothing and painted their faces, a practice with some precedent in Europe among men staging uprisings.123 While the eighteenth-­century “Regulars” flogged wife-beaters in New Jersey, the extraordinary eighteenth-­century diary of a woman from New Hampshire leaves a poignant testimony to suffering in marriage.

Abigail Abbot Bailey The diary of Abigail Abbot Bailey, a Congregationalist woman who lived in eighteenth-century Newbury, New Hampshire, illustrates how the theology of suffering works in the conscience of a woman married to an abusive man. Abigail wrote the following in 1767: “I now begin to learn, with trembling, that it was the sovereign pleasure of the all-wise God to try me with afflictions in that relation, from which I had hoped to receive the greatest of my earthly comforts.”124 Over the next twenty-­five years, Abigail wrote in her diary about the abuse, which started within a month of her marriage. Her husband, Asa Bailey, was a violent, quick-tempered man who had affairs with hired help, tried to rape one of the women who worked for them, and beat his wife. After their daughter Phebe turned sixteen, he began to sexually assault her, an abuse which he continued for sixteen months. Abigail’s words in her diary parallel closely the message conveyed in the lives of some medieval saints. She writes: I strove to suppress, as far as possible, the anguish under which my heart was tortured and broken. I felt that I ought to obey the voice of the Most High, ‘Be still and know that I am God.’… God knows best what I need, and what will be for his own glory.125 For Abigail, fighting against the violence in her life was not an option, for it came from God’s own hand. Moreover, she believed the violence would be used by God to render some greater good, and so faithfulness to God required that she be still and take the violence, knowing that God sent it for God’s glory. Like other women in our study, Abigail relied on her faith in God to sustain her. As Abigail explained, “I felt a joyful confidence, that God would be my guardian.”126 After the abuse began, Abigail credited God with giving her the stamina to remain in the abuse: “I think God gave 123 Natalie Zemon Davis, Society and Culture, 147–49, 315, n. 45, citing J. E. Culter, Lynch-Law, London, 1905, 46–47. 124 Abigail Abbot Bailey, Religion and Domestic Violence in Early New England: The Memoirs of Abigail Abbot Bailey, ed. Ann Taves (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1989), 57. 125 Bailey, 64. 126 Ibid., 110.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  95 me a heart to resolve never to be obstinate, or disobedient to my husband; but to always be kind, obedient, and obliging in all things not contrary to the word of God.”127 Abigail ended her chronicle of terror and struggle with this sentence, written in 1792: “Great trials and wonderful mercies have been my lot, from the hands of my heavenly father.”128 Abigail did not have many resources she felt she could turn to. The church in northern New England was weak in the period following the Revolutionary War, and Abigail had resolved to keep “my troubles to myself as much as I could,” in part to avoid “the dreadful scene of prosecuting my husband.”129 Writing in a completely different theological setting from the vita of Godelieve (Calvinism in New England, rather than Catholicism in Europe), the theology available to Abigail to help her make sense of the violence in her life is nevertheless almost identical to that upon which saints relied: suffering is sent from God and will work out to God’s greater good. When Phebe turned eighteen and abruptly left home, Abigail began a period of prayer and fasting, which coincided with a religious revival in Haverhill, New Hampshire. She attended the revival and spoke to the clergyman there for advice, but she made only veiled reference to her troubles at home. Abigail wrote that the minister “was led to give me a most lively view of the duty of casting my burdens on the Lord, and waiting patiently for him.”130 Abigail was comforted by this response, because she had been doing just that—waiting patiently for the Lord. Yet at the end of that period of fasting and prayer, Abigail found “a settled conviction that I ought to seek a separation from my wicked husband.”131 After Abigail confirmed her fears of Asa’s sexual assaults of Phebe, she vowed that she would never live with him again. She turned increasingly to friends in the Haverhill church and family, who encouraged her to leave Asa through legal settlement. Without this encouragement, it is unlikely that Abigail’s understanding of what God expected of her would have moved from a standpoint of patient endurance of suffering to her eventual belief that “trusting in God implies due use of all proper means.”132 Thus, Abigail did finally get out of her marriage, but only after church friends and family members helped her revise her understanding of what God expected of her in the face of suffering. Her new theology led her to actions that ensured safety for herself and her remaining children. 127 Ibid., 57. 128 Ibid., 178. 129 Ibid., 58 and 88, respectively. Also, see Taves’s comments on the church in that period (20). 130 Ibid., 85. 131 Ibid., 86. 132 Ibid., 174. In her introduction, Taves points out the role of church friends and family members in this transformation in Abigail’s thinking (20–24).

96  A Theology of Suffering and Patience The theology of suffering available to Abigail seems to have remarkable staying power, and it has had a powerful and negative impact on the lives of many women whose husbands batter them. When God is understood as being in control of every detail of life, and nothing happens apart from the will of God, yet God is simultaneously understood as a God of love, how are we to view violence? If a woman’s suffering is part of God’s plan, then she is working against God if she tries to change her suffering. This type of “doormat theology” can be life-threatening in violent relationships. Abigail clearly understood her suffering as coming from the very hand of God. She repeatedly calls upon God to help her remain faithful in the face of her trials. For Abigail, running from those trials would have been, in some sense, running away from God.

Conclusion Monica, Augustine of Hippo’s mother, was left voiceless in the text about her. Her son reported her thoughts. His voice was one that reinscribed the gender hierarchy of his time, one within which it was normal practice that a woman should suffer her husband’s blows without complaint, one within which it was reasonable that a woman would see her husband as her lord. Indeed, for Augustine, violence against wives was proof of their immorality, rather than that of their husbands’. He used his opportunity to speak in place of Monica as a way to affirm unjust power relationships that he accepted as God-ordained. In doing so, his text becomes another “text of terror,” one that can be used as evidence for how women are to respond when confronted with violence in marriage: with patient suffering. Godelieve’s biographer reported words that he attributed to her. They seem to represent what he would want her to say, but they may also reflect how she thought as she tried to make sense of the suffering in her life. A theological analysis of Godelieve’s narrative makes it evident that, for Drogo, the church hierarchy and theology reflected the will of God. Drogo used Godelieve’s suffering as a morality tale. Her patient suffering in the face of abuse was instrumental to her holiness. Had she escaped, she would not have been the moral heroine she became. Had she not suffered so well, she could not have been made a saint. Virtually everyone in Godelieve’s life story had more power and privilege than she did. Drogo and the ecclesiastical officials to whom he reported clearly had more power. Berthold, because he was male and of a high class, also had more power than Godelieve. Godelieve’s own voice is invisible, except as conveyed by her confessor. The voice that is heard in the text is that of the religious authority of the day, confirming women’s role in the kyriarchal order, not just assuring that resistance to any male authority, however abusive, is not subtly condemned but confirming the opposite: patient suffering at the hands of men is salvific for women.

A Theology of Suffering and Patience  97 Sources on Scandinavian women in violent relationships, while short and scarce, nonetheless reveal significant parallels and the unique example of physical resistance by a woman to her male partner, in this case, a fiancé. The life of Margaret of Roskilde recalls that of Godelieve in the predominance of episcopal authority, the exaltation of silent suffering, and the brutality of the murder. A full vita would allow for further comparisons but, alas, the text is either missing or not extant. We do not have the material to analyze the point of view or the citation of Scripture in the accounts of Margaret’s life or those of the three other Scandinavian women from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Mechthild of Skänninge, in contrast to all, fights for her life and her virginity, setting herself apart in historical memory as a woman who defended herself and whose attacker met this death.Abigail Abbott Bailey recorded her thoughts in her diary, and she had no theologians on her side. She patiently suffered her husband’s abusive actions toward her and her daughter, even as she appealed to the theology available to her to make sense of it. That theology failed her. As so often occurs in situations of abuse, Abigail left the abuse when her child was endangered. She could not give herself theological permission to leave when only she was being abused, as she saw her situation as a trial originating in the very hands of God. But in the face of the assaults her daughter suffered, she gave herself permission to transgress her theological understanding. Abigail escaped her abusive husband, even though she thought God had sent her trials to her for her own good. Fortunately, Abigail ultimately saw God as being with her in her resistance, and thus, she becomes a model in her transgression of the moral order—leaving her husband—for women of faith who also feel compelled to choose between safety and faith because they believe, as Abigail did, that they cannot have both. Deeply religious women like Abigail often internalize doctrines of suffering. Those feminists who wash their hands of Christianity leave these sisters of theirs behind. It is critical that feminists take biblical texts and male-centric theology and their implicit and explicit meanings seriously, for their potential good and harm alike. The women in this chapter provide a powerful example of the harm that such texts and theological understandings may commit if left uninterrogated and unchallenged. It is critical that feminist theologians and biblical scholars continue to address such texts of terror, because they understand that God’s desire for the world is justice in all relationships. If that becomes the basis of Christian theology, then “texts of terror” lose their power to convince abused women to suffer patiently and instead become cautionary tales that spur on individual acts of resistance and escape in the face of abuse.133

133 Phyllis Trible coined this term in the title of her book, Texts of Terror: Literary-­ Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1984).

98  A Theology of Suffering and Patience For example, if believers are told to imitate Christ, who was crucified, and the story ends there, then all are left to endure suffering. But Christ’s suffering on the cross is vastly different from the suffering of a battered woman in two important ways. First, Christ’s going to the cross was a voluntary act. Second, the point of the cross was not the suffering but the resurrection. The point was to transform suffering, not remain in it. If believers are truly imitators of Christ, they will also transform the suffering around them rather than remain in it. James Polling once wrote, “Without a full deconstruction of the personal, economic and political motives of communities of interpretation, the ‘truth’ of scriptures about Jesus can become a tool of domination and evil.”134 Feminist liberation theologians recognize that religious beliefs that foster patient suffering in the face of abuse serve particular interests and thus require thorough dismantling and reconstruction. They must be seen as products of their kyriarchal contexts and thus must be handled for the potential dangers they may contain. Such beliefs need to be interpreted in light of the biases and motives of their creators and interpreters, so that they do not become pawns or weapons in male subjugation of women.

134 James Polling, Deliver Us from Evil: Resisting Racial and Gender Oppression (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1998), 154.

4 A Theology of Obedience and Subordination

Obedience is a scriptural and theological virtue that has been urged upon all Christians in imitation of Christ. Scripture and biblical interpretation support the concept of human surrender of the will to God in an o ­ bedience that mirrors Jesus’s obedience to God. Perhaps the b ­ est-known formulation is found in Romans 5:18–19, where Paul a­ ssociates the ­disobedience and sin of Adam with the obedience of Christ and the ­salvation of all. The text reads, “Therefore just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. For just as by the one man’s ­disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s ­obedience the many will be made righteous.” Hebrews 8–9, as we observed in the previous chapter, states that Christ’s obedience was learned through suffering. Christ’s obedience, whether chosen or learned through suffering, is not the only biblical model at work in the theology of obedience. The concept of disobedience and its punishment in Gen. 3:16–17, the passage assigning punishment to Adam and Eve (or 3:16 alone, on Eve’s ­punishment), undergirds the theological understanding of obedience and the differentiation of ­punishments by gender, as it does the justification for women suffering. Members of religious communities emulate Jesus’s obedience to God in obedience and humility. The Rule of Benedict, the most influential rule for monastic life, is named for and attributed to St. Benedict of Nursia (ca. 480–547) but reflects the thinking and practice of earlier rules for community life. As the prologue reads, “[M]onks must prepare in body and soul to fight under the commandments of holy obedience.”1 Such obedience is “the virtue of those who hold nothing dearer to them than Christ; who, because of the holy service they have professed, and the fear of hell, and the glory of life everlasting,” receive anything “ordered by the Superior... as a divine command and cannot suffer any delay in executing it.” The monastic life is explained as the monks’ “not living according to their own choice nor obeying their own desires and

1 The Rule of St. Benedict, trans. Anthony C. Meisel and M. L. del Mastro (New York: Doubleday Image, 1975), 45.

100  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination pleasures but walking by another’s judgment and command.”2 Thus, obedience is linked to love for Christ and bound up in the eschatological perspective that dominates monastic theology. Obedience in the Rule is chosen out of love and is not complete without humility—the humility of the individual and that of all in the community. For centuries, the Rule has provided sage advice, and laypeople as well as religious brothers and sisters have found wisdom and peace in its implementation in monastic life and its guidance for people in other ways of life. Its provisions for moderation, discretion, and respect for human differences serve well for guiding human relationships. 3 However, certain passages of Scripture that exhort obedience extend their message beyond theology to social structure, namely, the subordination of a woman to a man, as discussed in the previous chapter on suffering, or a slave to a master. The link between the subordination of women and that of slaves, as well as the violence against slaves by their masters, will be discussed further in Chapter 5, on the theology of ownership. Here, the focus lies on texts that justify the subordination and obedience of women to their spouses and the foundational interpretation of those texts in the patristic and medieval periods. This chapter deals with the models for obedience in Scripture and Christian texts, teaching and preaching about marriage in the medieval university, the sermons of clerics educated there, and hagiographical narratives that accentuate the theme of obedience, notably the lives of several thirteenth- and fourteenth-­century women, including a surprising twist to one version of Elisabeth of Hungary’s vita.

Scripture Some epistles in the New Testament exhorted Christians to demonstrate their obedience to God either by enduring suffering during times of harsh persecution during the first centuries of Christianity or, in order to conform with the structures of their society, to practice orderly household arrangements that reflected the norms of the broader non-Christian Hellenistic world. Both types of Scripture have been interpreted without regard for their historical context and used to justify the subordination of women, the servitude of slaves, and the necessity for the obedience of both. New Testament scholars have written extensively on the letters, so

2 See A. de Vogüé, The Rule of Benedict, A Doctrinal and Spiritual Commentary, ­Cistercian Studies 54 (Kalamazoo: MI: Cistercian Publications, 1983), 91–111 on obedience and 117–26 on humility. 3 Among the many books on this topic, see Joan Chittister, The Rule of Benedict; I­ nsights for the Ages (Crossroad Publishing, 1992).

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  101 the brief discussion here is limited to a few relevant passages: Ephesians 5:22–33, 1 Timothy 2:11–13, and 1 Peter 2:18–3:7.4 Ephesians 5:22–33 is one of the most widely quoted scriptural passages on the subject of women’s obedience to men and a text that appears frequently in discussion about situations of abuse. The author of Ephesians indicates that the order of creation should be reflected in marriage, namely, with Christ as head of church, men as head of women, and women subordinating themselves to men. Appeal is often made to this passage when the rightness and importance of male control over women is emphasized.5 This passage is part of the “household codes” that constructed early Christian households along the same lines as the hierarchical, pyramidal structure of the larger society, where men were firmly in control of women as their husbands and masters.6 This order was widely accepted by the first century, and writings about it are found in Greco-Roman and Jewish texts. Aristotle wrote that “the smallest and primary parts of the household are master and slave, husband and wife, father and children.”7 Elizabeth Johnson argues that the writer of Ephesians reflected ­earlier prophetic writings describing God as husband of Israel but transformed them from metaphor to reality in this passage. Whereas the prophetic metaphor uses the institution of marriage to d ­ emonstrate God’s faithfulness to Israel despite Israel’s disobedience to God, the writer in Ephesians turns this around. Here, Christ’s r­ elationship to the church is used to demonstrate how men and women ought to behave in marriage. Where faithfulness was paramount in the prophetic metaphor, themes of love and submission emerge as most critical in Ephesians. As Johnson notes, “[B]ecause the metaphor has been changed into a description of reality, it has become subject to enormous abuse.”8 Indeed, it is perhaps the 4 See the pioneering work of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad,1985), 3, 68–95. 5 Ibid., In Memory of Her, 266–70. 6 Ibid., In Memory of Her, 268–70. 7 Aristotle, Politics, I.1253b. For a discussion of early household codes in Ephesians, see Elizabeth Johnson, “Ephesians,” in The Women’s Bible Commentary, ed. Carol A. Newsome and Sharon H. Ringe (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992), 340–42. Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her presents arguments that early Christian households followed these codes in part to escape persecution for ordering themselves in radically egalitarian ways, which was their initial inclination. She critiques these androcentric presuppositions because they “presuppose that the process of the patriarchalization of the church was historically unavoidable,” a position Schüssler Fiorenza rejects (83). See also Sarah J. Tanzer, “Ephesians,” in Searching the Scripture: A Feminist Commentary, ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 2:325–48. 8 Johnson, “Ephesians,” 340.

102  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination leading reason Christian women have believed and still believe that they must remain obedient to husbands even in the face of abuse. 1 Timothy 2:11–13 falls within instructions to the community on proper worship. Women are to “learn in silence with all submissiveness” (2:11). The letter reiterates that message and specifies that no woman is “to teach or have authority over men”; instead, “she is to keep silent” (2:12). Furthermore, 1 Timothy reinforces a connection of the primacy of ­Adam’s creation and Eve’s sin (Gen. 2:21–22; 3:16) with the subordination of women. Stating that Adam was created first and Eve second, the letter goes on to assert that Eve was the sinner: “Adam was not deceived, the woman was deceived and became a transgressor” (1 Tim 2:13).9 When Scripture reinforces structures of domination, as this passage does in its blatant constraints on women’s behavior and voice, it is critical to know the circumstances of the text—its underlying message and implications, in other words, to bring a hermeneutic of suspicion to bear. Scholars agree that 1 Timothy was not written by Paul, nor was it a letter. It appears instead to be a handbook for church administration, probably written early in the second century.10 The passage’s strong injunctions against women indicate that women were active in various Christian communities, much to the dismay of the author. Biblical scholar Joanna Dewey argues that by invoking Paul’s name, the author hoped to also invoke Paul’s authority and thus to have female Christians conform to a hierarchical ordering of Christian communities that the author felt was appropriate to Christianity.11 Such ordering is in contrast to that advocated by Paul himself in his writings and in early extracanonical writings. As Dewey points out, 1 Timothy 2:11–13 stands out for its lengthy focus on the behavior of women and for the theological rationale for the instructions it gives. By mirroring Greco-Roman standards for female behavior, the author “is asking women to behave in such a way as to give no offense to men in power, to conform to the values of the dominant pagan culture.”12 The text of 1 Peter addresses a community that suffers persecution. Women and slaves in particular are exhorted to endure unjust suffering

9 This contrasts with 1 Corinthians 15:21–22, which says that “Adam’s sin brought death into the world.” See Linda M. Maloney, “The Pastoral Epistles,” in Searching the Scripture: A Feminist Commentary, ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 2:361–80. 10 For a discussion of 1 Timothy, see Joanna Dewey, “Timothy,” in The Women’s Bible Commentary, ed. Carol A. Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe, (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/ John Knox Press, 1992), 353–58. 11 Ibid., 355. 12 Ibid.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  103 as an indication of their obedience to God. The calls for submission of slaves to masters and wives to husbands (1 Peter 2:18–3:7) includes the enjoinment of husbands to be considerate to wives (1 Peter 3:7). These admonitions were perhaps intended to protect the Christian community from slander and ill-treatment. However, the exhortations of 1  ­Peter have been moved forward into other historical contexts with the weight of scriptural authority and have served defenders of slavery and of violence against women.13 The link between the two and the violence against slave women by their masters will be discussed further in the context of the theology of ownership (Chapter 5). With respect to women overall, Kathleen Corley concludes that 1 Peter, of all the texts in the New ­Testament, is “the most harmful in the contexts of women’s lives.”14 Women are to imitate Christ’s suffering through obedience and submission; they may be rewarded for this action by the conversion of a non-Christian husband.15 The conversion of a faithless husband takes on the narrative power of a “happy ending” in later saint’s lives, even those that include unspeakable violence. The Christian recipients of this letter lived in an area where people believed that women who did not follow the gods of their husbands jeopardized the very foundations upon which society was based. The egalitarian way in which early Christians organized themselves confirmed their neighbors’ fears that they were a dangerous, radical fringe group. To escape persecution, the author admonishes women to obey their husbands and so to conform to this aspect of the surrounding social order.16 Male power and interests are reflected and affirmed in this admonition. Women are to sacrifice themselves on the altar of male domination in order to blend in more unobtrusively to the surrounding culture. While the author does admonish husbands to care for their wives (1 Peter 3:7), in cultures where violence against women is normal, it is women who will suffer the most from admonitions of hierarchical obedience in marriage. Not surprisingly, then, women in other historical situations have been praised for following 1 Peter 3:1: “[B]e submissive to your husbands, so that some, though they do not obey the word, may be won without a word by the behavior of their wives.” The passage urges the wife to keep silent and burdens her with the responsibility for social harmony as well as the conversion and salvation of the husband. Recall that Monica managed to avert conflict when her husband Patricius was angry, and she advised other women on how to avoid beatings. Godelieve of Gistel was 13 14 15 16

Kathleen E. Corley, “1 Peter,” in Schüssler Fiorenza, Searching the Scriptures, 349–60. Ibid., 355. Ibid., 355–56. For a discussion of these dynamics, see Sharyn Dowd, “I Peter,” in Newsom and Ringe, The Women’s Bible Commentary, 370–71.

104  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination instructed on the sacredness of marriage and sent home to a husband she feared, only to be murdered by his henchmen. Abigail Abbot Bailey hoped to change her husband’s heart, feeling that holding the family together was her responsibility, but she eventually escaped from him. Christian writers generally followed 1 Timothy 2:13 and assigned Eve, more than Adam, the weight of guilt for their disobedience. Examples of this attitude were introduced in the context of the theology of suffering (Chapter 3). Statements about Eve’s sin and culpability are numerous enough to stock reference collections.17 Moreover, medieval authorities seeking order and power united the secular and social with the theological and urged obedience in different social contexts. They reasoned according to concepts of divine order, which encompassed social and political order. Religious reformers in the eleventh and twelfth centuries extended theological concepts of divine order to the view they constructed for an ideal lay society. The idea of nature and natural order came into prominence. With respect to the roles of Adam and Eve, the twelfth-century polymath Hildegard of Bingen tends to place the blame primarily on Adam. In her first visionary work, Scivias, she writes that Adam “tasted the good when he received obedience, but he desired evil and by his excessive desire, he did evil when he was disobedient to God.”18 She was supported by 1 Corinthians 15:21–22, which says that “Adam’s sin brought death into the world.” Moreover, some scholars assert that Christian exegetes, meaning male interpreters of Scripture, did not agree on whether Adam or Eve bore the greater responsibility for the Fall.19 Still, a majority held Eve responsible. Donald Mowbray studies the debates over pain and suffering at the thirteenth-century University of Paris, with attention to exegesis of ­Genesis 3:16–17 and to gender differences. Mowbray focuses on the summae (explanations) of Alexander of Hales (ca. 1185–1245), a Franciscan, and of Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), a Dominican. Mowbray explains that, according to Hales, women experienced three types of suffering: two were physical and punished the body—pain at conception and during childbirth—and the third was subjugation to male power, which punished the soul or the reason. Men, in contrast, endured punishment 17 See, for example, Woman Defamed and Woman Defended: An Anthology of Medieval Texts, Ed, Alcuin Blamires, 31–32, 44–45, 92–93, 242–243. 18 Hildegard of Bingen, Sciuias, pars.: 1. 2.15, l.435: “Adam uero bonum gustauit cum oboedientiam suscepit, sed malum concupiuit et in concupiscentia sua illud perfecit cum inoboediens Deo exstitit.”Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, trans. Columba Hart and Jane Bishop (New York and Mahwah, NJ:1990), 81. 19 Ian Maclean, The Renaissance Notion of Woman: A Study of the Fortunes of Scholasticism and Medical Science in European Intellectual Life, Cambridge 1980, 15, cited by Donald Mowbray, Pain and Suffering in Medieval Theology: Academic Debates at the University of Paris in the Thirteenth Century. Boydell Press, 2009 54, n48.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  105 by the harshness of work as well as loss of power, loss of good, and the impossibility of returning to it. 20 Various other punishments for men are described in Hales, but they do not seem as clearly categorized as those endured by women. Mowbray observes that the summa of Hales is not clear on whether these various punishments applied also to women. 21 Thomas Aquinas discusses punishments incurred by both sexes and then differentiates by gender. Women suffer from childbearing and household work. They are also subject to male domination. The aforementioned punishments pertain to women’s relationship with men. The punishments that men received relate to the difficulty of work, in particular working the land. Additional punishments afflict the soul and are not gender-specific. 22 Thus, both Hales and Thomas Aquinas, representative of thirteenth-century university theology and teaching, follow Genesis 3:16–17 to structure their understanding of the punishments after the Fall, and both distinguish differences by gender but also assign some punishments to both sexes. Nonetheless, Christian thinkers seem preponderantly to cite Genesis 3:16–17, the passage assigning punishment to Adam and Eve (or 3:16 alone, on woman’s punishment), and use it to assign greater blame to Eve and to connect that blame to the domination of women by men. Thirteenth-century university thinkers worked out the systematization of natural laws, further uniting the divine and the secular and cementing the dominance of a divine and natural order. Views on the need to control women may even have taken on stronger tones when the study of ­Aristotle moved to the center of the university curriculum in the mid-thirteenth century. In that view, the female was a defective male, yet another reason women were seen as weaker and in need of male control.23 A rigorous plan for the hierarchy of Christian society firmly placed the authority of the clergy over that of secular power, the power of clergy and secular rulers over laypeople, and the power of the husband over the wife. This structure remained, even in later medieval concepts of the common good, where the household continued to mirror the divine household and wives owed subordination to husbands. Here is the context where the notion of divinely ordained subordination of women became widely established through biblical interpretation and formal teaching. These ideas, first disseminated by the writings of the Church Fathers such as Augustine of Hippo and St. Jerome, lay the foundation upon which a theology of obedience and subordination can flourish. A basis for justifying or minimizing violence against women arguably emerges from the combination of deserved blame, physical suffering, and subordination. 20 21 22 23

Mowbray, 54–56. Ibid., 56. Ibid., 56–58. Aristotle, Politics, Book 1, section1254b, pp. 12–16

106  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination This view of Genesis 3:16–17, with its potential for fostering physical abuse of women, outlasted the Middle Ages. For Martin Luther, woman’s role in the Fall meant that she was assigned a place in life subordinate to men. In Luther’s view, God assigned this subordination, and any attempt to turn it around constituted a revolt against God: The woman bears subordination just as unwillingly as she bears those pains and inconveniences that have been placed upon her flesh. The rule remains with the husband and the wife is compelled to obey him by God’s command. He rules the home and the state, wages wars, defends his possessions, tills the soil, builds, plants, etc. The woman, on the other hand, is like a nail driven into the wall. 24 The most notorious of early modern husbands was undoubtedly Henry VIII, whose portrait is found on the cover of Frances E. Dolan’s book, Marriage and Violence: The Early Modern Legacy. 25 Dolan focuses her study on households in England. On early modern marriage overall, she concludes that “violence everywhere inflects early modern descriptions of the struggle that is marriage.” She suggests that this is due in part to “the difficulty of escaping a marriage,” which is “a perilous adventure with high stakes.”26 She underscores the role of the obedience that the woman was presumed to owe the man: “[T]he inherent headship of the man requires the wife’s obedience no matter what the circumstances.”27 A 1987 poster featuring the portrait of Henry VIII bears the warning: “It’s not worth being his queen one day if you’re his victim the next.”28 Dolan examines writings on marriage composed by William Gouge (1575–1653), an English clergyman, and by William Whately (1583–1639), a Puritan divine. Gouge advises women that “howsoever their husbands may deale roughly and untowardly with them, yet God will graciously respect them, if they shall patiently in obedience to his ordinance beare their husbands unjust reproofs.”29 Whately composed two books on marriage.30 He argues that a woman may request aid to 24 Luther’s Works, 55 vols, J. Pelikan and H.T. Lehmann, eds, ‘American edition’ (in English translation) (Fortress Press and Muhlenberg Press: Philadelphia; Concordia, St Louis, 1958ff.), vol. 1, 202–203. 25 Frances E. Dolan, Marriage and Violence: The Early Modern Legacy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008). The authors are grateful to Anneliese Duprey for summarizing this material. 26 Ibid., 54. 27 Ibid., 54. 28 Ibid., 54. 29 George Gouge, quoted in ibid. 54. 30 William Whately wrote A Bride-Bush; or, A Direction for Married Persons; Plainely Describing the Duties Common to Both, and Peculiar to Each of Them; By Performing of Which, Marriage Shall Prooue a Great Helpe to Such, as Now for Want of Performing Them, Doe Find It a Little Hell (1619); and A Care-Cloth; or, The Cumbers and Troubles of Marriage (1624). See Dolan, 53–5.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  107 assist her to “bend her husband to more mildness,” but she may not take certain actions of resistance herself, such as talking or striking back, or leaving. “Such acts can never agree with subjection which God requireth at her hands.” Whately compares marriage to military duty, asserting that a wife would do better to die in her marriage, the place God ordained for her, than to leave her husband in order to save her life. ­According to Dolan, Whately anticipates Cotton Mather’s later praises for the good wife: “She is a dove, that will sooner die than leave her mate.”31 Dolan goes on to examine how some authors even went so far as to state that an abusive husband could be a boon: that a wife could spiritually benefit from her husband’s abuses, because a wife deserves little merit and displays little virtue in a marriage to a mild and kind man. 32 Whately’s reasoning and view of society correspond largely to that of Christian theologians who preceded him. Furthermore, such opinions on women crossed the Atlantic into the New World and influenced the sort of Christian social structure that missionaries endeavored to impose on native peoples.33 This brief review of problematic Scripture passages and the theological interpretations that have been advanced by various thinkers through the centuries demonstrates a clear trajectory. Authors reinscribed patriarchal structures of domination through their writings and teachings, increasingly affirming that women’s complete obedience and subordination to men stands as a marker of God’s creation. Following these teachings to their logical end shows a movement from understanding woman as part of God’s good creation to defining woman as dangerously out of control and thus required to submit to man for the sake of society and of her very soul. Men may appeal to God for salvation, but women may achieve holiness and salvation only through obedience to men and to patriarchal power.

Medieval Attitudes on Marriage in Preaching and Hagiography Writings on marriage provide a window onto the theological ideas that were disseminated through the education of preachers, the saints’ lives they composed, and the sermons they preached. The status of women and the proper relationship of men and women in marriage were core 31 Cotton Mather, quoted in Dolan, Marriage and Violence, 55. Mather’s words are found in his Ornaments for the Daughters of Zion (1692), included in Sylvia R. Frey, Marian J. Morton, New World, New Roles: A Documentary History of Women in Pre-industrial America, (Greenwood Press: New York, Westport, CT, London, 1986) 17–18 at 17. 32 Dolan, 55. 33 See, for example, the extensive diaries of seventeenth-century Jesuit Paul LeJeune’s work among the Marangasset of New France, later Quebec, in Karen Anderson, Chain Her by One Foot: The Subjugation of Native Women in Seventeenth Century New France (New York: Routledge, 1993).

108  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination topics in the sermons of the friars, that is, members of the Franciscan, Dominican, and Augustinian orders, all founded in the thirteenth century with a mission to preach publicly to the laity. In their moral preaching to lay society, the friars responded to various social and historical circumstances, such as war, civil strife, and challenges to matrimony and other sacraments from heretical groups and, to some extent, from courtly literature and the glamorization of adultery, as in the romance of Lancelot and Guinevere in the Arthurian chronicles. 34 The Cathars or Patarines, the medieval heretical group considered most significant by historians and the inquisitors who wrote against them, attacked matrimony as a material institution promoted by the dominant ­Roman church in opposition to the true marriage of the soul with God. The church viewed both the strict asceticism of the Cathars and the courtly romanticization of adultery as assaults on the sacrament of marriage. Moreover, Cathars and dissident Christians of various groups challenged the authority of the priesthood to perform effective sacraments, including marriage. In reply, the friars defended and even promoted marriage, clearly preaching against Cathar beliefs in marriage sermons.35 How should one view the campaign for marriage by celibate clerics who had been compelled to renounce matrimony two centuries earlier? The promotion of marriage rests not only on the opposition to heresy but also on the broader mission of moral preaching to society. Marriage had been defended in earlier periods by ecclesiastical leaders who opposed the renunciation of sexuality by heretical groups, from Augustine’s writings against the Manichees to Bernard of Clairvaux’s denunciation of twelfth-century heretics who claimed to live chastely in communities of men and women.36 The friars continued and systematized those efforts from the thirteenth through

34 D. L. d’Avray, Medieval Marriage Sermons: Mass Communication in a Culture without Print (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 2–4, 10–11. 35 These friars include Franciscan preachers such as Berthold of Regensburg, ­Guibert of Tournai, and Servasanto de Faenza. See “Franciscan Ideas about the Body,” in ibid., 162n22: “Sciebat enim Dominus quosdam ereticos futuros qui prohibent nubere I Thi(m). 4 (3). Ideo personaliter iuit ad nuptias, ostendens quia non peccat mulier si nubat, I Cor. 7 (36 or 28). Nota ergo circa verbum propositum reuerentiam ­coniugii… (MS. B. N. lat. 15941, fol. 83ra; J.B. Schneyer. Repertorium der lateinischen ­S ermones des Mittelalters für die Zeitvon 1150–1350, Munster Westfalen 1969, II, p.  283 n.10)”; pp. 164–65n32: “Nichil istis apertius. Igitur errant qui matrimonium (m m) dampnant. Unde dicit (I) thi(m). 4 (1 & 3): Spiritus manifeste dicit quia in nouissimis temporibus discendent quidam a fide (fol. 73r) attendentes spiritibus erroris etc., et prohibentes nubere et abstinere a cibis quos deus creauit. Manifestum (m m) igitur est quod omnes illi errant qui nuptias dampnant, et cibos aliis comedere uetant. Sed ista faciunt Patarini. Ipsi igitur sunt illi heretici de quibus prophetauit Spiritus apostolis”. (Ms. B.L. Harley 3221 fol. 72v-73r). 36 See B. Kienzle on Bernard of Clairvaux’s preaching against heresy in Cistercians, Heresy and Crusade (1145–1229): Preaching in the Lord’s Vineyard (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell and Brewer, 2001), 00–00.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  109 the fifteenth centuries. Gradually, the friars assumed the task of composing theological treatises on marriage as well as sermons and marriage manuals. The university environment, particularly in Paris, produced model sermons, written texts designed for oral adaptation. The emphasis in marriage preaching generally fell on the qualities of the good wife, but some sermons describe the ideal husband. Do the friars express views on wife-beating in their sermons? At least one preacher states that the perfect husband is not the sort of man who is evil-tempered and would beat his wife.37 James of Vitry’s sermon to husbands advises them not to mistreat their wives, and he criticizes husbands who drink excessively in taverns and return home to beat their wives “without cause.”38 As an example, the preacher recounts a tale about a man who beats his wife while he has her tied in a sack.39 An Inquisition register from Carcassonne (1327) reveals that possible threats to marriage continued to occupy inquisitors in the fourteenth century and thus extended from the university to lay people. William Sacourt admitted to striking his wife out of anger before a number of people and shouting that marriage was nothing more than prostitution or a private brothel. When interrogated, Sacourt was asked not about beating his wife but whether he really held such a view of marriage. He replied that he did not, but that he had shouted such out of anger.40 37 For an overview of marriage preaching and a collection of edited Latin texts, see ­David d’Avray, Medieval Marriage Sermons: Mass Communication in a Culture without Print (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001) D’Avray investigates “The Image of the Ideal Husband in Thirteenth-century France,” in Modern Questions about Medieval Sermons, Essays on Marriage, Death, History, and Sexuality, Nicole Bériou and D. d’Avray, eds, (Spoleto, Italy: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1994), 31–69. 38 d’Avray, Medieval Marriage Sermons, 119n169: “Perfidi enim reputari debent et proditores, qui slendide volunt vivere, et uxores suas fame cruciari permittunt, qui a mane usque ad vesperam vinum in tabernis bibunt, et uxores eorum in domo remanentes non nisi aquam bibunt; et insuper dum ebrii redeunt, uxores sine causa verberant, et male tractant; unde quandoque ex tristitia et desperatione maritos relinqunt et alienis viris commiscentur, et licet non excusentur a peccato, maritus qui occasionem prebuilt non reputabitur immunis” (B.N. lat. 17509, fol. 135va.). 39 Ibid., 119–20n170: (V. Tubach, Index Exemplorum, 295, no. 3825). According to d’Avray, this is not an “anti-feminist” example, because the sermon follows with a lesson on the goodness of women. One wonders how many times the exemplum was used without the moral lesson. 40 Jean Duvernoy, ed., “Le Registre DDD de L’Inquisition de Carcassonne, 1325–1327, Manuscrit Doat 28, Bibliothèque Nationale de Paris: “Guillermus Sacourt laycus de Visano diocesis Narbonensis sicut per ipsius confessionem factam in iudicio sub anno M° CCC° III° mense ianuarii legitime constat, quadam die ante tempus predictum motus ad iram verberans uxorem suam presentibus aliquibus personis quas nominat et quibusdam capellanis, redargutusque et increpatus per ipsas personas super eo quod dictam uxorem suam verberabat, dixit quod matrimonium non erat aliud nisi meretricium vel lupanar privatum, et incontinenti his dictis et per dictos capellanum et astantes personas fuit redar- F° 200 v° gutus quod male dicebat et fatue. Et statim ad confitendum de hoc capellano mercenario dicti loci qui eum absolvit, et sibi iniunxerit quod quadraginta diebus ieiunaret, sicut dixit. 1nterrogatus si tunc quando dixit predicta verba credebat

110  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination This slur against marriage appears in other trial accounts, according to historian David Burr, and apparently stems from a misperception of an academic theological argument that virginity was superior to the married life.41 From the point of view of the inquisitors, an attack on matrimony made William Sacourt suspect of heresy; the beating itself was of secondary, if any, importance. Trial records provide some of the scarce evidence that women in abusive marriages sought out remedies on the margins of society. Some trials for women accused of sorcery reveal that their clients included women whose husbands beat them or otherwise mistreated them. Gabrina (degli Albetti) was accused of exercising the profession of witch (fattucchiera) in August 1367. She counseled a woman who had been beaten by her husband to prepare a concoction of chamomile to render him tame (mansuetus). Gabrina also provided assorted remedies to other abused women.42 The fifteenth-century woman Matteuccia Francisco of Todi prepared remedies for battered women, such as herbal drinks and wax images to be used while reciting formulas that ranged from nonreligious incantations to prayers.43 The women who came to Matteuccia perhaps saw her as a person who tried to help them. To others, Matteuccia was a witch. The Franciscan preacher Bernardino of Siena’s sermons influenced the burning of Matteuccia in the Umbrian town of Todi in 1428.44 She was one of the first people to be executed as a sorcerer or sorceress. A play recalling the story of Matteuccia was first presented in Todi in 1978 and continues to be performed at the town’s annual medieval festival. A witch hunting tour of Todi took place in January 2016. Music and images from several years in Todi are available on the Internet.45 Many medieval women must have suffered through the trial of abusive marriage. Caroline Bynum notes that illness for medieval women was to be endured and not cured.46 That attitude extends to suffering

vel dici audiverat quod matrimonium esset meretricium vel lupanar privatum, respondit quod non, sed motus ira contra uxorem suam predicta verba dixit prout affirmat. Dicens se penitere. Committens predicta non venit ad confitendum ea inquisitori donec captus fuit adductus et aliquoit tempore detentus in Muro. Dicit se penitere.” 41 David Burr, “Olivi on Marriage: The Conservative as Prophet,” The Journal of ­Medieval and Renaissance Studies 2, no. 2 (Fall 1972): 183–204 at 175–76. 42 Giuseppe Bonomo, Caccia alle streghe: La credenza nelle streghe dal secolo XIII al XIX con particolare riferimento all’Italia, (Palumbo: Palermo (1959), 136, cited in Franco Mormando, The Preacher’s Demons: Bernardino of Siena and the Social Underworld of Early Renaissance Italy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 78, 271. 43 Domenico Mammoli, ed., The Record of the Trial and Condemnation of a Witch: Matteucia di Francesco, at Todi, 20 March 1428 (Rome: Cossidente, 1972), English, 32–34. 4 4 Mormando, Preacher’s Demons, 72–73. 45 http://www.umbriatouring.it/en/caccia-alle-streghe-inizio-a-todi-con-­m atteuccia/­ Giorgio Crisafi, La Strega Matteuccia da Todi (video), YouTube, http://www.youtube.­com/ watch?v=Q-WFPuYEjMk. 46 Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 199.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  111 of various sorts, including spousal abuse. Some saints’ lives recount harsh beatings, even murder, but often the depiction of abuse in hagiography remains somewhat vague. Was battering such a sine qua non of hagiography that details became unnecessary? Were there varying notions of what was tasteful, according to time and place? Answers to those questions would, at best, be tentative. Still, the group of vitae examined as follows, all of Italian women, refrain from graphic depictions of violence. Umiliana dei Cerchi (ca. 1219–1247) distributed her husband’s usurious wealth to the poor and incurred beatings as well as scorn and other abuse from his household. Umiliana was born into a powerful Florentine family and was married to a wealthy man for five years.47 Her works of charity incurred her husband’s anger and beatings.48 After the husband’s death, Umiliana refused her family’s pressure to remarry and consequently was deprived of her dowry and placed on a diet of bread and water. Umiliana gained control of a tower of the family dwelling and lived a nearly enclosed and increasingly ascetic existence, communicating primarily with a group of sisters and her confessor and resisting numerous assaults from the devil.49 Umiliana’s hagiographer, Vito of Cortona, praised her as the model saint for Franciscan lay penitents and a countermodel to Cathar women.50 Her remains are kept in a silver reliquary in the church of Santa

47 Vita auctore Vito Cortonensi, AASS, Maius IV, 3–4, col. 387. 48 Ibid.: “O quantis dilacerata injuriis & exprobrata verbis, a magnis & parvis domus! Erat etiam verberata aliquando propter opera pietatis, quæ humiliter impendebat egenis, omniaque obliviscens circa prædictos familiaris & tractabilis persistebat.” 49 Ibid., 7–9, cols. 388–89, and 30, cols. 393–94, describes how Umiliana whipped herself harshly after meditating on the passion: “Habebat namque Humiliana disciplinam quamdam ex corrigiis & nervis compositam, qua se nudam frequenter & acriter verberabat; insuper & aculeatis bruscis se sæpius verberabat: & sæpe antequam desisteret a verbere, unius milliarii viam facile ambulasset.” 50 See Beverly Mayne Kienzle and Travis Stevens, “Preaching, Heresy, and the Writing of Hagiography,” in Beyond Catholicism: Heresy, Mysticism, and Apocalypse in Italian Culture, ed. Fabrizio De Donno and Simon Gilson. Palgrave Studies in Cultural and Intellectual History (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 33–53, at 33–37. Anna Benvenuti Papi, “Una santa vedova,” in ‘In castro poenitentiae’: Santità e ­società femminile nell’Italia medievale (Rome: Herder, 1990), esp. 61–62, 76–77, 81–84; Bernhard Schlager, “Foundresses of the Franciscan Life: Umiliana Cerchi and Margaret of Cortona,” Viator 29 (1998): 141–66. The Franciscans officially recognized penitent laywomen as the third order in the 1280s, following the early thirteenth-­ century Propositum, guidelines for penitent life (1221), and Memoriale, the first extant version of guidelines for penitents (1228). Finally, the Franciscan pope Nicholas IV (1288–1292), in his bull Supra montem, August 18, 1289, approved the 1284 Rule of Caro, which required clerical supervision of lay penitents. Furthermore, he stated that penitents were to be guided by the Franciscans. See History of the Third Order Regular Rule, ed. Margaret Carney, Jean-François Godet Calogeras, and Suzanne M.Kush;(Saint Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2008) 72–85; and Maiju ­L ehmijoki-Gardner, Worldly Saints: Social Interaction of Dominican Penitent Women in Italy, 1200–1500 (Helsinki: Suomen Historiallinen Seura, 1999), 35–37.

112  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination ­ addeo Croce in Florence. A relief and two painted medallions, one within T Gaddi’s fresco of the Tree of Life, appear in the refectory. The relief and other depictions of Umiliana may have been based on a now missing panel painting discovered in her tomb in 1557 (Figure 4.1).51 Angela of Foligno (ca. 1248–1309), a mystical thinker who was devoted to the passion of Christ, endured some sort of abuse (iniurias) from her husband, but her Memorial reveals nothing precise about it. 52 Angela was born in Foligno, near Assisi, where the strong influence of Franciscanism was felt. While married, she followed the way of life of lay Franciscan penitents. 53 Her mother, husband, and children all

Figure 4.1  U  miliana dei Cerchi, relief at Santa Croce, Florence. Source: Photograph, Beverly M. Kienzle.

51 Scott B. Montgomery, “Fashioning the Visage of Sainthood: The Reliquary Bust of Beata Umiliana dei Cerchi and the Holy Portrait in Late-Medieval Florence,” in Italian Art, Society, and Politics: A Festschrift in Honor of Rab Hatfield, Presented by His Students on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Barbara Deimling, Jonathan K. Nelson, and Gary M. Radke (Florence: Syracuse University in Florence, 2007), 38–41. 52 Il libro della Beata Angela da Foligno: Edizione critica, ed. Ludger Thier and Abele Calufetti (Rome: Editiones Collegii S. Bonaventurae ad Claras Aquas, 1985), 138. 53 A Franciscan order of lay penitents was officially approved in the 1289 bull of ­Nicholas IV, Supra montem, but rules for penitent life existed earlier in the thirteenth century. See note 50 before.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  113 died suddenly. Angela describes a feeling of freedom after the death of her husband and children. 54 She underwent a second conversion experience when she received a vision of God’s love through the call of the Holy Spirit. She dictated her experiences to a Franciscan friar, identified only as frater scriptor (brother or friar scribe), and his own reflections figure prominently in the text. 55 Angela renounced the ownership of property completely and came to receive visions of God and of Christ’s passion and finally to experience Christ’s passion and crucifixion herself. Rita of Cascia (1381–1457), patron of abused wives and hopeless causes, also found herself without a spouse or children after years of marriage.56 Her parents chose a husband for their twelve-year-old daughter; he turned out to be “exceedingly fierce and widely feared.” Rita reportedly tamed her spouse, Paolo, to some extent and lived with him for eighteen years, although his rage continued to erupt periodically.57 Paolo reportedly asked her forgiveness, but fierce political battles in which he was entangled resulted in his murder. Rita’s two sons had sworn revenge for their father’s death, but Rita prayed that they would not take violent action. They were both killed by disease not long thereafter. At first refused entrance into the Augustinian convent in Cascia, Rita was later admitted to the religious life. Her devotion to the passion of Christ was marked by the reception of a wound on her forehead that continued to ooze and did not heal. 58 Her life is now commemorated in a video.59 54 English translation. See Catherine Mooney, “The Changing Fortunes of Angela of Foligno: Daughter, Mother, Wife,” in History in the Comic Mode: Medieval Communities and the Matter of Person, ed. Rachel Fulton and Bruce W. Holsinger (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007). 55 See Catherine Mooney, Brother A. in the Composition of Angela of Foligno’s Revelations’, in Creative Women in Medieval and Early Modern Italy eds. E. Ann Matter and John Coakley (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994) 34–63. 56 Vita of Rita of Cascia, Acta Sanctorum 5 (May 1866): 226–28. 57 Ibid., 225: “Interim annis graves parentes nihil curabant solicitius, quam ut filiam prius quam morerentur in honesto matrimonio collocatam viderent: quo licet minime propenderet, sponsum Christum optare professa, eorum tamen consentiens voluntati, duodennis adhuc se tradidit in potestatem viri, perquam ferocis & passim formidati. Sed hunc ita mulcere scivit Rita, ut eum magno cum stupore omnium mire mansuetum divinique obsequii studiosum reddiderit, totis octodecim annis cum eo pacatissime vivens; nihilo tamen minus intenta devotionibus suis…” 58 Rita of Cascia is included in Caroline Walker Bynum’s Holy Feast and Holy Fast, with women who ate little (142), women who experienced wounds that did not heal from their imitation of the passion (145), and women in bad marriages (215). Bynum mentions Agnes, the sister of Clare of Assisi, who was beaten brutally when she refused to take a husband. Thomas of Celano, Vita of Clare, 24–26, AASS, in Pennachi, Legenda, 33–37. She adds (394n115) that the nun’s book of Unterlinden includes a gruesome story of a woman tortured by her husband (Unterlinden, 374–75). 59 Saint Rita: No Cause Is Ever Lost, Vision Video, https://www.visionvideo.com.

114  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination Clearly, husbands and the married life posed obstacles to sanctity for holy women.60 Some resisted marriage. Agnes, sister of Clare of Assisi, endured her father’s rage and a brutal beating by an armed soldier charged by her family to force her out of her home and into marriage. She was saved by the intercessions of her more famous sister.61 Other women, such as Maria Sturion of Venice, found themselves abandoned by their husbands.62 Still others doubtless suffered through marriage and found in widowhood a path to lead a religious life as a lay penitent or a nun. The theme of physical abuse in marriage seems to repeat itself in the lives of holy women. Recall André Vauchez’s observation that violence against women in saints’ lives is a common motif and that the emotive shock produced by “the spectacle of innocent suffering” quickly turns into devotion. 63 Vauchez’s landmark study, Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, established that, under the influence of these Franciscans and Dominicans, more women, including women who had been married, were revered as local saints and were proposed for canonization from the mid-thirteenth century onward through the fifteenth century. This phenomenon is especially notable in Italy.64 The depiction of abuse may reflect social reality, but it may also reveal the interest of a hagiographer to accentuate suffering and to minimize sexual relations in the woman’s story.

Elisabeth of Hungary Elisabeth of Hungary (d. 1231), daughter of King Andrew of Hungary and cousin of the Emperor Frederick II, married Louis (Ludwig), Landgrave of Thuringia, who apparently supported her works of charity.65 After Louis’s death, Elisabeth and the children were driven out of the castle they inhabited and she devoted herself to serving the poor. Conrad of Marburg (1180–1233), Elisabeth’s confessor and an infamous inquisitor, promulgated Elisabeth’s cult immediately after her death. The Summa Vitae he wrote for Pope Gregory IX in 1231 focuses primarily 60 Dyan Elliott, Spiritual Marriage: Sexual Abstinence in Medieval Wedlock (­Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993). 61 Legenda latina sanctae Clarae virgina Assisiensis, ed. Giovanni Boccali with Introduction; Italian trans.Marino Bigaroni, Pubblicazioni della Bibliotheca Francescana 11 (Chiesa Nuova Assisi: Edizioni Porziuncula, 2001) 16,1—16,31, p. 149–55 (Latin and Italian on facing pages). 62 Lehmijoki-Gardner, Worldly Saints, 123. 63 André Vauchez, Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, trans. Jean Birrell (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 151. 64 Vauchez, Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, 207–12, 369–86. 65 From the majority of sources, it appears that Louis and Elisabeth enjoyed a loving relationship. See Gábor Klaniczay, Holy Rulers and Blessed Princesses: Dynastic Cults in Central Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 2002), pp. 369–70.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  115 on the holy woman’s activities after Louis’s death; the success of the Summa Vitae was proved by Elisabeth’s canonization in 1235.66 Another document produced during the canonization proceedings and circulated thereafter supplied information on Elisabeth’s childhood and marriage to Louis, a happy one according to the Statements (Dicta) of her four maidservants. The Statements also describe the relationship between Conrad and Elisabeth, showing the confessor’s control over the holy woman’s ascetic and religious practices.67 The thirteenth-century Dominican James of Voragine used all these sources for his account in the Golden Legend, as well as a list of Elisabeth’s 130 approved miracles as established in the canonization process.68 Numerous versions of Elisabeth’s vita followed, written in Latin by members of different religious orders and in the vernacular.69 One account, written by Dietrich of Apolda between 1286 and 1291, praises the love between Elisabeth and Louis.70 Fourteenth-century and later versions in Latin and various vernacular languages largely stress Elisabeth’s miracles, as well as place her in the visionary tradition and relate some thirteen of the saint’s revelations.71 Not one of these accounts eliminates the central figure of Conrad of Marburg, nor do they counter Louis’s good character. In contrast, Harvard University Houghton Library MS Typ 142, an illustrated manuscript containing 259 saints’ lives, includes a startling life of Elisabeth in Italian. While this life of Saint Elisabeth of Hungary follows to some degree the vita composed by James of Voragine, author of the Golden Legend, the most popular medieval source on the saints for preachers, artists, and others, it surprisingly transforms her husband into an abuser and eliminates her confessor, Conrad of Marburg, from the account. Michelle Oing’s study of Harvard Houghton MS Typ 142 indicates that it was probably compiled in Naples during the fifteenth century; 66 Conrad included various posthumous miracles of Elisabeth; see Ottó Gecser, “Lives of St. Elisabeth: Their Re-writings and Diffusion in the Thirteenth Century,” ­A nalecta Bolandiana (2009): 49–107 at 51. 67 Gecser, “Lives of St. Elisabeth,” 52–54. A narrative form of the Dicta was developed as well: the Libellis de dictis quattuor ancillarum; see Gecser, “Lives of St. Elisabeth,” 55. 68 James of Voragine was writing his account between 1272 and 1276, according to ­A ndré Vauchez, “Jacques de Voragine et les saints du XIII siècle dans la Légende dorée,” in Legenda aurea: Sept siècles de diffusion, ed. Brenda Dunn-Lardeau ­(Montreal: Editions Bellarmin, 1986), 41, 46–47. 69 These versions include a version by Caesarius of Heisterbach, a Cistercian monk renowned for his vivid storytelling (1236–1237); a purported eyewitness account of the translation of Elisabeth’s body that makes a connection between the gray clothes ­Elisabeth wore as a widow and the Franciscan habit; a Dominican version by Vincent of Beauvais; and Franciscan versions that compare Elisabeth to the penitent Mary Magdalene. See Gecser, “Lives of St. Elisabeth,” 62–65, 67–84. The Tuscan vita stresses Elisabeth’s miracles; see Gecser, 75–76. 70 Ibid., 85–87. 71 Ibid., 93.

116  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination such a manuscript, a legendary or compilation of saints’ lives, was generally meant for private use and based on existing texts.72 Louis is a minor character in the Harvard vita; references to Elisabeth as a wife serve to warn against marriage.73 Moreover, Louis takes the place of Conrad in a violent incident. The Legenda Aurea recounts that ­Conrad asked Elisabeth to hear one of his sermons, but when she did not attend, because of a commitment to meet a visiting nobleman with her husband, Conrad punished her disobedience by whipping her vehemently in the presence of her handmaids.74 In contrast, the Harvard account presents Elisabeth’s husband as the one who whips her.75 Both the Golden Legend and the Harvard vita state that Elisabeth, in her husband’s absence, would ask her maids to beat her to repay Christ for his flagellation.76 Scholars have discussed the emphasis on Elisabeth’s chastity after her husband’s death and the general issue for preachers in depicting a married woman saint.77 In a survey of Franciscan sermons on Elisabeth, ­A lison More finds that the saint is often deployed as the ideal bride (both of Louis and of Christ), the ideal mother, and a model for other women.78 The Franciscan preachers in More’s survey employ the image of Christ as bridegroom to positively depict Elisabeth’s years as a wife, and some cite verses from the Song of Songs on the bride and bridegroom to underscore “the spiritual strength that [she] gained through her relationship with her carnal spouse.”79 72 Michelle Oing, Seminar paper, December 21, 2010. I am grateful for Ms. Oing’s permission to cite her work. See for background: Evelyn Birge Vitz, “From the Oral to the Written in Saints’ Lives,” in Images of Sainthood in Medieval Europe, ed. Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Timea Klara Szell (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991), 102; Guy Philippart, “L’édition médiévale des légendiers latins,” in Hagiography and Medieval Literature: A Symposium, ed. Hans Bekker-Nielsen (Odense, Den.: Odense University Press, 1981), 147. Some legendaries for private use contain liturgical formulas that reflect the earlier use of the vita in liturgy. See Birge Vitz, “From the Oral to the Written,” 102, and Philippart, “L’édition médiévale des légendiers latins,” 139. 73 Harvard University Houghton MS Typ 142, fol.51v - 54v. 74 Dunn-Lardeau, Legenda aurea, 755. 75 Harvard University Houghton MS Typ 142, fol. 52r, 15–17:two references to Elisabeth being whipped, first by her husband, then upon her command by her handmaids. 76 Dunn-Lardeau, Legenda aurea, 756: “Saepe etiam per manus ancillarum faciebat se in cubiculo fortiter verberari, ut salvatori flagellato vicem rependeret et carnem ab omni lascivia coerceret.” 77 Anja Petrakopoulos, “Sanctity and Motherhood: Elizabeth of Thuringia,” in Sanctity and Motherhood: Essays on Holy Mothers in the Middle Ages (New York: Garland, 1995), 265. 78 Alison More, “Gracious Women Seeking Glory: Clare of Assisi and Elisabeth of Hungary in Franciscan Sermons,” in Franciscans and Preaching: Every Miracle from the Beginning of the World Came About through Words, ed. Timothy J. Johnson (Leiden, Neth.: Brill, 2012), 29. 79 Ibid., 19.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  117 Michelle Oing argues that the author of the Houghton MS Typ 142 vita had two possible aims for cutting Elisabeth’s Dominican confessor from the story and changing the character of her marriage to Louis: first, to make her commitment to chastity more central to her cult; and, second, to create a stronger connection between Elisabeth and the Franciscans. Perhaps the author intended to make Elisabeth’s vita conform to those of other female saints who suffered abusive marriages. Such an intent may reflect the difficulty of promoting a once-married woman as a saint. In any case, the surprising shift in the character of Elisabeth of Hungary’s husband may indicate that suffering at the hands of a spouse served a hagiographer well for praising a holy woman’s virtue and minimizing her sexuality. Whatever the intent of the author of the Harvard vita, Michelle Oing notes that the work “preserves her lifelong dedication to helping the poor, and her concern for mothers and their children especially, but removes from this endeavor most of the male influences in Elisabeth’s life.” Perhaps the author intended this version for women; in addition, the author perhaps wrote under female guidance, if she was not a woman herself.

Fifteenth-Century Italy Literary and visual culture promoted the ideal of the obedient wife. The fictional tale of patient Griselda, a subject for Chapter 5 on ownership, circulated widely even as fourteenth-century Europe was being ravaged by wars, famine, and waves of plague. By the fifteenth century, the friars had other reasons to preach about marriage. The people of Italian towns that had been decimated by a succession of catastrophes were ready to think about marriage again in the early fifteenth century, and the Franciscan preachers responded with preaching on the ethics of marriage. 80

Bernardino of Siena Bernardino of Siena’s popular sermons deal with day-to-day relationships rather than with complex theological arguments.81 Certainly, Bernardino underscored the views that had been standard since antiquity—­ that men are at the head of the household, that women, therefore, must

80 Roberto Rusconi, “St. Bernardino of Siena, the Wife, and Possessions,” in Women and Religion in Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. Daniel Bornstein and Roberto Rusconi (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 183–84. 81 Rusconi, “St. Bernardino of Siena,” 184, 193nn14–15. Bernardino also took down notes from Olivi while preparing his commentary on John 2:1–11. See Rusconi, 185, 194n21, where he references the Latin work, Bernardino, da Siena, Opera omnia, 9 vols. (Quaracchi, Italy: Collegio San Bonaventura, 1950–1965). Bernardino of Siena preached sermons on marriage in Florence in 1424 and Siena in 1427; see Rusconi, 182.

118  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination obey their husbands, and that husbands have the right to discipline their wives.82 Social conditions reinforced that attitude: in early fifteenth-­ century Tuscan marriages, men were about twelve years older than their wives, who normally married between the ages of fifteen and twenty.83 What does Bernardino say about the question of discipline? He preached sermons on marriage in Florence in 1424 and Siena in 1427. Bernardino strongly advised men never to beat their wives, especially if they were pregnant. He also remarked with sarcasm that beating had no practical value, because a recalcitrant woman would not be persuaded by anything.84 Bernardino’s sermons offer some insight on the occurrence of battering. One sermon indicates that husbands beat their wives for not dressing with sufficient elegance.85 Sermons against vanity targeted not only women who donned furs and gold-filigreed robes but also ostentatious men. Another sermon describes a husband who is unwilling to hit a clucking hen for fear of breaking a single egg, yet who will seize a stick to beat a wife who says one word too much. Bernardino reproaches foolish husbands and concludes that it is “not just to beat” a wife “on the smallest provocation.” 86 What recourse did women have against beatings, other than the occasional admonitions of a friar like Bernardino of Siena? Trial records provide an important clue that some battered wives sought out remedies on the margins of society. Recall that the trial records of women accused of sorcery reveal clients whose husbands beat them or otherwise mistreated them. Gabrina degli Albetti counseled a woman who had been beaten by her husband to prepare a concoction of chamomile to render him tame

82 Franco Mormando, “Bernardino of Siena, ‘Great Defender’ or ‘Merciless Betrayer’ of Women?,”Italica 75, no. 1 (Spring 1998): 32, 37n37: “Non debba l’uomo principalmente servire alla moglie; ma la moglie principalemente debbe servire al marito” (Bernardino da Siena, Le prediche volgari: Quaresimale fiorentino 1425, ed. Ciro Cannarozzi (Florence: Libreria Editrice Fiorentina, 1940), 2:182; and 37n. 38 references Le prediche volgari: Quaresimale fiorentino 1425, “Del matrimonio,” 2:173–90. 83 Rusconi, “St. Bernardino of Siena,” 183, 192n7. 84 Franco Mormando, “Bernardino of Siena,” 32, 37n33, Bernardino, da Siena, Le Prediche volgari sul Campo di Siena, 1427, ed. Carlo Delcorno, 2 vols. (Milan: ­Rusconi, 1989), 556, 567–68; Bernardino, Le prediche volgari, 1:412–13, 418, 2:177; Bernardino, da Siena, Opera omnia, ed. Jean De la Haye (Venice: A. Poletti, 1745), 2:106. 85 Prediche volgari, Quaresimale fiorentino 1425 2, 115–16, cited in Paul ThureauDangin, The Life of Bernardino of Siena, trans. G. von Hügel (Boston: Philip Warner, 1911), 213. 86 Mormando, “Bernardino of Siena, ‘Great Defender’ or ‘merciless Betrayer’ of Women?,” 32, 37, note 37 – “Non debba l’uomo principalmente servire alla moglie; ma la moglie principalemente debbe servire al marito”, Le prediche volgari: Quaresimale fiorentino 142, vol. 2:182; 32n38: “Del matrimonio,” in Bernardino da Siena, Le prediche volgari: Quaresimale fiorentino 1425, 2, 173–90.

A Theology of Obedience and Subordination  119 (mansuetus). Gabrina also aided other abused women.87 ­Matteucia Francisco of Todi prepared herbal drinks for battered women and provided wax images for use while reciting formulas that ranged from non-religious incantations to prayers.88 Bernardino of S­ iena’s preaching influenced the burning of Matteuccia in Todi in 1428.89

Conclusion This review of models for obedience in Scripture and Christian texts, in teaching and preaching about marriage in the medieval university, in the sermons of clerics educated there, and in hagiographical narratives that emphasize the theme of obedience, including that of Elisabeth of Hungary, demonstrates a clear development of a theology of obedience. Originating in understandings of the creation myth and expanded through sensibilities fearing that disobedient women would create spiritual and literal chaos, these themes were developed and honed across these varying genres. From their earliest appearances in Scripture, they underwent minimal change as they were applied to different centuries by church leaders and representatives. Christ served as the model for willful obedience (Romans) or obedience learned through suffering (Hebrews). The interpretation of Eve, the countermodel, importantly associates physical pain and suffering, subordination, or the necessity for obedience as punishment for women. Women and men alike internalized these messages of what it meant to be male and female. For women in abusive relationships, the concept of obedience can go hand in hand with a theology of suffering and with a theology of ownership in a way that further justifies subordination and thereby abuse. The concept of ownership became a theology as scriptural statements about women’s subordination became understood as being part of the divine order. The trajectory of violence against women traced in this chapter reflects a movement from scriptural requirements for women’s behavior to theologians seeing women themselves—their physicality—as dangerous and immoral, to these final sections, where beating is prescribed for women’s own sake. Ultimate evidence of this occurs with Elisabeth of Hungary: her narratives attest to the fact that she so understands that abuse must be part of her life if she is to be holy that she asks her maids to beat her when her husband is away, to repay Christ for his suffering. Obedience to suffering was an expected part of women’s existence, at least for those who wished to live holy, moral lives. 87 Giuseppe Bonomo, Caccia alle streghe: La credenza nelle streghe dal secolo XIII al XIX con particolare riferimento all’Italia (Palermo: Palumbo, 1959), 136, cited in Mormando, Preacher’s Demons, 271n105. 88 Mammoli, Record of the Trial and Condemnation, 32–34. 89 Mormondo, Preacher’s Demons, 72–73.

120  A Theology of Obedience and Subordination This discussion illustrates that within patriarchal or kyriarchal groups or societies, violence against women will increase without active resistance. It is only in more recent times that women have gained voice and means to fight against these prescriptions and to give their individual experiences a credibility and standing that could be used to fight messages of women’s subordination and obedience to men. While these efforts will be discussed in the Conclusion, the next chapter delineates the theological concept of ownership, which reinforces a theology of obedience and thus the acceptance of violence and abuse against women.

5 A Theology of Ownership and Power

A theology of ownership and power finds its origins in the early belief that women have an inferior moral nature and thus must be under male control for the good of the community. In this theological view, God’s divine will for the structure of human relationships is revealed most clearly in the structure of a male-headed household. Men, as primary representatives of God, are the overseers of the family. Women, associated with the physicality of the world, are secondary and inferior. This theology is often based on creation myths, wherein women are created second to and under the authority of men. Creation accounts serve to validate the suffering and obedience of women to men, as we observed in preceding chapters of this book. They also justify absolute female subordination to male authority and power in marriage. While the men in creation stories and in most of the accounts relayed in the following may not have literally owned the women in their worlds, they believed that it was God’s will that they exercise strict control over them. This chapter examines the theme of ownership along with its connections to the concepts of suffering and obedience that were presented earlier. Two poignant examples illustrate the dynamics of a theology of ownership and power: the story of the biblical woman Tamar, in which she is horrifically raped, and the medieval fiction of Griselda and the cruel treatment inflicted by her husband. Analysis of two women who left their mark on history follows, based on the medieval saints’ lives of Dorothy of Montau, a fourteenth-century Prussian, and of Catherine of Genoa, a fifteenth-century Italian. The narratives then move to the New World in an account of the Jesuits’ encounter with the Montagnais people in seventeenth-century New France, an area of Quebec. A view of women’s place in early modern England backgrounds the analysis of life in the American Colonies and the heart-wrenching accounts of how enslaved Africans were brutally mistreated in America. An analysis of the theology of obedience underlying these narratives concludes the chapter. The illustrative texts analyzed as follows are far from exhaustive, but the violent acts correspond strikingly to those in other historical and contemporary stories of violence against women. Patterns of violence and attitudes of ownership prove chillingly similar over time.

122  A Theology of Ownership and Power 2 Samuel: 13 revolves around male rivalry, authority—chiefly that of David—revenge, and reconciliation. However, it also recounts the story of Tamar, daughter of David and sister of David’s son Ammon. Tamar’s fate brutally illustrates the potential harm to women who are considered the property of men. Ammon falls in love with Tamar and is “so tormented that he made himself ill because of his sister, for she was a virgin and it seemed impossible to Ammon to do anything to her” (v. 2, RSV). Nonetheless, a friend of Ammon’s helps him develop a scheme to get her alone so that he might rape her. Ammon feigns illness and asks David to send in his sister to tend to him. While they are alone in his room, Ammon grabs Tamar and rapes her. Immediately afterward, Ammon is “seized with very great loathing for her” (v. 15) and tells her to get out. Knowing that such an assault meant social death for her, Tamar pleads with Ammon to not do such a terrible thing on top of what he has already done. Ammon calls a servant to throw her out and bolts the door after her. As Tamar sits weeping in ashes, her brother ­Absalom sees her and suspects the worst, which Tamar confirms. ­Absalom takes Tamar into his home, where she remains “a desolate woman” (v. 20). When David hears about these events, he becomes angry, “but he would not punish his son Ammon because he loved him, because he was his firstborn” (v. 22). Two years later, Absalom hatches his own plan to get access to Ammon, and subsequently, he has his servants kill him. While David mourns ­A mmon’s death, Absalom flees, staying away for three years. Finally David and Absalom reconcile, but not until another two years have passed. Pamela Cooper-White, a well-known preacher and author, examines the story of Tamar and observes, “Tamar is possibly the only rape victim in Scripture to have a voice, yet all power to act or even to speak is taken away from her. It becomes men’s business.”1 In the context of our book, Tamar’s rape and loss of speech demonstrate a theology of ownership in operation. What happens to the woman involved is secondary; the focus is on the world of the men—their experiences, their perceptions, their actions. That is because, quite literally, in most periods of history, women belonged to men. Wrongs were either measured as injuries of property or justified because, as property, the women had no control over their own lives. Whoever owned the woman was the one to whom damage had been done (David, in the case of Tamar). Whoever owned the woman deserved to be avenged. The medieval fictional tale of the patient Griselda, while stylized with elements characteristic of folklore, nonetheless illustrates a theology of ownership and power at work.2 Recall that a scholar of folklore, Elaine

1 Pamela Cooper-White, The Cry of Tamar: Violence against Women and the Church’s Response (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1995), 1. 2 An excellent critical edition of the Griselda text by Petrarca is: Hystorie van Griseldis met Latijnse texten, in Twee uit het Latijn Veretaalde Middelnederlandse novellen, Door R. Pennink (W.B.J. tijeenk Willink, Zwolle, Netherlands 1965).

A Theology of Ownership and Power  123 Lawless, applies the analytical approaches of narrative and folklore to stories told by women she interviewed in shelters. The story of Griselda circulated in oral tradition and in medieval vernacular versions, notably French, before being made famous by Boccaccio (Decameron, 1353), ­Petrarch (On the obedience and faith of a mythical wife, 1370s), and Chaucer (“Clerk’s Tale,” 1387–1400). The three authors recount with varying tones and points of view the life of a young peasant woman who was chosen as a bride by the local marquis and taken from her father. Griselda is passed from the authority of her father to that of her husband. Griselda’s husband tested her obedience deliberately and severely. He staged the feigned seizure and murder of their two children and then renounced his wife because of her low social class. Having pledged obedience to the marquis as a condition of the marriage, Griselda responded to his commands only with silent nods of obedience; her sole visible reaction came in the compassionate tears she shed when the marquis led his new wife into town. At last the marquis revealed the cruel hoax, and Griselda was restored to her children and her place as wife of the marquis.3 Griselda’s story was depicted with visual images—a clear reminder of the wife’s role in marriage and of the tale’s popularity. During the transferal from father to husband, Griselda is often portrayed naked; the narrative and its representations in art underscore the point that she owned nothing on her own, not even herself. In illustrated manuscripts, wedding chests ((called cassoni in Italian), and woodcuts ((illustrations that were much less costly), Griselda reminds women of the subordinate place they occupied in marriage and in society overall.4 Wives were the property of their husbands. The fact that the marquis owned Griselda as his wife meant that he could commit acts of cruelty and abuse without being challenged by those around him. He could do what he wished to his property. The woman’s feelings and the injuries she endured became secondary or dropped out of view altogether. The fact that a married woman, for all intents and purposes, was owned—or was at least under the strict authority of her husband—did not change in the U.S. until the early twentieth century. In many parts of the world, it is still the case. 3 On Griselda in the context of medieval and especially fourteenth-century motherhood, see the insightful analysis of Clarissa W. Atkinson, The oldest vocation: ­C hristian motherhood in the Middle Ages (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991) 145–48 and 191 on the significance of Griselda’s tears. 4 I am grateful to Judith Bronfman for introducing me to the visual representations of Griselda in the Middle Ages when I met her by chance at the Kalamazoo airport. I had missed her paper and she was kind enough to give it to me on the spot. See ­Judith Bronfman, “Griselda, Renaissance Woman,” The Renaissance Englishwoman in Print: Counterbalancing the Canon, ed. Anne M. Haselkorn and Betty S. ­Travitsky (Amherst, MA: U of Massachusetts Press, 1990), 211–23. Judith ­Bronfman, ­Chaucer’s “Clerk’s Tale”: The Griselda Story Received, Rewritten, Illustrated (New York: Garland Publishing, 1994); Judith Bronfman, “The Griselda Legend In English Literature” (Pro Quest, Dissertation, 1977). A woodcut from ca. 1500 is reproduced in Hystorie van Griseldis met Latijnse texten, opposite 122.

124  A Theology of Ownership and Power Consequently, two questions arise. First, what understandings of the nature and role of male or female are at play in the stories of Tamar and Griselda, in order that such abuse of women could be justified? Clearly, in a world where the rape of a woman is seen as something that happens to men or where the abuse of a woman is unquestioned because the woman doesn’t own her own body, the canonical body is male. It is the male world that counts, that defines what normative humanity is. Second, how does one conceive God in order to believe that this focus on the world of men is the divine plan, the way that God set up the world and intended it to be? Clearly, a God such as this is conceived as most readily concerned with men and men’s lives, and such a God has a concern for women only in that women affect the world of men. The stories of Tamar and Griselda recount the effects of a theology of ownership and power on their lives. Unfortunately, many women after them (as well as some men) continued to be affected by the ideas, social structures, and theological understandings that made their abuse possible. The rape of Tamar and the abuse of Griselda were justified and later interpreted as acts that primarily affected the men around them, rather than the women themselves. These interpretations endure in significant ways, and they have long roots in religious traditions. The theological thinking that reinforces a theology of ownership and makes it credible has existed across centuries with remarkably little change—namely, that because God created woman with an inferior moral nature, she needs to be under the control of a man lest society find itself in chaos. In fact, some man needs to own the woman, or at least own up to his responsibility to be the moral head of the woman, if God’s intention for order in the world is to be maintained.

Origins: Female Submission to Male Headship It was the anthropologist Peggy Sanday who wrote that if lions could describe God, they’d describe God as looking like a lion.5 Her point, of course, was that human beings tend to think about God as a reflection of themselves, creating God in their own image. God ends up bearing a remarkable resemblance to whoever has the privilege and power to define and describe God. In other words, God looks like whoever has the canonical body in a society—whoever is at the top of the pyramid of power. 5 Peggy Reeves Sanday, Female Power and Male Dominance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). Sanday analyzes what she calls “the guiding symbols of Western male dominance—the patriarchal, decidedly masculine God [of the Judeo-­ Christian tradition] and the sexual, inferior female” (215). Interestingly, in the conclusion of this anthropological study, Sanday shows that those societies with male and female gods or simply female divine figures were those that exhibited the highest gender equity and cooperation. Those with exclusively male gods tended to see their environs as hostile and dangerous, and in those societies men dominated women both socially and sexually.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  125 Rosemary Radford Ruether writes that monotheistic religious beliefs were patriarchal in part because they developed in cultures where certain men were more privileged and had more power than all women and certain other men. We witness the phenomenon Sanday describes at work in this development.6 For Ruether, the hierarchy in monotheistic religious traditions resulted as God-man-woman, reflecting the dominant view that the most privileged and powerful must reflect the divine. If those with greatest power and privilege in a given society want to understand themselves not as privileged but as better than those with less power and privilege, then those at the top must make their positions of power seem natural and normal, and they must enforce those positions when necessary. According to Ruether, this hierarchy of God-male-female does not merely make woman secondary in relation to God, it also gives her a negative identity in relation to the divine. Whereas the male is seen essentially as the image of the male transcendent ego or God, woman is seen as the image of the lower material nature….… Gender becomes a primary symbol for the dualism of transcendence and immanence, spirit and matter.7 When monotheistic religions ally God with men more so than with women and equate women with matter, the body, and sin, while simultaneously demeaning all three, these religions create the bedrock upon which a theology of ownership can flourish. This strand of theological understanding has trickled into the practical treatment of women in virtually every period for which we have records. Theological ideas regarding women’s nature both influenced and were reinforced by a civil law code that for centuries counted a wife as part of a husband’s legal property. For example, when eleventh-century ecclesiastical reformers set about to eliminate clerical marriage, they often blamed the wife or concubine for the actions of the cleric, and in some cases, wives and children of clerics were transferred to the ownership of the church. Such were the rulings of the emperor Henry II in 1022 and of Pope Leo IX, who in 1050 ordered wives and concubines of clerics to be slaves at the Lateran Palace in Rome. The reissuance of such decrees attests to the difficulty in enforcing them.8 Moreover, most customary and town laws throughout the medieval period gave husbands the right to beat their wives as they saw fit, in order that 6 Rosemary Radford Ruether, Sexism and God-Talk: Toward a Feminist Theology (Boston, MA: Beacon, 1983), 54. 7 Ibid. 8 Dyan Elliott, Spiritual Marriage: Sexual Abstinence in Medieval Wedlock (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 102, and sources cited there.

126  A Theology of Ownership and Power wives should be obedient and chaste. Men were at least encouraged to exercise moderation in such beatings.9 Cherubino of Siena’s Rules of Marriage, a text we introduced in the context of obedience, specifies levels of discipline in marriage. The first step is to “correct the wrong lovingly.” But a husband whose wife has “a servile disposition” and “a crude shifty spirit” should “scold her sharply, bully and terrify her.” The husband’s next move is to “take up a stick and beat her soundly.” He observes that, “It is better to punish the body and correct the soul than to damage the soul and spare the body.” Cherubino voices some caution, however, limiting the reasons for beating: You should beat her…… only when she commits a serious wrong; for example if she blasphemes God or a saint, if she mutters the devil’s name, if she likes being at the window and lends ready ear to dishonest men, or if she has taken to bad habits or bad company, or commits some other wrong that is a mortal sin. Then readily beat her, not in rage but out of charity and concern for her soul, so that the beating will redound to your merit and good.10 Such a rule gives husbands a moral justification for beating their wives at every turn. Reformation theologians picked up and amplified the ancient and medieval understandings of women as morally deficient, requiring a male’s moral correction. They also used Genesis 2 and 3, as well as the reinforcement of these chapters in the Epistles, to justify the secondary status they afforded women. Although Luther and Calvin argued that, like man, woman also reflected the image of God, as Luther put it, “she was nevertheless not the equal of the male in glory and prestige.”11 For Luther, not only was woman deficient in her capacity to reflect the image of God, but also God’s original creation included the subordination of women to men. Luther writes, “Even before the fall the ruling power and governance was with the male person.”12 Woman’s role in the Fall provided further rationale for why woman was assigned a role in life subordinate to men. This 9 Joy M. K. Bussert, Battered Women: From a Theology of Suffering to an Ethic of Empowerment (New York: Division for Mission in North America, Lutheran Church in America, 1986), 13. 10 Cherubino of Spoleto (da Siena), Regole della vita Matrimoniale, Regole della vita matrimoniale di fratre Cherubino da Siena, 13–14. See Chapter 4, note 96. 11 Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan, vol. 1 (St. Louis, MI: Concordia Publishing House, 1955), 68–69. 12 D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Weimar: Böhlau, 1883–2002), 24.79a, trans. Mickey L. Mattox. For an excellent discussion of Luther’s use of Genesis to develop his theological ideas of women’s subordination, see Christoph ­Bultmann, “Luther on Gender Relations—Just One Reading of Genesis?” Currents in Theology and Mission 29, no. 6 (December 2002): 424–28. See also Helen Kraus,

A Theology of Ownership and Power  127 subordination is total, and for Luther it was the man’s duty to see to it that his wife remained in absolute obedience to him. Explaining how things operated in his own home, Luther comments, “Whenever Katie [Luther’s wife] gets saucy, she gets nothing but a box on the ear.”13 Calvin emphasized the importance of compatibility in marriage, but he also believed that men and women had specific, distinct roles, with men ordained by God to be dominant. Anyone who tried to circumvent these roles was acting against God and against God’s plan for life. This understanding of women as under absolute male authority indicates a theology of ownership in operation. Whoever has responsibility for the woman must train her, and she should not revolt against this training. Such a theology reaches its logical conclusion in the following advice that Calvin offered to a woman who sought refuge from an abusive husband: We have a special sympathy for women who are evilly and roughly treated by their husbands, because of the roughness and captivity which is their lot. We do not find ourselves permitted by the Word of God, however, to advise a woman to leave her husband, except by force of necessity; and we do not understand this force to be operative when a husband behaves roughly and uses threats to his wife, not even when he beats her, but only when there is imminent peril to her life, whether from persecution by the husband or by his conspiring….… We exhort her to bear with patience the cross which God has seen fit to place upon her; and meanwhile not to deviate from the duty which she has before God to please her husband, but to be faithful whatever happens.14 Calvin clearly understood that men had authority over their wives and that this authority came from God. But Calvin went further than this. Men had authority not only over their wives but also over all women. Referring to Paul’s injunction that women must obey husbands, Calvin writes, Paul is not speaking of individual persons, nor of an individual household. Rather, he divides the human race into two parts….… Gender Issues in Ancient and Reformation Translations of Genesis 1–4 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). 13 Preserved Smith, The Life and Letters of Luther (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1911), 180. 14 “Letter from Calvin to an Unknown Woman,” June 4, 1559, Calvini Opera 17, col. 539, in The Register of the Company of Pastors of Geneva in the Time of Calvin, ed. P. E. Hughes (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1966), 344–45. Similarly, Calvin instructed a woman in prison that her duty to be faithful to God was more important than any physical or sexual abuse she might encounter. Letters of John Calvin, ed. Jules Bonnet, trans. Marcus Gilchrist (New York: Burt Franklin, 1972), 3:364–66. Although Calvin held that women, like men, were made in the image of God, he was clear that their earthly roles were different. For a discussion on gender hierarchy in Calvin’s theology, see Mary Potter, “Gender Equality and Gender Hierarchy in ­Calvin’s Theology,” Signs 11 (1986): 725–36.

128  A Theology of Ownership and Power Thus there is the male and the female. I say this for the benefit of any unmarried man, lest he at any time abandon his privilege by nature, namely that he is the head. Of whom? Of women, for we must not pay attention to this only within a household, but within the whole order that God has established in this world.15 In this, Calvin clearly reinforces a particular set of power relations as ordained by God. He sets men firmly atop the pyramid of power, saying that such a position is not just a privilege but also a God-given right. Given these beliefs, perhaps it comes as no surprise that when Calvin wrote about the rape of Tamar, he reinterpreted the event. But how? He assigned blame to Tamar, saying that she committed the graver wrong because she asked Ammon to marry her. With this request, according to Calvin, she showed readiness to engage perpetually in the sin of incest.16

Hagiographic Narratives of Ownership and Obedience: Dorothy of Montau and Catherine of Genoa Scriptural texts are not the only instruments that have served to justify violence against women and to reinforce unjust power arrangements to the faithful. Narratives often functioned in prescriptive ways, as cautionary tales or as model stories for the faithful on how to uphold holiness and live according to the precepts of God. Such narratives echoed Scripture and illustrated its lessons, promulgating a particular message that dominant systems of power were dictated by God. As such, they both reinforced a theology of ownership and power and provided models of that theology in action. Dorothy of Montau (1347–1394) lived in the fourteenth century, remarkable for tumultuous events such as floods and famine, horrendous wars (notably the Hundred Years’ War between France and ­E ngland and the Italian civic wars), the arrival of the Black Plague in 1347, and the Great Schism of 1378. The crisis in papal leadership proved to be a directing force in society, from international affairs to the lives and roles of certain medieval holy women, who stand out in

15 Calvin, Sermon 1 on I Corinthians 11:4–10, quoted in Margaret R. Miles, ­C arnal Knowing: Female Nakedness and Religious Meaning in the Christian West (New York: Vintage, 1991), 89. 16 Calvin drives these points home in two sermons he preached on the story; see John Calvin, Sermons on 2 Samuel, ed. Douglas F. Kelly (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 1992), 613–28, 629–43. Luther, at least, supports Tamar’s attempt to retain some semblance of life in her request to Ammon and thus shows some compassion. For an excellent discussion of Luther’s and Calvin’s attitudes toward rape in Scripture, see Michael Parsons, “Luther and Calvin on Rape: Is the Crime Lost in the Agenda?,” Evangelical Quarterly 74, no. 2 (2002): 123–42.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  129 the history of spirituality for their mystical experiences and intense devotion to the passion.17 The complexity of this era and of the split in the western church requires some explanation. The fourteenth century opened under the papacy of Boniface VIII (1294–1303), a controversial and widely disliked man. He succeeded Peter of the Morrone, a Calabrian hermit elected Celestine V.18 Boniface VIII proved to be Celestine’s opposite in temperament. Boniface was in such conflict with the French that the tensions he aggravated led to the papacy’s move to Avignon with Clement V in 1305 (Benedict XI having held office for one year, 1303–1304). B ­ oniface VIII instituted the custom of the Jubilee year, arranging the first one in 1300 and promising an indulgence to all repentant sinners who could make the journey to Rome.19 Pressures to return the papacy to Rome mounted in the 1360s and 1370s, and jubilees multiplied to attract pilgrims and funds. The holy women Birgitta of Sweden and Dorothy of Montau, among others, lent their voices to the effort. Rivalries produced conflicting elections in 1378 (both Urban VI and ­Clement VII), resulting in the Great Schism, with two popes ruling, one in Rome and the other in Avignon. The Schism split Europe—its kingdoms, ­universities, and religious orders—into two political camps until 1417, when the losing candidate, Pedro de Luna, was condemned at the Council of Constance. The successor to Urban VI in Rome was Boniface IX (1389–1404), who was noted for his overconcern with money. He held a Jubilee off schedule in 1390, at the height of the indulgence craze.20 The 1390 Jubilee brought Dorothy of Montau to Rome for the officialization of Birgitta of Sweden’s canonization, as well as for the Jubilee. Birgitta of Sweden, author of influential Revelations, founded a religious order in Rome, while Dorothy suffered an abusive marriage. Yet Dorothy and her biographer were profoundly influenced by Birgitta, her writings, and the effort to canonize her. 21 Birgitta’s remains passed 17 See Renate Blumenfield-Kazinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 1378–1417 (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006). Richard Kieckhefer, Unquiet Souls: Fourteenth-Century Saints and Their Religious Milieu (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 17–19, 55, 89–121; and Clarissa W. Atkinson, The Oldest Vocation: Christian Motherhood in the Middle Ages (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991) 164–193. 18 On Celestine V, consult the carefully researched works by George Ferzoco, including, “Church and Sanctity: The Hagiographical Dossier of Peter of Morrone” in ­M arie-Claude Déprez-Masson, ed., Normes et pouvoir à la fin du moyen âge. Actes du colloque ‹‹La recherche en études médiévales au Québec et en Ontario››. 16–17 mai 1989—Montréal. (Montréal: Ceres (Inedita & Rara, 7), 1990), 53–69; and the text of an interview on National Public Radio: http//www.npr.org/2013/02/26/ 172890937/the-hermit-pope-who-set-the-precedent-for-benedict-xvi. 19 Herbert Kessler and Johanna Zacharias, Rome 1300: On the Path of the Pilgrim (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000). 20 Nicholas Cheetham, Keepers of the Keys: The Pope in History (London: MacDonald, 1982). 21 See the outstanding monograph by Claire L. Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden and the Voice of Prophecy (Woodbridge, Suffolk; Rochester, NY: Boydell Press, 2001).

130  A Theology of Ownership and Power through Dorothy’s home city of Danzig (Gdansk) in 1390, en route from Rome to Sweden. A midwinter delay left Birgitta’s casket resting in the church where Dorothy prayed each day. Birgitta’s daughter, Catherine, preached extensively to promote her mother’s reputation, and Dorothy must have heard her. Again in 1393, a Birgittine delegation crossed Danzig en route to Rome, this time to the canonization ceremony. And Dorothy herself took the road to Rome that year for the Jubilee. In 1392, nuns of the Birgittine Order began negotiations for a daughter house in Gdansk, established a year after Dorothy’s death. Finally, John Marienwerder edited a volume of Birgitta’s works. 22 Born in 1347, Dorothy (at the age of seventeen) began a marriage that lasted thirty years, the last ten of which were lived in sexual abstinence. Dorothy and her husband, Adalbert, a weaponsmith in Danzig, had nine children, only one of whom survived infancy. Dorothy undertook a series of pilgrimages in 1382, accompanied begrudgingly by Adalbert until ill health prevented him from further travel. Adalbert died while Dorothy was in Rome for the Jubilee year of 1390. She then sought the advice of John Marienwerder and, with his approval, became an anchoress attached to the cathedral at Marienwerder for the last year of her life (May  2, 1393–June 25, 1394). There, she recounted her revelations to John, who composed four vitae and other works within a decade after her death, intending to promote her canonization as Prussia’s first native saint.23 According to Marienwerder’s account, Dorothy’s life from her early years was marked by various signs of holiness. He links holiness and physical harm in a number of ways. Dorothy underwent an early spiritual experience provoked by scalding water, and she grew to practice

22 Ute Stargardt, “Male Clerical Authority in the Spiritual (Auto)biographies of ­Medieval Holy Women,” in Women as Protagonists and Poets in the German ­M iddle Ages: An Anthology of Feminist Approaches to Middle High German Literature, ed. Albrecht Classen, Goppinger Arbeiten zur Germanistik 528 (Goppingen: Kummerle, 1991), 224–25. 23 The canonization procedure, begun swiftly, was relinquished in 1525, and she was beatified only in 1976. The various versions of Dorothy’s vita and her biography are discussed by Dyan Elliott in “Authorizing a Life: The Collaboration of Dorothea of Montau and John Marienwerder,” in Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters, ed. Catherine M. Mooney (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), 170–72; Stargardt, “Male Clerical Authority,” 209–38; Kieckhefer, Unquiet Souls, 205; “Dorothée de Montau,” in Dictionnaire de spiritualité, ed. Hans Westpfahl (Paris: Beauchesne, 1957), 3:1664–68; and Vita Dorotheae Montoviensis magistri Johannis Marienwerder, ed. H. Westpfahl (Graz, Austria: Böhlau, 1964), 1–11. Stargardt, 214, provides useful political background on the Prussian motives for the canonization. References in this chapter are from the socalled Vita Lindana, having been studied by A. A. de Linda, in AA.SS. Oct., XIII, 499–560. We are grateful to Cynthia Col for summarizing Hans Westpfahl’s German introduction and table of the events in Dorothy’s life. Dorothy was beatified but not canonized, although proceedings took place from 1396 to 1404. Her beatification was opposed during the Reformation (“Dorothée de Montau,” 1667–68).

A Theology of Ownership and Power  131 severe ascetic measures. She undertook works of charity, pilgrimages, and daily confession and communion. She had endured much suffering through her husband’s cruel and violent treatment. 24 Adalbert resented Dorothy’s religious activities, whether ecstasies, ascetic practices, or pilgrimages, because they resulted in a lack of attention to him and to her household chores. Angered on one occasion by Dorothy’s absence from the house and from the marriage bed, Adalbert threatened to chain her in the house for three days and promptly followed his threat with action. 25 Interpreting her silent reaction to confinement as impudent or rebellious, the husband picked up a chair and struck her forcefully on the head. 26 Two other instances of Adalbert’s violence concern household chores. In one case, Dorothy was so absorbed in her contemplation that she failed to prepare dinner—fresh fish—at the appropriate hour. Adalbert hit her in the mouth so hard that her teeth nearly pierced her upper lip, which swelled and disfigured her face. 27 In the second case, when Dorothy forgot to buy straw, her enraged husband punched her so hard in the chest that blood was drawn, and Dorothy spit it out for days in her saliva. 28 The biographer does not directly denounce Adalbert’s battering, but his voice may be heard in a passage where the confessors of Dorothy and Adalbert intervene. After Adalbert punched Dorothy repeatedly in the chest, the confessors approached the husband “in agreement” (concorditer), for the purpose of bringing him to contrition. 29 They reproached 24 Kieckhefer, Unquiet Souls, 22–33, comments on three aspects of Dorothy’s piety; asceticism, pilgrimages, and mystical experiences. Dyan Elliott discusses her severe ascetic practices, including piercing her feet with needles and burning her breasts, in Spiritual Marriage, 230–31; and her abstinence and scrupulosity on 171–75. ­Dorothy’s revelations aroused suspicions of heresy, possibly related to the Free Spirit Movement; these are discussed by Stargardt, “Male Clerical Authority,” 226; and Elliott, “Authorizing a Life,” 186–87, 254n110. 25 Vita B. Dorotheae Lindana, AASS, 13 (October): 514: “‘Nisi, inquit comminando, discursus tuos omiseris, diligentiamque domui tuae adhibueris, te compescam vinculis et catenis.’ Qui victus inconsulto iracundiæ calore, per triduum in domo sua catenis venerabilem hanc constrixit.” 26 Ibid.: “Unde maritus ejus patientiam sanctam hujus mulieris et silentium pacificum bene existimans rebellionem seu proterviam, venerandam illam valide ad caput suum percussit cum una sede.” 27 Ibid., 523: Vir ejus impatiens, quamquam hæc beata mulier diligeret eum, et sedulo pro eo devotissime oraret, imo rigorem et verbera ejus patienter toleraret, ipso ad mulieris benignitatem non attendente, percussit os ejus tam valide, ut superiora oris ejus labia quasi per dentes penetrata, versaque in tumorem ipsam notabiliter deformabant. 28 Ibid.: “ad quam vir ejus furibundus accedens, pectus ejus pugnis validis percutiens, cruorem extraxit, qui multis sequentibus diebus cum saliva ejectus apparuit.” 29 The hagiographer recounts that the confessors went to the husband after “hearing about the event from others” (“Confessores tamen amborum casum ab aliis audientes,” ibid., 523–24), who are not identified. Clearly, they did not hear from

132  A Theology of Ownership and Power him strongly about what the hagiographer calls “his wicked cruelty.”30 Rebuking the battering husband, they said, What have you done? Inflamed by quick fury, you have struck excessively a woman devoted to God, totally caught up in God’s love and not having power over her own body because of the bonds of charity (her love of God). 31 Note that they do not speak against striking but against excessive striking of a woman in mystical prayer. The confessors reportedly uttered these and “many other things” out of zeal to correct the husband.32 Adalbert’s will was broken, and subsequently he fell into serious illness. Although his physical violence toward Dorothy apparently subsided, he continued to exert control over her during his illness. He wanted the ministrations of no one but his wife, and she cared for him day and night, often going without sleep. Although Dorothy’s biographer brings to light this clerical concern about abuse, it was not the unanimous sentiment of contemporary clergy. The testimony of witnesses reveals that two priests threatened to burn Dorothy. This is probably due to her unpopularity among local husbands who feared that Dorothy’s piety would influence their wives to disobedient absence from the household. One angry husband denounced her as a heretic. Church officials in Danzig brought heresy charges against ­Dorothy in 1391, accusing her of disruptive behavior during Mass. Because of her ecstasies, she sometimes would not rise when the host was elevated, which put her under suspicion for not respecting the sacrament. 33 Dorothy’s sanctity survived the heresy charges. How did she react to Adalbert’s battering? According to Marienwerder, Dorothy accepted the episodes of battering patiently, silently, and even joyously. The hagiographer underscores the battering episodes by commenting on his heroine’s acceptance of suffering at the hands of her spouse. Dorothy endures her chaining “armed with the shield of patience,” her biographer tells us.34 She undergoes blows and disgrace without a murmur or Dorothy, at least according to her biographer, for he states, “And she uttered nothing of murmur or complaint to others about these things” (“nec quicquam murmuris ac querimoniæ de his ad alios deducebat,” ibid., 523). 30 Ibid., 524: “concorditer pro contritione facienda virum accesserunt, fortiter super sua improba crudelitate eum arguerunt.” 31 Ibid.: “‘Ecquid egisti? Mulierem Deo devotam, ejus amore totaliter raptam, nec sui corporis potestatem habentem propter vincula charitatis, percussisti excessive, furore rapido inflammatus.’” 32 Ibid.: “Hæc et multa alia zelo correctiones objecerunt.” 33 On the suspicions of heresy that Dorothy’s revelations aroused, possibly related to the Free Spirit Movement, see Stargardt, “Male Clerical Authority,” 226; ­Elliott, “Authorizing a Life,” 186–87, 254n110; and Elliott, Spiritual Marriage, 259–60nn250–53. 34 Vita B. Dorotheae Lindana, 514: “Quæ armata clypeo patientiæ, ictus furoris et opprobria, postpositis omni murmure et querimonia, sustinuit patienter.” Cf. Eph. 6:11–17 and Ps. 17:36.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  133 a complaint, conduct described by the hagiographer as “holy patience and peace-making silence.”35 We recall Augustine’s mother Monica’s strategy of keeping silent to avoid beatings. Silence did not protect Dorothy, but perhaps it did prevent more severe violence or offered one of the few available paths of resistance. Marienwerder portrays his heroine as embracing suffering with sweetness and joy. It brings her inner consolation from God that is sweeter than any transitory sweetness, he explains.36 After being punched in the mouth, the holy woman laughs, an act interpreted as a sign of her joyous heart, and then she hastens mildly and joyously to boil the fish for dinner. Unidentified witnesses reportedly marvel at her patience, joy, goodwill, and even temper. Before the blows she receives in the chest, Dorothy again remains silent, and her biographer reports that she endured these things joyously.37 Faced with her husband’s insistence on her service during his illness, Dorothy ministers to him faithfully and loves him “out of love for God.”38 As with Monica, marriage appears as a microcosm of the divine order: service to the husband grows from and demonstrates service to God. Still, there is tension visible even in the text of Dorothy’s life. In one well-known episode, Dorothy and Adalbert arrive at a pilgrims’ hospice, but Dorothy, in a state of communion with God, refuses to step down from the cart. She weighs God’s will against her husband’s and for a while places God’s first. When her husband begins to rage against her disobedience, Dorothy appeals to Jesus to help her make a decision. She receives the message that she should obey her husband’s command. Marienwerder sums up the moral of the episode by asserting the primacy of obedience in marriage, even in the face of abuse: And so it was necessary for her to leave the Lord’s soft conversation and gentle consolation, and to follow her husband and faithfully serve him. She endured harsh words and blows in his service on account of the good of obedience, by which she was bound to her husband, because obedience is better than sacrifices (1 Samuel 15.22). 39 The contrast between Dorothy’s gentle discourse with Christ and her harsh married life is striking. Yet, for her biographer, the bond of 35 Ibid., 514: “ejus patientiam sanctam hujus mulieris et silentium pacificum.” 36 Ibid., 514: “Quæ utrumque gaudenter amplectens et dulciter sufferens, ob hoc tunc internam a Domino habuit consolationem, omni dulcore transitorio suaviorem.” 37 Ibid., 523: “sed hilariter sustinebat.” 38 Ibid., 524: “nullius desideravit habere ministerium, nisi solius suæ conjugis, sibi fideliter, quantum valuit, obsequentis. Ipsa maritum diligens ex amore Dei, die noctuque sollicita fuit pro marito, noctes insomnes ducendo, et viro fideliter ministrando.” 39 Ibid., 3.14, 132: “Et ita oportuit eam sepe Dominum suaviter loquentem ac blande consolantem delinquere, maritum vero sequi, et ei fideliter minsitrare duraque in eius ministerio verba et verbera sustinere propter bonum obediencie, qua erat alligata viro suo, quia melior est obediencia quam victima.”

134  A Theology of Ownership and Power marriage clearly subordinates the wife, and compliance to it surpasses even sacrifice as a mode of piety. Dorothy’s biographer goes beyond Augustine’s linking of obedience and the supposed absence of abuse. Marienwerder justifies obedience in the face of clear abuse and glorifies the pain that allows his heroine to imitate the passion of Christ. Marienwerder was following contemporary standards of piety in order to promote canonization and to gain personal recognition.40 What we know about the world of fourteenth-century piety would indicate that the exaltation of suffering received popular esteem. One scholar even suggests that Marienwerder demonized ­Adalbert to further sanctify his female protagonist.41 Whether Dorothy saw her suffering at the hands of her spouse as an avenue for sanctity, as her biographer presented it, is something the text does not tell us. It is clear, however, that she was determined to pursue a path to holiness in spite of Adalbert.

Catherine of Genoa André Vauchez greatly enhanced and carefully documented our understanding of the phenomenon of communal saints in Italy, as we discussed in the preceding chapter. Donald Weinstein and Rudolph Bell had earlier described the thirteenth through sixteenth centuries as an era of urban Italian saints, when civic and ecclesiastical authorities promoted their local exemplars.42 Catherine of Genoa’s life (1447–1510) unfolds against the background of fifteenth-century Italy’s feuds among powerful families. Her father was from the Fieschi family, which included two popes and the viceroy to René of Anjou, king of Naples. Born in 1447, Catherine desired to enter the religious life when she was thirteen, but she was refused because of her young age. After her father’s death, she reached the marriageable age of sixteen, and her family arranged her marriage to Giuliano Adorno in the hopes of solidifying peace between the two families. The family counted on Catherine’s obedience, but she was crushed by the thought of the marriage, which represented to her what her biographer calls a “heavy cross.” She nonetheless complied with her family’s wishes and married Giuliano, which caused her ten years of serious depression. She spent five years in near isolation while her husband mistreated her, gambled, and pursued other women. After those ten years of depression, 40 Elliott, “Authorizing a Life,” passim. 41 Stargardt, “Male Clerical Authority,” 227, 231–32. Stargardt relies primarily on the German life. 42 Donald Weinstein and Rudolph M. Bell, Saints and Society: The Two Worlds of Western Christendom, 1000–1700 (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1982), 168, 176–79.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  135 Catherine underwent an intense spiritual experience, received after an appeal to St. Benedict. Although she would never realize her desire to enter the religious life, she displayed various marks of holiness as a layperson. She undertook extensive fasts, practiced self-mortification, demonstrated great scrupulosity and devotion to the Eucharist, and dedicated her services to the sick in hospitals. After Giuliano’s bankruptcy, he was persuaded to accept chastity in the marriage and to join Catherine in her hospital work. He also became a Franciscan tertiary. Giuliano and Catherine moved near the hospital and then into two rooms within it, where he contracted an illness that led to his death. (The plague had struck Genoa in 1493.) After Giuliano’s death, Catherine ceased her fasting and accepted a spiritual director and confessor, who recorded events of her life and her mystical insights. She was beatified in 1675 and canonized on April 30, 1737.43 Catherine’s biography remains somewhat vague about her husband’s behavior. The author describes Giuliano as of “harsh and disquieting mind,” given to “sport, sensual pleasure and arrogance.”44 She has no recourse against Giuliano’s behavior, the author says, for whether she struggled against him or changed herself to please him, she would attain nothing but insults and reproaches. Catherine withdrew from human company and conversation, and she was so consumed with distress that she looked emaciated and deprived of her senses.45 Other oblique references are made to Giuliano’s “disordered ways,” his insults and anger, the harshness of his disposition, and his prodigal tendencies. Because of his “bothersome nature,” Catherine is said to have avoided every occasion in which her husband might be disturbed, an echo of Monica’s skill at pacifying the irascible Patricius, father of Augustine.46 The effects of

43 Vita, anonymous author, AASS, September 15, 152: “qui in hisce nuptiis gravissimam illi crucem præparaverat.” Biographical material on Catherine is given in Elliott, Spiritual Marriage, 223, 243, 255–56; Catherine of Genoa, Purgation and Purgatory: The Spiritual Dialogue, trans. Serge Hughes, Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1979). See also Marcel Viller and Umile da Genova, “Catherine de Gênes,” in Dictionnaire de spiritualité, vol. 2 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1953), 290–325; Weinstein and Bell, Saints and Society, 95–96. On Catherine and the redaction of her works, including the Vita, first published in 1551, see Dictionnaire de spiritualité, 2:294. On Catherine’s fasting and food metaphors, see Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1987), 182–85. 44 Vita, 152: “Erat is ingenio aspero et irrequieto, studens placere seculo, cœtus hominum frequentare ambiens, totusque ludo, voluptatibus fastuique deditus.” 45 Ibid.: “eam tamen de die in diem consumpserunt adeo, ut, præterquam quod eam notabiliter macie confecerint, eo etiam redegerint, ut sui similis amplius non appareret, tamquam si sensibus fuisset orbata.” 46 Ibid.: “inordinatos mariti mores.” Vita, 166: “indolis ejus asperitatem.” Vita,166: “studebatque iracundiam ejus restinguere modo verbis pleni humilitate ac dulcedine,

136  A Theology of Ownership and Power Giuliano’s behavior on Catherine emerge clearly. She experiences sorrow, loss of sleep and appetite, and profound distress, clear indications of emotional and psychological, if not physical, abuse. Nonetheless, the biographer gives no moral assessment of the husband’s wickedness. ­Giuliano is never directly reproached for his conduct, nor does he ever actually admit that it is wrong. Catherine’s biography emphasizes her obedience at important steps in her life: her conduct as a child, her disappointment at being refused entrance to the convent, and her distress at her family’s decision to arrange a marriage. Catherine’s biographer reports that, “instructed by God in the school of perfection… she made stupendous progress in the practice of blind obedience towards her parents and the observation of severe silence, abstaining from every word that was not from God.”47 Schooling in obedience and silence prepares Catherine for an eventual abusive marriage. Her biographer describes her subjection and patience at the moment she learns that she must marry: She carried out what was customary in accordance with their will, so that she not allow anything contrary to the reverence towards her elders and to the subjection with which she had been brought up. She recognized the plan of the Most High in her, who in this marriage had prepared a very heavy cross for her. It was necessary that she, burdened with it, follow in the footsteps of her divine Redeemer.48 Thus, the hagiographer compares Catherine’s suffering directly to Christ’s passion, and he associates the marriage and its abuse with God’s will. Moreover, Catherine’s marriage, in her biographer’s eyes, freed her from love of the world, and Catherine’s charity was purified by “long-lasting afflictions which God allowed that she endure from her own husband.”49 For the biographer, obedience is the one holy solution to her plight: “Earnestly she obeyed him in all matters, however arduous

modo taciturnitate; atque ab omni vel minima querela abstinens, perferebat molestum ipsius ingenium, evitans omnem, qua turbaretur, occasionem.” 47 Ibid., 150: “adeo ut in schola perfectionis a Deo instructa brevi stupendos fecerit progressus in exercitio cæcæ erga parentes obedientiæ, et severi silentii observatione, abstinens omni sermone, qui de Deo non esset.” 48 Ibid., 152: “ne quid tamen reverentiæ erga majores suos, subjectioneque, quacum fuerat enutrita, contrarium admitteret, patienter eorum voluntati morem gessit, agnoscens in ipsa Altissimi consilium, qui in hisce nuptiis gravissimam illi crucem præparaverat, qua onustam divini Redemptoris sui vestigia sequi oporteret.” Note that the English translation we consulted differs from the Latin and tones down the suffering that the husband causes. The Life of Catherine of Genoa (Washington, DC:: Catholic Publication Society, 1874). Hence we cite the Latin text. 49 Vita, 166: “multo magis fuerit emundata inter diuturnas afflictiones, quas Deo ita permittente, a proprio marito sustinuit.”

A Theology of Ownership and Power  137 and difficult, so long as her own conscience did not resist.” Although the latter statement implies that there is some limit to a wife’s obedience to a husband—that is, the violation of her own conscience—the narrative does not include an event that puts this limit to the test. In contrast, Godelieve did not heed her own reservations about going to the sorceress. She obeyed her husband’s order and consequently met her death. 50 Responsibility for Giuliano’s conversion falls squarely on Catherine, just as Patricius’s conversion was laid on Monica. As Monica was, so is Catherine the child of her parents and then the wife of her husband. 51 Catherine’s biographer identifies her role and sanctifies it when he asserts, Clearly any sort of change in Giuliano, observed in him for a period of time, cannot be ascribed to another thing than the meekness and holiness of Catherine, who continuously was a strong and sweet stimulus for changing his behavior. 52 The husband has ownership of Catherine, as Patricius did of Monica more than ten centuries earlier, yet Catherine bears responsibility for his character. Moreover, had he not converted, her meekness and holiness would have to have been judged deficient. If Catherine’s suffering is part of God’s plan to bring about Giuliano’s conversion, then the text implies that the suffering itself is justified. Thus, the hagiographer’s theological overlay in Catherine’s vita bases itself on the implicit ownership of wives by their husbands. The husband’s rule requires her obedience and justifies her suffering. Like Monica and Dorothy, Catherine brings about the spiritual reward of her husband’s conversion. Catherine’s hagiographer does not foreground the abuse. He allows a glimpse of the heavy physical and emotional toll that Giuliano’s abuse took on her. Frustrated in her attempt to enter the religious life, Catherine succeeds, even despite the abuse her husband inflicts, in leading a life of service to the poor and sick. Both Dorothy and Catherine believed that obedience in the face of violence from a spouse was a necessary part of a path toward holiness because of the role God gave men in marriage. Women were bound to men, incontrovertibly. No one disabused them of these ideas, and 50 Godelieve says that she consented to her husband’s wish that she meet with the go-between provided that it could “be done without any involvement of wrongdoing” (“‘Famula Domini sum; ipsi omnia mea committo.’ ‘Attamen si sine aliqua ammixtione sceleris id valet fieri, concedo.’”), in Vita sanctae Godeliph, 134–35. 51 “Educata itaque pudice ac sobrie potiusque a te subdita parentibus quam a parentibus tibi, ubi plenis annis nubilis facta est, tradita uiro seruiuit ueluti domino.” Augustine, Confessiones, 2:225. 52 Vita,166: “Nec sane omnimoda Juliani immutatio, lapsu temporis in eo observata, alteri adscribi potest, quam Catharinæ mansuetudini ac sanctimoniæ, quæ continuo fortis ac suavis fuit stimulus ad morum ejus commutationem.”

138  A Theology of Ownership and Power though they were embedded in religious life and the church, no religious leader intervened to fully condemn and prevent the violence they experienced. Dorothy’s husband is never held fully accountable for his actions, and Catherine’s husband is never condemned. Male privilege, even to the point of abusing a spouse in marriage, was held sacrosanct. The women are held up as models of holiness because their obedience in the face of violence reinforces the divine order, whereas husbands have ultimate power and ownership of their wives. Moreover, Dorothy’s and ­Catherine’s behavior was deemed exemplary to the point that both were beatified. What better way to convey women’s and men’s roles to listeners than to have an abused woman patiently suffer and refuse to go against her husband’s God-given rights and then to make her a saint? Her life then becomes a sacred text, like Scripture, that teaches a theology of ownership to all who know it.

Theologies of Ownership and Power in the New World: The Jesuits in “New France” Unlike Dorothy and Catherine, the women of the Montagnais nation in New France, an area of Quebec, felt a great deal of freedom in marriage. Although the social and political activities of women and men were very different, the relationships between women and men in marriage were fairly egalitarian.53 Women were members of the society by right of birth, independent of husbands, fathers, or other men. Men did not exercise authority over wives or daughters, either because they were uninterested in doing this or because they were incapable of doing so. Women or men could end marriages at will, and being married did not preclude one’s having sex with other people; both men and women did so without repercussion. All people in the group had personal power. 54 In addition, the Montagnais had their own account of creation and ­believed in a 53 Women who were unmarried and women without children had lower status in the group, taking no part in the management of the group’s affairs. See ibid., 220. For a more thorough discussion of the Jesuits’ encounter with the Montagnais, see Nancy E. Nienhuis, “Taming ‘‘Wild Ass-Colts’’: An Analysis of Theology as a Kyriarchal Weapon of Spiritual and Physical Violence,” Journal of Feminist Studies in ­Religion, Spring 2009. 54 Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 562. Although Anderson regards the ­Montagnais women as having relatively high status, not all scholars agree. For a more critical view of the role of women among the Montagnais, see Katherine E. Lawn and Claudio R. Salvucci, eds., Women in New France: Extracts from the Jesuit Relations (Bristol, PA:A Evolution, 2005). The Montagnais were part of the Algonquin, the broad name LeJeune used for all the peoples living along the Ottawa River. On this point, see LeJeune, Quebec Relations, 62. Algonquin was also the name of the language spoken by many of these groups, including the Montagnais. See Peter A. Goddard, “Augustine and the Amerindian in Seventeenth-Century New France,” Church History 67, no. 4 (1998): 672.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  139 s­ upreme being, although they had no word for sin in their language.55 This all changed when the Jesuits moved in among them. The Jesuits’ mission had its origins both in empire and in faith. It was Samuel de Champlain who first arrived in 1603 in New France, as this area of Quebec where the Jesuits worked came to be called, choosing his location on the basis of its potential for strategic military alliances with local inhabitants. Champlain identified the Montagnais people as one of two area groups with the most potential as trading partners, and he offered them military aid as a way to “encourage these groups to trade with the French, and in the process to convert them and make them into French allies.”56 The Jesuits left a remarkable account of their years among the indigenous peoples of New France. Begun by Paul LeJeune in 1632, The Relations, as the diaries were called, span forty-one years, with the last one published in 1673.57 The Jesuits’ journals and letters share many characteristics common across missions and missionaries. As Mrinalini Sebastian points out, such documents “generally contain narratives that exemplify the certitude of the writer in the Christian faith and also his (or sometimes her) conviction in the superiority of the Christian way of life.”58 This is certainly true for The Relations, and as is the case for most such texts, the voices of indigenous women were rarely, if ever, heard.59 What the documents do provide is an intimate glimpse into

55 See LeJeune, Quebec Relations, 54–55, for a description of the Montagnais’ beliefs, and 124 for the lack of a word for sin. 56 Karen Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs: Images of Huron and Montagnais-­ Naskapi Women in the Writings of the Seventeenth-century Jesuits,” Canadian ­Review of Sociology and Anthropology 25, no. 4 (1988): 563. 57 LeJeune served as the superior of the Jesuits in New France from 1632 to 1639. After arriving in 1632, LeJeune sent a letter to Rev. Fr. Barthelemy Jacquinot, provincial of Paris, recounting his arduous journey to New France and his first encounter with native people. The letter was 216 pages long, and Fr. Jacquinot published it immediately. From that point on, the Jesuits’ life “relations” in New France were documented in annual letters, all of which were published as The Relations, forty-­ one reports in all from 1632 to 1673. LeJeune wrote the first eleven reports and four subsequent reports, and he contributed to all of them. The documents inspired French at home to contribute to the cause, thereby sustaining the Jesuits’ costly mission. The Relations also inspired women to become missionary apostolates. The Ursulines and Hospitallers arrived in Quebec in 1639, the first time “cloistered nuns had crossed seas to carry out an apostolic mission.” See Lēon Pouilot, “Paul ­L eJeune,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio Printable.asp?BioId=34488, p. 18. 58 See Mrinalini Sebastian, “Reading Archives from a Postcolonial Feminist Perspective: ‘Native’ Bible Women and the Missionary Ideal,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 19, no. 1(2003): 6. 59 One has to approach The Relations with a strong hermeneutic of suspicion. The Jesuits were “reading” the Montagnais through a particular cultural and religious lens. It is likely that none of their descriptions accurately reflect life among the ­Montagnais people.

140  A Theology of Ownership and Power how the Jesuits brought a theology of ownership and power to bear upon the Montagnais and the devastating results. In LeJeune’s chronicling of the Montagnais’ virtues, he noted the following: they had no ambition or avarice; they never got angry with each other, in order to “avoid the bitterness caused by anger”; they had great patience and endured severe hardships without complaint (“The native people surpass us to such an extent in this category that we ought to be ashamed”); and they had strong attachments to each other (“You do not see any disputes, quarrels, enmities, or reproaches among them”) (158). As an example of their lack of tension with each other, LeJeune notes that the women arranged the households and were free to act as they wished within them, without their husbands ever “interfering with them” (159).60 After this list of positive traits, LeJeune comments, “And yet I would not dare to assert that I have seen one act of real moral virtue in a native. They have nothing but their own pleasure and self-satisfaction in view” (160–61). For LeJeune, unless one’s action was done with God and Christ in mind, it could not be a moral action, regardless of how positive it was. And although LeJeune understood that the Montagnais were a spiritual people with a belief in a supreme being, any faith not his own was an abomination (54–55). For the Jesuits, submission to authority, order, and control was paramount, particularly when it came to marriage. They carried this mindset into their understanding of the process of conversion. For them, conversion meant rigorous adherence to a strict set of dogmatic principles, practices, and beliefs, “with the goal of acceptance of the authority of others over the individual, rigid moral practices and closely controlled and interpreted feelings and emotions.”61 In these beliefs, the Jesuits were products of their time and their theology. It is important to keep in mind that the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were a time when thousands of women were accused of witchcraft and killed in France (and elsewhere). The 1486 Malleus Mallificarum, the guidebook for those hunting witches, utilized misogynist segments of church doctrine and writings to “explain” why it was that women were particularly vulnerable to the evils of witchcraft. LeJeune and his fellow Jesuits were heavily influenced both by this context and by the manual for confessors that Jean Benedicti published in 1584, which contained misogynist ideas about women’s moral being. LeJeune and his fellow Jesuits clearly adopted Benedicti’s understanding of male and female natures, for the themes of women’s obedience and sexuality figure prominently in The Relations when women are 60 Anderson notes that such egalitarian behaviors within marriage would be particularly problematic to the Jesuits as they were “contrary to seventeenth-century Catholic concepts of the nature of women and men and therefore an impediment to the establishment of Christian marriages.” See “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 561. 61 Ibid., 563.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  141 discussed. Women who were not submissive to men, women who were free and independent, came under harsh criticism from LeJeune and his colleagues. In addition to referring to such women as “wild ass-colts,” the Jesuits deemed them “haughty,” “rough,” “arrogant,” “overbearing,” and “firebrands of hell,” among other things. In contrast, virtuous women were submissive women, controlled by their husbands and fathers.62 Virtuous women were obedient. LeJeune complains elsewhere in The Relations that, moreover, it was impossible “to hold the women to the marriages,” which were “no more than a conditional promise to live together ‘so long as each shall continue to render the service that they mutually expect from each other.’”63 The theology maintained by the Jesuits held that wives had to be obedient to husbands and husbands should have absolute power over them. It was the Jesuits’ intent to convert the Montagnais and other peoples of New France to Catholicism and transform them into “a loyal, Catholic Frenchified citizenry, willing and able to defend their Catholicism (and the interests of the French state, as long as the two coincided) against the incursion of Protestant Dutch and English rivals” who were also in that general area of Quebec.64 For LeJeune, only through conversion could the Montagnais be virtuous people, but conversion meant a radical reorganization of the group and its relationships. As Anderson notes so aptly, If the devil was to be driven from New France, if the souls of the ‘savages’ of the country were to be saved, if Catholicism and the true ‘faith’ were to be victorious, then women would have to be made to submit to men. Christian society could not be called into being on any other basis.65 The Montagnais were a nomadic people, an obstacle to their conversion by the Jesuits, but for those whom the Jesuits did convert, life became quite different. This may be evidenced most clearly in the changes that took place between women and men in marriage and in the treatment of children. Where there had been no violence toward women before, Christian husbands now beat their wives if they were not submissive. One segment of The Relations recounts how a native man, a convert, asked the Jesuits’ forgiveness for beating his wife (she had ignored his request that she attend mass with him because she hadn’t heard him). The 62 This idea of the inferior nature of women was so strong that when the Jesuits wrote about the love and service the Hospitaller and Ursuline nuns gave to native people, they commented that since such constancy was not part of women’s nature, it came from Jesus, who had imbued them with his (male) spirit. And when native women acted in extraordinary ways, the Jesuits explained that their female natures had been overcome. See Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 573. 63 Ibid., 565, quoting LeJeune. 64 Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 561. 65 Anderson, Chain Her by One Foot, 67.

142  A Theology of Ownership and Power Jesuit praises the woman to his readers, writing, “For fear of offending him, she had preferred to appear guilty, rather than to excuse herself.”66 If women ran away from husbands in this new social and religious order, they could be chained, beaten, imprisoned, or starved. Women were blamed for their husbands’ anger and encouraged to be submissive in all things. Women who “spoke to suitors against their parents’ wishes were beaten; disobedient children were likewise chastised and beaten.”67 For the Jesuits, all of these developments were indicative of the people’s enhanced morality and virtue. LeJeune comments that such acts of justice cause no surprise in France, because there it is usual to proceed in that manner. But among these people… where everyone considers himself as free as the wild animals that roam in their great forests… it is a marvel or rather a miracle, to see a preemptory command obeyed or any act of severity or justice performed.68 A theology of obedience had been embedded into Montagnais life, with devastating results. From individual freedom and egalitarian relations to a sexual hierarchy dominated by men; from an atmosphere where no one raised a hand to anyone and never a harsh word was spoken between them to one in which the beating of women was a suitable tool to evoke submission; from a community where violence toward children was so abhorred that a native person would sacrifice himself to prevent such beatings to one where beating children was acceptable and expected for their own moral good; in short, from a society of peace and friendship to one in which hierarchical domination and violence were institutionalized and moralized, wherein ­“seventeenth-century Christian doctrine, as interpreted by the Jesuits, became the accepted authority in establishing definitions of men, women, their natures and interrelations.”69 The women in particular—those wild ass-colts—had been transformed. As the Jesuits put it so poignantly, the native women, “formerly proud and free,” had become “as gentle as little lambs,” and the Jesuits considered their project successful as a result.70

Theologies of Ownership and Power in the New World: Enslavement of Africans As the Jesuits brought European thinking and theology to the Montagnais and elsewhere, so the English colonists brought models for family 66 LeJeune, quoted in Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 569. 67 Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 574–75. See also Anderson, Chain Her by One Foot, 4–5, 192–223. 68 LeJeune, quoted in Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 575. 69 Anderson, “As Gentle as Little Lambs,” 575. 70 Quoted in ibid., 562.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  143 law from England to America. Frances Dolan’s research on early modern England, which shed light on our discussion of obedience, also shows how clearly husbands held authority over wives who were considered their property. Henry VIII, husband to six wives, two of whom he sent to their deaths, served as the poster man for the Family Violence Prevention Council in 1987.71 Wives in the same historical setting were often charged with authority over slaves and servants. The diaries of Samuel Pepys and William Byrd note strife with their wives, and each records the wife’s corporal punishment of various servants and slaves in the household. Frances Dolan maintains that while the husband had the position of authority over his wife in particular and his entire family and household in general, women were frequently placed in positions of authority over children, servants, and slaves.72 This authority followed complex rules to support prevailing notions of gender and of class divisions: The gendered decorum of household chastisement was proposed so as to divide the labor of correction, limit turf battles between husbands and wives, and restrict the eroticism of the master-servant relation. But … it was impossible to maintain a sharp boundary between conjugal eroticism and the eroticized master-servant relations that surrounded, rivaled, and supported it. Furthermore, etiquette could not prevent constant squabbles between husbands and wives regarding the management and discipline of servants.73 Perhaps for the owner of enslaved humans, there was an “eroticized” relationship between master and slave. But this language seems exploitative. Surely, for the slave being sexually assaulted by the slave owner, the incident would be described with the language of terror, not eroticism. The language itself suggests blamelessness on the part of the assailant and potential culpability for the victim—as seductress. Parallel violence occurred in the New World, and those in power employed biblical texts to reinforce an order of power relations that justified elite men using power in any way they wished. For example, ethicist ­Katie Cannon points out how Christian apologists for slavery interpreted the story of Ham in Genesis 9:18–27 as a rationale for ­slavery.74 Ham saw his father, Noah, lying naked in his tent and told his brothers Shem and Japheth. Shem and Japheth took a blanket and went back into the tent to cover their father without seeing him naked. When 71 Dolan, Marriage and Violence, 132. 72 Dolan, Marriage and Violence, 132. 73 Dolan, 107. 74 See Katie Geneva Cannon, “Slave Ideology and Biblical Interpretation,” Semeia 47 (1989): 9–22.

144  A Theology of Ownership and Power Noah woke up and learned what had happened, he cursed Ham’s son Canaan and told Ham his children would be servants to his brothers’ children forever. Advocates for slavery used this to explain and justify its existence. But the apologists went further still, saying that since the Bible was infallible, clearly God had ordained this order of white supremacy and black enslavement; it was wrong for human beings to change it. Any rebellion against God’s order was rebellion against God. The employment of these texts to support racism parallels interpretations that reinforce sexism and justify violence against women. A focus only on gender or on race misses the way systems of power reinforce each other. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza and others have argued that unless one views patriarchy as a web of interlocking power systems that include race, class, and other systems of oppression, one will not fully understand how systems of power affected people in history or affect people now. The fictional Griselda is demeaned both as a woman and because she belonged to a lower class than that of the marquis. Two systems of power were brought together against her. The female slave suffered from a triple interpretation of the same argument for submission. Thus, when religious leaders want to justify violence against women, they can appeal to Scripture to reinforce sexism, racism, and other biases. The Scripture-based arguments for and against slavery in the U.S. demonstrate this dynamic. Those who used Scripture to oppose slavery tended to use larger biblical principles such as justice and mercy, rather than specific texts such as Gal. 3:28. Stephen Lennox explains that even antiabolitionists spend little time explaining it [this verse] away, content to assert that the verse is to be interpreted spiritually, not literally. After all, it not only speaks of slave and free, but also male and female. These divinely instituted gender distinctions were still clearly in effect, they asserted, so those between slave and free must be as well.75 Antiabolitionists arguably stripped the power from a text proclaiming equality to all by explaining it as relevant only for spiritual life and not for social arrangements. Theological imperialism, racism, and sexism came together to make possible—even inevitable—the living hell that life became for women enslaved in the U.S. Initially, Europeans in the slave trade justified enslavement as an opportunity for conversion. Katie Cannon describes this as follows: Strictly speaking, European expansionists who perpetrated ­human trafficking synchronized the Christian understanding of parousia— the quickly approaching, expected hope of the return of Christ as 75 Stephen J. Lennox, “‘One in Christ’: Galatians 3:28 and the Holiness Agenda,” Evangelical Quarterly 84, no. 3 (July 2012): 199.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  145 judge to terminate this world order—with the early church’s confession of a universal christophany, commonly referred to as “the great commission” based on Matthew 3. Thus, for three centuries the missiologic of imminent parousia served as the standard ­European false justification with vicious consequences for more than 12 ­million Africans who embarked on hellish voyages to the Americas in wretched, suffocating, demeaning conditions, shackled and chained as marketable commodities.76 Justification for capturing people in the slave trade with the intent of conversion, however opportunistic, still accorded humanity to those enslaved. They weren’t treated that way, surely, but one can convert only human beings, not animals. Theological racism came to play an important role in this process, because proslavery Christians in America stripped black people of their humanity in order to justify their inhumane treatment. As Cannon explains, this was accomplished in multiple ways. Laws were enacted that named black beings as property only; they were no longer human. Christian apologists for slavery also played an essential role. Cannon explains that “[c]entral to the whole hermeneutical approach was a rationalized biblical doctrine positing the innate and permanent inferiority of Blacks in the metonymical curse of Ham.”77 These apologists went on to defend slavery as the will of God. In a book called Bible Defense of Slavery, Josiah Priest wrote, The servitude of the race to Ham, to the latest era of mankind, is necessary to the veracity of God Himself, as by it is fulfilled one of the oldest of the decrees of the Scriptures, namely that of Noah, which placed the race as servants under other races.78 But apologists went even further, arguing that society was in danger if Africans were not caught and “tamed.” And of course, as Cannon points out, “the New Testament instruction that slaves should be obedient to their masters was interpreted as unqualified support for the modern institution of chattel slavery.”79 This use of Scripture to justify the abusive treatment of enslavement is eerily reminiscent of tactics used to justify violence against women. Male-­ centric and white-centric biblical interpretation reinforced and supported civil law. Slavery was seen as God-ordained and justified in Scripture, and efforts to fight it were described as going against the very will of God. 76 Katie G. Cannon, “Christian Imperialism and the Transatlantic Slave Trade,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 24, no. 1 (Spring 2008): 128–29. 77 Cannon, “Slave Ideology and Biblical Interpretation,” 11. 78 Josiah Priest, Bible Defense of Slavery, quoted in ibid., 12. 79 Cannon, “Slave Ideology and Biblical Interpretation,” 12.

146  A Theology of Ownership and Power Male-centric theology comes to bear on the particular ways in which enslaved women were treated. Used as “breeders” by white men, raped with impunity, and seeing their children sold away, women bore a horrible burden under the auspices of slavery. Abuse and violence were their daily station. They were owned, as men were, beaten, as men were, and killed, as men were, but the ownership of their bodies was abused in ways that tore at the core of who they could be as women. In fact, as Carolyn Roberts points out, the domestic sphere, in which so much sexual abuse occurred, “was shaped and formed through forced labor and the commodification of black bodies. And intimacy in many respects can’t be understood apart from coercion and violence.”80 Theirs was a world of violations both internal and external.81 So, while enslaved men were also sexually assaulted, by both white men and white women, the domain of the plantation home rendered enslaved women particularly vulnerable to such abuse.82 By totally dehumanizing Africans, justifying that behavior according to Scripture, and then further dehumanizing female and male Africans with the tools of sexism, whites attempted complete subjugation of enslaved people. Nonetheless, African women resisted violence in myriad ways. Their legacy can inspire modern movements against violence (which will be discussed further in the Conclusion). By understanding theological sexism, one comprehends the additional burden of abuse that enslaved women carried, a poignant reminder that violence against women can never be fully comprehended without understanding the systems of power that lie beyond and behind it. As Traci West points out, looking at only one system of power can mask the way others may be functioning. Women never experience one system at a time, “like a neat flow chart.”83 West points out that Scripture can be used to silence women with regard to the violence they experience and so be used both to promulgate violence and to resist its disclosure. Many survivors remain silent in part because they’ve internalized theological messages that demean women and hold them accountable for male action. They may feel great shame in response to abuse, believing that the abuse says something negative 80 Carolyn Roberts, communication to Nancy E. Nienhuis, August 10, 2015. 81 For numerous first-person accounts of sexual assault under slavery, see Traci C. West, Wounds of the Spirit: Black Women, Violence, and Resistance Ethics (New York: New York University Press, 1999), 16–29. For a discussion of abuse in plantation homes, see Thavolia Glymph, Out of the House of Bondage: The Transformation of the Plantation Household (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). See also Laura Edwards, “Women and Domestic Violence in Nineteenth-Century North Carolina,” in Lethal Imagination: Violence and Brutality in American History, ed. Michael A. Bellesiles (New York: New York University Press, 1999). 82 See Thomas Foster, “The Sexual Abuse of Black Men under American Slavery,” Journal of the History of Sexuality 20, no. 3 (2011): 445–64. 83 West, Wounds of the Spirit, 56.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  147 about them.84 Indeed, the biblical Tamar is described as “demoralized” in the aftermath of her assault. The fictional Griselda can express herself only in tears if she is to comport herself in a way acceptable to the time; she cannot be outraged or call for justice. As property, a woman expressing outrage would be seen as immoral and unwomanly. The shame women experience in the wake of all kinds of violence today explains why so few crimes of sex- and gender-based violence have ever been reported to police. Women internalize blame for abuse. They have learned very well the lessons regarding women and violence that have been taught across the centuries. Yet a wave of resistance began in 2016, when a presidential candidate was overheard on video bragging that his status allowed him to assault women sexually without resistance. Several women alleged that he had in fact assaulted them. Excerpts from the testimonies of some were even broadcast on news programs. One of the assault cases is, at this writing, moving through the courts.85 The resultant outpouring of women in the U.S., the United Kingdom, and around the world who acknowledged past occurrences of abuse in their lives and supported each other personally, though social media, and in newspapers and other publications empowered women to speak out. The women’s march in January 2017 counted the participation of women from around the world.

Conclusions When sacred texts are used to shore up oppressive power relationships in society, they must be challenged. The narratives of Tamar, Griselda, Dorothy of Montau, Catherine of Genoa, and the lessons taught to the Montagnais function to reinforce patriarchal power relationships as part of a God-ordained natural order. They become a part of what Margaret Urban Walker calls “epistemic rigging.” Not only does this epistemic rigging make an unjust order of power appear to be the proper, natural way to organize the world, but also when this rigging is portrayed as originating from God, it has additional power and salience. Anyone who challenges this structure is rejected as not really knowing how things are or, in the case of Christian apologists, as going against God. What better way to ensure that particular unjust structural arrangements continue 84 Ibid., 67ff. 85 On March 29, 2017, Newsweek reported that President Trump was too busy to deal with an assault allegation. See Graham Lanktree, “Trump’s Lawyers Argue ­President is too Busy for Sexual Misconduct Defamation Lawsuit,” Newsweek, March 29, 2017, accessed at: www.newsweek.com/trumps-lawyers-argue-­presidenttoo-busy-apprentice-defamation-case-575800. For a recap of all fifteen allegations of misconduct against the President, see DesJardins, Lisa, “All the assaults against Donald Trump, recapped,” PBS Newshour, October 22, 2016, accessed at: www. pbs.org/newshour/rundown/assault-allegations-donald-trump-recapped/.

148  A Theology of Ownership and Power to operate in society than to equate their existence with the very will of God? When God is the one who is described as having put a particular order in place, who can go against it? These male-centric theological understandings were part of the substructure of many laws, which until recent decades clearly stated that women belonged to men. An early challenger of such laws and their effects was Frances Power Cobbe, a British historian who in 1878 appealed to Parliament to enact laws that would protect women from vicious husbands. She wrote an account called Wife Torture in England, in which she documented the extent to which women suffered abuse at the hands of their husbands. The notion that men owned women emerges clearly in what she writes. She pleads, The notion that a man’s wife is his property… is the fatal root of incalculable evil and misery. Every brutal-minded man, and many a man who in other relations is not brutal, entertains more or less vaguely the notion that this wife is his thing, and is ready to ask with indignation of anyone who interferes with his treatment of her, “May I not do what I will with my own?”86 Although Cobbe’s efforts did effect some reform, legal change was slow to come in England and in the U.S. English common law, on which U.S. codes were built, stipulated that a man had the right to beat his wife as long as the rod he used was of a particular diameter. The question arises of whether legal codes followed theological interpretations of men’s and women’s roles or whether the opposite happened. But in either case, the result was the same: men ended up being given permission to chastise their wives for their own good and for the good of the community. The idea that the disruption of a God-ordained order in the home (man-woman-child) and the often associated fear that women who are not under such control of a man are dangerous to the larger community gives tacit sanction to batterers. Do such understandings continue to have purchase? Indeed, similar theological interpretations of men’s and women’s natures find their way into contemporary life. A pamphlet circulated by charismatic groups in the Fort Lauderdale area in the late 1970s and early 1980s discussed the dangerous side of women. The pamphlet was called The Jezebel ­Influence and stated the following: The dark web of female dominance can be seen in our families, churches, and in our government. Our families are sapped of strength

86 Frances Power Cobbe, “Wife Torture in England,” Contemporary Review, April, 1878, 62–63.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  149 because our men have been emasculated socially, spiritually and physically by the unseen force that operates through female dominance. Whenever a woman usurps authority in a man’s place no matter how noble the cause, she is in rebellion and sooner or later powers of sorcery will enter.87 The pamphlet goes on to suggest that women who get cancer are being punished for rebelling against their proper role. In many places, the Jezebel Influence is referred to as the “Jezebel Spirit,” and the message is much the same. Any woman who is not under male authority is a Jezebel, wreaking havoc and evil everywhere she goes. A 2008 essay by Dan Cheatham, pastor of Life International Church in Huntsville, Alabama, reiterates these themes, “Jezebel is against natural MALE AUTHORITY and against supernatural SPIRITUAL AUTHORITY.”88 Cheatham goes on to explain why women must be submissive to men and how the Jezebel spirit wreaks havoc on Christian communities: Men ought to wear the pants in their marriages. Some have a quieter personality than the wife, but they should still assert themselves enough to clearly demarcate who is the head of the family unit. If God holds the man ultimately accountable for the direction of the family, then the wife should do the same. A wise woman will gently point her husband in this direction, even if he tends to be hesitant, by deferring certain decisions to him. A foolish woman will just take over the husband’s role because she senses he is unsure of himself and she has the stronger personality. But this is unscriptural! …A Jezebel is actually operating in the spirit of witchcraft. This spirit of witchcraft can manifest itself even through a Christian woman. In fact she is the devil’s favorite host, because she is a better disguise for his plots against the pastor and that local church. Whether she tries to control the pastor in an overt active way or in a clandestine passive way makes no difference to her, as long as she can exert “control.”89 In Cheatham’s view, any woman who resists obedience to men in authority, whether a husband or someone else, is a conduit through which the devil can destroy a Christian family or community. A quick Google search finds numerous recent publications that continue to use the theme of The Jezebel Influence.90 87 Bussert, Battered Women, 57. 88 Dan Cheatham, “Some Thoughts on the Jezebel Spirit and the Absalom Spirit in the Local Church,” http://faithsite.com/uploads/147/95667.pdf, accessed August 17, 2016. See Cheatham’s web site, Devotional.net, for more on his thinking. 89 Ibid. 90 The “Jezebel influence” continues to be a popular way to describe supernatural battles between good and evil. A quick Google search located numerous books with this

150  A Theology of Ownership and Power The theme of women’s submission to men continues in an article on the website of the Family Research Council, a conservative think tank that was once headed by Gary Bauer, a conservative activist deeply immersed in Republican politics. Bauer argued that UN conventions on women’s and children’s rights would actually cause increases in violence against women and children. While ignoring the fact that the point of these conventions is to protect women and children and reduce violence, and while failing to talk about the level of violence women face worldwide, the three male authors of the article decry, among other things, the breakdown of parental authority in the home (the right to spank children is an example), the undermining of the “natural family” (husband-wife-children), and the potential of widespread family planning for women throughout the world. In one stunning display of ignorance, the authors write, “For society, the benefits of channeling sexuality and reproduction into marriage are significant. Such a cultural norm ensures, better than any other reform, the reduction of violence against women and children.”91 Finally, the authors take particular exception to UN provisions that require nations to protect women even in the face of religious practices that would demean them. They quote a UN committee report, which says, “Cultural and religious values cannot be allowed to undermine the universality of women’s rights,” as an example of egregious attacks on religious freedom.92 What the authors are actually doing is preventing women from full participation in communities and opportunities to live lives with less violence, while also protecting male rights in marriage and the ability to invoke religious and cultural practices to curtail women’s equality. Other contemporary examples abound. Tony Evans, a former leader in the Promise Keepers movement, urged men to take back their proper role as leaders in their families, regardless of what their wives wanted. He urged wives to give leadership back to their husbands. In a summary of his book for women about marriage, Evans writes, “How is a wife to love her husband? By learning three things,” says Tony Evans: “how to submit, seduce and surrender to her husband. Out of these three phrase in the title: Unmasking the Jezebel Spirit and The Spiritual Warrior’s Guide to Defeating Jezebel are merely two. 91 Patrick F. Fagan, William L. Saunders, and Michael A. Fragoso, “How U.N. Conventions on Women’s and Children’s Rights Undermine Family, Religion, and Sovereignty,” Insight (Family Research Council, Washington, DC, 2009), 16; available at Family Research Council, http://downloads.frc.org/EF/EF09E38.pdf. 92 Fagan, Saunders, and Fragoso, quoting from “Report of the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women,” 18th Sess., to the General Assembly of the United Nations, 53rd Sess. (1998), “Report on Indonesia,” Document #A/53/38, Para. 282.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  151 principles a godly marriage will grow.”93 These contemporary examples demonstrate that ancient and medieval beliefs in a natural order for human beings are still operating now; in such beliefs, the man should firmly hold the authority and exert moral leadership. The whole society faces grave danger if this order is not upheld. The Promise Keepers do not support a man’s right to be violent, but physical violence is one of the resources available to most men when they want to enforce a particular family structure. As sociologist Dorothy Smith points out, “[W]e must be concerned that these new or renewed idealizations enjoining men to impose their dominance on family life legitimate implicitly, though not explicitly, the use of force when other means of asserting men’s authority over their wives fail.”94 Is it really surprising that, given these messages, some men take this need for control quite literally? And is it any surprise that in the process they believe they have God on their side? One contemporary abuser said the following as he tried to explain why he beat his wife: The Lord allows the wrath to rise in me while I’m beating her….… The Lord is with me, the Lord encourages me, the Lord shows me, the Lord blesses me richly.95 and another: When I stand there and am supposed to teach her something, and find myself firmly in that role, which is the role God gave man, it’s clear that I feel like a man.96 and yet another: I thought it was right to beat her. I’ve never been the kind of person who hits for the sake of hitting. I’ve always had God on my side. I knew, I knew what was right to do, when she got too loose and wanted to take away the right [for me] to be the one to keep an eye on things and see that everything was done right. When she started 93 See the store area of Tony Evans’s website, http://store.tonyevans.org/p-425-formarried-men-only.aspx, accessed August 16, 2016. See also the discussion of Evans in Dorothy Smith, “Wife Abuse and Family Idealizations: The Violent Regulation of Family Regimes,” in Everyday Sexism in the Third Millenium, ed. Carol Rambo Ronai, Barbara A. Zsembik, and Joe R. Feagin (New York: Routledge, 1997), 107. 94 Smith, “Wife Abuse and Family Idealizations,” 107. 95 Quoted in Eva Lundgren, Feminist Theory and Violent Empiricism (Belfast: Avebury, 1995), 251. 96 Ibid.

152  A Theology of Ownership and Power taking control of things I had to beat her to put her in her place. It’s perfectly clear, it says in the Bible too, the man is responsible for bringing the woman up.97 A headline concerning domestic abuse in the October 2016 New York Times does not adequately prepare the reader for the jarring admission by a National Football League player. Josh Brown wrote about abusing his wife “physically, emotionally and verbally”: “I viewed myself as God basically and she was my slave,” “I carried an overwhelming sense of entitlement because I put money higher than God and I used it as a power tool.”98 Brown’s attitude demonstrates the thesis of this chapter and of this book. He felt entitled, acting as God, and he owned his wife like a slave. She reported more than twenty instances of domestic abuse. The National Football League suspended him from one game, while prosecutors in King’s County, Washington declined to press charges against him.99 Such men are our contemporaries. They exemplify the worst ramifications of a theology of ownership in operation. And they are not unusual. Given that a high percentage of abusers and victims are regular church attendees,100 it should not be surprising that batterers quote Scripture in order to justify their treatment of the women they beat, using it to give reasons why women must endure the violence. Men like this believe they have God on their side. If they never hear a challenge to the Scripture they use to support their violence (Eph. 5:22 is a favorite: “[W]ives be subject to your husbands”) or to theologies of ownership and power that suggest that God sides with their views of a husband’s rights, no wonder they feel justified in doing what they do. Challenging such understandings of God and Scripture is a necessary part of fighting domestic violence. And what do the women in these relationships find in a theology that sees them as subject to the control of their husbands? One battered woman was asked about the rape she endured in her marriage. Her 97 Ibid., 245. Clearly, one doesn’t have to look far to find that abusers continue to think that the Bible and religious belief provide permission for their actions. As recently as August 2015, Rev. Mark Bagwell reported that women often told him that their husbands quoted Scripture to them to justify their abusive behavior. See David Roach, “Domestic Violence: Why Pastors Can’t Ignore It,” Baptist Press, August 10, 2015; www.bpnews.net/45279/domestic-violence-why-pastors-cant-ignore-it. 98 Bill Pennington, “Josh Brown’s Past Admission of Domestic Abuse Causes N.F.L. to Reopen Inquiry,” Octoberober 20, 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/10/21/sports/ football/josh-brown-domestic-violence-new-york-giants.html. 99 Ibid. 100 One study of domestic-violence homicides found that “a significant number of victims (thirty-three percent) and perpetrators (twenty-two percent) interacted with a religious community, church, temple or mosque five years prior to the homicide.” See Georgia Coalition against Domestic Violence, “2015 Georgia Fatality Review,” 34; available at: file:///C:/Users/nnienhuis/Downloads/GCADV-AnnualReport-2015-­Final.pdf.

A Theology of Ownership and Power  153 response is an example of the cost exacted from women by a theology of ownership: There can be no rape in the presence of God. My husband never abuses love or the status God has granted him in the process of creation. He often makes love to me when I’m not in the mood, but that is precisely to prevent me from feeling lust. There could never be rape in a Christian marriage like ours.101 For this woman, her body belonged to her husband, to do with as he willed for her own good. As Marjorie Proctor-Smith argues, women who are subject to “abuse by their husbands often interpret that abuse as punishment by a Father-God who is readily identifiable with the husband, or at least working through him.”102 Calls for a return to family values, often heard in an election season, are appeals to a particular kind of power structure, one with men firmly at the helm of the family and women and children under their authority. Such calls echo messages that date back to some church fathers, hagiographers, medieval and reformation theologians, and more. This retrenchment of a particular order, deemed not only natural but God-ordained, shores up existing power relations. It reinforces a theology of ownership according to which men are seen as being responsible for bringing order to the world, in part by bringing order to their wives and in fact all women, for the sake of the larger common good, for morality—indeed, for God. In essence, kyriarchy masquerades in divine drag. Many of today’s theological messages concerning women, or at least directed toward them, continue to reflect those that circulated centuries ago, as in the stories of Eve, Tamar, Monica, Griselda, Dorothy of ­Montau, Catherine of Genoa, and others. Fortunately, though, the apologists for patriarchy, whether Christian missionaries to native peoples or apologists for slavery, do not have the last word. The conclusion to the current volume relays the many avenues that resistance to such messages has taken, including robust defenses of a new way of doing theology, one critical of all patriarchal theological interests. Examples of resistance to local laws and oppressive theologies, even in the most difficult historical periods, bring hope and courage to all who live with abuse. ­Contemporary feminist liberation theologies make it the duty of all peoples to resist as much as is possible, with that duty falling particularly hard on those who don’t face abuse, so that they can be allies to those who do.

101 Lundgren, Feminist Theory and Violent Empiricism, 278–79. 102 Marjorie Proctor-Smith, “‘Reorganizing Victimization’: The Intersection between Liturgy and Domestic Violence,” in Violence against Women and Children, ed. Carol J. Adams and Marie M. Fortune (New York: Continuum, 1995), 433.

6 Conclusion

We live in a culture where rape and IPV are routine occurrences, a culture where religious belief all too often fails to disrupt and repel messages of female subordination and submission. Our foresisters in the preceding chapters faced horrific responses from religious officials and institutions. Although we may wish to believe that the centuries that divide us from them have also removed us from theological and cultural constructs that reinforce the kind of male-centric messages about women and abuse they received, one need not look far to realize that such is not the case. We are surrounded by evidence that theological understandings can and do continue to reinforce messages of violence against women, or at minimum do not prevent them. Consider examples from three groups that claim their misogynist practices are grounded in religion. The Islamic State recruits men in part by promising them the opportunity to freely perpetrate violence against women without culpability.1 Orthodox Jewish circles hold a theological understanding that men are required to have intercourse with their wives and their wives are not allowed to refuse.2 American evangelical Christians largely supported Donald Trump, a presidential candidate who bragged about sexually assaulting women.3

1 For a discussion on this, see Amanda Taub, “Control and Fear: What Mass ­K illings and Domestic Violence have in Common,” The New York Times, June 15, 2016, www.nytimes.com /2016/06/16/world /americas/control-and-fear-what-mass-­ killings-and-domestic-violence-have-in-common.html, accessed July 30, 2017. 2 Clearly, being forbidden from refusing sex in marriage creates a situation where marital rape, however real, is impossible to claim and prosecute (need new word) within Orthodox Judaism. See Meredith Blackman, “American Orthodox Jewish Women and Domestic Violence: An Intervention Design,” Advocates Forum 2010, University of Chicago School of Social Service Administration, accessed on July 30, 2017 at: http://ssa.uchicago.edu/advocates-forum-2010. 3 These events bring to mind how Dorothee Soelle used the term “Christofascism” to describe the Religious Rights’ support of Ronald Reagan. Following the cross was individualized, about what “he has done for us” rather than a mandate to help the least of these among our neighbors. See, Dorothee Soelle, The Window of Vulnerability: A Political Spirituality (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 140. For a discussion of Soelle’s critique of the Religious Right in relation to elements of Soelle’s Christology,

Conclusion  155 Throughout this work, we have argued that there is an important relationship between violence against women and narrative, context, and theological understanding. In fact, theological thinking and context have a symbiotic relationship, with one informing and reinforcing the other to create male-centric accounts, particularly when it comes to IPV. The narratives that arise from such contexts reflect dominant gender norms and understandings, and reinforce these as if they were the will of God, with the result that those who challenge such messages are demoralized and dismissed as working against God’s intention for humanity. Voices of survivors from such contexts can be very difficult—if not impossible—to hear, submerged as they are below “common sense” understandings of male and female natures and “proper” gender roles, roles seen as God’s will for all. And of course trans survivors disappear completely in such paradigms, invisible in religious texts as well as in the male/female binary. The narratives in the previous chapters delineate the effects of such male-centric theological understandings on the lives of women who have been abused by their male partners. Indeed, what could suggest more strongly that acquiescence in the face of such abuse was God’s will for women than to raise those women who endured the suffering most patiently into sainthood? The theologies of suffering, obedience, and ownership that undergird such narratives make resistance to IPV akin to resistance to God. And yet in every era women and their allies have fought such misogynistic theological messages, finding instead within their traditions the resources for a theology of resistance to abuse. Three different clergy helped protect Radegund from her husband—first Medard, bishop of Noyon, then Jean, a hermit in Chinon, and then finally Bishop ­G ermanus of Paris.4 A Queen and daughter of the King of Thuringia, Radegund had power and possessions to sway her protectors. In contrast, sheepherders from Montaillou, a small village in the Pyrenees mountains, listened to their leader’s counsel on interpreting Matthew 12:49–50 as a duty to assist a soul in danger and escort a battered eighteen-year-old wife, Guillelme Maury, across the mountains to a Cathar safe house. The Cathar pastor instructed Pèire, the brother of Guillelme, as follows: Your sister is in the hands of an evil man. That is why you will have a great reward if you help her to leave him. … I order you on behalf of the church, and I absolve you, on behalf of God, from any sin that could happen to you from doing this. see Darren Cushman Wood, “Suffering with the Crucified Christ: The Function of the Cross in the Works of John Wesley and Dorothee Soelle,” paper given at the Wesleyan Theological Society 2007 Annual Meeting, Indianapolis, IN, 2007, 13. 4 For a discussion of these actions, see Beverly Mayne Kienzle and Nancy E. Nienhuis, “Historical and Contemporary Responses to Battering,” Journal of Religion and Abuse 7, no. 1 (2005): 84–85.

156  Conclusion In four days, Guillelme and her brother arrived at the small community house of the last Cathar church. Sometime later, Guillelme disguised herself as a man in order to journey secretly through the mountains alone. Guillelme was a victim of the 1309 inquisitorial search that closed in on the clandestine church in those areas. She and her family were condemned to prison, their house in Montaillou was destroyed, and all the family’s belongings were confiscated. Guillelme probably died with family members, of starvation and exhaustion, in the inquisitorial prison. 5 Anne Brenon’s fascinating reconstruction of Guillelme’s life shows how religion allowed her to escape from a violent husband, but she died as a victim of persecution by the church she opposed (Figure 6.1).6 Abigail Abbot Bailey was instructed by clergy to wait on the Lord for assistance in her situation of intimate partner abuse, yet with the help and encouragement of fellow members of her Haverhill, Massachusetts church, she determined that she needed to leave her abusive husband, Asa. They even helped her realize that she could do so through means of legal settlement and thereby prevent Asa from coming near either Abigail or their daughter Phebe. Church members helped her find a way out.

Figure 6.1  Guillelme and Pèire Maury plan the escape. Drama at Montaillou, France. Source: Photograph, Beverly M. Kienzle.

5 Anne Brenon, “Guillelme Maury, de Montaillou (c. 1288–1309),” 213–34. 6 See ibid., 87–88 for a discussion of these events.

Conclusion  157 We see many such examples of faith-based resistance today. Throughout the world there are religiously based organizations devoted to assisting Muslim, Jewish, Christian, and other survivors of abuse. Each understands its tradition as requiring action against the injustice of gender-based violence. For example, Project S.A.R.A.H., an entity of Jewish Family Service, is an anti-domestic violence pro­ rthodox Jewish Community of New Jersey. It gram serving the O brings together social workers and rabbis who have been trained in IPV and Orthodox Jewish customs and traditions, respectively, to intervene in situations of IPV.7 The project also provides training and resources to rabbis, including sermons, brochures, and other materials, and trains those who serve at ­Orthodox women’s bathhouses to identify women who may be struggling with abuse. Bathhouses are particularly important because they provide a safe place for women to be and speak with each other. 8 Likewise, the Peaceful Families Project works throughout the world to support Muslim survivors of IPV.9 It conducts workshops and trainings on the Muslim view of domestic violence and on how culture and religion work together to create particular understandings of IPV. While acknowledging that rates of IPV in Muslim communities are similar to those in others, PFP has as a specific goal that all Muslim leaders would acknowledge this fact and become change agents within their respective communities.10 In Zimbabwe the Rev. Dr. Edward Matuvhunye is starting a Christian-­ based counseling center that will focus on those, especially women, who are experiencing a wide range of crises, such as HIV/AIDS, sex trafficking, teen pregnancy, child abuse, forced marriages, and domestic violence, among other things. He is partnering with the K ­ UHLUBUKA Development Trust (KDT), a private, faith-based nonprofit NGO dedicated to alleviating poverty and providing sustainable development opportunities for marginalized communities through training and innovation and through gender-sensitive and people-centered approaches.

7 See http://jfsclifton.org/projectsarah/. 8 See Blackman, Meredith for a description of Project S.A.R.A.H. There are many other Jewish based anti-IPV organizations, such as the Jewish Coalition against Domestic Violence, https://jcada.org/, and many Jewish organizations have components that are dedicated to work against gender-based violence. 9 See, for example, the Muslim Advocacy Network against Domestic Violence, which brings together researchers, scholars, activists, and more to fight IPV on every front. The Peaceful Families Project is another important anti-IPV organization that works in many countries across the globe, see www.peacefulfamilies.org. For a directory of Domestic Violence programs serving Muslims, see: www.api-gbv.org/resources/ programs-serving-muslims.php. Many of these resources are also listed on the web site of the Asian Pacific Institute on Gender-Based Violence. 10 See www.peacefulfamilies.org/community-development-education/.

158  Conclusion With high rates of both unemployment and IPV, such services are rare and sorely needed in Zimbabwe.11 And of course many U.S.-based national organizations are doing multifaith work against IPV, like the Faith Trust Institute and the Safe H ­ avens Interfaith Partnership against Domestic Violence and Elder Abuse, referred to earlier.12 In fact, founder of the Faith Trust Institute Rev. Dr. ­Marie Fortune was probably the first person in the U.S. to combine faith with work against gender-based violence. Fortune was volunteering at a rape crisis shelter in Seattle while pastoring a small rural church when she realized that these two institutions had to work together. Marie Fortune truly paved the way for all who came later in the effort to train religious bodies to be allies in the fight against gender-based violence.13 But increasingly, even secular anti-domestic violence programs are featuring information about the role religion can play as both a resource and a roadblock in relation to IPV. To cite a few examples, The Pennsylvania Coalition against Domestic Violence features information about faith and religion and provides resources for religious professionals (see www.pcadv.org/Learn-More/Domestic-Violence-Topics/Faith-And-­ Religion). The Ohio Domestic Violence Network has a section that focuses on helping religious communities join the fight against domestic violence (see www.odvn.org/resource/religion.html). And the web page of the National Domestic Violence Hot Line has a section on spiritual abuse (seewww.thehotline.org/2015/11/what-is-spiritual-abuse/). All of these organizations use a wide variety of tools to get their messages across, including numerous forms of social media. In our visually oriented context, one cannot underestimate the power of images to present cultural and religious messages. Across the decades, many feature films have taken on the topic of IPV, with varying results.14 A search of “domestic violence” on YouTube brings an astonishing 395,000 possibilities, and Facebook has a plethora of graphics related to the topic, again some helpful and some less so. Snapchat is one of the fastest-growing apps, with over 200 million active users, fortunately most of its messages time out. There are going to be mixed messages in all media, which 11 To support this effort, please contact The Tekeshe Foundation Inc., P.O. Box 115, North Chelmsford, MA 01863, 978-888-1342. Tekeshe is a 501 (c) 3 organization. 12 For more information, see www.faithtrustinstitute.org and www.interfaithpartners.org. 13 Fortune has done innumerable numbers of consultations and trainings for religious institutions, schools, and other institutions and is probably the most renowned individual doing this work. Fortune has a long list of publications in this area, for example, see; Marie M. Fortune, Keeping the Faith: Guidance for Christian Women Facing Abuse (New York: Harper Collins, 1995), and Marie M. Fortune, Is Nothing Sacred?: The Story of a Pastor, the Women He Sexually Abused, and the Congregation He Nearly Destroyed (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008). 14 For a brief annotated selection of films from the past few decades see film historian Robert Hensley-King’s Biblio/graphy in Appendix A.

Conclusion  159 makes education about domestic violence all the more critical. Survivors are apt to see as many messages blaming them as ones with good advice. Likewise, those who abuse will find messages both condoning and condemning the violence they perpetrate.

Lessons from History What do this history and these current accounts of resistance tell us about effective patterns for contemporary responses to IPV? What do survivors of faith require for support, and what path to safety and justice can be sustained over time? First, these accounts demonstrate repeatedly that effective resistance requires the work of communities. Multiple religious leaders and members of Radegund’s own community helped her reach the point where she could finally be consecrated as a deaconess and thus enter religious life. Abigail Abbott Bailey succeeded in leaving her husband for good only when she had the assistance of members of her church and family. And perhaps most compellingly, Cathar believers in the Pyrenees in the fourteenth century provided safety for women of the mountains who were fleeing abuse. IPV is life-threatening, and the stakes are high for women and children. A viable road map to safety requires multiple plans and people to be most effective; it requires the work of communities. Communities also incorporate acts of remembrance, so that victims of violence are not forgotten. We have witnessed in North America the reading of names belonging to victims of IPV, so that hearers hold all of them in memory and heart, tightly enough to motivate them to become allies and take action for prevention. In Europe, current performances join past to present. A French dramatist composed a play that tells Guillelme of Maury’s story. Residents of Montaillou and the surrounding area participate in the drama. The inhabitants of Todi in Italy also have remembered Matteucia in their town’s medieval festival. In Gistel, Belgium, there is an annual commemoration in the remembrance of Godelieve’s story with a drama and a procession through the town. Clearly all these townspeople, albeit in different mindsets, remember the women of the Middle Ages who died in their midst—murdered, executed, rescued, but then left to die in prison. Will we remember them and the women who die every day at the hands of an abusive partner? We hope so and hope that our remembrance leads to action. Second, the narratives indicate that resistance is most effective when it is done from within communities of faith. Repeatedly, the narratives demonstrate that a theology that compels women to choose between beliefs they cherish and their personal safety will result in violence; women will not abandon their faith. The narratives show that women will often flee only when they believe that their faith allows or requires them to

160  Conclusion leave, when they believe neither that the violence is sanctioned by God nor that submission to it is required for personal holiness. Monica endured violence because she felt her duty as a faithful woman required submission to her husband in all things. Godelieve attempted to leave a marriage within which she was finally killed by her husband’s henchmen. According to the text of her vita, she accepted the will of her local bishop because she believed that he represented the will of God. In contrast, the Cathar leader whose opinion was sought on the violent marriage in which Guillelme found herself relied on a gospel text, read simply and not mediated by a distant authority, to justify and approve Guillelme’s plan to free her. Finally, this history and these contemporary accounts underscore repeatedly how important it is that resistance efforts be based in theology. If the survivors had not believed that God wanted them to be safe and free from harm, they would not have taken even the first steps on a path toward freedom. Faith sustained the women through their abuse; they were not about to turn their backs on their beliefs, and thus on God, as they tried to find safety.15 Conversely, regardless of community support, the women would not have left their marriages if they had felt that God or Allah wished them to stay. They would not have listened to an advocate encouraging them to find freedom if the advocate had not come from an organization matching their beliefs or representing their faith in understanding the dilemma. People of faith within religious organizations work to support survivors of abuse because they believe their faith tradition allows this. This theological basis for intervention is critical. As the Roman Catholic woman in our class demonstrated so long ago, only the priest could “open her prison doors” and set her free. A voice within the ­tradition has power that no other voice has. Theological support is the lifeblood that allows an abused person of faith to become a survivor.

A Critical Feminist Liberation Theology of Resistance and Empowerment We noted in Chapter 1 that religious views often provide the scaffolding upon which definitions of morality and cultural norms are based. 15 Fortunately for survivors, religious belief alone can be very sustaining. For example, one study found that survivors with PTSD who were also people of faith had fewer symptoms than did survivors without such beliefs. See, Michelle M. Lilly et al., “World Assumptions, Religiousity, & PTSD in Survivors of IPV,” Violence Against Women 21, no. 1 (2015): 87–104. Another study found that survivors of faith had more self-esteem, self-efficacy, and life satisfaction than did other survivors. See, Joyce Neergard et al., “Women Experiencing IPV: Effects of Confiding in Religious Leaders,” Pastoral Psychology 55 (2007): 773–87. Finally, for survivors from marginalized communities, faith often plays a critical role, see, Joan Marie Blakey, “The Role of Spirituality in Helping African American Women with Histories of Trauma & Substance Abuse Heal & Recover,” Social Work & Christianity 43, no. 1 (2016): 40–59.

Conclusion  161 Critical feminist liberation theologies analyze religious voices, whether they occur in public or private debates, to ensure that any biases are unmasked. Without these critical feminist theologies, dominant religious voices may purport to “speak for God” without challenge. Central to feminist liberation theologies is the understanding that religious voices and texts often serve to reinforce male-centric cultural and religious norms. This is particularly true when it comes to intimate relationships between women and men. As Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza reminds us, “feminist liberationist discourses critically analyze and problematize conceptualizations of theological discourse that do not allow for change because they claim G*d as their author.”16 Without such a challenge, dominant religious voices are left to represent God, and the voices of survivors remain unheard and unheeded. One critical aspect of this theological scaffolding comes from liberation theologians who are working on the margins with victims of violence and oppression, people who have also seen their voices and experiences rendered unknowable or nonsensical because they do not reflect the norms established by those with the most power and privilege in society, those at the top of the pyramid of power. Their journeys to being seen and heard are instructive for this project. For example, the ubuntu theology of Desmond Tutu, tested in the crucible of South Africa before apartheid and during its collapse, is a theology of community that understands at its core the inherent interconnectedness of all of humanity.17 Tutu described ubuntu this way: Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks to the very essence of being human. When you want to give high praise to someone we say, “Yu, u nobuntu”; he or she has ubuntu. This means that they are generous, hospitable, friendly, caring and compassionate. They share what they have. It also means that my humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in theirs. We belong in a bundle of life. We say, “a person is a person through other people” (in Xhosa Ubuntu ungamntu ngabanye abantu and in Zulu Umuntu ngumuntu ngabanye). I am human because I belong, I participate, I share. A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming 16 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Feminist Liberation Theology as Critical Sophialogy,” in The Power of Naming: A Concilium Reader in Feminist Liberation Theology, ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1996), xxxix. Schüssler Fiorenza uses G*d to visually disrupt sensibilities regarding God. 17 For a discussion of Ubunto Theology in the life of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, see Charles G. Haws, “Suffering, Hope, and Forgiveness: The Ubuntu Theology of ­Desmond Tutu,” Scottish Journal of Theology 62, no. 4 (2009): 477–89. Before the term Ubuntu was associated with theology, it was used in postcolonial Africa to restore human dignity and empowerment to Africans who were harmed by colonialism. For a history of the use of the word ubuntu in the African context, see Christian B.N. Gade, “The Historical Development of the Written Discourses on Ubuntu,” South African Journal of Philosophy 30, no. 3 (2013): 303–29.

162  Conclusion of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good; for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes with knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.18 In ubuntu theology, sin is understood as the disruption of relationships. In addition, ubuntu as a set of African norms and values recognizes the rights and responsibilities of all and understands humanity as being with others, not existing alone. How does ubuntu play out in real time? In 2016, the Botswanan government called for ubuntu to be the philosophy of the nation, as a way to move all people forward together. This certainly seems ideal, yet—­ although ubuntu has been embraced in Botswana for many years—it has not been able to overcome the patriarchal mindset of Botswanan culture. This is most obvious in data recording gender-based violence. In ­Botswana, sixty-seven percent of women experience gender-based violence at some point in their lifetimes, and forty-four percent of men admit to committing violence against women.19 In a place where ubuntu philosophy and patriarchy exist side by side, patriarchy has the upper hand. However, one can see the promise of a theology that has relationality and the interconnectedness of human life at its core. Ubuntu theology holds the past and future in tension, recognizing that one cannot move forward without forgiving the past, while at the same time one cannot move to the future unless marginalized voices from the past are finally given the opportunity to speak and be heard.20 Ubuntu provides a way for those on the margins to speak and requires those who have abused their power and privilege to listen to these voices and seek forgiveness and reconciliation. In doing so, it provides important elements for a theology of resistance and empowerment. Yet, ubuntu theology is not sufficient alone to stave off the violence of patriarchy. It, too, needs the critical insights of feminist theory and theology to keep kyriarchal power dynamics in check. Another liberation theology that gives voice to the voiceless is that of minjung theology, which arises from the South Korean context. While the dominant theological view in South Korea has been that of conservative Presbyterianism, minjung theology rose in opposition to theology that was seen as unconcerned about social injustice. First coined in 18 Desmond Tutu, No future without forgiveness (London: Rider, 1999), 34–35. 19 For a discussion of the existence of Ubuntu and patriarchy in Botswana, see Musa w. Dube’ Tirelo Modie-Moroka, Senzokuhle D. Setume, Seratwa Ntloedibe, Malebogo Kgalemang, Rosinah M. Gabaitse, Tshenolo Madigele, Sana Mmolai, EJizabeth p. Motswapong, Mmapula Kebaneilwe, and Doreen Sesiro, “Botho/Ubuntu: Community Building and Gender Constructions in Botswana,” Journal of the Interdenominational Theological Center (January 1, 2016). 20 See Jaco S. Dreyer, “Ubuntu: A Practical Theological Perspective,” International Journal of Practical Theology 19, no. 1 (2015): 189–209.

Conclusion  163 1975, theologian Hwarang Moon writes that at its root, minjung theology “has above all a deep concern for the lives of marginalized people and reformation of the social system itself—serving the world and satisfying the necessities of people.”21 In contrast to Orthodox Presbyterian theology, which is often seen as interested primarily in church growth and personal well-being, the minjung branch of Korean Christianity is focused on social justice and transformation for the well-being of those at the bottom of the pyramid, despite the fact that they represent some twenty percent of the South Korean population. 22 In fact, the source of minjung theology is a social biography, the story of marginalized people fighting for survival. Just as ubuntu theology focuses on the interrelatedness of human beings, minjung theology takes the experience of those who are poor and most disenfranchised as its starting point. Minjung theology is relevant to a theology of resistance and empowerment because its very founding was in response to those most alienated and exploited in society, in contrast to a theological worldview that served to reinforce status quo hierarchies. And minjung theology is particularly important for its focus on the transformation of oppressive institutions versus liberation theology’s focus on economic injustice. 23 Institutions that promote sexism and kyriarchy are not easily dismantled; minjung theology may be particularly helpful here. Yet, feminist liberation theologians have critiqued minjung theologians for being oblivious to the sexism within their own theological worldviews. Korean feminist theologians like Chung Hyun Kyung have brought a focus on patriarchy to minjung theology, referring to women as the “minjung within the minjung.”24 In addition, Korean feminist theologians are working in a context where hundreds of thousands of kidnapped women were subjected to institutionalized rape and sexual slavery through the Japanese system of “comfort women” in World War II. As Min-Ah Cho relates, For Korean women, the ‘comfort women’ issue is one of the most painful and dangerous memories of oppression, and yet the campaign supporting the survivors showed how such a tragic memory could be transformed into a sign of hope when women gather and empower each other. 25 21 Hwarang Moon, Worship, 89, no. 3 (May 2015): 223–24. Minjung literally means “a mass of people.” So, a Minjung Theology is a theology of the people, and it arose in South Korea, as opposed to Prebyterianism, which was brought in by Western missionaries over one hundred years ago. 22 Ibid. 23 For a brief overview of Minjung Theology, see “Minjung Theology: A Korean Theology of the People,” Global Theology website, http://globaltheology.org/minjung-­ theology-a-korean-theology-of-the-people/, accessed July 30, 2017. 24 Chung Hyun Kyung, Struggle to be the Sun Again, 42. 25 See Min-Ah Cho, “Stirring up Deep Waters: Korean Feminist Theologies Today,” Theology Today no. 2 (2014): 245–23, 237.

164  Conclusion By organizing in support of survivors, Korean feminists built a transnational feminist theology network across religious traditions, one that provided broad solidarity in the work of other similar actions for social justice that focused on women’s lives, among them campaigns against sex tourism and for victims of atomic bombs, campaigns in support of immigrant women, and campaigns to hold U.S. troops responsible for crimes they committed. 26 When Korean feminists added feminist analysis to minjung theology, the result was a powerful tool to analyze kyriarchal institutions toward real social change. This is a model of what is possible for all feminist liberation theologians. Ubuntu and minjung theologies provide important components of a theological scaffolding upon which to create a theology of resistance and empowerment for women facing IPV in particular. As demonstrated by feminist minjung theology, feminist liberation theologies are a central component of this scaffolding. Even liberation-based theologies can fall short without a feminist component. A critical feminist liberation theology of resistance and empowerment exposes how male-centric theologies often reinforce public/ private divisions with the result that kyriarchal institutions escape critique. For example, the male/female binary in a traditional marriage could be better represented as order/disorder. Moreover, in such marriages wives have their own binary, that of “submissive/disruptive,” a dualism fundamental to male-centric religious practice. As one scholar noted, “The more submissive a woman is, the less disruptive she is to the institutionalized social and religious orders, and vice versa.”27 The saintly wife is one, then, who stays happily on the submissive side of the binary. At their best, male-centric theologies advocate for some forms of justice in public arenas, but very seldom do they advocate for justice in the private sphere, the sphere of home and intimate relationships. In fact, male-­ centric theologies may be quick to proclaim global violence as unjust while ignoring the epidemic of violence occurring in people’s households. James Polling discusses this dynamic on the church level when he says, The spiritual hierarchy of women and men within the church corresponds with the political and economic inequality of women and men within society. Some churches are unwilling to face the way in which a theology of inequality leads to a vulnerability of women and children to violence. 28

26 Ibid. 27 The authors are indebted to one of the anonymous reviewers of this manuscript for both this insight, as well as for the idea of a “submissive vs disruptive binary” as fundamental to patriarchal religion. 28 James Newton Polling, Deliver Us from Evil: Resisting Racial and Gender Oppression (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1996), 134.

Conclusion  165 Finally, a critical feminist liberation theology of resistance and empowerment holds us accountable to both those living far away and those with whom we live at home. This theology has “nesting potential”; it exposes injustice in one’s most intimate relationships.29 Indeed, as Maria Pilar Aquino notes, the home is a great laboratory for testing theology; does one’s theology result in awareness of oppression in primary relationships and create justice there? If theologies do not have nesting potential, if they fail to both create justice at home and expose religious beliefs that are hostile to women, then they are not theologies that will disrupt dominant systems of power. They are not theologies within which women will be seen as human beings with clear human rights, rather than second-class citizens whose safety and moral valuation depend on submission to male-centric hierarchies and norms. In a world in which violence against women is institutionalized, as routine as it is global, a critical feminist liberation theology of resistance and empowerment forces liberation theologies to see women’s lives as human lives and non-liberation theologies to see women at all. A critical feminist liberation theology of resistance and empowerment incorporates the ubuntu principle that we are all interconnected, that our future and our past intertwine, and that moving forward depends on the critical analysis of past injustices. In addition, this theology builds upon a feminist minjung theological critique of the role of institutions using theology to shore up unjust practices, and inspires allies and advocates alike to create together a network of feminist resistance theologians who will continue to fight gender-based violence in all its manifestations. Finally, a critical feminist theology of resistance and empowerment asserts with Schüssler Fiorenza that “Religion and the*logy at their best cultivate the dream of a world without domination, poverty, and oppression—a dream of well-being and love, a dream that inspires all religions.”30 In fact, a critical feminist theology of resistance and empowerment must spur action toward the creation of that dream. Male-centric theology has the power to create a narrative around abused wo/men in which the man who abuses is the absolute master, defining truth in that world and setting the agenda for it as though he were God. A feminist theology of resistance and empowerment does just the opposite. With a feminist critical analysis of history, it deconstructs male-centric institutions, norms, and binaries, and fosters narratives of individual empowerment and mutual equality, within which wo/men represent their own experiences, work together for justice, and know themselves to be created in the image of that which is most divine and holy. Everyone a saint? No. But everyone carrying within them all that is sacred in this universe of humanity.

29 Chung Hyun Kyung first used this phrase, see Struggle to be the Sun Again. 30 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Introduction: Toward a Critical-Political Feminist Theory and The*logy,” Congress of Wo/men: Religion, Gender, and Kyriarchal Power (Cambridge, MA: Feminist Studies in Religion Books, 2017), Kindle edition. Schüssler Fiorenza uses “the*logy” to visually illustrate that language about God is limited.

Appendix A

A Select Filmography on Intimate Partner Violence

This select filmography presents examples of mainstream American films with a theatrical release that offer a nuanced treatment of IPV. While few Hollywood films feature a developed treatment of abuse, the list is not exhaustive. Likewise, it does not include films made for television or serialized dramas for domestic viewing. As a carefully curated list, the films mentioned and discussed briefly as follows are examples of how IPV has been explored as a central theme in ways that merit scrutiny. The filmography also illustrates an enduring dominance of a male-­ centric cinema, which has interesting implications for the ways in which abusive behavior is constructed, performed, and presented to audiences. The categories are divided between those that treat the issue from the perspective of the abused and those from the perspective of the abuser. This distinction, however, is not a straightforward dichotomy. The films discussed are complex treatments on IPV, and it is important to note that they are carefully constructed to be read in a number of ways. There is no definitive way in which a film should be read. For example, while a film might be narrated from the point of view of a particular character, there is no reason why viewers should not give consideration to ways in which the other characters are affected.

From the Perspective of Women For various reasons, the vast majority of Hollywood films represent a patriarchal system in which men enjoy considerable privilege. As is evident in both scholarship and a cursory overview of American film history, many film narratives are driven by men whose goals are shown to be very much in keeping with carefully constructed heteronormative behaviors related to both gender and society. This has resulted in the dominance of an aspirational cinema in which every-day male heroes can overcome adversity to triumph. The films that follow break with this dominant trend toward a bourgeois and moralizing cinema to narrate the stories of women who experience abuse. As such, they are innovative in relation to other films. The examples contain varying levels of narrative sophistication that

168  A Select Filmography on Intimate Partner Violence challenge ideas about gendered roles and the normalization of abusive behavior in a relationship. Likewise, they reflect a number of emotional dilemmas, material obstacles, and societal pressures. Alice Doesn’t Live Here Any More (Martin Scorsese, 1974) In this film, Alice Hyatt (played by Ellen Burstyn) seeks a better and more satisfying life. Her journey takes her from one abusive relationship to another, which raises pertinent questions about the cyclical nature of IPV in a patriarchal world. The film is innovative for director Martin Scorsese, in that he usually makes films that explore the dilemmas of men who are trapped in their worlds. Nonetheless, he readily applies his nascent film style to look at how difficult it is for Alice to escape abuse in a world that appears to normalize it. The Color Purple (Steven Spielberg, 1985) This film follows a period of renaissance in American filmmaking that looks at societal ills. With regard to IPV, it falls between a cycle of films during the 1970s that explored male angst and the 1990s cycle of thriller films that included a number of female protagonists. As a period drama, The Color Purple addresses issues related to race and class in its adaptation of the novel of the same name by Alice Walker. The film centers on the life of Celie Harris Johnson (played by Whoopi Goldberg). Through numerous struggles, Celie finds the strength to persevere in her efforts to achieve respect and equality. As with many period dramas, the human themes have a contemporary and enduring resonance. Sleeping with the Enemy (Joseph Ruben, 1991) This 1990s psychological thriller is innovative in that it presents the story of abuse from a woman who is not consistent with a stereotyped image of a victim. By the standards of a heteronormative world, the main character, Laura Burney (played by Julia Roberts), appears to have a near perfect life. Her husband is highly successful and they live in a beautiful home. Their domestic life, however, is revealed to be less than perfect, as he is an obsessive who abuses her both physically and emotionally. Unlike many other films, Sleeping with the Enemy assumes the perspective of Laura rather than a complex man. As a psychological thriller, it addresses the emotional difficulties of moving away from abuse toward a new life. Break Up (Paul Marcus, 1998) This film continues the 1990s cycle of psychological thrillers to assume the perspective of an abused woman who is falsely accused of murdering

A Select Filmography on Intimate Partner Violence  169 her abusive husband. In Break Up, Jimmy Dade (played by Bridget Fonda) is forced toward heroism to prove her innocence in a society that sides with the abuser. While the film is concerned with a story of a daring triumph against adversity in a Hollywood style, it nonetheless reflects the obstacle of entrenched attitudes in society. What’s Love Got to do with It (Brian Gibson, 1993) This epic film is based loosely on the story of Tina Turner. What’s Love Got to do with It combines the stardom of Tina Turner with her wellknown story of suffering IPV and overcoming an abusive relationship. Tina Turner is played by Angela Bassett. Precious (Lee Daniels, 2009) This film looks at how a young woman overcomes considerable obstacles to escape an abusive situation. Based on the novel Push by Sapphire, Precious looks at physical, mental, and sexual abuse. Claireece Precious Jones (played by Gabourey Sidibe) draws upon her imagination to find the strength needed to find ways to survive and live her life. Precious also addresses issues of race and class. The Girl on the Train (Tate Taylor, 2016) This film depicts the aftermath of IPV and touches on its psychological dimensions. Rachel Watson (played by Emily Blunt) is an alcoholic who spends her days endlessly and aimlessly riding the train. Rachel is haunted by her tattered marriage, failure to get pregnant, and the problems she believes were caused by her abuse of alcohol. On her journey, she watches her former husband Tom Watson (played by Justin ­Theroux) and his new wife Anna Watson (played by Rebecca ­Ferguson). She also watches their neighbors Scott (played by Luke Evans) and Megan ­Hipwell (played by Haley Bennett). It is not long before Rachel realizes that both relationships have problems and discovers a web of violence and deception. She also learns the disturbing truth about what she ­believed were her own transgressions. Seeing through the web of lies enables her to heal.

From the Perspective of Men While at times American cinema questions heteronormative values, it remains predominantly male-centric. There are, however, films that subvert, challenge, and parody what can be termed as the “burdens of expectation” borne by men. The films discussed as follows show a range of interpretations on IPV from the perspective of abusive men that merit a

170  A Select Filmography on Intimate Partner Violence nuanced reading. The narratives of the films reflect the absurdities and concerns of a socially entrenched male hegemony that tolerates misogyny. The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) While The Shining has can be categorized within the horror genre, it skillfully captures a dysfunctional marriage coming apart. The film centers on the declining mental state of Jack Torrance (played by Jack Nicholson). From the outset, Jack is presented as an abusive character with a history of drunken violence toward his son, Danny (played by Danny Lloyd). Jack’s descent toward brutal violence in a haunted hotel is unsettling. While the film places the emotional disintegration of Jack at the center of the narrative, the subtle performance of Shelley Duvall as Wendy merits closer scrutiny. In contrast with Jack’s egocentric demands, Wendy is portrayed a loving woman who is initially keen to make her marriage work. She invites audience reflection on a range of emotions from guilt through denial about the seriousness of her situation. This results in a nuanced performance on the nature of abusive relationships. Once she realizes the seriousness of the situation and the dangers for her son and herself, Wendy endeavors to overcome considerable obstacles to escape Jack. Five Easy Pieces (Bob Rafelson, 1970) and Carnal Knowledge (Mike Nichols, 1971) These two films from Jack Nicholson’s early career invite serious reflection on male privilege in relation to abusive behavior. While the two films approach concerns about a problematic patriarchy from different perspectives, they skillfully encourage audiences to see beyond the perspective of a misogynist struggling with angst. While the two characters played by Nicholson (Robert Dupea in Five Easy Pieces and Jonathan Fuerst in Carnal Knowledge) treat woman dreadfully, their deep-rooted unhappiness offers a reflection on societal norms that “permit” men to be abusive. When read in this way, the films are also united in a desire to parody the wrongness of a male-oriented reading of subjective morality. Raging Bull (Martin Scorsese, 1980) This film follows the life of American Boxer Jake LaMotta (played by Robert De Niro) through the highs of his career to his lonely demise. Jake abuses two wives in the course of the film. His motivation in each instance is fueled by an anger that is shown to be rooted in his struggles to find meaning and success. The film deals mostly with his second marriage to Vicky LaMotta (played by Cathy Moriarty) and looks at his intense jealously. As with other films from a male perspective, audiences

A Select Filmography on Intimate Partner Violence  171 are encouraged to view the world through the eyes of Jake. Yet, a sensitive and layered reading of this film also invites serious reflection on the problematic union of a patriarchal society with IPV.

Conclusion An internet search will provide further examples of IPV in cinema. This select filmography is neither exhaustive nor intended to be. Instead, it is representative of the times when Hollywood filmmakers have dealt seriously this important topic. When searching other examples, it becomes apparent how relatively few films offer a nuanced treatment of violence toward intimate partners. Abuse is often used as a code to draw attention to other problems. While there are obvious business reasons for Hollywood preferring safe films, this limited treatment merits further investigation. In particular, it raises serious questions about a need to challenge the societal norms concerning abuse.

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Index

Absalom, brother of Tamar 122 abuse, psychological 16, 20, 75, 136; psychological effects 26–30, 31, 41, 44, 53; and suicide see suicide abuser intervention violence programs 37–38, 157–8; religiously based 20 abusive husband 112, 113; see also Adalbert; Asa Bailey; Adorno, Giuliano; Paolo, Patricius Adalbert 130–4 Adam 64–7, 72, 99, 102, 104, 105 Adams, David 11 Adorno, Giuliano 134–8 African women: resistance of 146; in slavery 146 Alexander, of Hales 104–5 Agnes, of Assisi 114 Angela, of Foligno 18, 112–3 Ammon, son of David 122, 128 Aquinas, Thomas 68–9, 104–5 Aquino, Maria Pilar 165; see also “nesting potential” Arianism 83 Aristotle, Aristotelian 68, 104, 105 Augustine, of Hippo 17, 22, 61, 64–6, 73–8, 96, 105, 108, 135; conversion of 65, 73 Augustinian (order) 108, 113 Authority 17, 37, 58, 102, 140, 142, 143; church 41, 84; claims to 46–47, 61; ecclesiastical 87–8, 91, 92, 97, 103, 105; epistemic 46; female 143; in household 143, 151; husband’s 3, 22, 48, 123, 127, 138, 143, 149; male 66, 121, 127, 149, 151, 153; narrative 60; parental 150; spiritual 43, 96; in text 45–6, 96; voice 46

Bailey, Abigail Abbot 15, 20, 94–7, 104, 156, 159 Bailey, Asa 156 Bancroft, Lundy 32–7 bathhouses see Jewish batterer 33–38, 40, 42, 44, 45, 48, 81; see also abusive husband battering xiii–xv, 2, 5, 6, 16, 21, 22, 24, 29, 32, 35, 37, 41, 55, 62, 76, 93, 111, 118, 131–2 Baudonivia, nun and author 80–3 Behar, Ruth 52 Bauer, Gary 150 Benedict, of Nursia 99 Bernard, of Clairvaux 68, 108 Bernardino of Siena 110, 117–9; see also Franciscan Binary 164; male/female 155, 164 Birgitta of Sweden 129–30 Boccaccio 123 Boniface VIII 129 Boniface IX 129 Botswana see Ubuntu; ubuntu philosophy bride 79, 87, 123; ideal 116; theology 119 Brown, Joanne Carlson 57 Brown, Josh 152 Brown, Peter 8 Byrd, William 143 Calvin, John 7, 126–8 Cannon, Katie 143–4 canon: literary 51; see also: dominant narrative; male-centric narrative; master narrative canonical: abuser’s ideas as 46; body 59, 124; voice 60; works 51, 102 Carcassonne 109 Cathar(s) 108, 111, 155–6; 159

192 Index Catherine, of Genoa 18, 22, 121, 128, 134–8, 147; and other women 153 Celestine V. 129 Chaucer, Geoffrey 11, 18, 123 Cheatham, Dan 149 Cherubino, of Siena 126 children 25, 68, 79, 101, 123, 164; as abusers of elderly 23; as evidence of female sexuality 16; and IPV 27, 30–1, 33, 34–35, 40, 45, 159; Jesuits’ belief about 141–2 Christ: bride of 116; imitation of 57; as interlocutor 133; model of obedience 119; and suffering 103, 113, 118 Christian(s), American Evangelical 154 Christine de Pisan 14 Clement VII 129 Clothar I 17, 79–83 Clothild 83 Clovis I 83 Cobbe, Frances Power 148 common good 105, 153 communities: epistemic 46–7; role in resistance 159 Conrad of Marburg 114–6 conversion: of Franks 82, 84; of husband 20–21; 103, 137; and Jesuits of women as sign of holiness 20; of Augustine see Augustine; see also Jesuits; slavery Cooper-White, Pamela 122 1 Corinthians 15:21–22 102n9, 104 2 Corinthians 1:5 63 Corley, Catherine 103 courts, France 19 creation 121; social order 101; suffering and obedience 121 cycle of abuse 24–5; see also cycle of violence cycle of violence 51, 55 Dalton, Clare 48 Dana, Anita ix, 52 David, King 122 Davis, Natalie Zemon 19, 54 deconstruction: of Bible 56; of communities 98; literary method 50; male-centric 51 Department of Justice, U.S. 1 Derrida, Jacques 50 Dewey, Joanna 102 Dolan, Frances E. 106–7, 142–3

dominant narrative 51; see also malecentric narrative; master narrative domination 142, 165; male 103, 105; scripture as tool of 98; as a system 59, 102, 107 Dominican 108, 114, 115 Dorothy of Montau 12, 18, 22, 121, 128–34, 137, 147, 153; and other women 153 Drogo, of St. Winocsbergen 87–91, 96 Eagleton, Terry 54 Elisabeth, of Hungary 100, 114–9 England, early modern see Frances E. Dolan Ephesians, letter to 101; see also Ephesians 5:22–33 Ephesians 5:22–33 101, 152 Epistemic: authority 46; communities 47, 61; rigging 147; see also Margaret Urban Walker 147 Epistles, Pastoral 16, 63, 100, 126 evangelical see Christian(s) Evans, Tony 150–1; see also Promise Keepers 150 Eve 99, 102, 104, 105, 119, 153; and other women 153 Faith Trust Institute 5, 158 fall 64, 66–7, 68, 104, 105, 106, 126 Family Research Council 150; see also Gary Bauer family values 153; see also power feminist 12, 49, 162; analysis 61; anti-religious 97; critical analysis of history 165; critical interpretation 55–6; feminist rhetorical historiography 56; Korean 164; literary criticism 51, 56; feminist liberation theology see also theology, feminist liberation, minjung theology see also Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza Ferdinand de Saussure 50 film and IPV see IPV Florence, Italy ix, 112, 118, Figure 4.1 folklore and narrative 122–3 forgiveness: for abuse 82, 113, 141; in Ubuntu 162 Fortunatus, Venantius poet and bishop 79–82 Fortune, Marie 40, 43, 158 Franciscan 108, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117, 135

Index  193 Gabrina (degli Alberti) 110, 118 gender-based violence 1, 2, 4, 22, 147, 157, 158, 162, 165 Genesis 15, 16, 64–6 Genesis 2:21–22 102 Genesis 2 and 3 65, 126 Genesis 3:16 16–17, 22, 99, 102, 104–6 Genesis 9:18–27, 143–4 Germanus bishop of Paris 80, 82, 83, 155 Gerson, Jean 14 Girard, René 56 Gistel see Godelieve God, image of 124, 126; viewed by abusive men 151–2; see also hierarchy Godelieve, of Gistel ix, xiii, 9, 17, 22, 85–91, 86: Figure 3.1 103–4, 159 Golden Legend (Legenda Aurea) 115, 116 Gouge, William 106, 107 Gravdal, Kathryn 12 Great Schism 128–9 Gregory IX, Pope 114 Griselda 18, 22, 117, 121–34, 144, 147, 153; and Tamar 124, 147; and other women 153 Gudorf, Christine E. 3 Haaken, Janice 44, 53 hagiography xiii–iv, 6, 9, 61, 107, 111 Ham, in Genesis 143 Haverhill, Massachusetts 156 Hebrews 8–9 63, 99, 119 Helen of Skövde 92 Henry VIII 19, 106, 143 heresy: Dorothy of Montau 132; marriage 108, 110 hierarchy 9, 59, 60, 78; in Christian society 105, 125; church 9, 60, 86, 96, 164; gender 96, 142; inequality 164; social 59 Hildegard of Bingen 66–8; 104 historical narrative see narrative holiness 15, 16, 20, 21, 61, 73, 77, 78, 82, 84, 91, 96, 107, 128, 130, 134, 135, 137, 138, 160 household codes 101–2 Howell, Martha 8 Hudson, Virginia Cary 71–3 Husband: authority over wife 3, 106; murder of wife 92; see also authority and subordination of women

imitation of Christ 57 98–9, 113; see also suffering Ingritude 83 intervention, clerical or ecclesiastical 4 intimate partner violence see IVP injustice: critical analysis of 165; economic 163; at home 165; as a result of sin 70; social 162; of violence 157 Inquisition 109, 155–6; 156: fig. 1 Inquisition register see Inquisition Inquisitorial search see Inquisition intimate partner violence see IPV Isaiah 50:4–9 63 Isaiah 52:13–53:1–12 63 Islamic state 154 Italy 110–14, 117 IPV 3, 4, 5, 17, 23–49, 62, 155, 156, 157–8; film 158; see also genderbased violence James of Vitry 109 James of Voragine 115, 116; see also Golden Legend Jean, hermit of Chinon 155 Jerome, St 105 Jesuit missionaries in New France (Canada) 19–22, 121, 138–42; and conversion 140–1; see also Montagnais Jean de Meung 14 Jew (Jewish) 2, 4, 5, 15, 21, 39, 40, 43, 101, 154, 157 Jezebel Influence 148 Jezebel spirit 149 Johnson, Elizabeth 101–2; see also Ephesians Jubilee 130, 1390, 129 justice 165; creating justice 73; at home 165; justice in relationships 97; in Korean Christianity 163–4 Korean feminist and liberation theologians 162–4; see also minjung theology KUHLUBUKA Development Trust (KDT) 157; see also Matuvhunye, Edward kyriarchy, kyriarchal 58–9, 74–5, 153, 163; 160, 164; institutions 164; order 96; practices 59, 60, 78; religious beliefs 98; violence 120

194 Index Kyung, Chung Hyun 163, 165; see also minjung theology law 42, 143, 148; civil 125, 145; God’s 74; Orthodox Judaic 39; resistance to 153; and slavery 145; treatment of women 125, 148 Lawless, Elaine xv, 44–5, 51–3, 55, 60, 123 Leo IX, pope 125 lion(s) 124; see also Sandy, Peggy LeJeune, Paul 19–20 Louis (Ludwig) of Thuringia 115, 116 Lubiano, Wahneema 46 Luther, Martin 7, 69, 106, 126–7 Magnhild of Fulltofta 91, 92 Maksimovic, Desanka 52 male-centric theology 22, 51, 64, 71, 97, 146, 148, 164; biblical interpretation 145; cinema 167, 169; messages and narratives 154, 155; norms 161, 165 male control over women 101, 105, 121, 143, 161, 164 see theology of ownership and power Maria Sturion of Venice 114 manuscripts: Cambridge, Harvard University Houghton Library MS Typ 142, 115–16 Margaret of Roskilde 91, 92 Marienwerder, John 130–4 Marriage: abusive 110; among the Montagnais 138; early modern 106; metaphor of Christ and the church 101; reflection of divine order 133; resistance to 114; see also Dorothy of Montau; Monica martyrdom 79, 80, 85, 87, 91, 93 Mary, mother of Jesus 11, 78, 89 Mather, Cotton 107 Matthew 5:10 63 Matthew 12:49–50 155 Matteuccia Francisco of Todi 110, 118–9, 159; see also sorcery Matuvhunye, Edward 157; see also KUHLUBUKA Development Trust Maury, Guillelme ix, 60, 155–6, 159 Maury, Pèire ix, 155–6 McNamara, Jo Ann 82, 84 Mechthild of Skänninge 92–3 Medard, bishop of Noyon 83, 155

medieval universities 104, 105, 108 methodology 2; feminist 56 Mildorf, Jamila 53 minjung theology 162–4, 165; criticism of 163; feminist analysis added 164; social justice 162–3; and ubuntu theology 163–4, 165 misogyny 5, 9, 10, 155; in Chaucer 11; in film 170 missionaries 20, 107, 139, 153; see also Jesuits Monica, mother of Augustine of Hippo 17, 22, 65, 73–8, 96, 103, 133, 137, 153, 160; and Catherine of Genoa and Dorothy of Montau 137; and Eve, Tamar, Monica, Griselda, Dorothy of Montau, Catherine of Genoa 153 monotheistic religions 125 Moon, Hwrang 163; see also Korean liberation theologians More, Alison 116 Montagnais, in New France (Canada) 138–42, 147 Montaillou, France 155–6, 159 Morgan, Robin 62 Mowbray, David 104–5 Muslim 2, 4, 5, 21, 40, 157 narratives 45–6, 55–6; 128, 155; adjustments 51; analysis 53, 56; disruptions 51; dominant 60; empowerment and equality 165; historical 55–6; of holiness and suffering 15–21; male-centric 51, 155, 165; master 45–6, 51, 60, 61, 62, 165; prescriptive 128; religious meaning 55; violent 51–2; see also dominant narrative; male-centric narrative; narrative National Domestic Violence Hot Line 158 National Institutes of Justice (NIJ) 23, 36 National Football League 152 native peoples 153 natural law 105 nesting potential 165; see also Maria Pilar Aquino norms, normative: African 162; cultural 37, 38, 48, 150, 160, 161; gender 155; male, male interpretation as 46, 48–9, 51,

Index  195 59, 60, 62, 124, 165; morally 49; religious 47, 61, 161; sexist 49; suffering as 84; traditional 31 obedience i, 2, 6, 7, 18, 21–2, 41, 43, 47, 55, 61, 63–4, 67, 73, 78, 90–1, 99, 103, 119 Ohio Domestic Violence Network 158 Oing, Michelle 115–7 Oppression, oppressive 45–6, 163, 165; theology 153; power 58, 147 order: divine 104, 105, 134, 138, 143, 148, 153; natural 105; secular 105; social 117, 153 Orthodox Jewish see Jew(ish) ownership 121, 125, 137–8; 143, 146, 148, 152, 153; see also power, property; theology of ownership and power Paolo, husband of Rita of Cascia 113 Parker, Rebecca 57 Paris see University of Paris 14, 104, 105, 108 patriarchy 58, 125, 144, 153, 162–3, 170 Patricius, father of Augustine of Hippo 17, 73–5, 77, 103, 135, 137, conversion of 25 Peaceful Families Project (PFP) 157 Pennsylvania Coalition against Domestic Violence 158 Pepys, Samuel 143 1 Peter 2:18–3:7 102–3 1 Peter 3:1 103 1 Peter 3:17 63 Petrarch 123 Philippians 1:29 63 physicians 53 Polling, James 98, 164 power: interlocking systems of 58, 143, 144, 146; morality 45; structure 153; 162 preaching 107, 108, 118, 119; see also sermons Presbyterianism, conservative 162, 163; see also minjung theology; South Korea Prevenier, Walter 8 privilege 45, 58–61, 96, 124, 161, 162; male 27, 34 45–9, 125, 128, 138 Proctor-Smith Marjorie 153

Project S.A.R.A.H. 157 Promise Keepers 150–1 property see ownership Psalm 22:1 63 Psychology, psychological 44, 55; of victims and abusers 55; abuse see abuse, psychological pyramid, of power ix, 58–9, 45, 101, 124 Quarrel about Women (La Querelle des femmes) 14 Radegund 155, 159 racism 25, 59, 144–5 rape 12, 38–9, 40, 16, 152, 153, 154; in marriage 153 of enslaved women 146; of Tamar 121–2, 124, 128; institutionalized 164 Reformation, theology 126 Regulars, in colonial New Jersey 93 Religion 4, 8; as justification for violence 38–49, 76, 82, 125, 154; as source of resistance 19, 156, 158, 165; world 3; and violence 5, 38–43, 48–9 resistance 147, 153, 155; 159; see also Women’s March; use of Scripture to support 146 Rita, of Cascia 113 Roberts, Carolyn 146 Romance of the Rose (Le roman de la rose) ix, 13–5 Ruether, Rosemary Radford 125 Rule of Benedict 99–100 Sacourt, William 109 Sacrifice 133, 134; wife’s 7; self 43, 78, 103, 142 Safe Havens Interfaith Partnership against Domestic Violence and Elder Abuse 158 saint(s): Italian women 93, 111, 121, 134; Scandinavian women 91–3, 97 sainthood 21, 85, 114, 155 Sanday, Peggy 124 Santa Croce, church in Florence 111–2 Scandinavian holy women see saints, Scandinavian women Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth 56, 59, 71, 144, 161, 165, 166

196 Index scripture 152; analysis of 3 self-defense 93 sermons 107, 109, 116, 117, 118; model 109, 116; see also preaching serpent 67–8 sexual assault 4, 34, 90, 95, 147, 154 sexism 12, 48, 58–9, 144, theological 146; institutions and kyriarchy 163 silence, silencing: prescribed for women 102, 103, 133; 44, 45, 51; theological 146; of voices 61, 72 slavery 103, 143–6, 153; sexual 163; Antiabolitionists 144; burden on women 146; children 146; Christian apologists for 143–4, 153; and conversion 144; opposition to 144; rights of 150; use of Scripture both for and against 146; see also racism; sexism Smith, Dorothy 151 social media and IPV 158–9 social construction 55; see also social structure social structure 58, 70, 100, 107, 124; Christian imposition of 107 sorceress (witch) see Gabrina (degli Alberti), Matteucia Francisco of Todi sorcery 110, 118 South Africa 161; see also Desmond Tutu, Ubuntu theology South Korea 162; see also minjung theology Stock, Brian 54 subordination of women 48, 102, 105, 119, 121, 126 submission 47, 154; and abuse 24; biblical 101, 103, 160; and clergy 43; Jesuits 140, 142; to male-centric norms 165; of slaves 144; and women 124, 150, 154 suicide 27, 29, 32; female saints who threaten to commit 81, 82, 92 suffering 3, 14, 55, 57–8, 63–4, 103, 119, 155; emotional, 137; fourteenth-century spirituality; marriage 110–1, 117, 119, 137; repayment for debt of sin; Scriptures 63–4; theology 57, 119 violence 56–7 survivor(s) 1, 2, 21, 24, 25, 28–9, 43, 157, 159; and clergy 41, 42;

community support 160, 163, 164; male 1, 29; Muslim 157; and self-esteem 31; and silence 146; transgender 26, 29, 146; voice 155, 161; theological support 160; see also Peaceful Families Project Talmage, T. DeWitt 57 Tamar 121, 122, 147, 153; and Griselda 124, 147; and other women 153 temptation, women’s bodies associated with 16 theology: atonement 57; (critical) feminist liberation: 21, 46, 57, 71, 98, 153, 160–1, 162, 163–5; oppressive 153 see oppression; of power see power; of resistance and empowerment 162, 164, 165; of suffering 7; male-centric see male-centric theology; minjung see Minjung theology; of obedience see obedience; of ownership see ownership; of patriarchy see patriarchy; see also minjung theology; Ubuntu theology see Ubuntu; see suffering theory: cultural 50; feminist 21, 43–6, 57, 162; mimetic 56; social 55 Thuringia see Radegund 1 Timothy 2:11–13 101–2 2 Timothy 1:8 63 Todi, Italy 110, 159; see also Bernardino of Siena, Matteucccia Francisco of Todi transformation 52–3, and suffering 98; see also Elaine Lawless, Janice Haaken traumatic bonding 32–3 trial records 118 Trump, Donald 154 Tutu, Desmond 16 ubuntu, definition161; and minjung 164; philosophy 162; theology 161–2 Umilana, dei Cerchi ix, 18, 111–2, Figure 4.1 University of Paris 14, 104, 105, 108 Urban VI 129 Urban Walker, Margaret 46–7, 59, 147

Index  197 Vauchez, André 114, 134 violence 47–8, 51–2, 56; see also IPV; narrative Vito of Cortona 111 voice 45–6, 51, 55, 59, 60, 72, 77, 120, 155, 162; of indigenous women 20, 139; religious 42, 102, 161; hearing someone into 44; of authority or canonical 46–7, 60; of resistance 60–61, 162

West, Traci 15, 146 Whately, William 106–7 wife 126, 164; saintly 164 wife-beating 19, 109, 125–6; punishment for 93 women, physicality 119, 121, 125; narrative point of view 55 Women’s March 147 Zimbabwe 157–8