Speaking out: Give Us More Christian Professors

Until recently, many American university professors and administrators would have told you there was a glut in the academic market. A host of Ph.D.’s were finding it difficult to land jobs. Too many graduate students were preparing for too few teaching and research openings. And the rise and eventual elimination of mandatory retirement ages for professors was expected to exacerbate the situation.

Recent research, however, proves that perception wrong. It is now clear that, rather than a glut, there will be a severe shortage of professors—perhaps within a decade—unless steps are taken to increase dramatically the pool of qualified younger scholars.

A study of 24 major universities by two Pennsylvania State University researchers indicates that in spite of changes in retirement regulations, most college professors continue to retire at or before the age of 65. And between 15 and 25 percent of all professors will reach 65 within the current decade.

Another recent study concluded that nearly half a million new faculty members will be needed during the next 25 years. In other words, virtually the entire professorate of American colleges and universities will be replaced by A.D. 2010!

Open Door To Academia

What does this mean to evangelicals? Certainly the future of Christian colleges, Bible institutes, and seminaries depends upon the character and commitment of the new generation of faculty. Yet without denying the importance of evangelical institutions, it is essential to note that the vast majority of the young men and women in America, including committed Christians, are found in secular colleges. Here is one of the greatest and perhaps the most strategic mission fields in the world today.

Rather than decrying the negative influence of “secular humanism” in contemporary society, Christians must begin showing renewed interest in the universities, for in them the moral tone of our culture is set. Writers such as Allan Bloom (The Closing of the American Mind) and E. D. Hirsch (Cultural Literacy) have documented the failures of higher education and have called for intellectual and, indeed, moral repentance. What is needed, therefore, is a multitude of Christian men and women who combine a deep commitment to the life of the mind and to life in their Lord—Christians who will take the steps necessary to prepare themselves to enter the open door of academia and give the best years of their lives to shaping those who will become leaders in the twenty-first century.

Called To Scholarship

What a difference it would make if every pastor were to preach one sermon this year that stressed the importance of the university in evangelizing the modern world and presented the call of scholarship as a legitimate Christian vocation!

Bright students in high schools and colleges should be encouraged by their Christian teachers, counselors, youth group sponsors, and parents to give their lives to Christ’s service in university teaching and research. It will demand sacrifices—long hours of study, additional years of postgraduate work, the postponement and sacrifice of earnings—much like a commitment to foreign missionary service. But the goal is no less important.

Churches near major campuses should commit themselves to becoming more deeply involved in the life of the university: by appointing a campus minister who has the educational background appropriate to the job, by working more closely with parachurch groups that minister on secular campuses, by providing study leaves for their pastors so they can upgrade their own educations, and by encouraging educators in their own congregations.

Christian charitable foundations should place high on their agendas the development of a corps of committed scholars who will seek to “take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Cor. 10:5). In recent years we have realized the importance of Christian influence not only on individuals, but also on the structures of society, such as government and public education. So, too, we must learn the importance of thinking. If the world is to be brought under the lordship of Jesus, the intellectual climate of our time must be changed. Thinking itself must be redeemed.

The future of the church and society will be determined, in large part, by what happens in the next 25 years, as the older generation of university teachers is replaced by a new generation. What will happen is, of course, in God’s hands. But it is also in our hands, if we but respond to the opportunities of the hour.

W. Ward Gasque is the current J. Omar Good Visiting Distinguished Professor of Evangelical Christianity at Juniata College, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania.

Fractured Pride

As a child in elementary school, I used to think it would be a status symbol to break an arm or leg. Everyone (or so my reasoning went) would want to write clever messages on my cast. I would be excused from gym for weeks on end. And if I was lucky enough to break my right arm, I would probably escape doing homework, too. Of course, I never wanted such status badly enough to jump from a high tree branch or deliberately trip myself on a jump rope. Still, I couldn’t help vaguely hoping that someday (not during the summer holidays, mind you) I’d get the fracture that would be my ticket to instant upward mobility in the schoolyard.

Well, I had to wait a few decades, but it finally happened: I broke my right wrist. I was recently skating a few modest spins on the neighborhood rink when suddenly, losing my balance, I instinctively put out my right hand to break the fall—and broke a bone instead.

“Ah, yes,” said the emergency room doctor. “A Colley’s fracture; quite common among skaters and skiers.” That made me feel better: if it was such a common fracture, and so easily named, then surely it couldn’t be so serious. Six weeks in a cast and I would be as good as new. But it turned out otherwise, as I discovered two weeks later when the wrist had to be reset.

Colley’s fractures are common, but they are not clean: Since you take the impact on the palm of the hand, the fractured ends of the bone jam together like a folded accordion, often breaking off chips in the process. This makes it harder for the ends to keep from slipping, even inside a cast. “Ten weeks total cast time, at least,” announced the surgeon after resetting my radius. “Come back in two months for another x-ray.”

That was six weeks ago. In the meantime, I have discovered that the kind of helpless dependence we sometimes wish for as children can be a blow to adult pride. For example, we Protestant Christians all believe in salvation by grace—in theory. But in practice, most of us manage to smuggle works righteousness back into the equation. I suspect each of us subconsciously believes that, really, God is pleased with us because of (fill in the blank): our intelligence, our social graces, our spotlessly clean house, our money-making ability, or our physical stamina.

I once took a personality test from a fellow psychologist who remarked that one of the strongest themes in my profile was the high degree of confidence I had in my health and physical endurance. She was right: I have been blessed with very good health, and way down deep I have nourished a pocket of smugness about it—as if somehow it were a personal accomplishment I could present to God and not entirely his gift to me.

In receiving help from fellow Christians these past weeks, my pride has been fractured, and I have been made more aware of my ultimate fragility. Our family has been overwhelmed with casseroles, house-cleaning help, and offers of transportation. There were no strings attached—no expectation of payment, in money or in kind. It was just plain Christian love.

It has been harder to accept than I thought, but it has been a good reminder that, in the words of the Heidelberg Catechism, even at my healthiest, “I am not my own, but belong body and soul … to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.” And it has made me appreciate as never before this biblical metaphor of the church as a body of interdependent parts. When one part must take time out, the other parts pick up the slack.

I’ve also learned a lot about the adaptability of the human body. It is amazing what you can do with your left hand when you have to: turn a can opener, put on earrings, shift car gears, and much more. I am grateful, too, for my home computer, which enabled me to compose this column almost as fast with six fingers as I could have with my usual ten. And believe it or not, I have garnered a bit of status through it all. A few weeks ago, I and my fresh cast flew to Chicago for a quarterly CT meeting, where I got all my fellow senior editors to sign it. Now, whenever I feel like name dropping, all I have to do is lower my right arm!

Letters

Nien Cheng: A Heroine!

What a gorgeous cover [May 13] of Nien Cheng. Because of your introduction to her, Nien Cheng has become one of my all-time heroines! Your magazine is always exciting and thought-provoking, but you really outdid yourself this time.

WILLIAM E. MORGAN, JR.

South Jordan, Utah

I take exception to the apparent lack of research in recent coverage of the church in China, particularly in the case of Ellen Santilli Vaughn’s “Life and Faith in Shanghai” [May 13]. While Nien Cheng may have a wealth of firsthand knowledge concerning life in Shanghai under the Red Guard, she does not appear to be well versed on the current (or historical) state of Christianity in China. The number of believers in China before the Communist revolution was around 800,000, not four million. Also misleading is her remark that Deng Ziaoping “immediately restored the churches and temples that the Red Guard destroyed.” Hundreds, however, are still in disrepair or being used as factories or government offices.

Eric Bridges’s article, “Freer but Fragile: The Church in China” [Apr. 22], paints a one-sided picture of the church in China as being run predominantly by elderly pastors. His view ignores the growing grassroots “house church” movement that involves hundreds of young evangelists, many in their late teens or early twenties. The incredible growth of the church since 1949 should be evidence that God does not need to consult the Communist party before doing his work in China.

BRENT FULTON

China Ministries International

Pasadena, Calif.

Go For The Gold

With the summer Olympics nearly upon us, we’ll soon be hearing about one of the most difficult tests in all of sport: the decathlon. This combination of ten track-and-field events demands speed, strength, and endurance. Only the fittest dare compete.

Well, I hate to fly in the face of international athletic wisdom, but there is another tenfold event even more difficult. A recent Sunday with the grandkids reacquainted me with it.

The churchathlon begins with waking up on time. That sounds easy enough, until you subtract the hours of sleep lost Saturday night preparing a Sunday school lesson. Speed and agility are essential in the next four events: feeding the kids, bathing the kids, dressing the kids, and loading the kids into the car. Degree of difficulty increases exponentially according to the number of children involved.

If you have the determination to deposit each child in the proper Sunday school classroom—on time—you’re still in the running for event number seven: teaching your own Sunday school class.

Your endurance is stretched after class when you collect the kids and seat them in the sanctuary with a minimum of talking or squabbling. Then comes the final—and ultimate—challenge: Quiet your heart to worship.

Anyone who completes that course deserves a gold medal.

EUTYCHUS

Death: Just around the corner

Philip Yancey, in “Death Whispers” [May 13], failed to convey the essence of the rabbit warren in Watership Down. Those rabbits knew death was just around the corner for everyone. But, even while knowing it, they denied the fact. Like their modern human counterparts, they accepted a comfortable existence in exchange for never questioning “where” another might be at any moment; the traps were everywhere, death hung like a “mist” over their heads as Fiver said, but it was violently pushed out of their thoughts—though always lurking in the corner of their saddened hearts. Those rabbits lived by a line from Yancey’s quote from Pascal: “… I ought to spend all the days of my life without caring to inquire into what must happen to me.”

WAYNE BOYD

Simi Valley, Calif.

Civil rights protection

Although I agree with Terry Muck’s editorial [“Too Much of a Good Thing?” May 13], I was disturbed that he consistently left women off his lists of groups who legitimately deserve civil rights protection. We as a church mustn’t forget that many of our number legitimized the second-class status of blacks under the guise of scriptural relationships between master and slave. This situation is often paralleled by the church’s lack of concern for the status of women. It is dishonorable to treat any human being as less than an image bearer of God. Let’s not continue to make this mistake.

LOIS LEADER

Phoenix, Ariz.

We, as believers, must be the champions of the definition of what civil rights should be—not only stateside, but in the body of Christ overseas, too! From the womb to the grave we must be consistent in protecting those rights. The evangelical church in America must look beyond its Anglo roots and get back to its biblical roots and practice honesty, morality, and conscience outside the four walls of its buildings.

ELI VIERA LUEVANO

Albuquerque, N.M.

I knew this bill would open the door to letting homosexuals into the mainstream of our society. Though those in power deny this, it’s true, because they consider homosexuals a minority group. Many churches are bending the weak knee to this abominable spirit and allowing themselves to be absorbed by this worldly and anti-Christian spirit.

ROBERT MOORE

Columbus, Miss.

Effecting social reform

I have just read Charles Colson’s column “So Much for Our Great Awakening” [May 13]. Two points bother me: First is the almost unrestrained praise, bordering on adulation, showered on Ronald Reagan. No human being, however upright, deserves that, and it troubles me that Christian people can come so near to worshiping a fellow human being. Second is the arrogance and illusions of the conservatives. If it were not so tragic, it would be amusing.

Some of us evangelicals are moderate in our thinking, and we are keenly aware that arrogance is no way to win friends and influence people, thus, these idealists may not have the support they claim. Also, have Christians actually believed we can effectively legislate social reform? Colson is correct: “Christian people belong in the political arena … but without illusions.”

REV. JACK TAYLOR

Berlin United Methodist Church

Berlin, Ga.

While I wholeheartedly agree with Colson that we need to be in “for the long haul,” he forgot to mention that we shouldn’t put our hopes in a Christian President who consults the stars more than his Bible.

REV. TED WEIDMAN

Ford Parkway Baptist Church

St. Paul, Minn.

Biased Israel reports?

It is disappointing to see your news “reports” on the recent rioting in Israel written by individuals who have a blatant bias in favor of the rioting Arabs [“No Peace in Sight,” by Beth Spring, May 13]. The current disturbances are simply the latest effort by militant Muslim terrorists to carry out their oft-repeated boast: to destroy the Zionist state.

It is unfortunate that some innocent Arab Christians have been victimized by this conflict; as a Jewish Christian my heart goes out to them. However, we must not lose sight that the Word of God gives the land of Israel to the Jewish people.

REV. MOTTEL BALESTON

Conservative Baptist Jewish Ministries

Montclair, N.J.

Bright stars, little lights

Thank you for Julia Duin’s clear and accurate news report on “Why the Assemblies Dismissed Swaggart” [May 13]. However, to refer to Bakker and Swaggart as our “two brightest stars” does not reflect well on the host of credentialed Assemblies of God ministers who faithfully serve God without gaudy histrionics or inappropriate, if not unscriptural, public criticism of fellow ministers.

While Bakker and Swaggart were loved and prayed for, they have long been held with serious reservation by many. If their styles won them the “brightest star” award in the Assemblies of God, then I’ll gladly settle for a “this little light of mine” badge.

REV. MELVIN JOHNSON

Glad Tidings Temple

San Francisco, Calif.

The Assemblies should be admired for maintenance of high standards of conduct for its ministers. While other denominations wink at clergy who are involved in homosexuality, the occult, deviant doctrines, and immoral political postures, the Assemblies of God deals firmly with its fallen brethren.

DAVID ARNETT

Marshfield, Wis.

Hayner and MacDonald

The interview with Steven Hayner [News, Apr. 22], the new president of InterVarsity, was excellent. I was concerned about the paragraph that prefaced it stating “after the June 1987 resignation of Gordon MacDonald, following public revelation of an extramarital affair.” What did that have to do with the interview? I know of no significant Christian leader who, having fallen into sin, has had more integrity in how he handled that matter, how he repented, sought counseling, and made himself accountable.

ARTHUR L. BEALS

University Presbyterian Church

Seattle, Wash.

Loving the Palestinians

I read with great interest David Neff’s Editorial [“Israel at Forty,” Apr. 22]. As a Palestinian Christian myself, I reiterate his question again about Israel and biblical prophecy. Do I interpret the Bible on not very clear revelations to blindly encourage a Zionist state in place of the Palestinian homeland, or do I follow a very clear statement of loving my Palestinian brother (1 Thess. 4:9)? As a Bible-believing Christian, I would definitely choose the latter.

THEODORE R. NASSAR, M.D.

Madera, Calif.

Christian support for Israel is founded on justice, not merely calculating prophecy. In the 29 years since Israel repelled the Arab agression of the Six Day War and conquered the West Bank, Israel opened universities where there were none before, reduced infant mortality, raised the standard of living, provided jobs, increased life expectancy—all the while guaranteeing freedom of access for all people to all holy places. By any measure, the Palestinians living under Israeli rule are far better off than when they lived under the Arabs, and far freer than any Arabs anywhere.

MICHAEL RYDELNIK

Olive Tree Congregation

Plainview, N.Y.

Ask the women

In Tim Stafford’s article about James Dobson [Apr. 22], a friend comments: “I see Jim as a prophet to women.” Perhaps he should survey some women. Dobson sees women as one-dimensional beings. Men can be many things, but women have but one role in life. Dobson fails to see that women are not all alike. Some find fulfillment in the home, but others have achievement needs that can only be filled in a career.

It is sad that a church spokesperson for the family cannot see women as being fully human. Those who do not accept traditional roles are made to feel deficient. And then Dobson wonders why Christian women have a major problem with depression!

KAREN HINER

Colorado Springs, Colo.

Letters are welcome; brevity is preferred. Only a selection can be published, and all are subject to condensation. Write to Eutychus, CHRISTIANITY TODAY, 465 Gundersen Drive, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188.

“Senior” Wit and Wisdom

The term senior connotes scholarship. Wisdom. Insight. But if you’re a regular CT reader, you also know that “senior editor” means sensitive, witty, and very human.

In the context of their regular column, the five senior editors who provide invaluable counsel to CT editors give readers a glimpse into their personal lives, showing God at work in spite of their foibles. Thus, over the past year we have read of J. I. Packer’s cravings for chocolate chocolate cake, George Brushaber’s admiration for “Old Blue” (a mouse-infested Chevy sedan), and in this issue, we hear from Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen—and about her broken wrist.

As of this writing, the wrist is almost back to normal. But as Mary notes on page 11, the fracture hardly broke her stride. Among other things, she was an early reader of this issue’s cover story, and offered suggestions for its final improvement. And, of course, she wrote her column—almost a month ahead of schedule! (Perhaps there’s an editorial principle here?)

The column and the prepublication editorial critiques constitute a large part of the senior editors’ job description. Also in that description are the quarterly two-day meetings near Chicago’s O’Hare airport, where ideas are discussed, questions raised and answered, and, in the case of Mary’s cast, wrists are signed.

For the record, our senior editors are: George Brushaber, Bethel College and Seminary; J. I. Packer, Regent College; Kenneth Kantzer, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School; Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen, Calvin College; and John Akers, Billy Graham Evangelistic Association.

HAROLD B. SMITH, Managing Editor

Cover illustration by Chris A. Gall.

History

The Benevolent Tradition: The Charity of Women

Through sacrifice, mercy, and charity, women down through church history may have given us our greatest examples of love demonstrated and proven through selfless giving and service to others.

Wiki Commons

Jesus’ portrait of the charitable woman in Mark 12:44 is the emblem of a continuous tradition within the Church: A feminine tradition of benevolence born in spite of cultural restrictions. Consider his description of this poor widow who donated two copper coins to the treasury: “… she gave everything she had, her whole being.” In another time this woman might live in a castle or a cloister, a settlement or a city, but, although less likely to receive from her contemporaries the recognition Jesus gave her, her philanthropic spirit would continue to express itself through acts of financial sacrifice.

Like the scribes, Christ often had his material needs met by women. But, unlike the scribes, he did not “devour widow’s houses” (Luke 20:47). The group of Galilean women who accompanied Jesus in his travels, and who ministered to him and the disciples, as Luke 8:3 says it, “out of their means,” included Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and “many others.” They were treated as companions, an anomaly in a culture that transferred a woman from the guardianship of her father to that of her husband. These arrangements included financial control as well; a woman rarely took responsibility for her own funds until her husband’s death, or until her husband decided to divorce her.


“I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They gave out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in everything—all that she had.” Mark 12:43–44

It is unclear how these women freed themselves from the familial and financial structures of first century Palestine; it is clear that Jesus gratefully accepted their support. The reciprocity of these relationships is clearly seen between Christ and Mary of Bethany. Because of her love and gifts of hospitality, he allowed her to sit at his feet and learn. In response, as recorded in John 12, she took an “alabaster flask of pure nard, very costly,” and anointed him. The oil was worth about 300 denarii—almost a whole year’s wages for a vineyard worker. Her sense of the greater purpose of Christ’s mission inspired her to make this costly temporal sacrifice.

In New Testament times women were restricted from roles of leadership. The apostle Paul, within these limitations, followed Christ’s example of acceptance and validation of female support. He cites three women who supported churches within their homes: Priscilla, who was in business with her husband Aquila, Chloe in Corinth, and Nympha of Colosse. These hostesses must have had some wealth to use as a bridge of authority between the domestic and ecclesiastical realms.

Lydia, another businesswoman of the early Church, is described as a “dealer in purple” (Acts 16:14). Though a Gentile, she attended Jewish services and supported the synagogue. She became the first convert from Paul’s preaching in Europe, and established and supported a church for the people of Thyatira, as well as a refuge for Paul.

Two of the five basic offices established in Acts and the Epistles were made up of women: “widows and deaconesses.” Both were ministries of charitable service. Leadership was maintained through service. Paul describes Phoebe, a deaconess in the church at Cenchreae, as a prostatis. In its technical usage this term referred to a legal representative of strangers who were deprived of civil rights, or to a patron. Phoebe, “a helper of many and of me [Paul] as well,” (Rom.16:22) apparently provided financial aid, and possibly legal assistance.

Early Servants

Widows and deaconesses continued their charitable work throughout the early centuries of the Church. Olympias (368–408), a deaconess in the church at Constantinople, used her inheritance to buy the freedom of hundreds of slaves, give to the poor, relieve suffering, and to build a monastery. She, along with many other Christian women in her time, chose the humility of poverty over the comforts of wealth.

In the late fourth century, the Church Father Jerome was supported by several dynamic and affluent patronesses, including Paula, an aristocratic Roman widow. After her conversion, Paula lived an ascetic lifestyle, protesting against materialism and giving to the poor. She built monasteries, churches, and hospitals, and then followed Jerome to Bethlehem, where, with her money, they founded three nunneries and a monastery that served as sanctuaries for the needy. She helped Jerome in his work of translation, and bought rare books and manuscripts essential to his task. Jerome wrote of her, “What bedridden man was not supported with money from her purse?”

Medieval Times and Reformation

As the Church approached the Medieval period and continued to define its hierarchy, the offices of deaconess and widow were phased out. At the Synod of Orleans in 533 the office of deaconess was officially nullified “… on account of the weakness of this sex.” Women found alternatives for service within monastic communities, ministering to each other and to the needy. Entrance into these communities became contingent on wealth as nunneries demanded that postulants provide dowries. Increasingly, affluent families funded the building of monasteries as a sign of prestige. Yet in spite of this elitism and these less than spiritual motivations, the growing number of convents offered women opportunities for financial administration. At best, a woman might invest in the founding of a monastery, and, securing the position of abbess through her monastery donation, hold authority over the monks.

The cloistered seclusion of Medieval women had its advantages, considering the times, but it also limited their charitable outreach to the culture as a whole. With the Reformation, the young Protestant Church established the domestic world as the realm of women, and financial service was most often a gesture of hospitality. Women opened their homes and cupboards to Protestant travelers and refugees. Public ministry—typified by convent life—was condemned by the Protestants. Again only the wealthy could volunteer funds for benevolent causes: Lady Armyne (1594–1675) gave liberally for the conversion of Indians in New England; Isabella Bresegna (1510–1567) used her wealth to oppose papal authority during the Inquisition; Anne Pembroke (1589–1674) and Marie Miramion (1629–1696) poured their money into charitable concerns, particularly care for the poor and sick.

Puritans and the Awakening

During the colonization and denominationalism of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, women could find outlets for organized charity within dissenting religious movements. But if they were unable, or unwilling, to rebel against the standard of Church authority, they did not exceed their roles as wives and mothers. Puritan society allowed women limited control of financial affairs, but, as congregations became crowded with women, and many men withdrew from Church community, the contributions of women became harder to ignore. In acknowledging that women were “the hidden ones,” Cotton Mather challenged the nascent American Church to notice this element in the shadows. Puritan preachers began to praise women not only for their saintly qualities, but for their pragmatic abilities. Increase Mather wrote that his mother, “a woman of singular prudence for the management of affairs, had taken off from her husband all secular cares, so that he wholly devoted himself to his study, and to sacred employments.”

The Great Awakening of the 1730s and ’40s not only changed religious life, but initiated an onslaught of social change, affairs that were, without doubt, managed by women. Pragmatic virtues were stressed with a fervor reminiscent of the New Testament church. Although women still had no legal status (common law assured a husband’s control over his wife’s assets), and no real professional outlets, the Church encouraged women more openly, supporting their financial and moral contributions toward the revivals of the Awakening. Women could work for the salvation of their husbands and sons on the grounds that there was “neither male nor female” in the religious community.

19th Century Change

This spiritual rebirth pushed congregations out of their immediate worlds and an evangelical cause took hold. As in the first century, the missionary movement gave women the opportunity to play public roles. In spite of the many obstacles before the American Civil War, women organized themselves into numerous missionary societies, financing their efforts out of their household budgets. Most of their fund raising supported work directed by men. Sally Thomas (1769–1813) gave the first gift to the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and although she received little money for her work as a housemaid, in her will she left all she had for missions.

The Civil War monopolized the efforts of the male missions directors and administrators, teachers and theologians, and it became necessary for women to oversee the causes they had thus far only supported. For the first time, the accepted social stigmas were actively questioned, and Christian women redefined their public roles. They supported relief programs, organized fund raising efforts for medical and devotional work among soldiers, and took charge of the transportation of women and children, caring for those left vulnerable because their usual guardians were away at war. Many women supported the Abolition movement and initiated ardent campaigns against slavery. Leaders such as Harriet Beecher Stowe, Julia Ward Howe, and Sarah and Angelica Grimke provided financial support for the organized effort. Emily Tubman (1794–1885) was a precursor of the Emancipation Proclamation; after her husband’s death, she freed her slaves and gave them homes and supplies.

With the conclusion of the war, women continued to use the administrative skills they had learned and invested their efforts in corporate work. Benevolent organizations fought the poverty that escalated as immigrants flocked to the cities. Similar organizations had existed in the early years of the 1800s. Isabella Graham (1742–1814) had established the Society for the Relief of Poor Widows With Small Children. Phoebe Palmer founded the Five Point Mission and provided schooling, religious training, and material needs for the poor; Elizabeth Seton founded the American Sisters of Charity in 1808, an organization that would establish the first Catholic hospital in America.

The war’s end and the success of the Abolition movement were the catalysts for an irrevocable spirit of change. Women administered and gathered funds for urban organizations like the YWCA. The Salvation Army welcomed the leadership skills of female members. Evangeline Booth (1865–1950), daughter of founders William and Catherine Booth, was the commander of the Salvation Army in America and the first general of the International Salvation Army. She was described as, “able to hold large audiences spellbound for hours,” and “adept at drawing large fortunes for the Army out of rich men.”

Francis Willard was a supporter and leader of one of the greatest humanitarian efforts of the nineteenth century: the Temperance Movement. She helped found the Women’s Christian Temperence Union, possibly the first major women’s organization active around the world. These White Ribbon Missionaries often incorporated evangelism into their work with men from all areas of society, and Willard, with her fellow workers, also funded efforts in Asia, Africa, and South America.

Willard’s lectures supported both Prohibition and Sufferage, for she felt that only women would vote for the laws that the White Ribbon Missionaries fought for. After Willard’s death, Union members continued to raise the funds for their work, until in 1919 the Eighteenth Amendment established Prohibition as law.

The White Ribbon Missionaries were a component of the larger evangelical work that mushroomed among women near the end of the nineteenth century. Female missionary societies organized “the work of women for women,” sending out female missionaries and supporting the schools and hospitals they founded overseas. Churches became amenable to separate boards for women, once it was demonstrated that they could raise money over and above the pledges made by men. The control that women had over the funds they raised, however, varied from denomination to denomination.

When Mehitible Simpkins formed “mite societies” in New England, female contributors, in the spirit of the Poor Widow, overwhelmed the Massachusetts Missionary Society with pennies. By 1880, 57 percent of the missionaries on the field were women, and the sixteen existing missionary societies had raised almost six million dollars. In 1893, 60 percent of the missionaries were women and good publicity had continued to back massive fundraising efforts for these teachers, doctors, evangelists, and relief workers.

Charlotte (Lottie) Moon (1840–1912), a prototype of the single female missionary of this period, established a special Christmas offering with the women of the Southern Baptist Churches in 1888, raising funds to relieve the starvation that plagued China and supporting three additional woman missionaries. The offering continued to supply support in following years, but Moon, sharing the sufferings of those she served, died of starvation. In the years following her sacrifice, the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering grew to millions of dollars annually.

Forward and Back

By 1900, there were more than forty successful women’s mission societies in the United States alone. Yet in spite of their consistently strong administrative and fund-raising efforts, the early decades of the twentieth century saw the reorganization of these societies under male-run boards. With this merger, women lost control over projects and finances, as well as their active sense of unity. At the same time, as social service became professionalized, much of the control of benevolent organizations was relegated to men.

Regardless of these trends, the tremendous impact of the involvement of women in the nineteenth century cannot be denied; some historians have spoken of this time as the “feminization of American religion.” This phenomenon has extended into the twentieth century, as women continue what is, at times, the thankless work of fund raising for the greater cause of charity. Though feminine ministry has historically been defined in terms of service, rather than leadership, the statement throughout Christian history that women have made as they have anointed Christ’s mission with their gifts can be clearly heard, even in those eras when their voices are silent.

Karen Halvorsen is a visiting professor in the English department at Wheaton College In Wheaton Illinois.

Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

We’re Sorry Gladys…But God Can’t Use You in China

After three months of study in the missionary society college, young Gladys Aylward, a poor London parlormaid, was told that she was too deficient in education to become a missionary; she’d never be able to learn Chinese, the committee couldn’t accept her. But Gladys was sure God wanted her in China. Unable to find support, she worked as a housemaid and saved enough money for a one-way ticket to Tientsin. She left Liverpool on Oct. 15, 1932 with an old suitcase full of food and clothes; she had about 2 £. Before she reached China, she had to leave the train and trudge through the snow, in bitter cold, among gunfire from the Russo-Chinese War. When Gladys Aylward died in 1970, at 68, she had had a very successful ministry among the Chinese of Yancheng, and had converted, among others, a local Mandarin. She had led 100 children to safety through the mountains during the Japanese invasion and had established an orphanage. She spoke, read, and wrote Chinese fluently.

Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

Bread and Silver

Wesley limited his expenditures by not buying the kinds of things generally considered essential for a man in his station of life. In 1776 the English tax commissioners inspected his return and wrote back, “[We] cannot doubt but you have plate for which you have hitherto neglected to make entry.” They assumed that a man of his prominence certainly had silver dinnerware in his house, and they wanted him to pay the proper tax on it. Wesley wrote back, “I have two silver spoons at London and two at Bristol. This is all the plate I have at present, and I shall not buy any more while so many round me want bread.”

Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

The Monastic Life: Benedict of Nursia

Born into a wealthy family in Nursia, Italy, Benedict (c. 480–543) left school as a teenager, renounced the world and around 500 retreated to a cave at Subiaco. After some years as a hermit, he formed a cloister with other monks. In 529, he founded a new order of monks at Monte Cassino, between Rome and Naples, drawing up a detailed set of rules for monastic life. Here, in part 33, is the Benedictine Rule’s teaching on personal possessions.

XXXIII. Whether the monks should have anything of their own. More than anything else is this vice of property to be cut off root and branch from the monastery. Let no one presume to give or receive anything without the leave of the abbot, or to retain anything as his own. He should have nothing at all; neither a book, nor tablets, nor a pen—nothing at all. For indeed it is not allowed to the monks to have bodies or wills in their own power. But for all things necessary they must look to the Father of the monastery; nor is it allowable to have anything which the abbot has not given or permitted. All things shall be common to all, as it is written: “Let not any man presume or call anything his own” [Acts 4:32]. But if anyone is found delighting in this most evil vice: being warned once and again, if he do not amend, let him be subjected to punishment.

Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

From the Archives: Andrew Carnegie

The Gospel of Wealth (1900)

When “robber baron” Andrew Carnegie (1835–1919) retired from business life, he donated around $350 million to philanthropic causes. From his “rather successful” business enterprises he donated huge sums to and towards universities, libraries, institutes, churches, foundations, etc. For Carnegie, “the surplus wealth of the few will become, in the best sense, the property of the many.”

Rich men should be thankful for one inestimable boon. They have it in their power during their lives to busy themselves in organizing benefactions from which the masses of their fellows will derive lasting advantage, and thus dignify their own lives. The highest life is probably to be reached, not by such imitation of the life of Christ as Count Tolstoi gives us, but while animated by Christ’s spirit by recognizing the changed conditions of this age, and adopting modes of expressing this spirit suitable to the changed conditions under which we live, still laboring for the good of our fellows, which was the essence of his life and teaching, but laboring in a different means.

This, then, is held to be the duty of the man of wealth: To set an example of modest, unostentatious living, shunning display or extravagance; to provide moderately for the legitimate wants of those dependent upon him; and, after doing so, to consider all surplus revenues which come to him simply as trust funds, which he is called upon to administer… to produce the most beneficial results for the community. (Originally entitled, Wealth, in North American Review, 1889)

Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

The Urge for Poverty

Christian Asceticism from the Early Church Through the Reformation

Most Christians today rarely question the notion that material wellbeing is a goal worth pursuing. Particularly to those of us in the affluent West it appears peculiar that people would voluntarily choose poverty as a way of life. Here at the end of the twentieth century we find the ancient practice of asceticism a strange phenomenon; to us it often looks as much like self-torture as self-discipline.

Who were these Christians who shunned the world’s comforts in order to pursue holiness? Did they not believe—as we do—that the Christian life can be pursued while still living a reasonably conventional life? Their answer was a definite “no,” and they found their reasons why in what they considered the mandate of Jesus in the New Testament.

Biblical Roots

The early Church took root within Judaism, which is not an ascetic religion. The Jews believed that creation was a good gift of God, given to man to enjoy. To deliberately deny oneself the pleasures that come from prosperity was to appear ungrateful. King Solomon was remembered as much for his wealth as for his wisdom, and Abraham and Job were archetypes of the wealthy man who is a friend of God.

Jesus was not an ascetic. His critics contrasted his lifestyle with John the Baptist’s, who lived on wilderness food and wore crude clothing. They accused Jesus, by contrast, of being a glutton and a “wine-bibber.” Not that he was such, but his behavior was conventional enough to contrast with John’s. Still, Jesus had harsh words for the rich who worshiped their possessions. He claimed it was “easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” On at least one occasion he told a rich man to sell all he had and give the money to the poor. Yet Jesus called people to a God-centered life of self-denial and self-control, not a thoroughgoing asceticism. However some later Christians believed this was what he taught.

Change with Constantine

Persecution of Christians began fairly early, as we see in the New Testament. Official persecutions carried out by Rome were sporadic, but they were widespread enough that many believers became martyrs. Early on, Christians developed a reverent tradition surrounding those who died for their faith. It was considered the greatest honor to give up one’s life and thus to die for, and with, Christ. Martyrdom was the ultimate sharing in the sufferings of the Savior.

Not everyone, of course, was called to martyrdom, but sufferings of other sorts were inevitable. Christians were regarded with suspicion, and as scorners of imperial religion they had no social prestige and little chance for social advancement. They were often sneered at by their pagan neighbors, so suffering for Christ was a common occurrence. In such a context there was little call for voluntarily taking new burdens on oneself.

With the conversion of the Roman emporer Constantine (ruled 312–337), the Church’s situation changed drastically. Martyrdom was no longer a threat, and Christianity gradually changed from a persecuted minority cult to a respectable religion with state toleration and favor (whether by offical proclamation is unknown and debated). When the masses started to pour into the Church in the fourth century, it became harder and harder to distinguish the Christians from everyone else. What had been a religion of the dispossessed became the religion of the many. Faith became “easy,” and sincerity became less common. For the zealous, the answer was to withdraw from a Church that had compromised with the worldly empire. This was how monasticism began.

Before discussing monastic asceticism, we should briefly consider the role of wealth in the pre-Constantine Church. While it’s true that the Church appealed more to the dispossessed than to the wealthy, there were wealthy believers. Some abused their position by expecting favoritism, but some were genuinely eager to help their less-fortunate brethren. In the ancient world, with no systematic welfare provisions, the Church was unique in offering both spiritual and material solace to the deprived.

Because the churches came to fill this need, the budget of the ancient bishop was large. Assisted by his deacons, the bishop administered widespread relief work, caring for the sick, prisoners, travelers, captives who needed redeeming, and the unemployed. When Constantine moved his capital from Rome to Constantinople in 330, the bishops of Rome became the most important figures in the “eternal city.” Along with the bishops in other large cities, they became, in effect, regional governors, responsible for both the spiritual and material well-being of those under their charge.

Sadly, though many bishops were models of Christian character, the position of bishop became a tempting prize for the greedy and power-hungry. Bishops were exempt from taxes, and in the larger cities they had much wealth at their disposal. As Christianity became the favored religion, the hierarchy became increasingly prestigious and wealthy. No wonder the spiritually sensitive were often appalled at how far the Church had moved from the New Testament model.

Early Monasticism

Probably the first Christian monk of renown was Anthony of Egypt (c. 250–356), who, believing that Jesus’ words to the rich young ruler also applied to himself, sold his inheritance, gave the money to the poor, and withdrew into the desert to live as a hermit. His admirers were many (including Athanasius, who wrote his biography), and some followed him into the desert to find solitude and to draw closer to God.

Anthony’s monasticism was strictly for rugged individualists. Another Egyptian, Pachomius (c. 290–346), started cenobitic (communal) monasticism. Here persons subjected themselves to discipline in community, renouncing money and property, doing hard labor, and taking sparse meals together.

Some of the feats of the hermits and community monks are amazing, even bizarre. Simon Stylites chose to live for years atop a pillar among ruins and have supplies passed up by rope; others lived in trees. Some had themselves walled up in narrow enclosures and fed through small openings. Some wore only garments of thorns. Strange as some of their practices seem to us, these monks were trying hard to express something valid: total devotion to God and imitation of Christ. Money was seen as a hindrance, an entanglement with the world that the truly spiritual person would avoid.

Some scholars claim that Christian monasticism was much affected by various world disparaging Greek and Oriental philosophies. Christian leaders fought against these movements for years, but their influence was probably important in the perpetuation of asceticism. Yet as G. K. Chesterton pointed out, Christian asceticism was still Christian, and world-denying though it may have been, it was ultimately rooted not in sheer hatred for the world, but in the desire to be a true follower of Christ.

In order to remind the monks and nuns that they were indeed striving to follow Christ, the authority of orthodox teaching was needed. This came in the East from Basil, and in the West from Benedict. Basil (330–379), bishop of Caesarea, in what is now Turkey, laid down some common sense rules for the monastics. While in no way trying to soften the monastic life, Basil’s rules forbade unnecessary and eccentric behavior. He also prescribed helping the poor and orphans, thus ensuring that even while detached from the world, the monks would be of benefit to it. Sadly, Basil’s teaching was too often neglected in the monastic life.

In Italy, Benedict of Nursia (480–547) founded a monastic order with rules about manual labor, directed reading, and regular worship throughout the day. Monks were to own nothing (see the sidebar), and were to keep constantly busy to avoid succumbing to temptation.

As previously mentioned, after Constantine the title of bishop was eagerly sought by the avaricious and power-hungry. Wisely, the Church often found its best bishops from among the monks. While greedy clerics continued to vie for bishoprics, monks seldom did, and the more saintly among them often found themselves—sometimes unwillingly—in control of a diocese. (One retiring monk who was persuaded to leave the cloister became Pope Gregory I, “the Great,” in 590).

Often the best bishops were men who early in life had decided to renounce property and retreat from the world. Even today in the Eastern Orthodox Churches most bishops are former monks.

Of course, not all monks were saintly. The abuses of monasticism are too numerous and well-known to examine here in detail. Of interest to us here, however, is the fact that, ironically, the same monks who had dedicated themselves to poverty often became very prosperous. The industrious monks were highly productive farmers, and this productivity inevitably brought wealth. Certain monks were pioneers in agricultural methods, especially those who settled in and developed more remote and untamed areas of Europe.

While in principle they still continued the practice of not owning property individually (the monastic orders owned vast areas of land), wealth naturally emerged from their industry. Some was given to the poor, but not all or most. And as the monastic wealth increased, so did moral laxity. Too many forgot about sharing the wealth with those outside the abbey walls. Personal behavior was often scandalous; the ascetic ideal was distorted.

Immorality was not merely the result of hard work producing wealth. Many monasteries and convents served as refuges for wayward children of the wealthy. These people, having no desire for the spiritual life, often tried to maintain their affluent lifestyles within the abbey walls. Records tell of masses being interrupted by the baying of hounds belonging to certain nuns who had recently come from the ranks of the wealthy. Such situations convinced some of the more devout monks and nuns of the superiority of their vows of poverty.

Francis of Assisi (1182–1226)

Medieval Monks and Friars

It’s a mistake to think that Medieval monasticism was totally corrupt. Reformers always appeared to return others to the ideals of the ascetic life, especially poverty and chastity.

Giovanni Bernadone, better known as Francis of Assisi (1182–1226), abandoned his frivilous youth and family riches, and taking Jesus’ advice to his disciples as given in Matt. 10:7–19 as a personal call, left his possessions. He ate the plainest food, wore simple gray garments, and owned practically nothing. He refused to accept money, only food. His followers, the Franciscans, took vows of poverty, and went two by two on preaching missions, begging for their food. A similar order, the Poor Clares, was formed for women.

Most significantly, a third order was formed, called the Tertiaries, for laypeople who could not commit themselves totally but wanted more intense spiritual lives. The Franciscans were extremely attractive to the common folk, and the third order for laymen proved that vital Christianity was for all, not just full-time monks. Unlike the friars, the laymen could own money and property.

Dominic (1170–1221), a contemporary of Francis’, founded the Dominican order. The Dominicans were dedicated to preaching and teaching. (Their emphasis on teaching was a result of the need to counter various heretical teachings of their day.) Like the Franciscans, they were friars, who worked or begged for food, dressed plainly, practiced celibacy, and were forbidden to own property.

In time, as with other ascetic groups, the Dominicans and Franciscans were compromised by the society around them and fell away from their original ideals. However, the monastic life was still seen as the best way to God, and people often spent their last days in monasteries, hoping to increase their chances of divine forgiveness.

The great Dominican theologian, Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), helped solidify the Church’s position on property. For Thomas, the best way to be spiritual in this area was to renounce material goods. However, a famous story about a meeting of Thomas with Louis IX, king of France from 1226–1270, tells us how much admiration and respect Thomas had for the pious crusader king, who represented great wealth. Both men were canonized by the Roman Church, showing that the Church recognized that both those with wealth and those without could enter the Kingdom of God.

But for the most part a double standard prevailed: salvation was possible for the layman, but a sure thing for the monk or nun. Total devotion to the true spiritual life was the exclusive domain of the monastics; the Christ-like life was not something those outside of the monasteries were expected to pursue. Because this special class of religiosi (“the religious”) existed who were supposed to renounce all worldly pleasures, laypeople were not expected to renounce anything. In fact, not only the laypeople, but also the clergy themselves were exempt from otherworldly constraints, though clergy were expected to be celibate. [It is important to keep in mind that the monastic orders were not within the hierarchical structure of the Catholic Church; they were not clerical. They were unique organizations often accountable only to the pope, or to themselves.] Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales paints a picture of the friars as corrupt and lecherous hypocrites. As the Middle Ages progressed, many thoughtful Christians came to believe that the ideal that called for renunciation of money and property had done more harm than good.

Important lay movements did spring up, notably, as mentioned, the lay monastic orders. Also, groups such as the Waldensians in southern France, the Humiliati in Lombardy, and the Brethren of the Common Life in Holland and Germany provided the laity opportunity for a devout life: to study the Bible, pray, and help the poor. Various other movements arose as people became concerned that parishoners needed a more vital spirituality. Most of these movements emphasized discipline and moderation, not abstinence. The notion that one could be spiritual while living in the world and owning money and property was gaining more and more acceptance.

The Reformation

By the time of the Reformation, monasticism was held in disrepute by so many believers that the Reformers had no qualms about dismissing it completely. Martin Luther (1483–1546) had been an Augustinian monk, and as a youth he held the common view that monasticism was the true Christian life. He had delighted that the ascetic life of the monastery offered freedom from the distractions of the world. However, shortly after his Ninety-five Theses were written in Wittenberg and shook the Church, Luther published On Monastic Vows, in which he stated that monks’ vows conflicted with Scripture, and with charity and freedom. Railing against the Church’s system of good works, Luther rejected the whole monastic system. He not only claimed that all believers were priests, but that no occupation, whether professionally “religious” or not, was any better in God’s sight than any other. All people can honor God, he claimed, with honest labor in their “divine calling,” no matter how menial.

John Calvin (1509–1564) had never been a monk, though he had always lived a relatively austere life. Educated as a Christian humanist, Calvin had a lifelong suspicion of any form of excess, including religious excess. He was hostile toward asceticism and called on Christians to rejoice in the good things God had given them. Though he was a creation-affirming man, like Luther, Calvin attacked greed and ostentation and upheld the virtues of humility and moderation. He did not see evil in Christians accumulating money, so long as it did not distract them from God.

The Anabaptists, in agreement with the other wings of the Reformation, frequently condemned monasticism. But, unlike the more socially established Lutherans and Calvinists, Anabaptists were often the objects of persecution by the state. Persecuted wherever they lived, Anabaptists wrote much about sharing in Christ’s sufferings. They also shared materially with each other, and placed much emphasis on helping the needy. For the most part they did not practice a strict communism, but community for them was very important. Like Calvin (who was no friend of Anabaptism), they taught restraint more than deprivation. Like the New Testament Church, they emphasized alleviating the poverty of others, not striving for it.

Stephen Lang is an editor at Tyndale House Publishers.

Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine.Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

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