What are we doing here tonight? We are unveiling Pentecost. First of all we are presenting this beautiful new interpretation of Pentecost by the wonderful Irish artist, Nora Kelly. It is a stunning picture, which dramatically recreated a scene that had previously been indelibly printed on the minds of anyone who had received the sacrament of Confirmation in Ireland – or indeed anywhere. Where once we had a fairly begrudging Holy Spirit that had only thirteen flames to spare, now we are presented with a wholly new image of a scintillating Spirit that is prodigal in her gifts, showering down light on all and sundry. I love the movement in the painting, the sense of the strong wind blowing the women’s skirts, and apparently blowing balding old apostles almost off balance. There is an impression of joy and fear, awe and excitement, and right in the very centre of the painting, a small child points upwards in delight. And is that Peter in front of the table who seems as if he is about to bound, bare feet and all into a glorious new future? The most marvellous thing of all is that this painting is more faithful to the original event as portrayed by Luke in the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles than all the traditional paintings down through the centuries.
I imagine that when people first see this painting, they will experience some of the same reaction as they had to the first painting produced by BASIC and Avoca Publishers, The Last Supper. Some saw it as a novelty designed by those who had nothing better to do with their time. Some saw it as a feminist conspiracy designed to upset innocent and honest people, as feminists are wont to do. Some, however, looked and said: “I always knew this deep in my heart. I recognise this scene from deep in my own psyche.” And others looked and realised that something really profound was taking place, a shifting of the Christian universe, an opening of doors into a new world, familiar but quite new. I have experienced all these responses and more, especially to a copy of the painting that I gave friends as a wedding gift. It is hanging in their dining room and dinner conversation has never been the same.
Adrienne Rich speaks of the moment of awakening consciousness as a moment of exhilaration accompanied by feelings of disorientation and some confusion. It is a moment of re-visioning, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old world from a new critical direction. She comments that “it is no longer lonely to open one’s eyes.” For many women, such revisioning is an act of survival, an act of moving beyond old and confining ways of imagining ourselves, of moving beyond images that have both trapped and liberated us. Such a painting, such revisioning breaks the hold that one kind of imagery, one kind of language, one set of interpretations has held over us. There is a whole new psychic geography to be explored, a wholly new spiritual realm to be entered, a whole new spirit to be encountered, and a wholly new and ever-new Holy Spirit to be welcomed with joy.
I have been thinking of definitions of the Spirit of God that I have encountered in my delving into Christian literature. There is the traditional conciliar “third person of the Trinity” definition, expanded by Augustine into the love that united the other two persons. All authentic and orthodox, but a little static and weighted down with centuries of sound teaching. I resonate rather with the recent joyful shout of acclamation of the Spirit by the brilliant Korean feminist theologian, Chung Hyun Kyun, when she sees the Spirit as the “wild rhythm of life”. Even more dear to my historian’s heart is the voice of Hildegard of Bingen, who saw the Spirit of God rising in the sap of trees and plants and creating the healing goodness in herb and flower. That is why she ended all her letters to bishops with the valediction: “Stay green and moist, your lordship!”
This is a painting of Pentecost, so it is appropriate to ask: What is Pentecost? The scene recalls the event when a group of the disciples of Jesus gathered to celebrate the Jewish feast of Pentecost, the celebration of God’s gift of Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai. It was the inauguration of the New Israel. No wonder then that Luke, the author of the Acts, would choose such a. scene to portray the event which would act as a bridge between the life of Jesus and the life of the Christian Church. The scene in Acts Chapters 1 and 2 tells us that the whole group was together, apostles, disciples, the women, the brothers of Jesus (they always forget his sisters) and Mary, and “they were all filled with the Holy Spirit.” These were all Jewish women and men, celebrating a Jewish feast in a Jewish setting. The one difference from other groups at this time was that they were also gathered in memory of Jesus. Since this is clearly the biblical description of the scene, why did we – and the whole tradition – end up drawing pictures of twelve men around the Mother of Jesus? What led us to airbrush all the other women and men out of the picture? The fact that we were not seeing the scene before our eyes was first pointed out by feminist exegetes and we have now been rendered capable of seeing again. Even Pope John Paul ll sees the Pentecost scene differently, as he explains in his 1988 document on women, Mulieres Dignitatem.
So who was present at Pentecost according to Luke? There were the original 11 members of Luke’s beloved Twelve with the addition of the newly elected Matthias, chosen instead of Judas. Then there were the brothers and sisters of Jesus together with his mother. And then there were “the women”: these would have been led by Mary Magdalene, who leads every list of women in the gospels, as Peter leads the lists of men; Mary of Bethany and her sister Martha, and probably Lazarus; also Mary the mother of James, Susanna, Salome and Joanna – all mentioned as women disciples; added to these would also be the widow of Naim, the anointing woman, the bent women now standing tall and straight, and so many others filling the room, as the painting indicates. All of these received the Holy Spirit. All were destined to become active agents of the Spirit in the life of the new church. All were called to go and preach the gospel to the whole world. All participated in an inclusive discipleship, with, as yet, no bishops, priests or deacons, and no division between clergy and laity. We know that this was not what happened – and hence we see the profound importance of this painting, which destabilises centuries of one particular and incomplete version of the Pentecost story. In Peter’s Pentecostal sermon interpreting the event for all, he mentions the new dispensation where “sons and daughters will prophesy, and your young men will see visions and your old men shall dream dreams; yea and on my menservants and maidservants in those days I will pour out my Spirit….” (Acts 2, 14 – 20). Nevertheless already he addresses a church where only men are seen to be members, if we are to judge by the rest of his sermon to the “brothers” who are the “men of Israel”.
Here we see the workings of an androcentric canon of the scriptures, chosen specifically for the political motive of establishing men as the core membership and leadership of the new community. Even at this early stage of the Church, according to Luke’s version, women are being excluded from the telling of the story. What this painting is doing is relativising this interpretation and delegitimising it as the sole truth of the Christina story. This painting provides us with an authentic biblical image, which indicates that the Truth may not have been as we thought it was. We can choose to imagine ourselves playing a different role in the story rather than at its margins. It is no trivial thing to deconstruct the official identity formation imagery of Christianity.
It is no small thing to take up again the task of creating a Christian biblical canon, which has never reached the stage of universal Christian consensus. One of the meanings of canon in the ancient world was the official list of texts and persons who were absolutely significant for the true telling of the Christian reality. We are now adding to that list. Women, of course, have always been members of the Christian community, but every history text and every theology class for centuries has found it quite easy to omit women from the telling of the core Christian story.
Another meaning of canon is the essential framework for the whole body of belief and teaching about Christian revelation. This framework is now expanded. If the original story traced back apostolic succession to the Pentecost event, what of apostolic succession now? Are the lines of authentic teaching as straight as we thought they were? Are the authentic teachers as defined a group as we thought they were? Are the gospel preachers as exclusive a group as we thought?
The women were there and they all received the Holy Spirit, just as Mark shows us the women as the sole witnesses of the resurrection, and therefore the only ones capable of saying what really happened. The same is true of the resurrection, as we all know. What is the significance of this extraordinary presence of women, sometimes as sole witnesses, at the foundational events of Christianity? We now have to tell a different story. We have to cleanse our images. Wed have to see what bis really there. We have to re-vision women at the centre of Christianity, not on the periphery. Whenever I used to discuss this kind of thing with my mother, she always said, “ Sure Mary, I always knew that”. I have a sense that this is true of many women. Now we must open our eyes, re-imagine ourselves at the centre of the story and stand with our brothers as among all those who received the gift of the Spirit. This painting provides a wonderful impetus for this earth-shattering task.
Mary T. Malone
Mary T. Malone was born in Ballycanew, Co. Wexford, in 1938, 3rd child and first girl in a family of eight. After secondary school in Bunclody, she joined the FCJ’s (Faithful Companions of Jesus) and spent 17 years with the community. BA at UCD in 1962, B. Ed, Manchester 1963. She went to Canada in 1964, attended University of Toronto and got a Ph. D. in 1970 in Classics Department. Her thesis dealt with Christian attitudes towards women in the first four centuries.
She taught at Toronto School of Theology 1974 – 1987 i=on the faculty of the Archdiocesan Seminary, St. Augustine’s. She went to St. Jerome’s University, Waterloo 1987 – 1998 to the department of Religious Studies, and was chair of the cross campus department for the last few years there. Taught mostly Church History, History of Women in Christianity, Feminist theology, and courses on Mary and women in World Religions.
She was married to Michael James McCarroll in 1980 and was widowed in 1987.
After 34 years in Canada, she returned to Ireland in 1998 and “feels like a cherished citizen of two countries”.
She is the author of a trilogy on Women and Christianity (2000, 2001, 2003); Praying with the Women Mystics (2006); The Elephant in the Church: A Woman’s Tract for Our Times (2014): and Four Women Doctors (2015).