This gets pretty rambly.

The tension between the writings on women in American Methodism and Jarena Lee's experience is particularly relevant today, in that both women and especially women of color are continually marginalized. In Methodism they fall from active and equal participant to "preacher's wife" (which especially felt pointed) to relief and war efforts as the role of "mother" to "their boys." Yet black women were again segregated into their own groups, often unnamed and unappreciated for their work. What's more is that the idea of "mothering" became synonymous with jobs that did go unappreciated and unnamed. By 1901 we see the list of female ministers rise to 97, which is... great. But Jarena Lee's account, wherein she outlines the many ways and times she sought to kill herself, struck me as not an unfamiliar battle (like in The Awakening) that women in particular suffer ("that I knew not what ailed me") an unknowable depression pertaining to their ultimate role or mission in life. Jarena, obviously, had much more to deal with in that regard than the average white woman. Perhaps, like with other great leaders, it may have been her propensity for creative and passionate moods that made her a dynamic and convincing leader. At any rate, I'm not sure that I'm saying anything specifically helpful here, but that there seems to me a line running through these accounts of women and how spectacularly un-helped they are throughout their journeys. That determination to go and do is in some ways summed up at the end of Jarena's account, where she mentions that her manuscript may have errors because she was self-taught (read: because of both race and gender) but that she knows she's a CHAMP because she's the first black Methodist preacher. Thank god for her self-awareness, otherwise the readings would have just been depressing.

New Methodism in America

In “Americanization of Methodism", I noticed that American Methodism was becoming increasingly institutionalized and structured. For instance, forming an educational system, publishing and distributing hymnbooks, memoirs, or catechisms, holding conferences regularly, and creating the episcopacy. In other words, unlike John Wesley’s intention, American Methodists seem to form Methodism as a new structured denomination. 

I wonder why American methodists formed more institutionalized and structured Methodism in America, which put some distance between Wesley and American methodists, even though Wesley opposed American independence. Were the changes inevitable results?

Jarena Lee and the malice of Satan

Throughout her writing, Jarena Lee frequently references the "malice of Satan" as the source of her spiritual struggles. She extensively describes this in her account of her journey of toward conversion and sanctification; however, she also mentions it when she received her call to preach (she first thought it might be Satan's voice calling her) and throughout her preaching ministry (at one point, she claims that the kingdom of Satan fell as she was preaching a sermon and in another instance, that Satan tempted her to give up her journey since she was probably not going to be permitted to preach anyway). For Lee, Satan was a real presence in her life seeking to tempt and destroy. How does Lee's perception of this correlate to other Methodist ministers during this time? Were other Methodist preachers as avidly concerned about spiritual warfare? Furthermore, to what extent does Lee's descriptive accounts of her experience of and sermons on resisting Satan influence her relative popularity as an itinerant preacher? This obviously resonated with her audiences for her to be permitted to preach in places that women had not previously preached before.

Jarena Lee's Preaching

In Jarena Lee's writing she devotes several pages to essentially arguing for her right, as a woman, to preach. This alone is telling in that she felt the need to do this, but I'm curious as to how this was received both in the AME church and elsewhere, as she seems to make a convincing argument to those who would have disagreed with right to preach. She appeals to theology/doctrine by saying that Christ died for both man and woman, and makes the argument that God is "straitened" or restricted if we claim that he only uses men to preach the gospel, and that nothing is impossible for God. She appeals to Scripture, citing examples where Mary preached of Christ's resurrection, and also warns that church by-laws could bring disrepute into the word of life after describing how Richard Allen initially refuses her right to preach based on lack of precedent. Finally, she cites examples of her effectiveness as a preacher and the people who had been converted as a result. I'm interested if she was seen as an outlier, or if her witness encouraged other women to preach in the AME Church and different denominations.

Doctrine of perfection in the US?

On reading through Jarena Lee's journals, I became curious to know how Wesley's idea of Christian perfection fared in the colonies and early post Revolution US. Jarena Lee's first introduction to sanctification through William Scott made no mention of perfection, and even the idea of sanctification was new to her. Did early American Methodists believe in and/or preach on perfection? Was it acknowledged and just not at the forefront of their thought, or did people disagree with Wesley on this issue? Jarena's story is full of very distinct moments and structured around those moments as the source of transformation--would perfection be difficult to hold onto as a more gradual occurrence when conversions/transformations were understood as moments in time?

Pietism & Political Abstention

The Methodists have (some of) their roots in various pietistic movements. If I'm keeping my denominational history straight I believe Pietistic movements generally had elements of political abstention. They were more concerned with the private (and perhaps familial) search for holiness and closeness with God. The movements tended to be isolationist in that they were not focused on reforming the world; rather, they focused on reforming the individual. As such, Pietists rarely sought political office or participated much in social reform outside of their community. If this is correct, does this tendency help to explain the shift Methodist made in the 19th century to "not being involved in politics" and separating themselves from divisive social concerns? Our readings seem to have pointed to this shift as largely a pragmatic one (you can't preach the gospel where you can't go), however, I'm wondering if this was an underlying disposition in Methodism based on its pietistic roots.

I felt my heart strangely vexed...

In Chapter 2 of American Methodism, it is noted that “Coke performed. Asbury governed” (32). There is harshness here, as in other places throughout chapters 2 and 3 that spoke to the realities of what was happening between white men in terms of power struggles and Methodist identity formation. Rhetoric surrounding inclusion of black members and white women, however, speaks through the tone of giving our historical figures the benefit of the doubt. For instance, “Methodists had difficulty in credentialing black leadership” (31), “If gender vexed early Methodism, so did race and language” (37), and the preacher’s wife who exercised ministry “in teaching, in visiting, in comforting the ill and bereaved, in witnessing, in heading missionary societies, in modeling family piety, in interpreting her husband (to women and other preacher, in supporting the ministry, in negotiating the frequent moves, in short, in functioning as a sub-minister” (54). Methodists did not have “difficulty” credentialing black leadership- they didn’t want to- and if they did, they were complicit in not getting what they wanted. I’m sorry, gender and race “vexed” white, male Methodists? What a burden. And if I’m reading that extensive list correctly, I’m seeing that the preacher’s wife was no “sub-minister” but a minister. This is something we seem to do quite frequently in historical writing, where it is totally acceptable to give realistic accounts of the bitterness that raged between white male leadership, but then to dilute the matter as soon as race and gender vex the conversation. In what ways does this type of historical writing linger on in our own conversations, sermons, and complicity within the institution? Are Methodists still having the same trouble in allowing “benefit of the doubt” and respectability politics; are we allowing it to carry us?