Women and the Reformation E-Book

Kirsi Stjerna

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 706

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Beschreibung

Women and the Reformation gathers historical materials and personal accounts to provide a comprehensive and accessible look at the status and contributions of women as leaders in the 16th century Protestant world. * Explores the new and expanded role as core participants in Christian life that women experienced during the Reformation * Examines diverse individual stories from women of the times, ranging from biographical sketches of the ex-nun Katharina von Bora Luther and Queen Jeanne d'Albret, to the prophetess Ursula Jost and the learned Olimpia Fulvia Morata * Brings together social history and theology to provide a groundbreaking volume on the theological effects that these women had on Christian life and spirituality * Accompanied by a website at www.blackwellpublishing.com/stjerna offering student's access to the writings by the women featured in the book

Leseprobe

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

The Vision and the Scope of the Book

The Term “Reformation” and Inclusivity Concerns

Visionary Studies on Women and the Reformation

Women in this Book

PART 1 Options and Visions for Women

CHAPTER 1 Prophets, Visionaries, and Martyrs Ursula Jost and her Publisher Margarethe Prüss

Introduction – Medieval Women Visionaries

Anabaptists and Martyrs

Prophets in Strasbourg and their Publisher Margarethe Prüss

Prophet Ursula Jost and her Visions

Conclusion

CHAPTER 2 The Monastic Option – The Struggle of the Convents

Introduction – The Drama of Closing the Convents

An Excursion – Monastic Calling

Conclusion

CHAPTER 3 Marriage and Motherhood –The Preferred Calling

Introduction – Marriage Only?

The Holy Marital Vocation

Pastors’ Wives

Motherhood, Prostitution, Divorce

Conclusion

CHAPTER 4 Learning and Power– An Elusive Option

Introduction: The Impetus and Obstacles for Theological Writing

Writing with and without Visions

The Education Factor

The Educated Women

PART 2 Women as Models, Leaders and Teachers of the Reformation

CHAPTER 5 “Herr Doktor” Katharina von Bora, 1499–1552. The Lutheran Matriarch

Introduction

Katharina – From a Nun to the Ultimate Reformer’s Spouse

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 6 Argula von Grumbach, 1492 to 1563/68? – A Bavarian Apologist and a Pamphleteer

Introduction

Argula as a Defender of Faith – A Valiant Christian, or a Devilish Woman?

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 7 Elisabeth von Brandenburg, 1485–1555, and Elisabeth von Braunschweig, 1510–1558 – Exiled Mothers, Reforming Rulers

Introduction

Elisabeth von Brandenburg née Elisabeth of Denmark – A Reformer in Exile

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 8 Katharina Schütz Zell, 1498–1562– A Publishing Church Mother in Strasbourg

Introduction

A Church Mother, a Pastoral Care Provider, a Writer, Even a Preacher

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 9 Marie Dentière, 1495–1561 – A Genevan Reformer and Writer

Introduction

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 10 Marguerite de Navarre, 1492–1549, and Jeanne d’Albret, 1528–1572 The Protectors of the French Reformers

Introduction

Marguerite d’Angoulême/de Navarre, 1492–1549 – The Illustrious Queen, Writer and Spiritual Mother

Jeanne d’Albret, a Protestant Queen and a Huguenot leader, 1528–1572

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 11 Renée de France, 1510–1575 – A Friend of the Huguenots

Introduction

Renée – A French Protector of Huguenots in Italy and France

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

CHAPTER 12 Olimpia Fulvia Morata, 1526/27 – 1555 – An Italian Scholar

Introduction

Olimpia Fulvia Morata, a Classicist Huguenot Teacher

Conclusion

A Word about Sources and References

Conclusions and Observations on Gender and the Reformation

Conclusion

Bibliography

Index

I dedicate this book to those most dear to me – Kaleigh Kirsikka and Kristian, David and Benjamin, and Brooks.

© 2009 by Kirsi Stjerna

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First published 2009 by Blackwell Publishing Ltd

1 2009

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Stjerna, Kirsi Irmeli, 1963–

Women and the Reformation/Kirsi Stjerna.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-1-4051-1422-6 (hardcover: alk. paper)—ISBN 978-1-4051-1423-3 (pbk.: alk.

paper) 1. Women in Christianity—History—16th century. 2. Reformation. 3. Christian

women—Religious life. I. Title.

BR307.S75 2009

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2007042450

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Acknowledgments

It is very much thanks to my students at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, and their interest in studying the women of the Reformation, that this longpercolating idea has become a reality. Every “Women and the Reformation” class has contributed in many important ways to the project.

From a humble initial vision of preparing a brief textbook, the manuscript has grown thicker with every passing year – just as my children have grown taller, and just as the field keeps expanding and exploding. Enough has been accumulated here for one book, and I hope the stories told within this volume inspire further exploration.

The manuscript took shape in many inspiring places and with the assistance of many individuals.

I am grateful to the staff in the many inviting libraries where I had the pleasure to work: the Library of Congress, Washington, DC, the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel, Germany, the Finnish Institute of Villa Lante in Rome, Italy, the Helsinki University Library, and, most of all, the A. R. Wentz Library at Gettysburg, PA, where the amazing staff – Susann Posey, Roberta Brent, and (now retired) Sarah Mummert – could get hold of any book in the world.

The final product would not have been possible without the diligent copy-editing of Felicity Marsh, the efficient picture hunting of Kitty Bocking, and the creative production management of Karen Wilson and Louise Spencely, and other Blackwell staff.

The institutional support at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg especially from Deans Norma Wood and Robin Steinke and the faculty administrative assistant Danielle Garber – and the encouragement and varied assistance of dear colleagues and staff there have been invaluable.

Several student assistants participated in the project – Amy Sevimli, Joel Neubauer, Rebecca Carmichael, and Tim Leitzke. Barbara Eisenhart and Demaris Kenwood assisted with selected French texts, and consultations with colleagues Nelson Strobert, Eric Crump, and Susan Hedahl were most valuable – as has been, most of all, the multifaceted support of Brooks Schramm, my spouse and colleague, a fellow inquirer and lover of words.

I wish to thank Rebecca Harkin, Publisher in Theology and Religious Studies at Blackwell, Scott Hendrix, Professor Emeritus from Princeton University, and Carter Lindberg, Professor Emeritus from Boston University, for their trust, support, and enormously valuable feedback along the way.

I thank Kaleigh Kirsikka, Kristian, and Brooks – for everything, including their untiring optimism and excitement, accompanying me on my travels, and patiently coaching me in the nuances of a language that is not my own.

This research was made possible by the funded sabbatical from LTSG (Spring 2006) and the most generous Theological Scholars Grant (2004–5) from the Association for Theological Schools.

Introduction

The Vision and the Scope of the Book

Teaching courses on the Reformation is no longer feasible without the inclusion of women as subjects in the story of the Reformation and its evaluation. The lack of easily accessible sources has complicated this necessary broadening of the scope of study in the classroom. The vision for this book arose from the need to have a portable introduction in English, and it was hoped that by presenting the best material available the exploration of the lives, thoughts, and contributions of women in different Reformation contexts would be facilitated, broadening the understanding of the Reformation from the perspectives of both genders, and, last but not least, inspiring theological inquiry informed by feminist scholarship.

The initial vision proved ambitious, as a delightful abundance of materials surfaced – and continue to surface. Several principles have shaped the work: First of all, the primary goal is to present stories of several women in varied visible leadership roles in different Reformation contexts. The term “leadership” is given broad meaning, including leadership exercised in politics, religious matters, and households, in writing and teaching and speaking, or in “hosting” and “partnering.” Second, the selected women’s lives, contributions, and challenges are interpreted in light of the reformers’ teachings about women’s place in the Church and society as well as in light of the emancipatory potential imbedded in the gospel proclamation that so attracted these women. Third, the chapters rely on the important studies already available (references for which are provided at the end of the book), in addition to leading the reader to the original sources. Only occasional references will be made to the grand pool of Reformation sources in general. It is assumed that the reader has a basic familiarity with Reformation history.

The biographical introductions, which synthesize and interpret information scholars have already made available in different languages, present women in different vocations and examine their different self-understandings, evolutions, and contributions as Protestant believers. Basic feminist-oriented questions organize the biographical material: Who was this woman? What kind of a Reformer was she? How did she understand herself as a woman and as a reformer? What did she write or do about the issues that mattered to her? How did others receive her? What were her options? What role did her gender have in her life? Why is she important in the larger scope of Protestant history (histories) and theology (theologies)? What has been her place in scholarship, and what, with Luther, Calvin and other “great” reformers, can she teach us? In terms of the bigger picture of women and the Reformation in general, we continue to pursue with Natalie Zemon Davis (1975, 66) the questions she posed in 1975 (Davis 1975, 66) of whether the Reformation had a distinctive appeal to women (and if so to what kind of women) and how so, and what Protestant women did to bring about religious change and what impact the Reformation had on their lives and vice versa.

The lives of the women featured in this book shed light on these issues and on women’s involvement in religious affairs in general. Their stories call for a reexamination of Reformation history and theology and for a consideration of the actual benefits and losses generated by the Reformation for women in particular. The tragedy and the humor, the sustained suppression, and the occasional freedom from constraints, the costs and the rewards of individual women’s faith commitments provide many, perhaps unanticipated, touching points with the lives and struggles of people today. The voices of the women who “mothered” the Reformation for later generations offer an important reality check for the, at times, one-sidedly celebratory appraisals of Reformation theologies and complement the male experiences and perspectives that have so far been the dominant study in the field.

The women in this book come from different geographic, cultural, linguistic, and social contexts. Their leadership roles have differed, but most of them have left a written or otherwise tangible legacy: Katharina von Bora Luther, Elisabeth von Brandenburg and Elisabeth von Braunschweig, Argula von Grumbach, Marie Dentière, Katharina Schütz Zell, Ursula Jost, Marguerite de Navarre, Jeanne d’Albret, Renée de France, and Olimpia Morata are highlighted as exemplary matriarchs of the Reformation who, each in her own way, responded to Protestant teachings, exercised religious leadership, and lived out her religious conviction with a significant effect on the individuals and communities around her. They demonstrate women’s instrumental role in the life of the Church, instrumental regardless of and in response to the dominant patriarchal values and norms. Their insights and experiences promise to complement as well as challenge the (predominantly male) perspectives that have shaped Protestant theologies and spiritualities. Understanding women’s choices, passions, and vocations in light of the varied factors that shaped women’s religious lives allows for a holistic and critical grasp of the Reformation as a whole.

The Term “Reformation” and Inclusivity Concerns

The singular term “Reformation” does not do justice to the different reforming movements of the sixteenth century, as has been demonstrated by Carter Lindberg (1996). With its forerunners and proponents, the Reformation was in many respects catapulted from Martin Luther’s vocal and well-published reaction to the institution and practices of the late medieval Catholic church that he perceived to be ailing and incapable of meeting the spiritual needs of the people. He most famously voiced his concerns in his Ninety-Five Theses in 1517 and his reformatory writings of the 1520s, and soon enough he was joined by others on a similar mission.

The corruption in clerical offices culminating in the self-serving interests of the renaissance popes, and the grossly abused sale of the indulgences (letters of pardon for acts of penance and satisfaction and for time in purgatory) in particular became a common starting point for many calls for reform and movements towards reforming the Church, theology, and people’s religious practices – reforms that materialized differently in different contexts in Europe. Eventually this turmoil resulted in the formation of distinct denominational traditions (in the Lutheran, Anglican, Reformed, Anabaptist, and/or Mennonite churches), each shaped by distinct visions for the role of the Church and ministry in the world, the purposes and uses of the sacraments, and the interpretation and preaching of the Scripture among other things. This fragmenting of the one catholic church coincided with reforms within the Roman Catholic church, especially a renewed emphasis on its spiritual traditions and resources, sacramental practices, and moral values.

In each Reformation, the importance of education, literature, catechetical materials, sacramental practices, and understanding of vocation were central, as were the Confessions. Lutherans were the first to set themselves officially apart with their united Augsburg Confession of 1530. The word “Protestant” – encompassing the different Reformation traditions, from Lutherans and Calvinists to Anglicans and Anabaptists – derives from a historic moment at the 1529 Diet of Speyer when the evangelical princes, theologians, and clergy “protested” against the proposed reinforcement of the 1521 Edict of Worms, which would have forced evangelicals to return to the Catholic faith. While Germany and Scandinavia experienced a predominantly Lutheran Reformation, elsewhere in Europe, especially in the French-speaking world, Calvin’s teachings had more far reaching effects. In England, Reformation theology and practices found their own unique “middle way.” Everywhere in Europe the Anabaptists and other charismatic Protestant groups (those practicing believer’s baptism in particular) were persecuted.

Regardless of what was originally a shared vision of re-Christianizing Europe and a shared conviction of the primary authority of the Scripture, the questions and strategies about what reforms to make and how to make them varied, leading to the formation of different confessions and confessional groups (as argued by Scott Hendrix [2004a]). Apart from the geographical, cultural, political, and confessional differences, the Reformation took root and shaped lives in different ways for men from women, for clergy and the learned from the laity, for the city people from the country folk and peasants. The Reformation story and its evaluation thus have many versions and there are many perspectives to consider. The very question of “was the Reformation a success or a failure?” is impossible to answer as such due to the plurality of the phenomenon. For instance, just as the Protestants “failed” to reform the Catholic church according to their visions, the Catholic church became invigorated through its own reform but failed to draw the Protestants back. And, although both the Catholic and Protestant Reformation “failed” to bring forth equal benefits for men and women, laity and clergy, they have successfully attracted both men and women. It is thus most appropriate to conceive the Reformation as plural, even if in the text it is the singular term which is mostly used. (See Lindberg 1996; Hendrix 2004a.)

Addressing the roles of particular women in the Reformation movements, this book adds yet one more plural to the term: The Reformation for women was not necessarily in every regard the same as it was for men. The “good news” proclaimed about the gospel and the structures built around it were not necessarily equally good for women and men. At the same time, hasty conclusions about gendered roles, views, and experiences in the Reformation movements are not warranted. For instance, it is not true that men were always active or leaders and women always passive bystanders or receivers, or that women adopted the gendered world with its gender-biased options and parameters without scrutiny. The truth is much more complex.

This book does not claim to present “the truth,” but a perspective, and an attempt to interpret under-utilized material. Let it be stated about the perspectives offered in this book that the author’s intentional and unintentional biases derive from experiences as a European Lutheran clergywoman teaching in a North American seminary setting. The focus on Protestant women in sixteenth-century Europe is not intended to imply that the Protestant, or more specifically the Lutheran, reforms were superior to the other reforms: had the scope of the book allowed it, Catholic reforming women would have been included.

In terms of language and the spelling of names, whenever it has been reasonable and possible to do so without obscuring a figure’s historical identity, the original form of personal names has been used; in some cases, after extensive consideration, it has seemed preferable to use the name by which someone is most widely known than their birth name. Inclusivity is at the very premise of writing this book. When quoting the primary sources or studies about them, however, the text is included as it appears in the source without any attempt at making the language more ideologically correct to the modern reader. Apart from the fact that the inclusive use of pronouns is, to a degree, a language-specific issue, it is not one which concerned our sixteenth-century writers. At the same time, the writers’ use of masculine pronouns for the third person singular, according to the conventions of their language, or their references to God nearly exclusively as “He,” “Lord,” and “Father,” and often with masculine images, does not necessarily imply that maleness was understood as superior to femaleness or that God was seen as “more” male than female or neutral. This said, it seems fair to conclude that the centuries of Wirkungsgeschichte, or “history of influences,” of androcentric assumptions in Christian expressions of faith and theology, so manifest in language, obviously shaped our women’s thinking and articulation about God and spiritual matters. In that regard, any attempt on the part of women writers to envision God in other terms than “He” and “Lord” should be noted as extremely bold and modern and be cheered!

Visionary Studies on Women and the Reformation

Much more has been written about the wars, the Diets, and the reformers’ assorted treatises than about how the Reformation was experienced and transferred by women. Surprisingly few book-length studies have been published on the subject of women in the lives and theologies of the reformers or assessing their theologies from gender perspectives.

Whereas theological inquiry with a gender perspective has been slow to unfold in Reformation studies, the opposite is true in social studies. Since the 1960s, there has been an “explosion” of research. “Historians have searched for new sources which reveal the historical experience of women, and used traditional sources in innovative ways” (Wiesner 2000a, 1–8 at 1). It has become clear that the socially and theologically constructed limitations on women’s options for expressing their faith have to be taken into account when assessing the successes as well as the failures of the Reformation from the perspectives of both genders. In a continuous reappropriation of a historic faith tradition in new times and situations, gender studies promise both continuity and the discovery of renewed “meanings” that can make a particular faith tradition theologically and spiritually sustaining through changing times.

In recent decades scholars have unfolded materials that have identified women in different roles and thus diversified the group of participants and factors in Reformation history. Historians have discovered a variety of rich sources coming from women. The editing and translating of these works has begun, promising an exciting exploration of women’s theologies from their own writings. With identities discovered and first-hand sources made available the new challenges in Reformation scholarship will be, first, to formulate a more realistic and inclusive story of the Reformation by placing equal value on the roles and experiences of both sexes, and, second, to let the women writers’ theological contributions inform the ongoing critical reevaluation of Reformation theologies and their impact. Simply gathering and adding missing material with old premises will not be sufficient. Just as women’s perspectives through the centuries are more than a footnote, so too the women of this period are part of the main text of our history.

The unfolding of the stories of the sixteenth-century reforming women has already brought to light the importance of the role of gender in how, in its different forms, the Protestant Reformation was preached, implemented, received, or rejected. Gender views and norms were also a factor in “what” was being preached and implemented. The recognition of the permeating, inevitable role of gender in human life and history has led to a significant acknowledgment that no history or theology can ever be gender blind or neutral – just as no theology or history can be non-contextual or without a human face. This recognition calls for a new level of inquiry that is inclusive in terms of “who names the reality” and “whose experience and perspective counts” and “what are the important questions to ask.” An inclusive approach to the materials will naturally help to correct the gender biases and class biases, as well as race biases and other prejudices that have dominated the interpretations of Reformation history and theology.

Joan Kelly, in her 1977 essay “Did Women Have a Renaissance,” was among those setting the course for gender-aware historical scholarship. She called into question the entire periodization and definition of the Renaissance with her observation about the so-far insufficiently recognized role of gender in evaluating history and human experience and culture: “To take the emancipation of women as a vantage point is to discover that events that further the historical development of men... have quite different, even opposite, effects upon women. The Renaissance is a good case in point” (Kelly-Gadol 1977, 176). To continue Kelly’s theses, we can ask the same question about the Reformation: Was there a Reformation for women, and if so, what was it? For instance, inasmuch as history is about changes and their interpretation, and as relatively moderate, indirect changes occurred in women’s lives and in attitudes towards women in the Renaissance and Reformation periods, we can hardly talk about “history” in respect to women of the period with the same meanings as when we talk about the his-story of men. Approaches that only recognize “exceptional” women or fail to recognize the impact of the different forms of subjection on women’s history across the board, that are not informed by the realities and experiences of women of the period in question, are based on skewed premises of what constituted normalcy or progress for women (see Sommerville 1995, 8, 39–78, 250).

In the same vein, Gerda Lerner argues that women’s long subjection to the other sex is the history of implicit beliefs shaping social structures and constraints and giving the force of law and custom to what were mere assumptions. She names patriarchy as the culprit for the development of different forms of dominance and hierarchical relationships (in reproduction, economics, and human relations). “In the course of the establishment of patriarchy and constantly reinforced as the result of it, the major idea systems which explain and order Western civilization incorporated a set of unstated assumptions about gender, which powerfully affected the development of history and of human thought.” Distinguishing between history and his-story is part of coming to terms with the observation that “it is in recorded history that women have been obliterated or marginalized.” According to Lerner, it is because of being deprived of cultural fostering through dialogue and encounter with educated peers that women have for long lacked the essential prerequisites for participating in the constructive recording and interpretation of the history of which they have been part (Lerner 1993, 3–5, also 12–13).

With a growing awareness of the complexity of human life, “we stand at the beginning of a new epoch in the history of humankind’s thought, as we recognize that sex is irrelevant to thought, that gender is a social construct and that woman, like man, makes and defines history” (Lerner 1993, 283). Merry Wiesner-Hanks offers an insightful metaphor for the interdisciplinary work in progress: in the study of history, the structure we call “history” is very much a City of Men (or Some Men), and, in order to break holes into this millennia-old structure and to build a sturdy new structure for a City of Women, all immigrants are welcomed to the task in which “we may build high towers, but we need open gates” (Wiesner-Hanks 2001, 16).

In this book women are introduced as history makers and as subjects of their own history. In inviting the ongoing interpretation of religious history and theological understandings to take shape from women’s varied experiences, there is hope for more inclusive history writing and theologizing.

This book builds on and draws from the substantial and visionary work of scholars who have been pioneers in detecting the footsteps of sixteenth-century women and who have provided both biographical studies and critical editions and translations of the women’s works. The 1885 work by Mrs Annie Wittenmyer deserves special mention as the predecessor to this present book as an early attempt to provide biographies of several of the women of the Reformation. The work benefits also from the rich studies on late medieval women’s religiosity and from feminist scholars who have prepared the way for understanding the role of gender in history and theology. Their work is reflected in the bibliography.

Critical works on individual women and their writings and theologies are still coming. Just a few women, such as Marguerite de Navarre, have already attracted remarkable amounts of scholarship in different disciplines. Just a few, such as Argula von Grumbach and Katharina Schütz Zell, have stimulated a variety of recent articles and book-length studies. The English women of the Renaissance and Reformation have enjoyed substantial scholarly attention elsewhere, Queen Elizabeth and her father Henry VIII’s wives in particular, and, as the primary goal has been to provide a good representation of women of the period in diverse roles, they are not subject to special attention in this study (see Levin, Carney, Barrett-Graves 2003, 1988). Women who were partners with famous reformers, such as Katharina von Bora Luther, have drawn miscellaneous interest, both hagiographical and polemical – as have the humanist noble ladies who sponsored reform from within the Catholic church, such as Vittoria Colonna, Giulia Gonzaga, Caterina Cibo, and Isabella Bresegna. The Anabaptist and “radical” women, for instance, Elisabeth van Leeuwarden and Ursula Jost, remain almost unknown, as do the Scandinavian women, among whom the Lutheran queen Dorothea of Denmark stands out. Theologically oriented women with a public voice, such as Katharina Schütz Zell, Argula von Grumbach, Marie Dentière, Olimpia Morata, and also prominent noblewomen such as Jeanne d’Albret and Renée de France, inspired some book-length treatises as early as the nineteenth century, and even greater interest has been shown in them recently, but mostly what has been written has been in languages other than English.

In English in particular, full critical biographies of many of the Reformation women are still to come. The same is true of critical editions and translations of women’s texts, and of in-depth analysis of women’s theologies in particular. This work highlights the works of those scholars who have already translated precious pieces into English. When quoting from these sources, the honor thus goes to the original translators and editors, whose works are detailed in the bibliography.

A word about referencing: In the final editing process, it was decided to exclude the heavy references accumulated in the course of the work, to ensure the clarity and the flow of the text. Only when quoting in detail or when a particular scholar offers an especially valuable or distinct interpretation or addresses a specific issue are authors and works cited in the text as well as in the bibliography. Otherwise, the reader is advised to turn to the end of the book and consult each chapter’s bibliography where the works of most importance and those which are mostly used are listed, in addition to references for further reading.

Women in this Book

This book introduces women as receivers, agents, and implementers of the Protestant faith in sixteenth-century Europe. The focus is on women who, in writing or in other positions of leadership, publicly confessed their faith, lived out their vocations as Protestant women, and tangibly contributed to the cause of the Reformation in their time and place.

Katharina von Bora Luther exemplifies the newly elevated vocation of mothers and the new calling of the Protestant pastors’ spouses as domestic implementers of the faith through home and family. Marie Dentière as an ex-nun turned Reformer and proselytizer gives an astute lay woman’s interpretation of the reforms in Geneva. Argula von Grumbach, Marie Dentière, Katharina Schütz Zell, and Olimpia Morata each explicitly defended women’s rights to speech and action and articulated their view of the Christian duties of all women. Their stories demonstrate both the competence and the challenges of the few learned, outspoken female theologians and defenders of women, all ridiculed by their male critics but convinced of their right to teach and argue theologically. Their legacy for later generations is a rich assortment of theological writing and courageous witnessing of their faith. Marguerite de Navarre and her daughter Jeanne d’Albret, with Renée de France, demonstrate the precarious political authority and the courageous religious commitment several noblewomen cleverly employed in protecting Protestants under dangerous circumstances. Prophets like Ursula Jost from Strasbourg managed to continue the medieval tradition of charismatic prophets and mystics in a clash with the mainstream Protestant preferences and overall suspicion of such experiences. The Princess Elisabeth of Denmark who became on her marriage Elisabeth von Brandenburg and her daughter Elisabeth von Braunschweig implemented Reformation in their private and public domains, in acts and words of confession and persuasive legislation. Many of the women presented here stand as examples of committed individuals in often precarious positions of authority and as examples of faithful wives and mothers who could pay a dear personal price for their public mission for the benefit of the Protestant faith. Many equally intriguing women were left out of this study due to reasons of space.

Protestant women of the sixteenth century from central and southern Europe rose up as the main subjects of this study. With their publications or otherwise manifest religious leadership roles, the women chosen embodied the different faces of women’s vocations, gave those vocations specific meanings in their context, and contributed as private believers as well as public leaders. To set a common framework for the individual women’s stories introductory essays and the Conclusion discuss briefly a variety of issues pertinent to women’s options and the bearing the reformers’ theologies had on women’s lives. The hope is that by setting stories of individual women against the complex story of the Reformation, and with intentional attention to gender issues, this work will contribute to the ongoing reconstruction of Reformation history and theology and to the investiture of women as respected leaders in their own church and tradition.

PART 1

Options and Visions for Women

CHAPTER 1

Prophets, Visionaries, and Martyrs Ursula Jost and her Publisher Margarethe Prüss

Introduction – Medieval Women Visionaries

Did the Reformation offer women new possibilities of embracing religious leadership roles and using their theological voice in public, or did it limit women’s options? What happened to the women mystics and visionaries of the medieval world? How well did the Protestants’ teaching of the priesthood of all believers apply to women? Did Protestant theology and reforms promote spiritual equality and emancipation for all concerned, including the women? The answers are ambiguous.

On the one hand, a seed of radical emancipation was embedded in the reformers’ teaching of justification by faith as a gift from God for humans without a merit of their own. The priesthood of all believers would thus seem like a natural expression of – and a foundation for – spiritual equality. The eagerness with which many a woman joined the Protestant believers tells that they heard in the new preaching a promise worth responding to, without perhaps fully comprehending at first what that promise entailed for them as women in particular. On the other hand, there was no collective voice of women and thus no joint recorded “women’s opinion” on this, just documents on individual responses. The number of sources from (and on) the Reformation women pale in comparison to those preserved from their medieval foremothers. The apparent disappearance of women writers coincides with the Protestants’ dismissal of the mystics, prophets, and saints who in the medieval religious scene had often been important female counterparts to the otherwise exclusively male clergy and school theologians and androcentric religious imagery.

The late medieval context and women’s religious roles there offer a revealing mirror to examine how women’s situations changed both for better and for worse. These changes can be understood in light of the basically unchanged gender conceptions, societal factors, and new theological emphases. The most important changes in women’s lot arise from the new perspectives on spirituality and vocation.

In spite of the tenaciously preserved Pauline teaching about women’s silence and submissive roles in the Church, and the institutionally executed rules against women’s teaching, preaching, and public roles, there have been individual women in Christian history who have found ways to break the gender rules. Against the regulations limiting women’s theological activity and voice, those motivated to do so have succeeded in establishing themselves as teachers and leaders. They have done so as lay persons and as private believers, more often than not “authorized” by specific spiritual convictions and experiences they have purposefully traced back to God’s irresistible calling. The Middle Ages especially produced an astonishing number of female visionaries with “divine messages.” Because of the public character of their actions and identities, these women stand out as exceptional, and as disobedient to the centuries-old ideals set for Christian women. Transgressors whose actions could be deemed to originate from God’s divine action could win forgiveness and even respect, whereas the same latitude was not afforded the women who broke the rules “on their own,” without any claimed or manifest supernatural authorization.

Since the earliest days of Christian history, individual women who have espoused the roles of religious leaders and teachers have typically drawn their justification for such “unwomanly” activity from their transforming religious experiences of mystical nature. In the pre-Reformation context in particular such spiritual experiences were far from uncommon. Quite to the contrary, mysticism flourished in medieval Christianity, as an important counterpart to the official, institutionalized religion dominated by the clergy. It is hardly a coincidence that many of the mystics were members of laity and women for whom mysticism offered the only possible platform for teaching and preaching and religious authority.

“In the first part of the sixteenth-century, as in the late Middle Ages, women were sometimes seen as spiritual authorities because of their visionary and prophetic experiences. They based their claim to authority not on office, but on experience, an extraordinary vocation. Such experience often took the form of prophetic visions” (Snyder 1999, 282). Scholarship has established that the

visions were a socially sanctioned activity that freed a woman from conventional female roles by identifying her as a genuine religious figure. They brought her to the attention of others, giving her a public language she could use to teach and learn. Her visions gave her the strength to grow internally and to change the world, to preach, and to attack injustice and greed, even within the church. Through visions, she could be an exemplar to other women, and out of her own experience, she could lead them to fuller self-development. (Ibid. See also Snyder and Hecht 1996.)

Only few women would write in their own name (for instance, Marguerite Porete, burned at the stake with her book in the early fourteenth century, and Christine de Pizan, earning her living as a professional writer from the fourteenth to the fifteenth century). A preferred option was for a woman to identify herself – with the desired affirmation of others – as a messenger and a mouthpiece of God. A “documented” supernatural call would supersede human orders. In a parallel order created by God’s spirit, women could see visions, prophesy, teach, and publish.

The tradition of mystical and prophetic writing flourished in the Middle Ages. For instance, Hildegard von Bingen and the visionaries from the Helfta Convent (from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries) and Julian of Norwich, Caterina da Siena, and Birgitta of Sweden (from the fourteenth to the fifteenth centuries) earned a following as holy women who had dedicated their lives to a God-given mission (as they perceived it) to deliver divine messages. They attracted a following among the people as well as suspicion from the ecclesial authorities. In their survival and success the advocacy of male authorities, often confessors and scribes, was instrumental, especially in proving the visionaries’ orthodoxy and promoting official recognition of their sanctity. Further proofs of the visionary women’s exceptional authority as spiritual leaders came from their extraordinary lives and manifestation of “manly” virtues. In many ways the holy women needed to give up their womanhood and self-identity and annihilate their human needs and relations in order to excel in ascetic and contemplative practices, in the process of becoming non-gendered instruments of God whose jealous love was allconsuming. For the women themselves, it appears, this process could mean spiritual emancipation, within the framework of what was esteemed and considered possible for women in terms of religious roles and experiences.

In the high and late Middle Ages, in the climate of a heightened interest in mysticism, there was an upsurge in the number of lay teachers concerned with the spiritual wellbeing of people and critical of the rise of clerical power and accumulation of problems in the Church. Numbers of lay visionaries, prophets, and mystics offered their visions for reform, often envisioning spiritual and moral reforms for which they would be the starting point; this kind of transformation would later characterize the heart of the Catholic reform in the sixteenth century. Monasteries and convents, which had multiplied by the late Middle Ages, provided a natural environment and stimulus for mystics and visionaries, many of whom became forerunners for the Reformation, both Protestant and Catholic. In the latter, the mystics continued to function in influential roles as spiritual leaders; in the former, the mystics all but disappeared, and with them women prophets and visionaries.

This speaks of shifting priorities in spiritual life, piety, and theology: spiritual experiences and individual bodily and charismatic expressions of religiosity became devalued while the “extra nos” effectiveness of grace in individuals’ lives became emphasized. For everyone, male or female, who took part in the Protestant Reformation both the notion and expressions of spirituality underwent a fundamental change. Excluded from the pulpit and public teaching places, women also lost their role as female prophets and mystics in the Protestant church, where their spiritual life was more or less confined to the domestic world. From now on, women would need to find other callings to make their mark in the “new” church.

To sum up: For sixteenth-century Protestants, the pure proclamation of the Word was seen as key to reform. New emphasis was placed on preaching the Word purely, and living it out in one’s vocation; the first aspect was open only to men, the second to women as well. Protestant women gained home and “world” as their new holy land, while they became seemingly (to us anyway) imprisoned in this exclusively preached domestic model for women. With the coinciding loss of the convents, women lost the environment that had most essentially supported women’s individual spiritual development and mystical activity and nurtured many a visionary writer. Protestant women were to forget prophesying and mystical experiences and instead embrace their domestic holy vocations as spouses, mothers and caretakers of their households. While some women cherished this interpretation of the gospel, others rejected it. Some endeavored to combine both. In the early years of the Reformation, a minority of women managed to continue in the roles of the prophets while also embracing their marital and maternal duties. The story of these “radical” Protestant women intertwines with another tragic story: that of the martyrs – women and men believing and acting against the prevalent norms. As a tribute to those women who died for their faith, many of whom remain nameless, the discussion here begins with those who were most persecuted.

Anabaptists and Martyrs

The Anabaptist prophets experienced a burst of freedom in the early years of the movement, before being confined similarly to their sisters in the mainstream Protestant traditions. They welcomed the Protestant teaching of the goodness of marriage, and some of them also shared the pulpit, so to speak, with their husbands, in the roles of a prophet.

The activity of the spiritually authorized lay teachers continued among the radical reformers. The term “radical” refers to those Protestant groups (formed from approximately the 1520s onwards), of which the Anabaptists were one, that emphasized the independent activity of Holy Spirit in the interpretation of the Scripture and practiced believer’s baptism (that is to say, adult baptism as a testimony of one’s faith). With the principle of sola scriptura, they rejected earthly authority, refused civil and military service and the giving of oaths, in conformity with their apocalyptic teachings. Diverse groups which coalesced around these basic tenets (the Swiss, the South Germans and Austrians, and the North Germans and Dutch) sought separation from the “world” and were persecuted throughout Europe. The 1685 Martyrs Mirror reported that 30 percent of all martyrs were women.

While there were many reasons for the persecutions of the Anabaptists, the issue of spiritual experiences and the work of the Holy Spirit was of central importance in regards to women. Namely it was the spiritual experiences that carved for Anabaptist women a unique place in Protestant history, and which also caused them great peril.

The identification of this radical “spiritual” emphasis is crucial to the telling of the story of Anabaptist women. Appealing to the Holy Spirit as the central interpretive agent meant that a spirit-filled, illiterate, or semi-literate woman or man would be a truer exegete of Scripture than would a learned professor lacking the Spirit. This spiritual and egalitarian approach to scripture, which emerged in Luther and Zwingli’s own movements, opened the door to the participation of women and uneducated commoners in radical and Anabaptist reform. (Snyder and Hecht 1996, 3)

The magisterial Reformers disapproved: their opposition to the radicals was even fiercer than their prohibitions against women’s teaching.

Mainstream reformers preached the good news of justification by faith alone with a renewed emphasis on the work of the Word and the two recognized sacraments. Stressing the importance of the responsibilities of all believers, on the one hand, they also upheld the institutional means of grace and the “right call” to the office of the Word, on the other. Thus, even with the agreed upon principle of sola scriptura and the exhortation for the laity to read their Bibles, now increasingly available in the vernacular, the reformers remained suspicious of Spirit-filled individuals sharing their spiritual experiences beyond the ordered church structure and its authorized offices. At the heart of the disagreement was the understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit and of what constituted “spiritual.” In the case of women, the dangers were only magnified. Anabaptist women engaged in prophetic activity were doubly disruptive of the order in the new church(es) that had no more tolerance for heresy, disobedience, or disruption of order than the Catholic church had in the outset of the Protestant movements. Anabaptists who did not adhere to the accepted forms of faith, whether Catholic or Protestant (primarily the Lutherans and their Augsburg Confession), and who practiced adult (re)baptism in defiance of the imperial law, were in the position of outlaws and were persecuted throughout the Europe.

Mainstream and radical reformers found agreement in one issue in particular: God would want women to remain subject to men, staying in the home as spouses and mothers. Throughout the early years of the movement, Anabaptist women, however, could espouse exceptional opportunities for religious leadership, especially as prophets. As the movement became institutionalized, though, many of the women’s early opportunities for visible leadership roles were lost (just as they had been in the early “heretical” movements, such as the Montanists). That scholars disagree on the degree of women’s emancipation among the radicals reflects the ambiguous nature of women’s history in general and speaks of the complex reality of the gendered norms that affected every movement. In general, it seems, only the work of the Spirit could disrupt the order that regulated gender relations in church and society!

The degree of women’s freedom in Anabaptist circles varied from place to place, and from teacher to teacher (for instance, Melchior Hoffman saw the office of a prophet suitable for women, whereas Menno Simons interpreted the Scripture endorsing women’s submission), and, generally speaking, the Anabaptists sent an ambivalent message to women: On the one hand, their break with the church institution and their enforcement of subjectivity in religious matters in the early days suggested the liberating effect of the Spirit in individuals’ lives and ensuing religious autonomy beyond institutional control. The theology of the egalitarian pouring out of the Spirit and trust in charismatic experiences allowed both lay men and women to assume the role of a prophet, one with religious authority and a public voice. “The ‘calling of the Spirit’ which provided the foundation for the Anabaptist movement was radically egalitarian and personal, even though it led individuals into a commitment to a community” (Snyder and Hecht 1996, 8). Eventually, however, Anabaptist women would be subjected to the same gender conventions as others, with an expectation to find fulfillment in a patriarchally ordered marriage and household and church.

While at no time was there full equality, in the beginning of the movement several factors allowed Anabaptist women more opportunities to participate in the life of the church than they could in society at large. Throughout their history, women contributed instrumentally in the Anabaptist communities of faith. They even “appointed themselves to places of leadership. No one asked them. They sometimes became apostles, prophetesses, and visionaries. Their messages were unpredictable” (Sprunger 1985, 53). The activities of Elisabeth of Leeuwarden following what she claimed was just such a call by the Spirit of God made her famous. Before being martyred in 1549, she was a known leader and an associate of Menno Simons in the northern Dutch Anabaptist circles. A learned, independent woman praised for her “manly courage” (Joldersma and Grijp 2001), Elisabeth had come from a convent background and bravely assisted in the Anabaptist network, establishing herself as the first known Mennonite deaconess. Other women, like Elisabeth, performed informal proselytism, crafted hymns, hosted Bible readings and sewing circles, and worked actively at a grass-roots level. Some distributed alms and housed itinerant ministers and refugees. They spread the gospel by word of mouth. In all these activities Anabaptist women gave an extraordinary lay witness. For instance, Aeffgen Lystyncx in Amsterdam, a wealthy lay woman, organized conventicles. At Schleiden, two women notably acted as itinerant preachers: Bernhartz Maria of Niederrollesbroich, with ecstatic visions and Maria of Monjou, executed by drowning 1552. A few Swiss Anabaptist women earned fame as prophetesses: Margaritia Hattinger of Zurich and Magdalena Muller, Barbara Murglen, and Frena Bumenin of St Gall. (See Sprunger 1985, 52–7; Snyder and Hecht 1996, 8, 10–11, 14–15, 97–8; Wiesner 1989, 15–17.)

A particularly tragic chapter of Anabaptist history was lived in Münster, where women found themselves in an abusive situation under the totalitarian rule of Jan Mathjis and Jan van Leiden, who promoted polygamy and women’s total subjection to their husbands, with a threat of death or imprisonment. The lives and deaths of the martyrs were documented in The Martyrs Mirror (by Thieleman Jansz van Braght [1625–64]), also called The Bloody Theater or Martyrs Mirror of the Defenseless Christians. It includes information on 278 women, who constituted one third of all the martyrs, who were drowned, burned, strangled, and buried alive for their faith, with or without their husbands (for instance, Anneken Jans and Weynken Claes.) Their gender made the persecuted women exceptionally vulnerable.

Each individual woman was put in a position of defending herself against a weight of sanctioned authority and theological learning to which she, by virtue of being a woman, was allowed no access. Still, each Anabaptist woman was empowered by the Anabaptist principles of encouraging every believer, female as well as male, to independently search Scriptures and to share their understanding of the truth with others. (Joldersma and Grijp 2001, 27–36 at 27–8)

Women’s answers demonstrated their learning and bravery as well as conviction of faith.

Martyrdom was not limited to the Anabaptists. In addition to widespread witch hunts, stories of female martyrs came from all over Europe. Especially bloody periods marked by the French Wars of Religion and the religious strife in England throughout the Tudor and Stuart period produced martyrs on both sides as the religious adherences and policies of the heads of state underwent successive changes. (See Bainton 2001b, 211-29, 159–209) From England, the telling records of trials against Lutheran, Calvinist, or Anabaptist women portray brave women with convictions they were willing to die for. As an example, English gentlewoman Anne Askew was executed in 1546 after being tortured and scrutinized for her reforming views and activities – and in an attempt to secure evidence of heresy against the queen, Katherine Parr, last of Henry VIII’s wives, whose own reformist sympathies were unpopular with the powerful bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner. Anne left a detailed recording of her ordeal in her own writing (the first of which dates from 1545), which provides an autobiographical picture, with a description of her gruesome torture, as well a woman’s interpretation of several debated theological issues, such as Christ’s presence in the Lord’s Supper (see Beilin 1996). As another example, the most famous female Protestant martyr in England was the beheaded second wife of Henry VIII: Anne Boleyn’s story exemplified tragically the hazards a sixteenth-century woman, even a queen, faced due to her religious choices, gender, and sexuality (see Warnicke 1989). (Her daughter, Elizabeth I, had her own reasons to remain in public as asexual and neutral in religious matters as possible.) Many of the Reformation women in positions of power sought to intervene with the persecutions and save believers from execution. For instance, Marguerite de Navarre and her daughter Jeanne d’Albret, and their friend Renée de France, were famous for their asylums and protection of the Protestants. With a shared attitude against violence, Katharina Schütz Zell and Argula von Grumbach wrote on behalf of religious tolerance and acted in defense of those accused for their beliefs. While women died for their faith just as men did, many women leaders (with the notable exception of Mary Tudor and Catherine de Médicis) seemed more interested in ending the violence practiced in the name of religion than killing for it.

The perspectives provided by the Anabaptist women and the martyrs demonstrate the ambiguity of the Reformation’s promise to women. They reveal, once again, the intertwining of politics and religion, with gender factoring in both. Last but not least, their stories provide evidence for the determination, tenacity, and shrewdness with which women took the roles of leadership, witnessing and confessing, even at times when much less was expected of them.

Prophets in Strasbourg and their Publisher Margarethe Prüss

The tolerant free city of Strasbourg, home of Katharina Schütz Zell, was a central place for prophetic activity and for the publication of many radical and lay works (especially between 1522 and 1534). Many of the city’s women were married to Anabaptists or Spiritualists (men and women together accounting for 10 percent of the population). Some of them became known as prophets and were associated with a visiting Anabaptist Melchior Hoffman (1529), who assisted in the publication of the prophetic works he respected. Among the most influential of the illiterate female prophets were Ursula Jost and Barbara Rebstock, the wife of a weaver, who served as an “elder of Israel” in her Anabaptist congregation. Both were close associates of Hoffman and were influenced by Hans Hut. Their visions, filled with zeal and biblical references, were published by Melchior Hoffman and a brave female publisher Margarethe Prüss, one of the most daring and productive publishers in Strasbourg. The daughter of a printer, wife of two printers, and a printer on her own, she was neither a prophet nor a teacher herself, but became instrumental in publishing the prophets’ works. Her third marriage to an Anabaptist may, like her decision to publish “forbidden” or potentially scandalous works, reveals her religious sympathies, given the persecuted status of the Anabaptists. (See Chrisman 1972, 159–160 on her role as a publisher in the reformation in Strasbourg.)

In 1510 her father, Johann Prüss, died and she inherited his print shop, which had been in operation since 1504. She then married (1511–22) Reinhard Beck, who became co-owner of the “Prüss-Beck” print shop. Whereas her father had printed Catholic works, Marguerite and Reinhard chose to print reformation materials, such as Martin Luther’s and Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt’s works, along with classical and humanist works in both Latin and German. Limits set by the town guild limited the period for which a woman could operate a business alone, and so, after Reinhard’s death, Marguerite’s business activities were threatened. She managed to establish another print shop, which she operated alone until she hired Wolfgang Foter, who would become her sonin-law, and then in 1524 she married Johann Schwann of Marburg (an ex-Franciscan), with whom she continued to publish reformation materials until his death in 1526. In May 1527 she married for the third time, this time to a known Anabaptist, Balthasar Beck.

In the 1530s, risking (and in the Balthasar’s case suffering) arrest and financial hazards, the Prüss-Beck press published the works of Anabaptists and Spiritualists, including those of Ursula Jost, Sebastian Franck, and Melchior Hoffman, among others considered radical either because of their content or their author. (For instance, they published Katharina Schütz Zell’s hymnbook based on Michael Weisse’s songbook from Bohemia.)

Margare the clearly was aware of the ideological bent of the books being produced by her press. In fact, it appears that Margarethe’s choice of husband/printers was coloured by her commitment to the continued printing of radical materials. This woman pragmatically contributed to the movement of the early Anabaptists, and radical reform generally, in the best way available to her in her context.” (Snyder and Hecht 1996, 259)

She passed her shop and legacy in equal shares to her eight children, her wishes signed in a will dated May 23, 1542. The choices made by the four children about whom we have some knowledge give a poignant depiction of the religious choices and career options available at the time: her son Reinhard became a printer in Basel, her daughter Juliane joined a Catholic convent, her daughter Ursula married a printer (the same Wolfgang Foter hired by her mother), and her daughter Margarethe married the Spiritualist, Sebastian Franck. (Chrisman 1982, 29–30, 151–69; Snyder and Hecht 1996, 265–70)

In conclusion,

Key to Margarethe’s story was her decision to marry printers that enabled her to continue in this line of work and to retain some measure of control of the Prüss family printing business. She utilized the best means available to her as a woman of her time. Margarethe exercised control over the materials published in her printshop through her choice of husbands.

She married only people in favor of the Protestants and published works accordingly, increasingly radical works, which serves as convincing evidence of her Anabaptist leanings. “As a printshop owner and a woman, Margarethe overcame the limits of the role assigned to women by sixteenth-century culture and as a result, made a significant contribution to the early Anabaptist movement far beyond the city of Strasbourg.” (Snyder and Hecht 1996, 270) Her courage and significance and that of other similar printers cannot be over-estimated. Their significance “lay in their control of the printed word. Ultimately their decision to print or not to print a particular book or tract could have an immediate effect on political and religious events and, in a time of rapid change, on institutions.” In other words, “printers helped to determine the course of events.” (Chrisman 1982, 29, 30.) They were instrumental in opening a forum for lay teachers such as Ursula Jost. Ursula provides a connection to the strong tradition of spiritually authorized women teachers and mystics. She also embodies what was lost, for women and men, with the mainstream Protestants disapproval of the mystics and prophets.

Prophet Ursula Jost and her Visions

A lay woman assuming the office of a prophet, Ursula continued the long tradition of mystics and prophets who had thrived in the Middle Ages. She embodied a challenge to the Reformers’ opinion about the office of preaching belonging only to men, and their lack of respect for mystical religious experiences. Ursula unabashedly assumed a position of spiritual leadership and openly spoke of her desire for visions: “After my husband and spouse was released from custody and was let go, he and I together prayed earnestly and diligently to God, the almighty merciful Father, that he would let me also see the wondrous deeds of his hand” (Snyder and Hecht 1996, 282). She wished to be a prophet, and she became one through her encounter with the Spirit, her source of authority. She prophesied from the beginning of 1524, most actively during the bloody period of Anabaptist history and widespread persecutions. Against all the odds, the Anabaptist female prophet who could have faced martyrdom, apparently died a natural death – as did her publisher, Margarethe. (See Snyder and Hecht 1996 for the core information on both women.)

Certain pieces of information are available: we know Ursula lived and prophesied in the early 1500s; that she lived with her husband Lienhard Jost in the Krutena neighborhood of Strasbourg; that he was imprisoned in 1524; that her own visions were published in 1530; and that her daughter married in 1543. However, there is little to flesh out these facts, and Ursula’s own birth and death dates and her family background remain unclear.

Lienhard Jost, a butcher by trade, came from the village of Illkirch, south of Strasbourg and was engaged in prophetic activity in the early days of the Reformation in Germany. Because of his prophecies, Lienhard was imprisoned in a hospital; he was released in 1524, the year in which he had already married Ursula. When exactly they became involved with the Anabaptists and their practice of rebaptism is not clear, but Ursula’s prophetic activity began following her husband’s release. She documented her visions, but did not publish them until 1530, after which date information on her becomes even sparser. From 1537 onwards the name “Agnes” appears in the Anabaptists’ records in association with Ursula’s husband, and by 1539 she was known as Lienhard’s wife. Unless we are to suppose the possibility of divorce or bigamy (neither of which are plausible as divorce on any grounds other than adultery has never been permissible in the Anabaptist church and sexual attitudes in general seem to have been in keeping with contemporary society), Ursula must have died somewhere before 1539, the year the records mention Lienhard’s new wife.