Book Review: My Sisters the Saints, by Colleen Carroll Campbell (Image Books)
Part of the gentle awakening of aging is the recognition
that the torch has passed, and that your generation is no longer the world’s benchmark
of “what is.” I love growing older, watching my children mature, and seeing how
the domestic foundations of yesterday become the folklore of today, but beyond
the confines of the home, what sort of culture have we have bequeathed these
young adults? How can we help the next generation navigate the secular world
with their faith and morals intact?
The beauty of My
Sister the Saints is that it provides a thoughtful account of a woman whose
generation followed mine, and thus Colleen Carroll Campbell walked into
adulthood as my peers were settling into the choices available to us. Only
those who have really followed the world of feminism understand the waves of
thought that permeated academia, and subsequently washing through the popular
culture. Between the noisy bra-burners of the 1960’s to sexual deconstructionists
of today, there have been a lot of theories offered to women: theories about
careers, dating, marriage, motherhood, and boundaries.
The author—traversing the tremendous gap between her
traditional Midwestern upbringing and the chaotic individualism of the college
campus—succeeded academically but was left with existential doubt as to her
place in the world. She writes:
What is the source of that gnawing
sensation inside me, and why does my pursuit of pleasure and success only
intensity it? Is it true that there are no real differences between the sexes,
or does my femininity—and female body—have something to do with my desires and
discontent? If the key to my fulfillment as a woman lies in maximizing my
sexual allure, racking up professional accomplishments, and indulging my
appetites while avoiding commitment, why has following that advice left me
dissatisfied? Why do my friends and I spend so many hours fretting that we are
not thin enough, not successful enough, simply not enough? If this is
liberation, why am I so miserable?
She initially sought
answers in feminism, but was put off by the harsh rhetoric against patriarchy,
which was so different than her own positive experience of fatherly love. Ultimately, she gave some remarkable saints a
fair reading (coupled with prayer) and found that, despite the distance of years
and dissimilar vocations, their insights and advice remained sound.
In light of what she learned, Ms. Campbell didn’t shy from
prayerfully choosing to love as God would have her love. Whether watching a
parent deteriorate, accepting the ache of infertility, or making difficult
choices concerning work and marriage, ultimately it was those very saints—and not
her feminist peers—who showed her how establish the right priorities.
Ms. Campbell’s path to truth wasn’t easy, but was smoothed
and purified by suffering. While this may sound disconcerting, it is the only
authentic conduit to wisdom, and the only option possible for those who refuse
to stop loving in a fallen world. The Hebrew word for sacrifice is corban, which actually means “to draw
near.” That is what sacrifices are meant to do—to diminish the distance between
God and His creatures, the distance caused by our sins. Sacrifices usually hurt,
but if we imagine the suffering involved as the fire that consumes the gift on
the altar of love, then we know that the outcome will be well worth the pain.
It took dedication and perseverance, but Ms. Campbell
learned that loving according to God’s plan is indeed fulfilling, and it lifted
the anxieties that had plagued her previously. Our sisters the saints want us
to succeed at the right things, and this book is an excellent example of how
the communion of believers provides encouragement, inspiration, and hope for
all generations. Indeed, when you find your place—at whatever age—you may then
share in that privilege of helping others to sanctity. For Ms. Campbell’s part,
we are deeply grateful.
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