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Have
You Ever Seen A Lassie?
by Major JoAnn Shade
The Salvation Army's celebration of the 125th anniversary of
opening the work in New York included quite a party that gave
witness to the faithfulness of God in powerful ways.
But it raised again an issue that has troubled me for a
number of years:
Why do we continue to refer to the seven brave women who came
with Railton as the “seven hallelujah lassies”?
OK, in a pinch it may be a poetic phrase, but this is
the twenty-first century, and whatever that word may have
implied in 1880, my vivid imagination can only draw on my
early childhood experience of Lassie, the adorable collie who
kept getting lost.
These “lassies” are seven women who left their homes, their
families, and everything that was familiar to cross the ocean
in hopes of spreading the gospel.
They are seven women who have names.
Except that it’s difficult to find them.
Sixty minutes on the Internet could not locate their
names. They are
unnamed in Soldier Saint, a biography of George Scott
Railton, who accompanied them to New York, nor are they named
in Red-Hot and Righteous, Diane Winston’s work on the
urban religion of The Salvation Army.
Edward McKinley names one in Marching to Glory,
Emma Westbrook, and describes the group as “stalwart women
with great heart but little ability”(15).
It finally took an e-mail to the archives in London to
find them. So for
the record, in recognition of their personhood, the women who
came to these shores in 1880 were Alice Coleman, Rachel Evans,
Emma Elizabeth Florence Morris, Elizabeth Pearson, Clara
Price, Annie Shaw, and Emma Westbrook.
It could be presumed that the lack of naming of these women
has been simply a historical oversight, but if so, there have
been too many historical oversights in the course of the
history of our faith, beginning with the Scriptures.
Jephthah’s daughter (Judges 11), the woman who was a
concubine (Judges 19), the woman at the well (John 4), the
woman taken in adultery (John 8), the woman with an issue of
blood (Matthew 9), and the woman in Simon’s house (Mark 14),
are only a few of the many unnamed women in the Bible.
Yet unnamed women are not confined to the pages of history.
There are unnamed women in our contemporary world as
well: the female
babies aborted daily in China simply because of their gender,
the women being sold into prostitution and sexual slavery, and
yes, the prostitutes on the street corners and the women who
have been bumped off the welfare rolls in our own communities.
Yet these women do have names.
While they may not have been considered noteworthy
enough to be recorded in the Scripture, each woman has a name.
Even women who are forced to abort their daughter give
them a name. And
sex slaves, prostitutes, and poor women all have names as
well. As such,
their names are known to the God of the universe, the shepherd
who cares for his sheep.
As the chorus writer reminds us,
He cannot forget me, though trials
beset me,
Forever his promise shall stand,
He cannot forget me, though trials
beset me,
My name’s on the palm of his hand.
SASB 125
While I may not be able to change the historical records of
The Salvation Army, I can remember that George did not come
alone to the shores of the US, but was accompanied by Alice,
Rachel, Emma, Elizabeth, Clara, Annie and Emma.
I can honor the memory of the unnamed women in the
Scriptures by telling their stories.
And I can respect my brothers and sisters enough to
speak their names, whether in the pew or the soup-line, as
those who are created in the image of God and held close to
his heart. For
the gift of a name bestows both identity and regard upon
another, and I can choose to live in such a way that the names
of God’s children are cherished and preserved.
O concubine of Ephraim,
No name is ever wholly forgotten.
Your mother’s lips brushed identity upon being.
A fragile vase, auctioned to the highest bidder,
Stripped naked of dignity.
Yet your name whispers gently.
I know you.
(see Judges 19)
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