“With fear and trembling,” Mrs. Jennings entered the mission Sunday morning; she’d vowed that David Harris would mount the pulpit over her dead body.
Life as a the wife of a pioneer Methodist missionary could have its terrifying moments.
Fortunately, not all the trials that Mrs. Dennis Jennings faced during the 1880s were as harrowing as the time on the Nass River when she was marked for death by those who blamed her for an outbreak of disease in their village. But, as she recalled half a lifetime later, there had been other tests of her courage and dedication.
Such as the time that “sinful David” sabotaged all her husband’s Christian teachings and stirred revolt among his fellow Tsimshian tribesmen at Port Simpson.
Initially, Rev. Jennings had enjoyed extraordinary success in converting the Tsimshians to Christianity and he and his young wife “foresaw a happy period of peace and tranquility”. But then they learned that David Harris, one of their most promising converts, and a zealous assistant, had broken the Seventh Commandment by leaving his wife Mary and taking up with pretty young Naomi. Jennings explained to him the error of his ways but David, for all of his recent Christian ardour, replied that he loved Naomi, that he’d tired of Mary, and she of him. So long as Naomi and Mary were content, he couldn’t see that it was anyone else’s business.
As Jennings had to attend a series of revival services upriver, he left Mrs. Jennings with her maid, Betsy Blake. That Saturday evening, they walked down to the Sunday school to hold a Bible class. She’d just begun the service when David entered and took a seat near the door; she coolly nodded and continued.
When she reached the part of the service where the congregation would choose one of those present to preach a sermon the next day in her husband’s absence, to her indignation, someone nominated David and a round of applause eliminated the need for further discussion.
It was, to quote Mrs. Jennings’s interviewer, “a delicate situation. [She] had no intention of letting David preach unless he’d made up his mind to forsake Naomi and return to Mary”. But, not daring to say anything while the class was in progress, she asked David to wait until the rest had gone, that she wanted to speak with him.
He was adamant: If Mary wanted a divorce — and was willing to pay for it — she could have it. He was quite content with things as they were.
“Then you can’t preach tonight,” snapped the missionary’s wife.
With a crafty grin he countered, “You preach the forgiveness of sin, and when everybody in the village has forgiven me, you will not forgive. That is not Christian.”
As Mrs. Jennings attempted to explain that it was not a matter of her own forgiveness but that of the church, a villager entered with a message and David bitterly told him of her refusal to let him speak from the pulpit next morning. Rushing out, the courier informed the village and, within 15 minutes, the entire community was crowded into the little Sunday school and loudly demanding that David speak. “They used all sorts of arguments and even threats, and David stood in their midst the picture of outraged righteousness, his demeanour urging them on.”
Mrs. Jennings stood firm but as the meeting got louder and louder she became frightened. Maid Betsy burst into tears. In a matter of minutes the entire congregation had sided with David in the belief that, by forgiving him they were interpreting the Biblical command literally. It was 2 a.m. before the angry, shouting and gesticulating mob departed.
“With fear and trembling,” Mrs. Jennings entered the mission Sunday morning. She’d vowed that David Harris would mount the pulpit over her dead body.
Everyone was seated and there was an ominous undercurrent of expectation. She proceeded with the first hymn and prayers. All too soon it was time for testimonies — the very opening that the congregation was waiting for. Instantly, an old chieftain was on his feet and, in the Tsimshian dialect, said, “Who shall offend one of these, my little ones, it were better for him that a millstone be hanged about his neck and that he be cast into the utmost depths of the sea.”
He then launched into a bitter tirade against Mrs. Jennings, arousing his audience to “a very frenzy of indignation,” and they repeatedly demanded that the pulpit be given over to David. Making herself heard over the din, Mrs. Jennings informed them in their own tongue that she’d die before she’d allow an adulterer to speak in the House of God.
A deathly silence followed as she waited tensely for their next move. She was overcome by exhaustion and despair when the villagers, “showing their utter disapproval of her by black looks and threatening gestures,” stomped out of the church.
The following week was the most trying of her missionary career. No one came near the mission house or attended Sunday school. She began to doubt the stand she’d taken; how would her husband have handled it? Would he blame her for having alienated his entire congregation?
He, upon return, assured her that he’d have acted the same way, then called upon each and every one of the villagers. Collectively and individually he talked with them all, paying particular attention to the women. Just what he said, Mrs. Jennings never knew for sure. But many women began to demand the Christian ceremony of marriage.
“An epidemic of weddings took place. Even old Indians and klootchmen [sic] who had been married according to Indian laws, and had lived for many years together and seen their children and their children’s children, came along to the mission house to be married over again.”
Those who didn’t, including David and Naomi, were ostracized by the community. Although Naomi tearfully admitted she’d prefer to be married in accordance with the church, she said David was too proud to back down and she loved him too much to leave him.
David, cause of all the trouble, “held himself proudly aloof from everyone, perhaps believing to the end that he was a better Christian than those who had forbidden him to preach to his people.”