Filios, Denise

Medieval Feminist Newsletter

English

Denise Filios

Crossref

Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shi'ite Islam. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007

ScholarWorks at WMU

147 147Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. Pp. 209.“Fátima de los naufragios,” a short story by Lourdes Ortiz, illustrates the ambivalence felt by many Spaniards toward Moroccan immigrants. This story, set in a small fishing village on the Andalusian coast, centers on an enigmatic woman who appears one day on the beach, where she lives for months, refusing to interact with the residents. She is eventually identified by another, more talkative recent arrival as Fatima, a Moroccan whose husband and son drowned when their small boat capsized during a turbulent crossing of the Strait of Gibraltar. The townsfolk attempt to integrate this silent dolorosa into their community by bringing her food (without pork) and by recasting her as “Nuestra Señora de las pateras,” Our Lady of the small boats in which so many African immigrants lose their lives attempting to enter Europe. While Ortiz highlights the shared Christian and Islamic idealization of holy mothers, she also shows the violence at the heart of these idealized constructions. At the end of the story, the villagers silently watch as the woman, after mourning over the corpse of a young black man that washed up on shore, walks into the sea, drowning herself. The villagers’ desire to see her play out the symbolic role they cast onto her overrides their humanitarian concerns, so they collude in her death.1Mary F. Thurlkill’s comparative analysis of the figures of Mary and Fatima leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling, as does Ortiz’s short story. On the one hand, Thurlkill’s study introduces readers who know little about Fatima to the construction of this holy mother in Shi’ite Islam, increasing awareness of this very important figure whose popularity in Islamic countries rivals that of Mary in Catholic ones. On the other hand, her approach downplays the many differences and disjunctions between the history, construction, and significance of these two figures, effectively forcing Fatima to become more like Mary; this, despite Thurlkill’s evident attempts to give both idealized women equal time. As Thurlkill demonstrates, both Mary and Fatima are constructed as idealized, virginal mothers each of whose son’s death becomes the Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. Pp. 209.“Fátima de los naufragios,” a short story by Lourdes Ortiz, illustrates the ambivalence felt by many Spaniards toward Moroccan immigrants. This story, set in a small fishing village on the Andalusian coast, centers on an enigmatic woman who appears one day on the beach, where she lives for months, refusing to interact with the residents. She is eventually identified by another, more talkative recent arrival as Fatima, a Moroccan whose husband and son drowned when their small boat capsized during a turbulent crossing of the Strait of Gibraltar. The townsfolk attempt to integrate this silent dolorosa into their community by bringing her food (without pork) and by recasting her as “Nuestra Señora de las pateras,” Our Lady of the small boats in which so many African immigrants lose their lives attempting to enter Europe. While Ortiz highlights the shared Christian and Islamic idealization of holy mothers, she also shows the violence at the heart of these idealized constructions. At the end of the story, the villagers silently watch as the woman, after mourning over the corpse of a young black man that washed up on shore, walks into the sea, drowning herself. The villagers’ desire to see her play out the symbolic role they cast onto her overrides their humanitarian concerns, so they collude in her death.1Mary F. Thurlkill’s comparative analysis of the figures of Mary and Fatima leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling, as does Ortiz’s short story. On the one hand, Thurlkill’s study introduces readers who know little about Fatima to the construction of this holy mother in Shi’ite Islam, increasing awareness of this very important figure whose popularity in Islamic countries rivals that of Mary in Catholic ones. On the other hand, her approach downplays the many differences and disjunctions between the history, construction, and significance of these two figures, effectively forcing Fatima to become more like Mary; this, despite Thurlkill’s evident attempts to give both idealized women equal time. As Thurlkill demonstrates, both Mary and Fatima are constructed as idealized, virginal mothers each of whose son’s death becomes the 148 148focus of a religious community, Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. While the construction of Fatima is influenced by that of Mary, the reverse is not true, especially since Thurlkill limits her study of Marian theology to 200-750 CE and focuses primarily on Merovingian Gaul (for reasons that are not clearly articulated). Shi’ite traditions concerning Fatima developed in Egypt, Persia, and Yemen, 750-1000 CE. These geographic and temporal disjunctions require Thurlkill to rely on universalizing theories to inform her analysis of parallel constructions and uses of these two holy mothers. Despite her over-emphasis on similarities, Thurlkill does explore how some profound differences between early Christianity and Shi’ite Islam result in different constructions of Mary and Fatima. Chapter 1 provides a useful overview of the history of Mary and Fatima in their respective traditions. Chapter 2 studies the hagiography of the two holy mothers in both scholarly and popular traditions. Thurlkill’s discussion of Shi’ite hadith collections is a nice introduction to the topic, although she fails to justify her preference for the non-canonical nineteenth-century Persian collection of Muhammad Baqir al-Majlisi. In chapter 3, Thurlkill provides a persuasive comparative analysis of the construction and significance of the figure of the virgin mother in Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. This chapter is the most successful since it provides a balanced, thoroughly-contextualized examination of the similarities and differences between Mary and Fatima. Chapter 4 focuses on male authors’ parallel uses of Mary and Fatima to promote certain female behaviors while limiting women to the domestic sphere. Chapter 5, which focuses on art and architecture, is the least successful; while Thurlkill articulates how rich and powerful Merovingian women used their patronage of Marian art and architecture to increase their access to the divine, her discussion of Fatima in Shi’ite art and architecture is tentative and makes almost no mention of women as art consumers or patrons. It is here that the underlying Western bias becomes most transparent.Despite my reservations, I do recommend Thurlkill’s study. At the present, there is a great hunger on the part of American students and scholars to learn more about Islam, and Thurlkill’s monograph addresses that hunger. I would not teach the book as a whole in an undergraduate focus of a religious community, Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. While the construction of Fatima is influenced by that of Mary, the reverse is not true, especially since Thurlkill limits her study of Marian theology to 200-750 CE and focuses primarily on Merovingian Gaul (for reasons that are not clearly articulated). Shi’ite traditions concerning Fatima developed in Egypt, Persia, and Yemen, 750-1000 CE. These geographic and temporal disjunctions require Thurlkill to rely on universalizing theories to inform her analysis of parallel constructions and uses of these two holy mothers. Despite her over-emphasis on similarities, Thurlkill does explore how some profound differences between early Christianity and Shi’ite Islam result in different constructions of Mary and Fatima. Chapter 1 provides a useful overview of the history of Mary and Fatima in their respective traditions. Chapter 2 studies the hagiography of the two holy mothers in both scholarly and popular traditions. Thurlkill’s discussion of Shi’ite hadith collections is a nice introduction to the topic, although she fails to justify her preference for the non-canonical nineteenth-century Persian collection of Muhammad Baqir al-Majlisi. In chapter 3, Thurlkill provides a persuasive comparative analysis of the construction and significance of the figure of the virgin mother in Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. This chapter is the most successful since it provides a balanced, thoroughly-contextualized examination of the similarities and differences between Mary and Fatima. Chapter 4 focuses on male authors’ parallel uses of Mary and Fatima to promote certain female behaviors while limiting women to the domestic sphere. Chapter 5, which focuses on art and architecture, is the least successful; while Thurlkill articulates how rich and powerful Merovingian women used their patronage of Marian art and architecture to increase their access to the divine, her discussion of Fatima in Shi’ite art and architecture is tentative and makes almost no mention of women as art consumers or patrons. It is here that the underlying Western bias becomes most transparent.Despite my reservations, I do recommend Thurlkill’s study. At the present, there is a great hunger on the part of American students and scholars to learn more about Islam, and Thurlkill’s monograph addresses that hunger. I would not teach the book as a whole in an undergraduate 149 149course due to its problematic asymmetries. Nonetheless, Thurlkill’s analysis of parallel yet different constructions of Mary and Fatima illuminates some fundamental aspects of medieval Christianity and Islam that will be of interest to many. Denise FiliosUniversity of IowaenD note1. Lourdes Ortiz, “Fátima de los naufragios,” Fátima de los naufragios (Barcelona: Planeta, 1998), pp. 7-22.David Michael D’Andrea, Civic Christianity in Renaissance Italy: The Hospital of Treviso, 1400-1530. University of Rochester Press, 2007. Pp. xiii + 214In this study of the Scuola di Santa Maria dei Battuti in the Venetian subject town of Treviso, David D’Andrea makes the provocative argument that the subjugation of a city to a regional power could engender the transformation of a local confraternity into a “rallying place for civic pride” (6). The confraternity in question, Santa Maria dei Battuti, traced its origins to a thirteenth-century devotional movement that spawned numerous flagellant sodalities throughout the Italian peninsula. In addition to Treviso, confraternities dedicated to Santa Maria dei Battuti (literally St. Mary of the Beaten, in reference to the members’ practice of flagellating themselves) dominated the confraternal life of other Venetian subject towns, like Conegliano and Pordenone. These confraternities absorbed competing brotherhoods and eventually became the center of the subject towns’ spiritual and civic life.D’Andrea organizes his account of the Battuti of Treviso, which covers the period between 1400 and 1530, into an introduction and six chapters. The opening chapters describe the history of the confraternity and the development of its hospital. D’Andrea draws a parallel between, on the one hand, the social, ritual, and political importance of the Battuti to Treviso and, on the other, the tactical and economic value of the city to the mainland empire of Venice. He persuasively demonstrates how Venice aided the Battuti in its rise to dominance by suppressing rival sodalities and how the confraternity itself functioned as a surrogate for the political autonomy denied course due to its problematic asymmetries. Nonetheless, Thurlkill’s analysis of parallel yet different constructions of Mary and Fatima illuminates some fundamental aspects of medieval Christianity and Islam that will be of interest to many. Denise FiliosUniversity of IowaenD note1. Lourdes Ortiz, “Fátima de los naufragios,” Fátima de los naufragios (Barcelona: Planeta, 1998), pp. 7-22.David Michael D’Andrea, Civic Christianity in Renaissance Italy: The Hospital of Treviso, 1400-1530. University of Rochester Press, 2007. Pp. xiii + 214In this study of the Scuola di Santa Maria dei Battuti in the Venetian subject town of Treviso, David D’Andrea makes the provocative argument that the subjugation of a city to a regional power could engender the transformation of a local confraternity into a “rallying place for civic pride” (6). The confraternity in question, Santa Maria dei Battuti, traced its origins to a thirteenth-century devotional movement that spawned numerous flagellant sodalities throughout the Italian peninsula. In addition to Treviso, confraternities dedicated to Santa Maria dei Battuti (literally St. Mary of the Beaten, in reference to the members’ practice of flagellating themselves) dominated the confraternal life of other Venetian subject towns, like Conegliano and Pordenone. These confraternities absorbed competing brotherhoods and eventually became the center of the subject towns’ spiritual and civic life.D’Andrea organizes his account of the Battuti of Treviso, which covers the period between 1400 and 1530, into an introduction and six chapters. The opening chapters describe the history of the confraternity and the development of its hospital. D’Andrea draws a parallel between, on the one hand, the social, ritual, and political importance of the Battuti to Treviso and, on the other, the tactical and economic value of the city to the mainland empire of Venice. He persuasively demonstrates how Venice aided the Battuti in its rise to dominance by suppressing rival sodalities and how the confraternity itself functioned as a surrogate for the political autonomy denied 

Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shi\u27ite Islam. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007

Iowa Research Online

147 147
Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen 
among Women: Mary 
and Fatima in Medieval 
Christianity and Shi’ite 
Islam. University of Notre 
Dame Press, 2007. Pp. 209.
“F
átima de los naufragios,” 
a short story by Lourdes 
Ortiz, illustrates the 
ambivalence felt by many 
Spaniards toward Moroccan 
immigrants. This story, set in 
a small fishing village on the 
Andalusian coast, centers on an 
enigmatic woman who appears 
one day on the beach, where 
she lives for months, refusing to 
interact with the residents. She is 
eventually identified by another, 
more talkative recent arrival 
as Fatima, a Moroccan whose 
husband and son drowned when 
their small boat capsized during a 
turbulent crossing of the Strait of 
Gibraltar. The townsfolk attempt 
to integrate this silent dolorosa 
into their community by bringing 
her food (without pork) and by 
recasting her as “Nuestra Señora 
de las pateras,” Our Lady of the 
small boats in which so many 
African immigrants lose their 
lives attempting to enter Europe. 
While Ortiz highlights the shared 
Christian and Islamic idealization 
of holy mothers, she also shows 
the violence at the heart of these 
idealized constructions. At the 
end of the story, the villagers 
silently watch as the woman, after 
mourning over the corpse of a 
young black man that washed 
up on shore, walks into the sea, 
drowning herself. The villagers’ 
desire to see her play out the 
symbolic role they cast onto her 
overrides their humanitarian 
concerns, so they collude in her 
death.1
Mary F. Thurlkill’s comparative 
analysis of the figures of Mary 
and Fatima leaves me with an 
uncomfortable feeling, as does 
Ortiz’s short story. On the one 
hand, Thurlkill’s study introduces 
readers who know little about 
Fatima to the construction 
of this holy mother in Shi’ite 
Islam, increasing awareness of 
this very important figure whose 
popularity in Islamic countries 
rivals that of Mary in Catholic 
ones. On the other hand, her 
approach downplays the many 
differences and disjunctions 
between the history, construction, 
and significance of these two 
figures, effectively forcing Fatima 
to become more like Mary; 
this, despite Thurlkill’s evident 
attempts to give both idealized 
women equal time. 
As Thurlkill demonstrates, both 
Mary and Fatima are constructed 
as idealized, virginal mothers each 
of whose son’s death becomes the 
Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen 
among Women: Mary 
and Fatima in Medieval 
Christianity and Shi’ite 
Islam. University of Notre 
Dame Press, 2007. Pp. 209.
“F
átima de los naufragios,” 
a short story by Lourdes 
Ortiz, illustrates the 
ambivalence felt by many 
Spaniards toward Moroccan 
immigrants. This story, set in 
a small fishing village on the 
Andalusian coast, centers on an 
enigmatic woman who appears 
one day on the beach, where 
she lives for months, refusing to 
interact with the residents. She is 
eventually identified by another, 
more talkative recent arrival 
as Fatima, a Moroccan whose 
husband and son drowned when 
their small boat capsized during a 
turbulent crossing of the Strait of 
Gibraltar. The townsfolk attempt 
to integrate this silent dolorosa 
into their community by bringing 
her food (without pork) and by 
recasting her as “Nuestra Señora 
de las pateras,” Our Lady of the 
small boats in which so many 
African immigrants lose their 
lives attempting to enter Europe. 
While Ortiz highlights the shared 
Christian and Islamic idealization 
of holy mothers, she also shows 
the violence at the heart of these 
idealized constructions. At the 
end of the story, the villagers 
silently watch as the woman, after 
mourning over the corpse of a 
young black man that washed 
up on shore, walks into the sea, 
drowning herself. The villagers’ 
desire to see her play out the 
symbolic role they cast onto her 
overrides their humanitarian 
concerns, so they collude in her 
death.1
Mary F. Thurlkill’s comparative 
analysis of the figures of Mary 
and Fatima leaves me with an 
uncomfortable feeling, as does 
Ortiz’s short story. On the one 
hand, Thurlkill’s study introduces 
readers who know little about 
Fatima to the construction 
of this holy mother in Shi’ite 
Islam, increasing awareness of 
this very important figure whose 
popularity in Islamic countries 
rivals that of Mary in Catholic 
ones. On the other hand, her 
approach downplays the many 
differences and disjunctions 
between the history, construction, 
and significance of these two 
figures, effectively forcing Fatima 
to become more like Mary; 
this, despite Thurlkill’s evident 
attempts to give both idealized 
women equal time. 
As Thurlkill demonstrates, both 
Mary and Fatima are constructed 
as idealized, virginal mothers each 
of whose son’s death becomes the 
148 148
focus of a religious community, 
Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. 
While the construction of Fatima 
is influenced by that of Mary, 
the reverse is not true, especially 
since Thurlkill limits her study 
of Marian theology to 200-750 
CE and focuses primarily on 
Merovingian Gaul (for reasons 
that are not clearly articulated). 
Shi’ite traditions concerning 
Fatima developed in Egypt, 
Persia, and Yemen, 750-1000 CE. 
These geographic and temporal 
disjunctions require Thurlkill 
to rely on universalizing theories 
to inform her analysis of parallel 
constructions and uses of these 
two holy mothers. 
Despite her over-emphasis on 
similarities, Thurlkill does explore 
how some profound differences 
between early Christianity and 
Shi’ite Islam result in different 
constructions of Mary and Fatima. 
Chapter 1 provides a useful 
overview of the history of Mary 
and Fatima in their respective 
traditions. Chapter 2 studies 
the hagiography of the two holy 
mothers in both scholarly and 
popular traditions. Thurlkill’s 
discussion of Shi’ite hadith 
collections is a nice introduction 
to the topic, although she fails 
to justify her preference for 
the non-canonical nineteenth-
century Persian collection of 
Muhammad Baqir al-Majlisi. 
In chapter 3, Thurlkill provides 
a persuasive comparative 
analysis of the construction and 
significance of the figure of the 
virgin mother in Christianity 
and Shi’ite Islam. This chapter 
is the most successful since it 
provides a balanced, thoroughly-
contextualized examination of 
the similarities and differences 
between Mary and Fatima. 
Chapter 4 focuses on male 
authors’ parallel uses of Mary and 
Fatima to promote certain female 
behaviors while limiting women 
to the domestic sphere. Chapter 
5, which focuses on art and 
architecture, is the least successful; 
while Thurlkill articulates how 
rich and powerful Merovingian 
women used their patronage of 
Marian art and architecture to 
increase their access to the divine, 
her discussion of Fatima in Shi’ite 
art and architecture is tentative 
and makes almost no mention 
of women as art consumers 
or patrons. It is here that the 
underlying Western bias becomes 
most transparent.
Despite my reservations, I do 
recommend Thurlkill’s study. 
At the present, there is a great 
hunger on the part of American 
students and scholars to learn 
more about Islam, and Thurlkill’s 
monograph addresses that hunger. 
I would not teach the book as 
a whole in an undergraduate 
focus of a religious community, 
Christianity and Shi’ite Islam. 
While the construction of Fatima 
is influenced by that of Mary, 
the reverse is not true, especially 
since Thurlkill limits her study 
of Marian theology to 200-750 
CE and focuses primarily on 
Merovingian Gaul (for reasons 
that are not clearly articulated). 
Shi’ite traditions concerning 
Fatima developed in Egypt, 
Persia, and Yemen, 750-1000 CE. 
These geographic and temporal 
disjunctions require Thurlkill 
to rely on universalizing theories 
to inform her analysis of parallel 
constructions and uses of these 
two holy mothers. 
Despite her over-emphasis on 
similarities, Thurlkill does explore 
how some profound differences 
between early Christianity and 
Shi’ite Islam result in different 
constructions of Mary and Fatima. 
Chapter 1 provides a useful 
overview of the history of Mary 
and Fatima in their respective 
traditions. Chapter 2 studies 
the hagiography of the two holy 
mothers in both scholarly and 
popular traditions. Thurlkill’s 
discussion of Shi’ite hadith 
collections is a nice introduction 
to the topic, although she fails 
to justify her preference for 
the non-canonical nineteenth-
century Persian collection of 
Muhammad Baqir al-Majlisi. 
In chapter 3, Thurlkill provides 
a persuasive comparative 
analysis of the construction and 
significance of the figure of the 
virgin mother in Christianity 
and Shi’ite Islam. This chapter 
is the most successful since it 
provides a balanced, thoroughly-
contextualized examination of 
the similarities and differences 
between Mary and Fatima. 
Chapter 4 focuses on male 
authors’ parallel uses of Mary and 
Fatima to promote certain female 
behaviors while limiting women 
to the domestic sphere. Chapter 
5, which focuses on art and 
architecture, is the least successful; 
while Thurlkill articulates how 
rich and powerful Merovingian 
women used their patronage of 
Marian art and architecture to 
increase their access to the divine, 
her discussion of Fatima in Shi’ite 
art and architecture is tentative 
and makes almost no mention 
of women as art consumers 
or patrons. It is here that the 
underlying Western bias becomes 
most transparent.
Despite my reservations, I do 
recommend Thurlkill’s study. 
At the present, there is a great 
hunger on the part of American 
students and scholars to learn 
more about Islam, and Thurlkill’s 
monograph addresses that hunger. 
I would not teach the book as 
a whole in an undergraduate 
149 149
course due to its problematic 
asymmetries. Nonetheless, 
Thurlkill’s analysis of parallel yet 
different constructions of Mary 
and Fatima illuminates some 
fundamental aspects of medieval 
Christianity and Islam that will be 
of interest to many. 
Denise Filios
University of Iowa
enD note
1. Lourdes Ortiz, “Fátima de los 
naufragios,” Fátima de los naufragios 
(Barcelona: Planeta, 1998), pp. 7-22.
David Michael D’Andrea, 
Civic Christianity in 
Renaissance Italy: The 
Hospital of Treviso, 
1400-1530. University of 
Rochester Press, 2007. Pp. 
xiii + 214
In this study of the Scuola di Santa Maria dei Battuti in the Venetian subject 
town of Treviso, David D’Andrea 
makes the provocative argument 
that the subjugation of a city to 
a regional power could engender 
the transformation of a local 
confraternity into a “rallying 
place for civic pride” (6). The 
confraternity in question, Santa 
Maria dei Battuti, traced its 
origins to a thirteenth-century 
devotional movement that 
spawned numerous flagellant 
sodalities throughout the Italian 
peninsula. In addition to Treviso, 
confraternities dedicated to Santa 
Maria dei Battuti (literally St. 
Mary of the Beaten, in reference 
to the members’ practice of 
flagellating themselves) dominated 
the confraternal life of other 
Venetian subject towns, like 
Conegliano and Pordenone. 
These confraternities absorbed 
competing brotherhoods and 
eventually became the center of 
the subject towns’ spiritual and 
civic life.
D’Andrea organizes his account 
of the Battuti of Treviso, which 
covers the period between 1400 
and 1530, into an introduction 
and six chapters. The opening 
chapters describe the history 
of the confraternity and the 
development of its hospital. 
D’Andrea draws a parallel 
between, on the one hand, 
the social, ritual, and political 
importance of the Battuti to 
Treviso and, on the other, the 
tactical and economic value of 
the city to the mainland empire 
of Venice. He persuasively 
demonstrates how Venice aided the 
Battuti in its rise to dominance 
by suppressing rival sodalities 
and how the confraternity itself 
functioned as a surrogate for 
the political autonomy denied 
course due to its problematic 
asymmetries. Nonetheless, 
Thurlkill’s analysis of parallel yet 
different constructions of Mary 
and Fatima illuminates some 
fundamental aspects of medieval 
Christianity and Islam that will be 
of interest to many. 
Denise Filios
University of Iowa
enD note
1. Lourdes Ortiz, “Fátima de los 
naufragios,” Fátima de los naufragios 
(Barcelona: Planeta, 1998), pp. 7-22.
David Michael D’Andrea, 
Civic Christianity in 
Renaissance Italy: The 
Hospital of Treviso, 
1400-1530. University of 
Rochester Press, 2007. Pp. 
xiii + 214
In this study of the Scuola di Santa Maria dei Battuti in the Venetian subject 
town of Treviso, David D’Andrea 
makes the provocative argument 
that the subjugation of a city to 
a regional power could engender 
the transformation of a local 
confraternity into a “rallying 
place for civic pride” (6). The 
confraternity in question, Santa 
Maria dei Battuti, traced its 
origins to a thirteenth-century 
devotional movement that 
spawned numerous flagellant 
sodalities throughout the Italian 
peninsula. In addition to Treviso, 
confraternities dedicated to Santa 
Maria dei Battuti (literally St. 
Mary of the Beaten, in reference 
to the members’ practice of 
flagellating themselves) dominated 
the confraternal life of other 
Venetian subject towns, like 
Conegliano and Pordenone. 
These confraternities absorbed 
competing brotherhoods and 
eventually became the center of 
the subject towns’ spiritual and 
civic life.
D’Andrea organizes his account 
of the Battuti of Treviso, which 
covers the period between 1400 
and 1530, into an introduction 
and six chapters. The opening 
chapters describe the history 
of the confraternity and the 
development of its hospital. 
D’Andrea draws a parallel 
between, on the one hand, 
the social, ritual, and political 
importance of the Battuti to 
Treviso and, on the other, the 
tactical and economic value of 
the city to the mainland empire 
of Venice. He persuasively 
demonstrates how Venice aided the 
Battuti in its rise to dominance 
by suppressing rival sodalities 
and how the confraternity itself 
functioned as a surrogate for 
the political autonomy denied 


https://scholarworks.wmich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1749&context=mff

Mary F. Thurlkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shi\u27ite Islam. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007

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