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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussions of death, child death, mental illness, disordered eating, sexual content, sexual violence, rape, physical abuse, emotional abuse, and child abuse.
Agnes of God presents a competition for truth and power between two institutions: the religious Catholic Church and the secular field of psychiatry. Much of the play can be split across this divide, with Doctor Livingston representing science and Mother Miriam representing faith. In the middle is Agnes, who feels the push and pull of these institutional forces as they compete to understand her. Rather than a binary divide between secular and religious, however, the play portrays the interaction and tension between the two forces. As a lapsed believer, Dr. Livingstone voices criticism of religion as well as her desire for there to be some greater force that can explain tragedy and suffering. At the same time, Mother Miriam has her own doubts about religion. In this sense, the play presents institutional power as being in a state of flux. The contest between secular and religious forces creates a situation in which institutional power and truth are fought over, with various institutions competing for authority over Agnes as a metaphor for their broader power.
Rather than a mere investigation into objective events, the play thus unfolds as a tug-of-war over meaning. Dr. Livingstone is imbued with the institutional power of secular authority. The law courts have granted her the mission of finding out the truth about the dead child, but as there is (at least initially) little doubt about who killed the child, her assignment has as much to do with the interpretation of facts as it does with the facts themselves. Simultaneously, Mother Miriam hides various secrets concerning Agnes for compassionate reasons, hoping to protect Agnes from the scrutiny of a world that has terribly mistreated her, but in her own way, she, too, strives to understand what happened to Agnes. She aids Dr. Livingstone in this quest, offering to bring her logbooks and documentation, as well as relenting and allowing Agnes to be hypnotized. She wants to know the truth, but the truth, for Mother Miriam, can include the spiritual. She alludes to ideas such as immaculate conception, sainthood, and stigmata to explain Agnes’s pregnancy, which Dr. Livingstone sees as a way of obfuscating the truth. The institutions clash over matters of truth because their representatives have a fundamental disagreement over the nature of truth.
At the center of this contest is Agnes, whose fate reveals the human cost of the conflict. She is an individual caught between the representatives of two institutions, and the stories each tells about her elide her full humanity: Reducing her behavior to trauma and mental illness overlooks the sincerity and beauty of her belief, while elevating her to sainthood minimizes how abuse has shaped her. By the end of the play, Agnes is sent to a hospital where she stops singing, stops eating, and dies. This reinforces that the contest over how to interpret her experiences has simply treated as a pawn; her well-being was never the primary concern. This, therefore, is the tragic truth of the play: that the battle to dictate truth often loses sight of what is actually important—namely, the protection of the innocent and the vulnerable.
For Dr. Livingson, faith and harm are deeply entwined. She recalls the death of a classmate, for example, which a nun in her Catholic school attributed to the fact that the little girl “hadn’t said her morning prayers” (47). This was a pivotal moment in Dr. Livingstone’s understanding of faith, teaching her to associate indifference and cruelty with religious justifications. Similarly, the death of her sister left her with a great deal of grief and many unanswered questions, yet she was unable to find comfort in religion. Dr. Livingstone has thus decided that she cannot bring herself to believe in a God who would be so callous. She views faith as an elaborate means of justifying the existence of harm, and she resents this. This imbues Dr. Livingstone with a sense of purpose; when she enters the convent, she does so with a desire to punish faith for excusing, if not outright permitting, so much suffering. Dr. Livingstone turns the investigation into a personal and ideological campaign, assuring herself that she is doing so to prevent future harm by drawing attention to the hypocrisy and emptiness of faith.
Mother Miriam, as the play’s representative of faith, understands Dr. Livingston’s position. She responds to the story of Dr. Livingstone’s young classmate with a rebuke of the nun, calling her a “stupid woman,” which disarms Dr. Livingstone. This speaks to Mother Miriam’s more empathetic understanding of faith. She does not deny harm; rather, she seeks to understand the context in which the harm was inflicted, using her faith to guide her.
While Mother Miriam and Doctor Livingston discuss faith, Agnes lives out the central tension. She has survived abuse and turned to faith for comfort. Religion is a means of escapism for Agnes, a place to which she can retreat to get away from the trauma of her past. Faith, for Agnes, is not a way to explain harm, but a way to get away from it. Beneath Christianity’s promise of love and redemption, however, Agnes recognizes an idealization of suffering; this is part of what motivates her to stop eating, and it is also what causes her to lash out in suppressed anger at God. This anger becomes overwhelming when Agnes recognizes that her faith has not protected her from further abuse. Someone assaults and impregnates her, leading to her giving birth to a child. The result of this assault is not only to further traumatize Agnes, but to rob her of the soothing shield of religion. The God she once loved now turns against her, she believes, as God will no longer consider her pure and without sin. She tells Dr. Livingstone that she hates the God who has allowed this to happen to her, but she simultaneously fears that she will “burn in hell” because of that hatred (71). For Agnes, who has never healed from her childhood, faith becomes merely another abusive dynamic in which love and protection are conditional, and suffering is always “earned.”
Mother Miriam implies that Agnes’s mysterious pregnancy may be a miraculous occurrence, invoking the idea of the miraculous conception, the way in which Jesus Christ was conceived by Mary without Mary having sex, which in some theological traditions is associated with the transmission of original sin. Mary’s virginity is thus a sign of both her physical “purity” and her spiritual openness to God. Likewise, Agnes is repeatedly described as pure, both in her innocence and in her childlike understanding of the world, and Mother Miriam interprets this purity as evidence that Agnes could be the recipient of a miracle. From this perspective, Agnes’s lack of worldly knowledge and her deep religiosity make her a Marian figure. However, by framing Agnes in this way, the play troubles these theological concepts, showing how they can be wielded to police the female body.
To begin with, the play links Agnes’s “purity” to her trauma. Her innocence is not simply spiritual; it is the result of abuse and repression. She has been denied knowledge of her own body and sexuality, which creates a form of enforced purity. Moreover, to the extent that her purity is chosen, it is entangled with guilt and shame. Agnes’s mother instilled in her the belief that she is “bad” simply for existing in a female body. As she explains: “She says…my whole body…is a mistake. […] Because she says…if I don’t watch out…I’ll have a baby” (42). Elsewhere, Agnes associates the female reproductive capacity even more explicitly with sin, saying that “Bad babies come from when a fallen angel squeezes in down there” (19). Both passages are notable for the fact that they associate the mere fact of being female with danger and immorality; the implication is that even a woman who is raped and involuntarily impregnated (as Agnes’s description of the fallen angel figuratively evokes) is “sinful.” Consequently, Agnes associates holiness with the disciplining and denial of her body; she points to her breasts when explaining why she feels the need to lose weight, and Mother Miriam’s words upon discovering that Agnes burned her sheets—“[H]ow many times have I burned into your thick skull […] that menstruation is a perfectly natural process and nothing to be ashamed of” (37)—implies that anxiety about menstruation has been a frequent point of contention.
Simultaneously, the play suggests that the very purity that makes one open to the divine presence also places the individual in a position of exposure. In religious narratives, this exposure is sanctified, but in other contexts, it can be dangerous. Most obviously, Agnes’s ignorance of sex leaves her particularly vulnerable to exploitation of the kind that presumably resulted in her pregnancy. Moreover, the language of purity gives cover to her abuser after the fact, obscuring the reality of harm by imposing a spiritual narrative onto a physical and psychological violation. In this context, even the suggestion of a miraculous conception becomes problematic—a point underscored by the fact that Agnes twice identifies the figure who raped her with God. The play thus implies that religious narratives that glorify women as passive vessels—for God, for childbirth, etc.—are no less problematic than those that demonize the female body outright.



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