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confronted the great mysteries of religious experience -
whether through exegesis of other thinkers, as in her first
book, Ricoeur and Kant, and the book that she co-authored
with Jordan Bell, Kant and Theology, or through the
development of her own ideas. Not that the two were ever
clearly distinguished in Pam’s case. Her exegesis of other
thinkers was always of the best and most generous kind,
the kind that involves sympathetic reconstruction and
appropriation of her subjects’ ideas to breathe new life into
them.
Her book, A Feminist Philosophy of Religion, showed
that same creative eclecticism. One particularly striking
example of this was the way in which she combined
elements of what are standardly referred to as the
'analytic' tradition and the 'continental' tradition in
philosophy. Despite the chasm that has often seemed to
divide these, Pam was at home in both. She had a lively
sense of how each is able to benefit from the other. Her
book was enormously influential. It was the focus of
debate at a number of international conferences, and it
provided the inspiration and subject matter for much
impressive work by other people. In the philosophy of
religion in general, and in feminist philosophy of religion in
particular, Pam had become an international figure whose
work broke important new ground. It continued to do so in
the book that I myself believe to be Pam’s most significant,
Re-Visioning Gender in Philosophy of Religion. The very title
of this book, along with its subtitle 'Reason, Love and
Epistemic Locatedness', indicates the breadth of her
concerns. There are, in this book, profound intimations not
only of an advancement in our understanding of the
philosophy of religion but also of an advancement in our
understanding of what it is to be human.
In the last two years of her life, Pam was an active
participant in the Templeton research project 'Enhancing
Life'. The work that she carried out for this project had a
particular poignancy in the context of the various contours
of her own life, and indeed of the lives of those of us who
now mourn her loss. She explored the idea of vulnerability,
especially the vulnerability that is manifest in profoundly
transformative experiences such as facing critical illness or
coping with bereavement. And she argued for a positive
reappraisal of such vulnerability - so that it could come to
be seen, not just as an openness to suffering,
disempowerment, and death, but also, in Pam’s own words,
as 'an openness to mutual affection', and as 'a provocation
for enhancing life'. In all her work, Pam displayed an
unusual combination of directness and sensitivity. Over
the course of her career she developed her own highly
distinctive voice, and it is a voice to which philosophers and
theologians have paid sustained attention.
But Pam’s academic work was by no means
confined to her own writing. She was a model of what
might be called good academic citizenship. She was a
wonderfully conscientious, proactive, indefatigable
member of the Oxford philosophy community, as indeed
she was of the philosophy community more broadly. She
was particularly good at supporting and championing
younger women in the profession, partly through her work
with the UK Society for Women in Philosophy. It is
characteristic, as well as entirely fitting, that she wanted
one of her legacies to be a Studentship for the
Encouragement of the Place of Women in Philosophy.
'Pam will always be a part of our lives. Let us
rejoice in all that she has meant to us, and all
that she will continue to mean to us.'
Pam also had excellent relations with her students, to
whom she was a constant source of encouragement and
inspiration and many of whom went on to make significant
contributions of their own to the discipline - as well as
becoming close friends of hers. I cannot tell you how many
moving messages I have received since Pam died, from
former students expressing their gratitude, their
admiration, and their deep affection for her. But it was not
only her own students for whom Pam cared so
passionately. She cared passionately for all young people:
she was always ready to affirm them in whatever way she
could. She showed a keen interest in, and a great love for,
the children of her friends for example, as of course she did
her three nephews and niece - Joseph, Erik, Sarah, and
Kevin. Her family meant a huge amount to her, just as she
did to them. I used to love it when she regaled me with
stories and reminiscence of her parents, her brother Larin,
and her two sisters, Heidi and Laurie. This must be an
extraordinarily difficult time for them. They are all in our
thoughts and prayers. In losing Pam we have, between us,
lost a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a teacher, a mentor, a
colleague, and a friend. But in another sense we have not
lost anyone. Pam will always be a part of our lives. Let us
rejoice in all that she has meant to us, and all that she will
continue to mean to us.
Professor Adrian Moore is Professor of Philosophy in the
University of Oxford.
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