Tag: women

He is not here. He is risen (Mark 16; Easter Sunday year B)

The time is early in the morning – quiet, dark, peaceful; the same time of day as when we came to this place. The cast of characters is well-known; Mary Magdalene; Salome, Joanna, another Mary; we know these women. And the message is, likewise, a comforting, familiar refrain: The tomb is empty. He is not here. He is risen. In all that we have heard, we are on familiar ground.

It is most likely that each of us are also well-acquainted with the flow of the story—the women come, bearing their spices, to anoint the body; the stone is found rolled away; the tomb is seen to have no body; and the message is delivered in short, succinct phrases: The tomb is empty. He is not here. He is risen.

The place may be a little unusual, in our way of thinking: it is a tomb, carved out of the rock, large enough to enable a number of adults to be buried together. As people of Anglo heritage, we are used to individual plots, dug deep into the ground, where one person, or maybe a married couple, are laid to rest.

But this is different: it is a large cavity in the side of a rockface, carved out to enable space for a number of adults to enter; space enough for generations of a family to be laid to rest within the one very large tomb. This practice can be seen in phrases, frequently used in mentioning the Patriarchs and David, in Hebrew Scriptures: when such an eminent person died, he would be “gathered unto his fathers,” “sleeping with his fathers,” or “gathered unto his people.”

But these aren’t just euphemisms for death—like we say, ‘passed away’, or ‘went to their eternal rest’; no, this was a literal, physical description of what was done with the bodies of deceased people in ancient times: they were placed in the family tomb, alongside the resting-places of relatives and ancestors.

So the physical location, and the cultural custom, is rather unfamiliar to us today. But the rest of the story, we reassure ourselves, runs along familiar lines, following the well-trodden pathway.

Or does it?

Step back from the empty tomb; walk away, for a moment, from the Easter narrative. Consider the broad sweep of our Christian faith; the overarching drama of our Christian lives.

What do we expect to be central and essential to our Christian faith? What is it that we anticipate finding at the very heart of our faith? How does faith function in the lives of people today, in or time, amidst the stresses and pressures of 21st century living?

Psychologists—those who study the human mind—tell us that people in our times are more likely than ever before to be depressed. Our deepest yearning is to be happy, to feel appreciated, to have assurance that we are valued, that we are loved.

Sociologists—those who study human societies—tell us that people in our times feel disconnected, isolated, and cut off from one another. Our common yearning is to be a part of a group, to feel that we belong. We need to know that others need us.

What this analysis often leads to, is a sense that people today are looking for certainty—we want to be grounded in a group, we want to be part of the tribe, we want to be loved and appreciated, we want to know the assurance of the absolute.

And faith—Christian faith, or indeed any form of faith—can then be offered as the way for people, in their fear and anxiety, in their loneliness and uncertainty—faith can be offered as an answer to these ills. ‘Just take this pill (this pill of absolute faith) and you will be right.’ ‘Just switch your allegiance in one fell swoop, and all will be different.’

Let me invite you to think about these issues in the light of the story which we have heard retold today. For as we encounter and engage with the unfamiliar dimensions of the story, we will find a rather different response to our situation emerging from the interplay.

There are two striking and unfamiliar elements in the story of the empty tomb. The first has to do with who is there. And the second has to do with who is NOT there.

Who is there, that early morning, in the tomb where the body of Jesus had been laid, just a few days earlier? Who are the ones who see, and hear, and experience for themselves, the jarring reality of that early morning encounter?

In a society so dominated by males—male priests, male scribes, male teachers of the Law, male heads of each household—is it not striking and jarring that the great news of Easter is entrusted, first of all, and in all its fullness, to a group of women?

Women—who come to perform their traditional female role, of anointing the freshly-interred body. Women—who come in subservience and devotion, to enact the ritual which has been set aside for them to undertake, as befits their allocated role in society. Women—who, if the traditional pattern is to be followed, will come, unwind the covering on the body, anoint the body with spices, reroll the covering and replace the body, and reverently leave the tomb.

But these women are unable to carry out the male-determined ritual for the body of the recently deceased. The familiar pattern is interrupted; the servant role is removed; and it is these women to whom the striking news of Easter is given.

It is to these women that the responsibility is given, for declaring that the body of Jesus is no longer gripped by death. It is to these women that the role of being the first, the primary, witnesses, to the interrupting action of God: the one who was dead, Jesus, our Master, is no longer here.

The tomb is empty. He is not here. He is risen.

God is now working in ways that challenge, disturb, and overturn the well-worn, familiar, traditional patterns of society. The women cannot carry out the duties and responsibilities that they have long been given. The women, now, are to be witnesses to what God has done. They are to return and tell the men—the apostles, the pillars, the chosen ones—what God has been doing. He is not here. He is risen.

It is the women, and not the men, as expected, who are the ones to break the news: He is not here. He is risen. It is the women who become the first evangelists, the first to proclaim the good news of God. It is the women who become apostles, even to the apostles, the men waiting in the city, unaware of what has occurred at the tomb, and unacquainted with what God has been doing through Jesus. He is not here. He is risen.

If the first striking feature of this story is, who IS here; then the second arresting aspect, is who is NOT here. This is a story about Jesus, in which Jesus does not appear.

This is an account of the most dramatic and significant moment in the whole narrative about Jesus—but there is no Jesus to be seen!   No Jesus to be touched!
No Jesus with whom to talk!   No Jesus to stand, centre-stage, as demonstration of the realities of how God is now at work.

So here is the conundrum: this is the precise moment in the story when God acts in a new and surprising way. This is the pivot point upon which the whole of the narrative turns.

And yet, at the heart of the story, there is—nothing!   No central character. No resurrected Jesus, shining forth God’s glory for all to see. No dramatic, booming voice from the heavens, declaring the risen Jesus as the Lord of all. All that we have, are the words of the young men: He is not here. He is risen. There is nothing, but a startling absence, precisely at the moment when we expect a dramatic presence.

In my mind, this paradoxical turnaround is highly significant, hugely important. At the centre of our faith, there is an enticing invitation—to explore, to ponder, to imagine, to wonder.

There is no clear, black-and white, unequivocal proof. There is no definitive dogmatic assertion, no unquestionable, unambiguous deed, no unarguable proclamation—no resurrected Jesus standing in the tomb. There are simply the women, stunned; and the young men, explaining: He is not here. He is risen.

So, at the heart of the Easter story, we find absence; mystery; the glimpse of a possibility; the wisp of a wondering; the beginnings of a pondering: ‘how can this be’; ‘what does this mean?’; ‘what do we do next?’; ‘where is this all leading?’.

And in my mind, this central absence, at the heart of the story, reminds us of the essence of our faith. In our faith, we have no clearcut, unquestionable dogma; we have no unchangeable given, no unarguable declaration.  We have no absolute assurance, no certainty set in concrete.

Rather, we have an invitation to walk the way of faith, with openness; an invitation to delight in the mysteries which God unravels before our eyes, in our own lives; an invitation to search, to explore, to ponder; and perhaps then, to encounter, to marvel, and to rejoice.

He is not here. He is risen. So let us enter into the mystery, the enticement, and the joy, of faith!

Let your gentleness be known to everyone (Philippians 4; Pentecost 20A)

In the movement that Jesus initiated, women exercised leadership equally with men; think of Mary Magdalene, Priscilla and Phoebe, Junia the apostle, Mary of Jerusalem, Euodia and Syntyche of Philippi, Tryphosa, Julia and Olympus of Rome, and many more unnamed. The continuing prominence of women leadership in subsequent decades (much to the consternation of some prominent male leaders!) attests to the valuing of female leadership in the movement that became Christianity.

Paul demonstrated, time and time again, that he was able to work constructively with female colleagues. He commends to the Romans the leader of the church in Cenchreae, Phoebe (Rom 16:1), whom he recognises as both diakonos—the same term he uses for Timothy and himself (Phil 1:1) as well as Apollos and himself (1 Cor 3:5, 9; 4:1)—and prostatis, a term indicating leadership exercised as a patron (cf. Rom 12:8 and 1 Thess 5:12).

Paul affirms as equally important the ministries of Prisca and Aquila, (Rom 16:3; 1 Cor 16:19; also 2 Tim 4:19), affirming that they “work[ed] with me in Christ Jesus, and risked their necks for my life” (Rom 16:4)—high praise indeed. Indeed, Paul strikingly named Prisca ahead of Aquila in two of these references, an unusual order which draws particular attention to his female co-worker.

In sending greetings to the believers in Rome (where he had not yet visited), Paul affirms the leadership of “Mary, who has worked very hard among you” (Rom 16:6) and Junia, who along with Andronicus is described as “my relatives who were in prison with me; they are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was” (Rom 16:7).

Paul also notes with approval the mother of Rufus, “a mother to me also” (Rom 16:13) and a number of other females, named amd unnamed—Tryphaena and Tryphosa (Rom 16:12), “Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas, and all the saints who are with them” (Rom 16:15) and “the brothers and sisters who are with them” (Rom 16:14).

See more at

Women in the New Testament (1): the positive practices of Jesus and the early church

So in writing to the Philippians, Paul values his colleagues Euodia (a name meaning “sweet fragrance”) and Syntyche (a name meaning “with fate”—perhaps, blessed by fortune?). They are loyal (a fine quality); they have worked alongside Paul (and that would have been no mean feat!). Their names are “in the book of life”, an ancient Israelite idea (Mal 3:16; Isa 4:3; Ps 69:28) which continues on into Christianity (see the many references in Revelation).

There appears to have been some dissension between these two women—but they are not alone on that score! Think of the “sharp disagreement” (paroxysm in Greek) that occurred between Barnabas and Paul in Antioch (Acts 15:36–39); or the antagonism from “those who unsettle you” in Galatia—the ones of whom Paul wrote, “I wish [they] would castrate themselves” (Gal 5:12); or indeed the aggression that Paul shows towards “the dogs … the evil workers … those who mutilate the flesh!” (Phil 3:2). Paul himself is no role model of irenic collegial co-operation!

In this passage, Paul prays for joy, gentleness, and peace amongst the community in Philippi (4:5–7), and then exhorts them all to model in their lives “what you have learned and received and heard and seen” (4:9). Wise words for all of us, indeed.

*****

Years ago, when I was immersed in studying the letters of Paul, in the original Greek and in the context of relevant Hellenistic literature of the time, I came across a fine Greek word, parrhesia. This noun, and its related verb, appear 40 times in the New Testament (most often in the Gospel attributed to John). I studied it. It was an intriguing word.

Ten of these New Testament occurrences of parrhesia are in letters written by, or attributed to, Paul, and most of these are places where Paul refers to this concept with great admiration. Indeed, he explicitly applies it to his own way of operating (1 Thess 2:2; 2 Cor 3:12, 7:4; Phil 1:20).

Parrhesia seems a most suitable and fitting word for Paul to use to describe his modus operandi. It is variously translated as boldness, frankness, courage, assurance, a fearless freedom in expression, an unreserved style of speaking … or, perhaps most simply, “plain speaking”.

Sound like Paul? Yep, I reckon it does. A common picture of Paul is just this: he told it like it was, he stood tall and let it rip, proclaiming for all to hear exactly what he thought, how he saw things. Paul made regular use of parrhesia. And rightly so, for it was a quality in public speaking which had been valued, long before his time, and would continue to be valued, after his own lifetime.

Parrhesia—boldness, frankness, sheer unvarnished honesty—was a moral virtue, prized amongst philosophers and rhetoricians, and regularly used by Jewish and Christian orators. Even into our own time. Christian preachers who are famous in history are revered and honoured for their fine public speaking skills—Jonathan Edwards, Charles Spurgeon, William Wilberforce, Martin Luther King, Billy Graham, Nelson Mandela all spring to mind.

(Yikes, all men … shows my bias and the bias of public speaking throughout history … with apologies. Then again, such boldness and frankness has long been a very masculine characteristic in public discourse.)

No doubt you have encountered a preacher or pastor who exemplifies parrhesia. Who tells it like it is. Who does not hold back. Indeed, I have encountered such people, right throughout my adult life. Even up into the present. Even in the last few days. Even as my church continues to debate and argue about how we understand marriage and how we might (or should) ((or must!!)) practice it. My goodness, there have been instances of this very recently.

*****

But in the midst of this noisy discussion, I came across a comment by a colleague about another verse in one of Paul’s letters … another word, another late praised by Paul, another quality which had long been valued and honoured and promoted within the Hellenistic literature.

The verse is a short one in this passage in Philippians 4, where Paul is addressing the believers in the Roman colony of Philippi in Macedonia. There had been some tensions amongst this group of believers; Paul exhorts them to express unity of purpose, to support one another, and to live in a way that honours the faith they share together. He explicitly encourages them to support two women, Eudoia and Synthche, who are especially beloved of Paul.

He instructs them to “rejoice in the Lord”. Then, he says, “let your gentleness be known to everyone” (Phil 4:5). That instruction is striking for two reasons. First, it is oriented towards “everyone” … perhaps a more literal translation would be, “to every human being”. Not just within the community of faith, but to everyone whom they encounter and engage with, anywhere in society.

The second, even more striking, feature, is Paul’s use of the Greek word epieikes, which the NRSV translates as “gentleness”. This is almost the polar opposite of parrhesia. Instead of boldness, frankness, and the tub-thumping directness of a hard-hitting public argument, Paul encourages gentleness, mildness, a sense of fairness, in the way that believers are to engage with others. To be reasonable. To offer generosity in attending carefully to the other. To offer forbearance and patience.

But there is more. That word epieikes, and related words, are found in various places in Hellenistic literature, in writings which encourage an honest and thoughtful engagement between people. It is used by rhetoricians, philosophers, and historians, to indicate a way of engaging constructively, respectfully, openly, with other people. Indeed, the word has, at its root, the short verb eiko, which means, to yield, to give way to, to surrender.

So, Paul instructs the Philippians, at this point, to engage in respectful conversations with each other, in which one party yields to the other party—one party steps back, steps aside, pulls back from their boldness and frankness, stops and listens, ponders and reflects, allows the other party to express their view and to have it heard and registered.

And the same word pops up in a couple of other places in New Testament letters, where it appears in contrast to “quarrelling” in 1 Tim 3:3 and Titus 3:2, and in connection with being “peaceable” and “open to reason” in James 3:17. So these verses urge those who are fighting within the church to settle their dispute and focus on more important issues in the gospel. To do this would a provide a positive testimony, in a context where disputes about honour and reputation were common and all too unhelpful.

It seems to me that this is surely “a word of the Lord” for our time. For our place. For our current discussion. For our church, rent by divergent and disputing views. For our society, plunged into the morass of fake news and false accusations and incessant tweeting. And for the Uniting Church in Australia, continuing to grapple with its prophetic commitment to diversity, inclusivism, and an affirming welcome to all.

Let’s just demonstrate some epieikes. Let’s yield. Let’s be gentle. Let’s live the Gospel of abundant grace and liberating hope. May it be so.

See also

Turning to Philippians (Pentecost 17A)

I drew him out of the water (Exodus 1–2 and Psalm 124; Pentecost 13A)

With this Sunday’s Hebrew Scripture passage, we move on from the ancestral sagas that featured the three patriarchs of Israel (Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob) and their four matriarchs (Sarah and Rebekah, Leah and Rachel), as well as the twelve sons of Jacob, their sister Dinah, and the escapades in Egypt that proved to be their salvation. We move now into the story of Moses, who occupies a unique place in the story of Israel: Moses the lawgiver, Moses the prophet, Moses the teacher.

Whereas land has been the location for the Genesis stories, with movement happening between Chaldea (later Babylonia), Canaan (later Israel), and Egypt, water now enters the story in a significant way. Indeed, water is present and plays a prominent role in both readings from the Hebrew Scriptures that the lectionary provides for this coming Sunday (Exod 1:8–2:10; Psalm 124).

In the story told in Exodus, the situation of the Israelites is grim. Whilst life in the time of Joseph had been flourishing, in this story, “a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (Exod 1:8). The situation of the Israelite descendants of Joseph was marred by envy (v.9), distrust and scheming (v.10), oppression (v.11), intensified fear (v.12), and the ruthless imposition of tasks (v.13).

Life for the enslaved Israelites was bitter (v.14), and then in peril, as the king of Egypt plotted to murder all the males born to the Israelites (v.15–16). That scheme, however, was foiled by Shiphrah and Puah, who refused to follow through the instructions of the king (v.17) and gave a devious answer about this (v.19). The role that these women play—the first of a number of women—will provide to be important.

In this narrative, the river Nile features prominently (Exod 1:22; 2:4–6). The Nile was the place where Pharaoh threatened to drown “every boy that is born to the Hebrews” (1:22). That river is where the woman married to “a man from the house of Levi” placed her child, inside “a papyrus basket … plastered with bitumen and pitch” to make it waterproof (2:3). It is where the daughter of Pharaoh bathes, and discovers the basket, and the child inside it (2:5–6). That river was the salvation for this particular child, even if it was the threatened place of death for many other children.

In the Psalm, water is present in the floods that threaten the people of Israel. “The flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us; then over us would have gone the raging waters” (Ps 124: 4–5). That water surges and sweeps with menace, generating fear and anxiety amongst the land-living Israelites. Those waters portended doom.

The sea was integral to God’s creative works: “yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things both small and great” (Ps 104:25). The early part of the priestly narrative about God’s creating activity indicates that controlling and corralling the waters was an essential first step (see Gen 1:6–7, 9–10), and also that those waters provided the source of life for “swarms of living creatures” (Gen 1:20).

Yet the sea was a threatening place for the people of Israel, accustomed to life on the land, planting grapevines and herding sheep in “the land of milk and honey”. Later in the story of Moses, the sea of reeds was the place of destruction for Egypt (Ps 114:1–8), although it was also the location of salvation for Israel, as is celebrated in David’s song of praise (2 Sam 22:1–4, repeated at Ps 18:6, 12–19).

For sailors, the sea could be a place of great danger (Ps 107:23–31)—the story of Jonah attests to this (Jon 1:4–17), as does the final trip of Paul as he is taken as a prisoner to Rome (Acts 27:14–20). Yet the power of the roaring sea, as majestic as it is, pales into insignificance beside the majesty of the Lord on high (Ps 93:3–4). In the sea lurks the great sea monster, Leviathan (Job 3:8; Ps 104:26) of whom Job muses, “who can confront it and be safe?” (Job 41:11). It is only the Lord who is able to subdue Leviathan (Ps 74:14; Isa 27:1).

The dangers of the sea which the Israelites escaped may well be reflected in Psalm 124, recalling the threat of floods sweeping them away, torrents rising over them, raging waters submerging them. That psalm concludes, with a sigh of relief, “our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth” (Ps 124:8). The Lord is somehow able to overcome that threat for the Israelites. And that story, as we shall note, has resonances with the earlier narrative of “the great flood” that subsumed the whole earth, and from which only a chosen handful of people and animals survived (Gen 7—9).

The same movement towards salvation takes place in the Exodus narrative, as the unnamed baby is taken out of the river, brought into the household of Pharaoh, the very one who would have the child killed, and nurtured by his own daughter’s nursemaid (Exod 2:6–10). The waters are paradoxical forces, for they sustain and protect life even as they threaten to overwhelm life.

And lest we overlook this element too quickly: the saving of this child depends on a sequence of women who took steps to ensure his safety. We have already noted the actions of Shiphrah and Puah (1:19). Now, we should note the unnamed mother of this child, who placed him in the basket on the river (2:3), and her sister-in-law, also unnamed, who “stood at a distance to see what what happen to him” (2:4).

Then, there was the daughter of Pharaoh, who saw the basket (2:5), her unnamed maid, who took pity on the child (2:6), the sister of this maid, who suggested and then procured someone to nurse the child (2:7). And then, another unnamed woman, “a nurse from the Hebrew women to nurse the child” (2:7–9), which ensured that the child would survive (2:9–10). And finally, back to Pharaoh’s daughter (still unnamed), who bequeathed the name Moses on the rescued child (2:10). So many women, so many important interventions—and so many names not known!

The name of the child taken out of that river is known, and it is given at the end of the story: Moses. This is considered to be an Egyptian name, not an Israelite name—for although the child was born to an Israelite mother, he was raised in the household of an Egyptian family (and a privileged and powerful one, at that!). Moses (Hebrew Mosheh) signifies the “drawing out” of the child from the water (Exod 2:10). And just as he was saved by Egyptian women, so he will later be instrumental in the saving of his people from the Egyptians. A neat piece of irony in the larger storyline.

The story, like many others in these early narrative books, is told as an aetiology, to explain the meaning of the person’s name, as here, or as with Ishmael, Esau, and Jacob, and the new name, Israel, and his twelve sons and two grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh, and others; or the name of a place, as with Beersheba, or Bethel, or Peniel, amongst quite a number of locations named in Genesis. The story is constructed to explain the significance of the name of the people (or place). So for Moses, it is that he was “drawn out” of the waters, where by rights he should have died.

Which provides the groundwork for another ironic twist in the story, for as Moses is rescued out of the water and nurtured to ensure that he lives, so in a subsequent chapter of the story, the people he comes to lead will likewise be rescued from out of the waters of the sea, and will celebrate their saving at the hand of the Lord God (Exod 14:15–15:21). His name and his origins encapsulate a central feature of the story that will unfold in his life.

And those pursuing them, the Egyptian army, meet the fate that was most feared by the Israelites: “you blew with your breath, the sea covered them, they sank like lead in the mighty waters” (Exod 15:10; see a narrative explanations of this, that the sea was held back by the outstretched hands of Moses, at 14:21–28).

But this is jumping ahead to the story told in the lectionary excerpt we are offered in two weeks time! For today, we sit with the story of the origins of the one who was “drawn out of the water”—the child Moses.

Who else have we missed? (more women in Genesis in the season of Pentecost, Year A)

In an earlier post, we noted that the book of Genesis is dominated by people whose stories shaped the self-understanding and identity of the nation of Israel. Written in the form that we now have them by the priests who had held the stories of Israel through the decades of Exile, those stories comprise oral tales, told and retold over centuries before that Exile, remembered and passed on because they offered insights into who the people of Israel had become—committed, resilient, crafty, and faithful.

We heard these stories, from the second Sunday after Pentecost (Gen 12) through now to the twelfth Sunday after Pentecost (Gen 45). The stories are dominated by the men—Adam and Noah, Abraham and Isaac, Jacob and his twelve sons, most notably Joseph. In these stories, as we have noted, the men dominate. There are, to be sure, women who also play key roles in the stories that are collected into this first narrative book, as we have noted—Sarah and Hagar, Rebekah, Leah and Rachel, as well as others with lesser prominence in the stories (or, indeed complete absence from the story).

This blog focusses on women in Genesis 38 and onwards. On the women who were overlooked by the lectionary in the earlier chapters, see

Who have we missed? (Women in Genesis, in the season of Pentecost, Year A)

4 Tamar

In this blog, we turn first to Tamar, the wife of Er, whom Judah, son of Jacob, had conceived with his Canaanite wife, Shua (Gen 38:2–6). Tamar was sister-in-law to Onan and Selah, the two brothers of Er. With Er being struck dead for his sinfulness, Onan is urged by Judah to fulfil the responsibility of the Levirate law (Deut 25:5–10) by marrying Tamar and producing heirs (Gen 38:7–8).

Onan is remembered, however, for disobeying this instruction of his father-in-law; “since Onan knew that the offspring would not be his, he spilled his semen on the ground whenever he went in to his brother’s wife, so that he would not give offspring to his brother” (37:9). As this displeased God, Onan is struck dead (37:10)—a harsh penalty!

Judah then wants to reserve Tamar “until my son Shelah grows up”, when they can marry, in accordance with the Levirate law (37:11). Through a series of misunderstandings, Judah ends up impregnating Tamar, whom he appeared to believe was a temple prostitute (38:12–19). Nobody said that the men of this family were all upstanding moral exemplars!

However, Tamar was canny. She asserts herself when she lies with Judah, asking him for his signet, cord, and staff—so that she can later identify the father of the child and call him to account. Professor Tikva Frymer-Kensky, of the University of Chicago, writing in the Jewish Women’s Archive, notes that this liaison was not illicit; it was in accord with the Levirate law. She also describes Tamar as “assertive of her rights and subversive of convention” and as “deeply loyal to Judah’s family”.

Months later, on learning that Tamar was pregnant, and not realising that he was responsible, Judah wanted her to be burned (38:24)—at which point “the big reveal” occurs, as Tamar shows the signet and the cord and the staff that she had taken from the man who impregnated her (38:18, 25). Judah, to his credit, accepts responsibility (38:26). Tamar gives birth to twins, Perez and Zerah (38:27–30).

Perez has a claim to fame in that the male line of descent from him arrives, eight generations later, at Jesse, father of David (Ruth 4:18–22) and thus of Jesus (Matt 1:3–6; Luke 3:32–33). So the origin of this ancestor of Jesus is a fascinating tale, consistent with a number of other enticing tales related to others amongst his ancestors.

Professor Tikva Frymer-Kensky notes that the assertive and loyal qualities of Tamar also show up in Ruth. “The blessing at Ruth’s wedding underscores the similarity in its hope that Boaz’s house ‘be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah’ (Ruth 4:12). These traits of assertiveness in action, willingness to be unconventional, and deep loyalty to family are the very qualities that distinguish their descendant, King David.”

Less well known amongst the descendants of Perez is Jashobeam, son of Zabdiel, “chief of all the commanders of the army” at the time that David was preparing to build the Temple, who had charge “of the first division in the first month; in his division were twenty-four thousand” (1 Chron 27:2–3). Years later, on return from exile in Babylon, “all the descendants of Perez who lived in Jerusalem were four hundred sixty-eight valiant warriors” (Neh 11:6).

The story of Onan, Tamar, and Judah is disturbing. Tamar was a faithful woman, obeying instructions to be married, to obey the Levirate law, and to wait for the appropriate time for another marriage. She asserts her rights and remains faithful in adversity. Yet Tamar is surrounded by men who misbehave badly—a sinful husband (Er),struck dead; his disobedient brother (Onan), also struck dead; and their opportunistic father (Judah), who at least, in the end, appears to recant of his deeds. Poor Tamar!

Writing elsewhere on the Jewish Women’s’ Archive about her namesake, Dr Tamar Kadari notes that whilst “the Rabbis spare no criticism of Judah and his sons, pointing out the sins that were responsible for their bitter fate”, they display a different attitude toward Tamar, praising her as “a woman with sterling qualities, who maintained the strictures of modesty and faithfully observed the laws of niddah”. (The laws of niddah govern the behaviour of menstruating women.)

Nevertheless, noting that Judah obeys the Levirate laws, she comments further that “the Rabbis find Judah’s conduct praiseworthy: even though the Torah had not yet been given, he nonetheless took care to observe all the commandments (Lev. Rabbah 2:10)”. One midrash claims that Tamar prayed: “May it be Your will that I not leave this house empty” (Gen. Rabbah 85:7), which indicates that her true aim “was to cleave to the house of Judah and provide a successor for his line”.

Dr Kadari reports that another midrash argues that it was “inconceivable that Judah thought [Tamar] to be a harlot because she covered her face, since, if anything, prostitutes show their faces. Rather, out of modesty, Tamar had always covered her face in her father-in-law’s home. Thus, when she disguised herself as a harlot and revealed her face, Judah did not recognize her (BT Sotah 10b).”

She further notes that “Another midrashic account has Judah saying: ‘This one is a harlot; of what concern is she to me?’ and continuing on his way. Once he had passed by, Tamar raised her eyes to God and said: ‘Master of the Universe, am I to go forth with nothing from the body of this righteous one?’ Then God immediately sent the angel Michael to bring Judah back (Tanhuma [ed. Buber], Vayeshev 17).” It was Tamar’s persistence in prayer that ensured the lineage of Judah.

And finally, amongst numerous other fascinating midrashic explanations that Dr Kadari reports, we note that it was seen that, because of his honesty in admitting he was the father and excusing Tamar from blame, Judah is blessed with the full line of the thirty kings of Judah, from David through to Zedekiah (Gen. Rabbah 97:8).

5 The wife of Potiphar

The wife of Potiphar is an intriguing presence in the section of Genesis that focusses on Joseph, one of Jacob’s twelve sons, while he was in Egypt (Gen 37—50). Potiphar was “one of Pharaoh’s officials, the captain of the guard” to whom the Midianites had sold Joseph (Gen 37:36). Potiphar’s wife is never named, but she plays a key role in Joseph’s story while he is serving as overseer to the household of Potiphar.

First, this woman attempts to seduce Joseph (39:7, 11–12), then she accuses Joseph of trying to seduce her (37:14–18). Of course this enraged Potiphar, who put Joseph in prison (37:19–20). No due process and fair trials in ancient Egypt, it seems! However, “the Lord was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love”; he enjoyed the favour of the chief jailer and “whatever he did, the Lord made it prosper” (37:21–23).

Some years ago, my wife Elizabeth Raine did a study of this particular woman (in a series that she wrote and taught about “ Women in the Bible”). She found that artists and commentators alike across the centuries have had a field day with the promiscuous nature of this unnamed woman—she was a shrewd villain, a seductress, a deceiver, the embodiment of temptation.

Joseph and Potiphar’s wife, by
Giovanni Andrea de Ferrari (1598–1669)

A third century text (attributed to the late 1st century bishop, Clement of Rome) railed against her: “did not a woman conceive an excessive passion for the beauty of this chaste and upright man? and when he would not yield and consent to gratify her passionate desire, she cast the righteous man into every kind of distress and torment, by bearing false witness”.

She found an online PowerPoint display that said, “no doubt she went on with her immoral behaviour; perhaps one day her husband found out the truth of her character, perhaps not; but certainly, one day, she will pay the ultimate penalty of her sinful life, separation from God, in a place of torment”.

However, we do not know whether Potiphar’s wife did want a sexual liaison. Perhaps she was jealous of Joseph when he replaced her as head of the household? Perhaps she did long for the emotional intimacy that Potiphar was not providing? The text is silent.

Jewish interpretation of this story seeks to be sympathetic about this woman. The Testament of Joseph, a 2nd century Jewish text, relates that Potiphar’s wife initially embraced Joseph like the son she lacked, and only gradually did she become seductive with him. Her nakedness before Joseph occurs when she is beset by grief at not being able to draw close to Joseph.

A little earlier, the Jewish scholar Philo of Alexandria sees Potiphar as a eunuch—he was an official in the court, so this was not an unusual supposition. His wife wished to “be with a man”, but as he tells the story, Philo presents the story as an allegory: the woman represents the physical pleasure of the body, but Joseph, committed to celibacy, represents the soul.

The Rabbis, of course, have various explanations: Joseph was attracted to the woman, but cooled off when an image of his parents appeared before him; or the woman wanted to seduce him in order to produce a son, which Potiphar had not given her, and that she saw a vision in which the stars showed that she would have children with Joseph; or Joseph is compelled by a vision from God to resist at all costs.

As is the case with a number of unnamed female figures in scripture, this particular woman is bequeathed a name as later tradition develops. The medieval commentator Sefer HaYashar, in his commentary on the Torah, gave her the name Zuleika.

In the Quran, this story is told in chapter 12. The woman Zulaikha overhears a group of women speaking about the incident involving Yusuf, verbally shaming Zulaikha for what she did. Wikipedia offers a helpful summary: “Zulaikha, angered by this, gives each woman a knife and calls for Yusuf. Upon his arrival, the women cut themselves with their knives, shocked by his beauty. Zulaikha, boosted by proving to the women that any woman would fall for Yusuf, proudly claims that Yusuf must accept her advances, or he will be imprisoned. Yusuf prays to Allah, begging Allah to make them imprison him, as Yusuf would rather go to jail than do the bidding of Zulaikha and the other women. Allah, listening to Yusuf’s request, makes the chief in power believe Yusuf should go to prison for some time, and so Yusuf does.”

6 Asenath

Whilst in Egypt, Joseph gained a reputation for his interpretations of dreams; he rose to power when he interpreted a dream of the Pharaoh (Gen 41:14–37). Pharaoh installed him into an office in his court and “set him over all the land of Egypt” with all the trappings of high office (Gen 41:41–43). Further, “Pharaoh gave Joseph the name Zaphenath-paneah; and he gave him Asenath daughter of Potiphera, priest of On, as his wife. Thus Joseph gained authority over the land of Egypt” (Gen 41:45).

So it is that Asenath, daughter of an Egyptian priest, wife of Joseph, enters the story. (As we noted in an earlier post, there is a rabbinic midrash that says that Asenath was the product of the union of Dinah and Shechem who was given to Potiphar’s wife to be raised.) She gives birth to two sons: Manasseh, meaning, “God has made me forget (nashani) completely my hardship and my parental home”, and Ephraim, meaning, “God has made me fertile (hiprani) in the land of my affliction”. These sons, grandsons to Jacob, would later have a key role (but the lectionary doesn’t include this part of the story). See Gen 41:50–52; 46:20.

Dr Kadari notes that “there are two approaches to the issue of Asenath’s descent in the Rabbinic texts”. One view sees Asenath as “an ethnic Egyptian who converted in order to be married to Joseph”, which is a plain reading of the text. The second approach argues that “Asenath was not an Egyptian by descent, but was from the family of Jacob, directed by God to end up in Egypt so that Joseph would find a suitable wife from among the members of his own family.”

In either case, Dr Kadari notes that Asenath is “accepted as part of the family and her sons are accepted as worthy descendants by Jacob.” The midrash that Asenath was the result of the rape of Dinah, as noted above, provides such an explanation. See

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/asenath-midrash-and-aggadah

Dr Kadari notes that “the traditions that maintain that Asenath was a convert present her as a positive example of conversion, and include her among the devout women converts”. She cites Hagar, who was Egyptian, Zipporah the Midianite, Shiprah and Puah, Egyptian midwives, and the Egyptian wife of Pharaoh in the story of Moses, and the Rahab the Canaanite, Ruth the the Moabite, and Jael the Jenite. Asenath stands in fine company!

The closing chapters of Genesis contain a series of poetic blessings on the twelve sons of Jacob—those twelve men who are remembered as “the twelve tribes of Israel” (Gen 49)—before recounting a key familial reconciliation, the death of the great partriarch Jacob, and then the death of his son Joseph (Gen 50). The story ends with this long poetic set of blessings and then with these two key men of the sagas reconciled. And still, the women are missing from the story.

7 Asherah?

To conclude, we might note that there is another female who has been completely absent from the narrative of Genesis. She a figure that we know was present throughout the period when Israel was ruled by kings, a period when these stories were shaped and crafted to serve as as aetiological explanations for the nature of Israel. This woman is the goddess Asherah, whose presence is signalled in later narrative books (1 Ki 15:13; 18:19; 2 Ki 21:7; 23:4–14; 2 Chron 15:16).

Writing in the Jewish Women’s Archive, Dr Susan Ackerman observes that there is evidence from a “late-thirteenth-century B.C.E. Lachish ewer” dedicated to Asherah which is “decorated with images of sacred trees”. See

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/asherahasherim-bible

She continues: “The Canaanite association of Asherah with sacred trees is also found in Israelite tradition. For example, one of the Canaanite epithets of Asherah, elat, “goddess,” is etymologically identical to the Hebrew word for the terebinth tree (ela). Another word for “terebinth” (alla) and two words for “oak” (elon and allon) are also closely related.”

As a result, Ackerman notes that “Gen 2:4b—3:24 may further suggest the association of Asherah with sacred trees, since the way that Eve, “the mother of all living” (3:20), is described in the Eden story mimics in certain respects the role of the Canaanite mother goddess Asherah. If a correspondence holds, then the trees of life and of knowledge in the Eden narrative may also reflect Asherah imagery.”

Asherah statue, Eretz Israel Museum, Tel Aviv

But beyond that story, it is not until the narrative quasi-historical texts which follow after the Pentateuch that we find reflections of “Israelite worship of “sacred poles or stylised trees associated with Asherah were erected by the Israelites” under the judges (Judg 6:25–26, 28, 30), the kings in the northern kingdom of Israel (1 Ki 14:15; 16:33; 2 Ki 13:6; 17:10, 16; 23:15; and parallel references in 2 Chronicles) and kings in the southern kingdom of Judah, in the south (1 Ki 14:23; 15:13; 2 Ki 18:4; 21:3, 7; 23:6, 14; and parallel references in 2 Chronicles).

Since the books of the Pentateuch—and Genesis in particular—were compiled and written during and after that long period of time, as the exiles returned to Israel, might there be nuances and hints in these ancient sagas concerning Asherah?

Who have we missed? (Women in Genesis, in the season of Pentecost, Year A)

The book of Genesis is dominated by people whose stories are told because they have shaped the self-understanding and identity of the ancient nation of Israel. Written in the form that we now have them by the priests who had held the stories of Israel through the decades of Exile, those stories comprise oral tales, told and retold over centuries before that Exile, remembered and passed on because they offered insights into who the people of Israel had become—committed, resilient, crafty, and faithful.

The stories are dominated by the men—Adam and Noah, Abraham and Isaac, Jacob, and his twelve sons, most notably Joseph. Indeed, the closing chapters of Genesis contain a series of poetic blessings on those twelve men, who are remembered as “the twelve tribes of Israel” (Gen 49), before recounting a key familial reconciliation, the death of the great partriarch Jacob, and then the death of his son Joseph (Gen 50). We have heard these stories, from the second Sunday after Pentecost (Gen 12) through to the tenth Sunday after Pentecost (Gen 32).

In these stories, the men dominate. There are, to be sure, women who also play key roles in the stories that are collected into this first narrative book. Sarah and Hagar get a place in the story alongside Abraham. Rebekah is there, with Isaac; and Leah and Rachel too, with the manipulation of their father Laban and the lust of their husband Jacob. Here we have the four great matriarchs of Judaism, arrayed alongside their husbands: Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob with Leah and Rachel. The stories told give insight into the characters of these women; they serve as role models in the ongoing story of Israel.

There are also servants co-opted to produce children when the matriarch looked like she would not reproduce: Hagar, Zilpah, and Bilhah—important women, but not included in the traditional list of matriarchs. They take their place in the story largely because of the male offspring they produced. And when we come to the twelve sons of Jacob, there are wives who are noted, but nothing further is revealed about them—except for Asenath, the wife of Joseph.

But who have we missed, in the stories from Genesis which have been offered by lectionary over the past few months? Seven women, or groups of women, should be noted. In this post, I will deal with those who appear in the section of Genesis which is dominated by Abraham and Isaac (Gen 12:1—28:9). The women in the chapters beyond this, which tell the story of Jacob and his sons, and especially of Joseph, that will be considered in a later post.

1 The wife and daughters of Lot

First, there is reference to the wife and two daughters of Abraham’s son-in-law, Lot. Lot is noted in the genealogical material listing the descendants of Terah, his grandfather (Gen 11:31). Lot accompanies Abram and Sarai and “all the possessions that they had gathered, and the persons whom they had acquired in Haran” as they journeyed to Canaan (Gen 12:5); he then moves with them into the Negeb, en route to Egypt (Gen 13:1).

We learn that “Lot chose for himself all the plain of the Jordan, and Lot journeyed eastward”, and so “Lot settled among the cities of the Plain and moved his tent as far as Sodom” (Gen 13:11–12). There is no mention of any female associated with Lot in any of these instances. However, after Abraham entertains visitors who stay with him at Mamre, as they are travelling to Sodom (Gen 18:1–16), and then after Abraham debates with God about the threat to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen 18:17–33), Lot is visited by “two angels” (Gen 19:4).

He offers them hospitality; but the people of Sodom call for Lot to release those two people “so that we may know them” (Gen 19:5). So Lot offers, in their place, his “two daughters who have not known a man” (Gen 19:8). This is the first indication that Lot was married with children; and the way his virgin daughters are offered as sexual objects for the people of Sodom is a horrifying introduction to them!

So, warned by these “two angels” to leave the area, Lot hesitates (Gen 19:15–16). What they say to Lot is the first reference to his wife: “get up, take your wife and your two daughters who are here, or else you will be consumed in the punishment of the city” (Gen 19:15). They also advise him, “do not look back or stop anywhere in the Plain; flee to the hills, or else you will be consumed” (Gen 19:17). Lot leaves Sodom, but “Lot’s wife, behind him, looked back, and she became a pillar of salt” (Gen 19:26). And that is how she is best known—not by her name, not as the daughter of her father, but as Lot’s wife, who was turned into a pillar of salt.

Dr Tamar Kadari, writing in the Jewish Women’s Archive, notes that in a later rabbinic text, this woman is given the name Idit, and a story is told about her reluctance to obtain salt from her neighbours, as Lot has requested. This becomes the reason for her punishment, being turned into a pillar of salt. Another text she cites, attributed to Rabbi Eliezer, says that Lot and his wife were actually saved from the destruction of the city; but there were two married daughters who had remained in Sodom, so she looked behind her to see them for the last time. When she did this, she saw the back of the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence), and so she was transformed into a pillar of salt.

Lot’s daughters went with Lot into the hills nearby; the biblical text describes their devious acts of making their father drunk and both having sexual intercourse with him, thereby producing two sons, Moab and Ben-ammi (Gen 19:30–38). From these two children of incestual rape (of a man, by his daughters, no less!), the despised Moabites and Ammonites descended. Of these people, none are permitted to enter God’s assembly (Deut 23:3; Neh 13:1–2) and good Israelites were later forbidden to marry them (Ezra 9:1–2). Those prohibitions explain the awful nature of these aetiological tales about Lot’s family.

Lot, his disobedient wife, and his aggressively incestual daughters, certainly provides a stark tale (none of which is included in any lectionary offering!). The anonymous women in the story are certainly strong characters. Their actions are told to explain the character of near neighbours with whom the Israelites later had difficult relationships. We remember these women, but perhaps not for the usual reason we seek to remember characters in the biblical text.

See

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/lots-wife-midrash-and-aggadah#:~:text=Lot%27s%20wife%2C%20known%20to%20the,that%20Lot%20is%20harboring%20guests.

2 Dinah

Next, there is the sombre tale of Dinah, the sole female child of Jacob, birthed by Leah after the six sons she had produced (Gen 30:21). This story is told in Gen 34, after Jacob, after he had left Laban in Paddan-aram, had encountered his brother Esau, after a long period of separation (Gen 33:1–17). Jacob and his family settled in Shechem in Canaan, where he bought land and erected an altar (Gen 33:18–20).

Dinah was raped by a man who bore the name of the town, Shechem (Gen 34:2)—but immediately “his soul was drawn to Dinah … he loved the girl and spoke tenderly to her”, and asked his father to be married to her (Gen 34:3–4). Was it possible that a relationship that was formed on the basis of crass selfishness and the forceful expression of power could develop into one shaped by love and respect? The text seems to hint …

However, what ensues is a tale of family revenge for the dishonouring of Dinah. When the sons of Jacob came in from their work in the fields, they were, quite rightly it would seem, “indignant and very angry, because [Shechem] had committed an outrage in Israel by lying with Jacob’s daughter, for such a thing ought not to be done” (Gen 34:7).

Shechem’s princely father, Hamor, attempted to negotiate, but the words of the brothers were deceptive (Gen 34:13–19). They convinced Hamor that they were “friendly with us” and he, in turn, persuaded “the men of the city … at the gates of the city” to “agree with them, and they will live among us” in peace (Gen 34:20–23), on condition that the men of the city be circumcised—which they were (Gen 34:21).

But the sons of Jacob (remember, these are the men who are honoured in ongoing Israelite and Jewish traditions as the venerable men who have their name to the twelve tribes of Israel) then pounce: “two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dinah’s brothers, took their swords and came against the city unawares, and killed all the males”, including Hamor and Shechem (Gen 34:25). They “took Dinah out of Shechem’s house, and went away” (Gen 34:26).

The abduction of Dinah, depicted by James Tissot

Then, “the other sons of Jacob came upon the slain, and plundered the city … they took their flocks and their herds, their donkeys, and whatever was in the city and in the field” (Gen 34:27–30). This massive over-reaction was to avenge the fact that “their sister had been defiled” (Gen 34:27). Their father, Jacob, was unimpressed; “you have brought trouble on me”, he said, “by making me odious to the inhabitants of the land”, lamenting that “my numbers are few, and if they gather themselves against me and attack me, I shall be destroyed, both I and my household” (Gen 34:30).

What did Dinah make of this wholescale, and out-of-proportion, revenge attack? She is silent—indeed, she is absent from the text from verse 26, when her brothers removed her from the house of Shechem. In contrast, we hear their voice loud and clear, in their riposte to their father: “should our sister be treated like a whore?” (Gen 34:31). Nothing will dissuade them of the “rightness” of their actions. Men, standing up for women, by acts of violence and destruction; women, absent from the story, as their honour is defended. It is a sorry tale.

Writing on the biblical text in the Jewish Women’s Archive, Professor Rachel Adelman observes that the narrative “is rife with gaps and ambiguities, in which Dinah’s silence and the divide between father and brothers loom large”. The story, she posits, presents “the impossibility of integration with the Canaanites in the land”—the story of Dinah and Shechem demonstrates that this produces disastrous results.

Furthermore, Dr Adelman notes that “boundaries of identity are forged through negotiations over the destiny of the young woman’s body”—in other words, the silent, debased, raped female is the fulcrum around which the identity of the nation of Israel is shaped. “In the context of the honor-shame socio-cultural milieu, the daughter’s voice hardly matters. Even when the Hivites are willing to remove the Israelite symbol of “disgrace” (the foreskin) from their male bodies in order to intermarry with Jacob’s family, their status as the tainted ineluctable “other” remains.”

Then, Dr Adelman observes that “contemporary feminist readers seek to reclaim the voice of the silenced Dinah, to reassert her own agency and even desire to be with Shechem … alternatively, if she was raped, her own pain and anguish must be heard over the violent clamor in defense of male honor.” Dare we listen carefully, to hear that silent female pain, over the noise of male revenge?

Dr Tamar Kadari, also writing in the Jewish Women’s Archive, observes of Dinah that “the Rabbis present her as possessing many positive qualities, as was fitting for the daughter of the progenitors of the Israelite nation.” They attempt to rehabilitate Dinah by recounting her later marriage—one account has her married to Job, because she is a “shameless woman [ha-nevalot]” (Job 2:10), which they connect with the shame [nevalah] of Dinah (Gen 34:7).

Another explanation is that Dinah married her brother, Simeon. Dr Kadari explains the rabbinic midrash: “a son was born from this union, “Saul the son of a Canaanite woman” (Gen 46:10); Dinah was the ‘Canaanite woman’, because her behavior was like that of the Canaanites.” A final claim is that Dinah, impregnated by Shechem, gave birth to Asenath, who was transported to Egypt and raised by the barren wife of Potiphar. And then, along came Joseph!

But that is skipping ahead; more on Asenath in the next blog on this topic.

See

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/dinah-bible

and

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/dinah-midrash-and-aggadah

3 The wives of Esau

A group of women are noted and indeed named in association with Esau, the brother of Jacob. The narrative first notes that “when Esau was forty years old, he married Judith daughter of Beeri the Hittite, and Basemath daughter of Elon the Hittite; and they made life bitter for Isaac and Rebekah” (Gen 26:34–35). The note of family discord is not unusual in these ancestral narratives! But who is the “they” in this comment? Just those wives of Esau? Or is Esau himself included? It depends on how patriarchal and sexist we think the text is.

Next, we are told that “when Esau saw that the Canaanite women did not please his father Isaac, Esau went to Ishmael and took Mahalath daughter of Abraham’s son Ishmael, and sister of Nebaioth, to be his wife in addition to the wives he had” (Gen 28:9). So Mahalath joins Judith and Basemath as named wives of Esau.

Later genealogical listings offer the names of Adah, Oholibamah, and Basemath, but not Judith. First, we learn that “Esau took his wives from the Canaanites: Adah daughter of Elon the Hittite, Oholibamah daughter of Anah son of Zibeon the Hivite, and Basemath, Ishmael’s daughter, sister of Nebaioth. Adah bore Eliphaz to Esau; Basemath bore Reuel; and Oholibamah bore Jeush, Jalam, and Korah. These are the sons of Esau who were born to him in the land of Canaan.” (Gen 36:1–5).

A photographic representation of the wives of Esau, by Dikla Laor
https://diklalaor.photography/esau-wives/

Then, after Esau took his family and “settled in the hill country of Seir; Esau is Edom” (Gen 36:8), we learn that “these are the names of Esau’s sons: Eliphaz son of Adah the wife of Esau; Reuel, the son of Esau’s wife Basemath” (Gen 36:10). Only two wives are noted at this point.

The text continues, “the sons of Eliphaz were Teman, Omar, Zepho, Gatam, and Kenaz. (Timna was a concubine of Eliphaz, Esau’s son; she bore Amalek to Eliphaz.) These were the sons of Adah, Esau’s wife. These were the sons of Reuel: Nahath, Zerah, Shammah, and Mizzah. These were the sons of Esau’s wife, Basemath. These were the sons of Esau’s wife Oholibamah, daughter of Anah son of Zibeon: she bore to Esau Jeush, Jalam, and Korah.” (Gen 36:10–14). So three wives are named in this final passage.

Sadly—as is often the case—these genealogical listings focus on the male descendants. Whether any daughters were born, or survived beyond birth, is not stated. The gender bias is clear; we hear only about the sons. And we know nothing about the life of most of these men in the subsequent generation—and in association with them, the women married to them or any sisters they had; nothing is revealed by the text. So many questions; so little information!!

As a family historian, this is a familiar problem: tracing the male line is easier than connecting in the females, men are mentioned more frequently in published sources, many women remain mute and invisible in the family story. It takes effort and intention to retrieve even a little of them for our attention. Let us at least attend to the women included in the stories that are told, and honour them for the roles they played and the contribution they made to the larger story.

Speaking out for equality: a sermon for Lent 3A

A sermon preached on Sunday 12 March 2023 (the third Sunday in Lent) in the Tuggeranong Uniting Church, by the Rev. Elizabeth Raine.

Last Thursday was International Women’s Day, and we are at the end of the week which has both celebrated women and called for true equality. We learnt that women still earn a million dollars less than men over their lifetime and retire with $136,000 less superannuation, according to research from the Australia Institute’s Centre for Future Work.

This research also noted that men still have higher average salaries than women in 95% of all occupations, even in female-dominated ones such as midwifery. Women also suffer more from gendered violence, with around 30% of women worldwide subjected to either physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence or non-partner sexual violence in their lifetime.

All religions tend to subjugate women and view them as lesser mortals. Many forbid women to become leaders or to preach, and see women’s religious duties as almost domestic. This includes Christianity, with many denominations and churches not allowing women’s ordination or meaningful leadership. Look, they say as they point to 1 Timothy 2:12 “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent.”

This verse has taken on an authority and power that apparently trumps many a story of women leading, teaching, ministering and preaching in the Old and New Testaments. It has coloured the view of the Catholic and Orthodox traditions and many an evangelical church. And not only have women been seen as lesser in these traditions, they have also acquired reputations as sinners, temptresses and Jezebels, to be feared and not trusted.

In today’s bible reading, we meet such a woman. She has been frequently cast as an outsider, a prostitute, an adulteress, despite the text neither saying or even inferring she is any of these things. I find myself getting increasing annoyed at this view of the unnamed Samaritan woman. Many of these accepted views of her originate with male biblical scholars.

I think these views are usually quite moralistic and border on misogyny. They are also applied to other New Testament women, leaders of the early church who have been besmirched and relegated to an inferior status.

I invite you to join me in the redemption of the Samaritan and other NT women, and to explore their stories from a different perspective. I hope this will lead you to different conclusions.

*****

The Samaritan woman is the antithesis of Nicodemus, who we met last week seeking Jesus under the cover of night in a private location. She is not skulking about in the dark, she talks to Jesus in the full light of noon, in a public place. Further, her journey to belief doesn’t take the whole gospel as Nicodemus’ did, it takes one chapter, and she is well on the way in this encounter – so much so, that she convinces the people of her town to come and meet with Jesus as a potential messiah. Due to her missionary efforts, everyone ends up believing Jesus is the Saviour of the world.

This woman has frequently been called an outcast and a adulteress and occasionally a prostitute, due to her coming to the well at noon (an unusual time of the day) and the fact she has had 5 husbands and is currently with a 6th man who is not her husband. It is highly unlikely a serial adulteress would still be alive and not stoned, let alone find 5 men to marry her. Nor are 5 men likely to marry a prostitute. The 6th man may well be her protector or goel (a word we met in Ruth) as women could not manage alone in the ancient world. Whoever he is, Jesus offers no condemnation on the arrangement.

Further, an outcast would not have been listened to by the village folk in the way she is listened to and believed. Lastly, this is the gospel of John, where light and dark and day and night are highly symbolic. The author is deliberately contrasting her with Nicodemus and she is the one represented as grasping the truth and passing it on – in broad daylight.

*****

I also want to mention some other women who led in the bible, who have either been tarnished by the moral brush of sexist scholars or had their roles downplayed. To begin, the feminine is undergirded by the Old Testament view that all the characteristics of God are feminine – the Spirit, ruach, present at creation and in all creation, Wisdom, hochma, also present at creation and something to be highly desired, the shekinah, the glory of God, and finally, the voice of God, the bat kol. These feminine characteristics permeate the work of God and the very essence of God, undermining the idea that the being of God is male.

Next, we have the wonderful women of the Old Testament. Deborah the judge, leading Israel to victory in battle. Prophets Miriam and Huldah, the latter confirming that the book that had been found was indeed God’s law. Tamar, Sarah, Ruth and Naomi and the woman of Endor, all who changed their’s and Israel’s destiny by their resourcefulness and courage.

In the New Testament, we find Mary Magdelene (another women accused of being a prostitute without a shred of textual evidence), devoted follower of Jesus; Phoebe, a deacon highly commended by Paul; Priscilla, a co-worker of Paul and a teacher so famous she is mentioned in no less than four different books in the NT; and Lydia, a merchant in her own right who ran the house church in Philippi.

An important figure is Junia, imprisoned alongside Paul and called prominent among theapostles. Junia actually had her sex changed to male by later scribes who couldn’t countenance a female apostle. We also have Tabitha, called a disciple as she ministers to poor widows in Acts; and Martha, sister of Lazarus and faithful follower of Jesus, who like the Samaritan woman, confessed him as Messiah.

There are many others, including the women who ministered to Jesus and the disciples and who supported Jesus’ ministry with their resources, including Mary of Bethany who sat at Jesus’ feet as a male disciple would to learn from him. All were highly esteemed by Jesus, their peers, Paul and the writers of the gospels. All have been relegated to lesser roles by later male Christians, with a number standing accused of immoral behaviour or having their status relegated to cooks and assistants.

It is this sort of relegation that has led to the subjugation and poor treatment of women in many countries. Christianity has a lot to answer for in terms of its missionary and cultural heritage that taught girls were to be domesticated and boys educated. The notion that woman must subjugate herself to a husbandand unquestioningly obey a male leader has led to much violence and abuse, even in churches.

Recent research in Australia by Julia Baird found that domestic abuse in churches that taught male headship was prevalent in Australia churches and it is now widely accepted that gender inequality is a contributing factor to violence against women.

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The Australian Institute of Family Studies in a study concluded that in terms of violence against women “the vital element to consider is the gender norms and beliefs surrounding male dominance and male superiority, created by power hierarchies that accord men greater status.”

This is confirmed by global research. A study published in the Lancet in 2015 analysed data from 66 surveys across 44 countries, covered the experiences of almost half a million women. It found that the greatest predictor of partner violence was “environments that support male control”, especially “norms related to male authority over female behaviour”. Many of these unequal environments are supported by religions, including Christianity.

It does say something about such teachings and beliefs that the plight of abused women was acknowledged literally decades after many countries had established laws to prohibit the abuse of animals.

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In contrast to this narrow role-related view of women, we find that Jesus clearly elevated women to a position of equality with men in a way that must of astounded his audiences.

Jesus defied Jewish custom and spoke to women directly and in public, as we see in our story today. The Samaritan woman is the first person he reveals his messiahship too. He disclosed to her deep truths about his role in human history and salvation. She was not just a passive recipient of what Jesus offers to her. While aware of the potential barriers and boundaries created by her society, all of which make sure that she stays in her place, this does not stop her challenging Jesus’ authority and tradition: “Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” (4:12).

The concept of “living water” becomes intertwined with what Jesus knows about her; she herself becomes a vessel of living water because of the relationship she has formed with Jesus, and his insight into her identity gives her insight into his. As a result of this, she leaves behind her water jar, going into the city, and invites the people to encounter Jesus for themselves.

As her enthusiasm spills out, she enacts what Jesus says later in this Gospel, where he speaks about an overflowing of enthusiasm as he quotes Hebrew scripture: “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water” (7:38). This living water is not simply a gift which Jesus offers to the woman; it became a gift to others who she encounters in her village. This first missionary is dynamic. Could a man have done a better job? I doubt it.

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This story, and indeed all the pages of Scripture, reveal women being used by God in practically every imaginable way – prophets, judges, negotiators,leaders, teachers and disciples. 

Phyllis and James Alsdurf in their paper, The Church and the Abuse of Women (from the Journal, The Priscilla Papers) say, “For Christians, the liberating message of the Gospel is that a redeemed social order is possible because in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female” (Gal. 3:28). The good news the church is called to proclaim is that Christ’s transforming power ends injustice and oppression, and that within the Body of Christ discrimination and abuse based on sex, race, or class is no longer permitted.”

The Church and the Abuse of Women

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Prayer

So let us pray that we continue to remember the women of silenced generations, whose names have been lost to time, and whose roles were lost to power.

Let us remember those who led churches, healed the sick and opened up their houses to the faithful, but who have been downgraded to helpers in historical patriarchal oppression.

Let us also speak out, leaving a legacy of equality for our grandchildren.

We will be the waves at their back, their encouragement and voices crying for true fairness. We will not lose hope.

May we support each other in our resilience, our strength, and our resistance.

May we recognize that we are all uniquely beautiful and powerful. May we honour each other, and challenge each other. Then together, we will recover the bones of justice from the archaeology of inequity.

Go forth, women of worth, and be your ancestors’ wildest dreams. Amen.

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The featured image is a depiction of Jesus and the Samaritan woman painted by Mackey Dickerson for the cover of What Jesus Learned from Women, by James McGrath (Cascade, 2021)

 

 

 

“The exercise by men and women of the gifts God bestows upon them”: celebrating women in leadership in the Uniting Church

The National Assembly of the Uniting Church in Australia has just installed the Rev. Sharon Hollis as President of the Assembly for the next three years (2021–24).

15th President Dr Deidre Palmer and General Secretary Colleen Geyer
pray over the Rev. Sharon Hollis as she is installed as the 16th President

At the same meeting (being held online because of the COVID pandemic), members of the Assembly have elected a female President-Elect, the Rev. Charissa Suli. She will serve as President-Elect for three years, and then take up the position of President in July 2024.

President-Elect, the Rev. Charissa Suli

The UCA employs a system where the current President, the immediate former President, and the President-Elect all serve as ex officio members of the Assembly Standing Committee, the body that oversees the church during the three years in between National Assembly meetings.

For the next three years, the President, the Past President, and the President-Elect will all be females: the Rev. Sharon Hollis, Dr Deidre Palmer, and the Rev. Charissa Suli, respectively. In addition, the current General Secretary of the Assembly is also female: Colleen Geyer. Her term has just been extended by the current Assembly. It is a striking symbol, when considering the national leadership of Christian churches across Australia. All of our key leadership are female.

The symbolism is potent, when Heads of Churches gather: women in such ranks have, to this point, been somewhat rare. The Uniting Church contribution has been, and will continue to be, a reminder, of the importance of providing a female perspective when issues of national social and political importance are being considered. (It’s a message that our national political leadership seems incapable of hearing and implementing—despite the power of the #EnoughIsEnough movement from earlier this year.)

Women in leadership is not an unusual thing for the UCA. To be sure, women have served in leadership roles in a number of denominations. But amongst the historic mainstream denominations, the Uniting Church stands out from Roman Catholic and Anglican Churches, with many more women stepping forward in leadership.

Heads of Churches in 2018:
Melbourne’s Anglican Archbishop Philip Freier,
President of the Uniting Church Dr Deidre Palmer,
and Sydney’s Catholic Archbishop, Anthony Fisher.

The same comparisons can be drawn with Baptist, Church of Christ, and Pentecostal churches over the past half century. (And a number of women in leadership in Pentecostal or other conservative churches have been in married teams, where their role has been “covered” by the “headship” of their husband—partner).

The first Moderator of the NSW Synod was Mrs Lilian Wells (1977–78) and the second Moderator of the Victorian Synod was Mrs Ethel Mitchell (1978–79). The South Australian Synod elected Mrs Elizabeth Finnegan as the sixth Moderator (1987–89) and then the Rev. Margaret Polkinghorne as the tenth Moderator (1995–97) in that Synod. The seventh Moderator of the Tasmanian Synod was Dr Jill Tabart (1984–85). Dr Tabart went on to be elected as the seventh President, serving 1994–97 in that role. She was the first female President.

Top: Moderators Lilian Wells (NSW) and Dr Jill Tabart (Tas)
Bottom: Moderator Elizabeth Finnegan (SA) with husband Paddy;
Presidents Dr Jill Tabart and Dr Deidre Palmer in 2015

This is completely consistent with the affirmation made in the Basis of Union—the document on which the formation of the Uniting Church was based. Paragraph 13 of the Basis, after recognising the existing ministries in the three participating denominations at the time of union, states, “The Uniting Church will thereafter provide for the exercise by men and women of the gifts God bestows upon them, and will order its life in response to God’s call to enter more fully into mission” (para. 13).

This was consistent with the practice of those three earlier denominations, which each had ordained women to serve in ministry: the Congregational Church had ordained Rev Winifred Kiek in 1927; Rev Dr Coralie Ling, a deaconess, became the first woman to be ordained in the Methodist Church in 1969; and Rev Marlene (Polly) Thalheimer was ordained as the first female minister in the Presbyterian Church in 1974. You can read about these women, and more, in a fine article by Rev Dr Avril Hannah-Jones, at https://revdocgeek.com/2013/06/22/women-in-the-uniting-church-by-a-partial-prejudiced-ignorant-historian-to-quote-the-immortal-jane/

Top left: the Rev. Winifried Kirk.
Top right: the Rev. Coralie Ling, in 1969,
and (below) in 2018.

Indeed, this practice is also consistent with the fundamental theological affirmation made earlier in paragraph 13 of the Basis, declaring that the church “acknowledges with thanksgiving that the one Spirit has endowed the members of Christ’s Church with a diversity of gifts, and that there is no gift without its corresponding service: all ministries have a part in the ministry of Christ.” This, of course, derives from the crystal clear affirmations about the gifting of the Spirit that Paul makes in 1 Corinthians 12. The Spirit knows no limits of gender in gracing individuals with gifts for ministry.

And Paul (despite the inaccurate ways in which his letters are portrayed) was completely accepting and affirming of women in ministry leadership as partners with him in the work they were undertaking. See my considerations of this matter at https://johntsquires.com/2020/11/19/women-in-the-new-testament-1-the-positive-practices-of-jesus-and-the-early-church/ and https://johntsquires.com/2020/11/19/women-in-the-new-testament-2-six-problem-passages/

So, women in key leadership roles is a practice consistent with scripture and in accord with the central values and practices of the Uniting Church. Along with the women already noted in the opening paragraphs above, a number of the Synods have had female Moderators, Queensland being the last to elect a female in Kaye Ronalds, who was the first female in that role in that Synod, serving 2011–14 (pictured below).

Moderators Denise Liersch (VicTas),
Kaye Ronalds (Qld), and Susy Thomas (WA)

Five years ago, there were four female Moderators around the country: Myung Hwa Park (NSW.ACT, 2014–17), Sharon Hollis (VicTas, 2016–19), Thresi Mauboy Wohangara (Northern Synod, 2015–21), and Sue Ellis (SA, 2016–19) (pictured below).

Moderators Sue Ellis (SA), Sharon Hollis (VicTas)
Myung Hwa Park (NSW.ACT),
and Thresi Mauboy Wohangara (Northern Synod)
in 2016

Currently, there are three female Moderators: Thresi Mauboy Wohangara in the Northern Synod, Denise Liersch in VicTas, and Susy Thomas, in WA.

Whilst the Assembly has elected two lay women to the top leadership role—Dr Jill Tabart (1994–97) and Dr Deidre Palmer (2018–21)—lay female Moderators have been more scarce. In two Synods, lay women were elected as Moderator early in the life of the Uniting Church—in Victoria, Mrs E.A. Mitchell was the second Moderator (1979), whilst in NSW, Lilian Wells was the first Moderator (1977).

NSW subsequently elected Freda Whitlam (1985–86) and Margaret Reeson (2000–02) as Moderators. Tasmania elected Isabel Thomas Dobson (1997–99) and then the VicTas Synod elected her as Moderator for a second term (2009–13). The last Moderator for the Synod of Tasmania, before it joined with Victoria, was Colleen Grieve (2001–02).

Top: Moderators Colleen Grieve (Tas) and Freda Whitlam (NSW)
Bottom: Moderators Margaret Reeson (NSW.ACT)
and Isabel Thomas Dobson (Tas, and then VicTas)

South Australia elected Jan Trengove as Moderator (2001–03) and Dr Deidre Palmer (2013–16). In the Northern Synod, Ros McMillan served as Moderator (1996–2000)—her husband, Stuart McMillan, served as both Moderator (2010–15) and then as President (2015–18). In Western Australia, three lay women have served as Moderator: Beryl Grant (1985–87), Lillian Hadley (1993–95), and Elizabeth Burns (1999–2001).

Top: Moderators Beryl Grant (WA)
and Ros McMillan (Northern Synod)
Bottom: Moderators Jan Trengove (SA)
and Dr Deidre Palmer (SA)

Lay men have served in Western Australia (Ron Wilson, 1977–79, then Robert Watson, 2005–08), Tasmania (Neville Marsh, 1979–80, Dr Peter Gunn, 1991–93, and Don Hall, 1995–97), NSW.ACT (Bruce Irvine, 1989–92, and Jim Mein, 2004–07), Queensland (Dr John Roulston, 1990–91), South Australia (Dr Don Hopgood, 1997–99), and VicTas (Charles Lavender, 1982–83, Alex Kilgour, 1985–86, and Dan Wootton, 2013–16). In South Australia, the current Moderator is layman Bronte Wilson (2019-22).

The Rev. Charissa Suli, a second-generation Australian of Tongan heritage, is the first person of non-Anglo origins to serve in the National leadership role, although some Synods have elected non-Anglos as Moderators: Tongan Jason Kioa in VicTas (2006–09); Chinese Dr Tony Chi (1992–93) and Korean Myung Hwa Park (2014–17) in NSW.ACT. In the Northern Synod, indigenous leader Djiniyini Gondarra served as Moderator (1985–87) and now Thresi Mauboy Wohangara is Moderator. All of these leaders have been ordained people.

Top: Moderator Djiniyini Gondarra (Northern Synod),
President-Elect Charissa Suli.
Bottom: Moderators Myung Hwa Park (NSW.ACT)
and Jason Kioa (VicTas)

And the age of Charissa Suli is striking: she is a “young person” by church reckoning, having been ordained for just seven years, and still being in her thirties. That must surely be something not often seen in church leadership.

Of course, all of this recounting of females in prominent leadership roles hasn’t yet taken into account the numerous females who have served as Chairperson of Presbyteries, Church Councils, and Congregations—to say nothing of the thousands upon thousands of females serving as active members of Congregations and Fellowship Groups and living out their discipleship in community groups right around the country. Females outnumber males within the church by a factor of at least 2:1, so it is way beyond time that our leadership reflects this!

As we look back on 44 years of the Uniting Church, it is clear that we have sought to reflect the affirmations made in the Basis of Union, in undertaking the discernment about who would provide the leadership required in the various councils of the church. It might have looked better if the ratio of male/female, and ordained/lay, and even Anglo/CALD had been more evenly balanced. (The names of other leaders not noted in my survey above were all, like me, ordained males, usually “of mature age”.)

Nevertheless, the array of leadership we can point to provides a sign of our commitment as a church, to be open to the moving of the Spirit. We have seen that in the gifted leadership of Dr Tabart (who signed the Covenant relationship with the United Aboriginal and Islander Christian Congress in 1985) and Dr Palmer (who has steered the church through the difficulties of the 2018 decision about marriage, and who has been key to the development of a fine resource on domestic violence in 2021).

May that be what transpires under the leadership of Sharon Hollis, our first ordained female President, and then Charissa Suli, our first Pacific Islander female President.

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Confession: I haven’t done an exhaustive search into the names of all the Moderators. Those noted in the blog are those whose names I found in online resources (largely Wikipedia). Not every Synod has provided a full list of Moderators online. If there are other females, or lay people, who should be included amongst those I have noted, please let me know, and I will add them in!

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Footnote: a month later, the NSW.ACT Synod elected the Rev. Mata Havea Hiliau as Moderator-Elect, to take office for three years commencing in early 2023. Gender, generational change, and CALD leadership all in one go.

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See https://uniting.church/installation-of-rev-sharon-hollis/ and https://uniting.church/rev-charissa-suli-announced-as-president-elect/

See also https://johntsquires.com/2021/05/02/the-identity-of-the-uniting-church/ and https://johntsquires.com/2019/06/20/providing-for-the-exercise-by-men-and-women-of-the-gifts-god-bestows-upon-them-lay-people-presiding-at-the-sacraments-in-the-uniting-church/

See also https://johntsquires.com/2018/08/15/what-i-really-like-about-the-basis-of-union/ and https://johntsquires.com/2018/08/20/alongside-the-basis-of-union-there-was-the-statement-to-the-nation/