Those Preaching Women

When history is written decades from now, three things will stand out as the most significant events in 20th and 21st century American Protestant church history: 1) the rise of radical Christian fundamentalism and its influence upon American politics in general and on the Republican Party in particular; 2) the role that Neo-Pentecostalism or the Charismatic renewal movement has played in the decline of mainstream Christianity; and 3) the groundswell of women seeking ordination. The emergence of all three at the end of the last century is not accidental. Each is a product of the modern landscape and owes its emergence to very concrete social, political, and economic factors. Of the three, however, I worry most about how the influx of women into the pulpit in recent years will be remembered by historians centuries from now? What difference have we made as preachers? How, if at all, has preaching changed in mainstream pulpits? Will it be said that we brought fresh perspectives to interpreting the Bible? Has the church changed in any fundamental ways since women have fought for and gained access to seats of power within the institutional church? Or has it been business as usual? Has the presence of women in the pulpit made any difference in history?

Of course, there are some who believe that the chuch really hasn't changed much in the past thirty years since women's entrance in large numbers into ministry. The politics and preoccupations of the institutional church remain the same. They say, despite a few exceptions here and there, the church remains fairly conservative in its politic and pretty much silent on issues that really matter.

But here's where I think God wants to use women in the pulpit. Women like myself with 15, 20, 25 and more years in ministry have an opportunity to make our presence felt in important ways. Seniority has its advantages. We have labored long enough to take some risks. We have earned the right to speak prophetically. It's time for us to speak the truth in love. Who knows whether we have come to the kingdom for just such a time as this? It just might be that we are the prophets the church sorely needs to hear from.

In Charismatic (or neo-Pentecostal) circles, prophetic preaching has usually meant foretelling and forthtelling, a display of giftedness on an individual's part to utter supernatural words of knowledge for particular individuals or corporate bodies. In this tradition individuals are the focus of prophetic utterances rather than institutions, poverty as a mindset of the poor is of more interest than the economic systems that create poverty, and men and women's proper roles get more press than do matters of liberation and equality. In contrast, prophetic preaching in mainline Christian traditions has always meant preaching that advocated for justice and peace, a preaching hermeneutic that challenged oppression, engaged the powers that be, and stood on the side of the oppressed.

Perhaps the fact that I'm a baby boomer, someone who came of age at the height of the the anti-war, civil rights and women's movements of the 60s and 70s explains why I prefer the economic and politics indictments of prophets like Amos and Jeremiah to the pietistic, didactic teachings of prophets like Peter and John. The whole point of preaching, it seems to me, is to liberate people as well as to lift them through the inspiration of God's word. It takes prophetic imagination (borrowing from Walter Brueggemann) to pierce through the dull, sluggish thinking of those who wonder what all the fuss is about. It's easier and more popular to preach about a woman's depression, stresses, and suppressed dreams, and to make her think that she's the problem. It's more difficult (and dangerous) to talk about the misogyny we encounter daily that makes us ill, or about the ways pharmaceutical companies and the medical profession profit from women's neuroses, or about how our consumer choices as Western women play a role in exploiting the labors of women in Third World countries. Prophets look beyond the surface and are not content to keep silent about the connections they see between the fate of peoples.

What we preach about says a lot about what we care about.

Where are women's voices in the protest against the war in Iraq, against slavery in the Sudan, against the decimation of developing countries by the AIDS disease? If we don't talk about violence against women, who will? How can we preach for years and never bring up domestic violence, pedophilia, and the kidnapping of girls that takes place every week in our cities? We have been preaching long enough to be able to speak comfortably, convincingly about the feminine side of God. If we don't remind audiences of the maternal side of God, who will? If God is as male in our preaching as God has been in previous generations, if religious imagery is as masculine as ever, and if hierarchy and patriarchy continue to define the way the church does business, then what difference will it have made that women outnumbered men in entering seminary classes in the 21st century? Our very presence as women in the pulpit ought to cause those who represent the status quo to quake in their sandals. When we stand behind that sacred desk to preach folks should be wondering what God has to say lately about the direction the world is headed.

When history is written how will women in ministry in the 21st century be remembered?

Renita J. Weems, Ph.D.