International Women’s
Day Sermon – Sunday, March 9 , A Sermon by Lea MacNeil
Yesterday, March 8th,
we celebrated the International Day of Women. This is a day in which the world
is encouraged to remember the contribution that women have made to the
advancement of humanity. It is also a day to celebrate the heroines of that
cause. Those who are known to us, such
as Lady Mary Montagu who, some 80 years
before the birth of Edward Jenner, brought from Turkey to England, the
knowledge and practice of small pox inoculation. And was, of course, ignored by the medical
establishment of her day. Another is Emily Murphy, a Canadian women living
around 1900. She was not only the first woman to be appointed a magistrate in
the then British Empire but, and more importantly, she secured for Canadian
women the right to be recognised as persons under the law. A more recent
heroine is Malala Yousofzai – the Pakistani teenager whom the Taliban gunned
down for claiming for herself, and all girls and women, a right Australian
women take for granted – the right of an education.
These are the names of
some of the heroines we celebrated yesterday. But we also celebrated those
heroines whose names are known only to God. These are the countless millions of
women who, throughout the ages, alone, or shoulder to shoulder with their
menfolk, have worked and struggled to provide the best possible life for
themselves, their families, and through these, for the human community itself.
As both a feminist and a
Christian, I seek today to offer up my thanksgiving for the lives of these
women, and for the blessings that their work and sacrifices have secured for
me, and for many other women. I have chosen to do this by sharing with you some
of the images of womanhood seen in the Bible. Of course, these images will be
filtered through my own somewhat unorthodox, hopefully not too heretical,
understanding of what these images have to say about women’s role, both in the
Church and in modern 21st Century society.
Choosing the
Confronted with such an
abundance of blessing, I chose for today’s
Yet, whenever I hear
this reading, I am left feeling decidedly uneasy. Not for myself or for other women, but for those
men who see in the virtue of the Good Wife, the Real Deal. Gentlemen, if you are thinking this is so
great, this is how women should behave, I regret to inform you, you have been
truly blind-sided! This is how women for centuries out of mind have operated.
In those times, and in those cultures that offered women little scope for
social advancement and personal empowerment, this is how women have survived.
And it is truly insidious!
Before I explain myself
here, I want first to bring to your attention one of Chaucer’s Canterbury
Tales: the one told by Dame Alison, the
Wife of Bath. The tale itself is too long and complicated to relate to you
here, but at its core is the question that men, for countless generations, have
been asking: “What is it that women really want?” The answer, according to
Chaucer’s proto-feminist, Dame Alison, is “Mastery.”
But Gentlemen, before
you get too hot under your collars thinking that we women just want to take
over the world and dominate everything, I will tell you that this is the simple
answer. If you read the story very carefully, you will discover that what women
really want is, yes, mastery – but it is mastery over themselves and their own
lives. She wants to live a life where she is acknowledged to be a person – not
property, a life in which she exercises both the authority, and the
responsibility that comes with it, to make decisions for herself, and about
those issues that profoundly impact upon her existence. In the making of those
decisions, she wants to be answerable to nothing and no-one but herself, the
law, and her God.
If she doesn’t have this
power, she, like all other living creatures stripped of their personal
empowerment, will sicken and die. Now, if I take away the obvious dangers of
child-bearing which in earlier generations claimed the lives of many young
women, I don’t see women in previous centuries or now, dropping dead in numbers
significantly greater than their menfolk. So they must be gaining and
exercising power – their “mastery” – somehow. And that “somehow” is spelled out
in the passage of the Good Wife. Her
power comes from manipulating the man, so she controls everything through him.
But what, I hear you
thinking, is so wrong with that? What is wrong with the Good Wife running the
household, the family business, the buying and selling of family property and
assets, especially if her hubby is not complaining about it? To my mind, it is not so much the “what”, but
the “how”. Throughout this whole passage, there is no indication that they work
together as partners, consult each other on those matters which affect their
mutual, and family, well-being. Rather, she just shoos him outside to go be
with the boys while she, uninterrupted, runs the total show. He is what in the
late 20th century, became known as her “Beard”: the male figurehead,
the visible front, behind which the real power, virtually unrecognised, goes
about its business, but with no, or little, actual accountability. In the eyes
of his society, he gets all the kudos when things go right, but if things go
pear-shaped, who do you think will get the lion’s-share of the blame? After all, she is just another feckless
woman, but who is the idiot that was stupid enough to marry her?
The Passage of the Good
Wife goes a long way in explaining why, when women first started to be ordained
as priests in the Anglican Church, they experienced such fierce opposition from
certain church women. In the Anglican Communion before the 1970s, it might have
been only the men who were permitted to parade around in their lavish
vestments. It might have been only the men who proclaimed, and explained, the
Word of God from the pulpit. And it
might have been only the men who were authorised to celebrate the Eucharistic Mystery.
But in every parish church, in every diocese, it was the women who actually
controlled everything. She even had a name: The Female Pope assisted by her
curia of Good Women. And it was many a priest who cried out in utter
exasperation: “You can’t live with them, but you can’t live without them!”
Now, put a woman in
amongst the ranks of the clergy, and the whole dynamic of the manipulation of
power changes. Suddenly the Woman is no longer lurking in the shadows
exercising covert power for good, or otherwise, from behind the scenes. She is
now right out there exercising her authority in full view. And personally,
that’s exactly where I want to see the power of both men and women being
exercised: right out there in front
where it is visible, transparent, but above all, accountable.
Somehow, in one of my
student parishes, I got the reputation for being something of a feminist. So
the Sunday when the passage from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, beginning,
“Women be subject to your husbands,” was going to be read, the people who
normally sat beside me in the choir stalls took their seats with visible
trepidation. It seems, they were absolutely convinced that I was going to blow
a gasket. “Actually, not,” says I to my concerned companions, “In fact, this
particular passage has done much to completely renovate my opinion of St.
Paul.” At this, my companions looked totally aghast, fearing, I suppose, I had
been the victim of alien abduction or similar. I simply smiled and quietly
said, “Listen very carefully to the reading.”
For those of you who
mentally wandered out the door at the mention of Paul’s name, I will explain
what it is you missed. St Paul was, of course, a Jew. But he was also a
well-educated, well-travelled Roman citizen – a cosmopolitan man, familiar with
many of the cultures which comprised the Roman Empire of his day. In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, and in
many of his other letters to the churches in the Greco-Roman world, Paul’s
references to women cannot be really appreciated without understanding the
position of women in the ancient Greek world.
In that world, women’s status moved slightly up or down depending on
which city state is under discussion. But there is one general and constant
truth: Independent of their men folk,
ancient Greek women had little, or no, social or legal identity. They were what
is referred to as “reflexive personalities.” In law, as in society, they were
always seen in relation to a close male relative - as some man’s daughter, some
man’s mother, some man’s wife. This was how a woman, if involved in a legal
case, was always referred to in a court of law. Never was her personal name
mentioned. And, if her name was mentioned:
Well, we all know what sort of woman SHE was. And that was generally sufficient to scuttle
her case.
The ideal for a woman
was to remain sequestered in the home, first of her father, then her husband
(marriage being her only real career choice). If she travelled outside of the
home she was always accompanied by male relatives, or, if her husband was
wealthy enough, a retinue of trusted family servants. Outside of the home, she
wore a long loose cloak that not only shrouded her body but covered her head
and lower part of her face as well. Shrouding the body against the sight of
other men was the sign of a respectable woman: Respectable because she was the
subject, or property, of just one man – her husband. And for a woman, this was
extremely important. For a woman, who
was not demonstrably the property of just one man, ran the risk of being seen as
the common property of all men.
So, Paul’s injunction to
the women of Ephesus to be subject to their husbands had the same value as him
saying, “Women, remember to breathe.” For in the Ephesian society that Paul was
addressing, a woman who was not subject to her husband, or in his lack, a father,
brother, or other close male relative, had as much chance of having a viable
existence as one who had, indeed, ceased to breathe – that is to say,
Buckley’s!
No, Paul’s real point,
and truly radical statement, concerning women, has nothing to do with their
submission to male authority. In fact, it is quite the opposite. And so
important was it, and so we wouldn’t miss his point, Paul repeats his radical
concept three times, in verse 25, in verse 28, and again in verse 33. So, what is this truly radical statement that
Paul repeats three times in a mere 8 verses: “Husbands, love your wives.”
Paul is very specific as
to the type of love he expects men to express towards their spouses. He first
echoes the Second of Christ’s Great Commandments, by contending that husbands
should love their wives as they love themselves. He is to nurture her, and
promote her interests, in the same manner that he nurtures his own self, and
promotes his own interests. But Paul goes further, he then likens the love a
man expresses towards his spouse as similar to the love Christ expressed toward
the Church, by giving up of himself for her so she might become the very best
that she is capable of becoming. Even today, let alone in the hyper masculine
culture of Paul’s Greece, these statements are more than radical, they are
mind-blowing!
Of course, this
relationship is not to be just one way. The type of marital love that Paul is
describing requires a mutual surrender, one to the other, of wills, of egos, of
personal power. But because of the sexual power imbalance in favour of men that
characterised both ancient Greece, and, in fact, most of European culture since then, this
surrender has to be initiated by the man because the woman cannot surrender
that which she does not have. Harkening back to the Wife of Bath’s Tale, it is
not until the Knight hands over to his bride the right to decide for herself
her own destiny, that she is able to give to him the beauty that is her true
self. So, husbands love your wives.
In the Gospel reading we
hear that Mary Magdalene is the first to discover the empty tomb and the first
to encounter the Risen Christ. More importantly, she is also the first to be
commissioned by the Risen Lord to spread the Good News, the Gospel, of Christ’s
Resurrection. Thus, in point of fact, Mary Magdalene is the very first
Christian apostle. The word “apostle” comes from combining the Greek
preposition, apo, meaning “from,” with a rather uncommon Greek
verb, stellen, “to send.” And in the
Reading, we definitely hear that Jesus sent Mary from him to proclaim the news
of his resurrection to his other disciples.
How many of you here,
when hearing the name of Mary Magdalene, immediately thought, “Ah, Mary
Magdalene, the first Apostle of Christ.” Now, I am not going to embarrass you
by asking for a show of hands, but I am willing to bet that the vast majority
of you, when hearing the name, Mary Magdalene, thought something like, “Oh,
Mary Magdalene, the woman taken in adultery;
Mary the Prostitute, whom Jesus redeemed.”
It is interesting that we have come to
associate Mary Magdalene with sexual misconduct. And it becomes even more
interesting when you consider that there is not a single shred of evidence in
the Bible, or elsewhere, to connect the person of Mary Magdalene with the woman
taken in adultery - the woman whom Jesus
defended against the Pharisees. Yet, such a connection has existed in the minds
of Church men since at least the 6th century.
Who would perpetuate
such a slander? And why? The question of “Who” is relatively easy to answer. It
was the theologians and Ecclesiastical leaders of the Western Church, all of
whom where most certainly men, who allowed this labelling of Mary as a whore to
slip into Christian thinking.
However, the “why” of
this conundrum is a little more complex.
But I think it may have something to do with the concept of the
Apostolic Succession. This is the concept in which the priestly leadership of
the church is believed to be derived in an unbroken succession from Christ’s
commissioning of the original apostles, and from these to the next generation
of church leaders, and so on. This came to be symbolised by a bishop physically
laying hands upon the next generation of priests, all of whom were potential
bishops. At some point in time, the argument developed that because ALL the
original apostles were men, those who received the mantle of this succession
must also, like the apostles, be men. In this type of thinking, the
Commissioning of Mary as the Proto-Apostle became, for the church leadership,
more than just a little embarrassing.
The obvious solution was to edit out Mary’s commissioning, and her
apostolic authority, by this simple means of discrediting her as a person. The
easiest way to do this, to Mary or to any other woman for that matter, was best
explained by the British sociologist, Sheila Kissinger. “If you want to
discredit a man,” said Dr. Kissinger, “discredit the sexual character of his
mother. But if you want to discredit a woman, and everything she stands for,
discredit HER sexual character.” So Mary
is remembered, not as the first Apostle but as the fallen woman redeemed by the
Son of Man and with that transformation, the priestly leadership of the One,
Holy, and Apostolic Church became strictly a male preserve.
Did Jesus intend that
the leadership of the movement he started to be strictly in the hands of
men? He makes no actual definitive
statement on the matter. We can only go by his actions: In the fact that he, unlike many Jewish men
of his day, associated equally with women as he did men. In the obvious respect
he showed towards them. In the way he
seriously listened to what they had to say, to the point of actually learning
from a woman, and changing his opinion as a result of that encounter. And then,
finally, in the Commissioning of Mary of Magdala as his first apostle. From
these actions, I can only deduce that Jesus had a much greater faith in the
ability of women than many of the men who professed to follow him.
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