Encountering the Samaritan Woman

by Rev. Alexia Salvatierra

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Call: We are moved and inspired by the encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman. He takes her seriously, listening to her questions and responding with the fullest truth possible.

Response: We grieve that women are not always listened to in this way.  We mourn when anyone’s questions and creative ideas are not responded to with profound respect.  We lament when women and men fall silent because they believe that they will not be heard. Change us, God of all truth.

Call:  We are moved and inspired when Jesus treats the Samaritan woman with compassion and warmth, not allowing her sexual transgressions to create any barrier or distance between them.

Response: We grieve that women and men who have stepped across the lines sexually are so often judged in a way that limits or excludes them from full participation in the church.  Recognizing that the pain caused by sexual abuse must be faced and perpetrators held accountable, we are grateful that true sorrow for sin, transformation, healing and forgiveness is possible. Change us, God of all grace, whose blood can cleanse and set us free.

Call: We are moved and inspired when Jesus calls the Samaritan woman past her brokenness into her full vocation, sending her as an evangelist to her people.

Response:  We grieve that women’s vocations have so often been ignored, unsupported or actively impeded.  Change us, God of power, so that every gift will be valued and used for your glory and for the healing and salvation of the world.

Call:  We are moved and inspired when Jesus breaks the societal barriers that keep whole communities from abundant life, tearing down the barriers between Jews and Samaritans, between men and women, between the insiders and the outsiders so that justice flows down like mighty waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. 

Response: Change us, God who liberates slaves, so that we may join with all our hearts and gifts in every blessed struggle for freedom and fairness.


Rev. Alexia Salvatierra is the author with Dr. Peter Heltzel of “Faith-Rooted Organizing: Mobilizing the Church in Service to the World” (Intervarsity Press) and the founder of the Faith-Rooted Organizing UnNetwork. She is a Lutheran Pastor with over 35 years of experience in community ministry, including church-based service and community development programs, congregational and community organizing, and legislative advocacy.  For Rev. Salvatierra's full bio, click here.

the cost of perverted preaching

by Lynne Hybels

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#SilenceIsNotSpiritual is committed to calling the global church to change, not just in the United States. The following article, written by Lynne Hybels, addresses abuse and patriarchy experienced in India and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Lynne’s plea is “that we would agree to give our voices, our money, and our time to the people, organizations, and cultural movements that honor rather than degrade women.” - Belinda Bauman


The death of a college student who had been gang-raped in Delhi provoked outrage and anger. More than 2 million Indian students joined a movement to protest the rising violence against women in India. According to official data, reported cases of rape have more than doubled in the past 20 years, and women are the victims of a high proportion of other violent crimes.

But there's another side to this story. "Almost as shocking as the Delhi gang rape has been the range of voices that have sounded after it," wrote Sagarika Ghose, a TV journalist and commentator. "Patriarchy is chillingly omnipresent." Rather than blaming those who attack women, leaders in some Indian villages blame Westernization, liberal consumerism, growing individualism, or even the women themselves—because they wear "skimpy clothes," talk on mobile phones, and work outside the home, according to South Africa's Mail & Guardian newspaper.

For 19-year-old Kanika Sharma, these leaders miss the point. "It is all about the mentality of the boys," Sharma told the Mail & Guardian. "They think because they are men, they can do anything. But girls should get equal rights and opportunities."

Sharma speaks while standing under a sign that says: Being a woman should not make you feel vulnerable. But sadly, throughout the world women do feel vulnerable.

Before I traveled to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)—described as the "rape capital" of the world—I studied reports on rape as a weapon of war. In the DRC rebel soldiers have brutally raped thousands of women. They know that if they rape enough women and girls, they can destroy the social fabric of an entire community.

 Congolese surgeon and activist Monique Kapamba Yangoy. (Photo courtesy of Christine Anderson)

Congolese surgeon and activist Monique Kapamba Yangoy. (Photo courtesy of Christine Anderson)

But in the DRC I discovered something worse than rape as a weapon of war. I discovered an underlying culture of rape in which violating women sexually has become normalized, accepted. In this extremely patriarchal society, boys are taught that being a man means dominating women. Rapists are congratulated on being "man enough" to "take a woman."

Congolese surgeon Monique Kapamba Yangoy explained that the DRC has laws prohibiting men from having sex with girls under 18, but they're not enforced. It is not uncommon for girls as young as fifth grade to ensure "success" in school by having sex with their teachers. University students who demand that their professors wear condoms when they have sex with them tend to get lower grades than girls who don't demand condoms. Women are often asked to have sex with potential employers before they can get a job.

Perhaps the deepest problem, suggests Dr. Yangoy, is that women in such cultures are conditioned to believe they truly are of little value. So, they lose the will to fight back, to stand up for themselves, to expect just and loving treatment.

In the DRC, as in many countries, churches have often reinforced this perspective by preaching a perverted message of female submission. Women are to submit, period. No one mentions that men are called to love their wives as Christ loved the church—even to the point of giving his life for his beloved. No one mentions the concept of mutual submission.

But in the DRC that is beginning to change. One reason I work with World Relief Congo is that it actively works toward the slow but sustainable transformation of cultural attitudes toward gender and sex. I sat with Congolese church leaders as Dr. Yangoy challenged them as a woman, a doctor, and a Christian to use their positions of power to protect and empower women and girls.

Recently, at a gathering of women leaders from around the world, I joined women from many faiths in denouncing the actions of those who wrongly use our sacred texts and belief systems to degrade women. Together we agreed to give our voices, our money, and our time to the people, organizations, and cultural movements that honor rather than degrade women. Please join me—for the sake of every woman in India, in the DRC, and in your community and mine.


This article was originally published in Sojourners magazine in April 2013. For more about Lynne, see www.lynnehybels.com


Naomi's Lament and #MeToo

by Carolyn Custis James


Current events have a way of shedding fresh light on familiar Bible narratives that some of us have been hearing since we were children.

The desperate plight of millions of refugees in today’s world should surely give us pause before callously and peremptorily dismissing Naomi as a whiner and complainer over her losses and suffering in the Old Testament book of Ruth.

#MeToo and #ChurchToo hashtags may be new, but the underlying stories are tragically as old as human history. The Bible is full of them. These current movements not only raise greater awareness of sexual abuse and violence against women and girls today, they open our eyes to #MeToo stories in the Bible that we have simply overlooked. Justice is finally being served for Hagar, Bilhah, Zilpah, Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, Esther, and others. 

Surprisingly, #MeToo also factors into the story of Naomi and Ruth.

For far too long we’ve glossed over Naomi’s sufferings and characterized her losses as merely setting the stage for the propitious meeting between Boaz and Ruth and what is basically a rags to riches romance (a.k.a. Cinderella story) where Boaz rescues Ruth from her dismal life of poverty and widowhood. Not only are we doing terrible injustice to Naomi. This also creates an unjust characterization of Ruth and Boaz.

A more realistic appreciation of the degradation and suffering of refugees better prepares us to grasp the intensity of Naomi’s ordeal. Becoming a famine refugee was only the beginning of her losses.

A litany of agonies follow: widowhood, the marriages of her two sons to pagan girls, ten years of double infertility that threaten the family with extinction, followed by the deaths of both her sons. All this without a whisper of intervention from Naomi’s God.

Under patriarchy a woman’s value is measured by counting her sons. The deaths of Naomi’s sons reduce her from a respectable mother of two sons to a throw-away zero.

Little wonder Naomi is inconsolable and that the road from Moab to Bethlehem resounds with her bitter lament.

“Don’t call me Naomi . . . Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full but the LORD has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The LORD has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me” (1:20-21)

This is the story of a female Job. Naomi’s bitter lament invites us to be honest and lament too—over our own brokenness and the #MeToo epidemic inflicting trauma on women and girls worldwide and adding more stories as I write and you read these words.

The threat of #MeToo violence for Naomi and her daughters-in-law becomes an instant reality with the deaths of all the men in her family. Widows globally today are easy targets for those who can abuse, exploit, and violate them with impunity. This may in part explain Naomi’s determination to send her daughters-in-law back to the safety of home and family.

What follows instead, is one of the most radical conversion moments in the entire Old Testament. With her mother-in-law’s lament still ringing in her ears, with a future of suffering and danger ahead, Ruth defiantly digs in her heels and embraces Naomi and Naomi’s God.

The meetings between Ruth and Boaz—in his barley field and at the threshing floor—present situations that could have turned out badly for Ruth. She is young, female, foreign, and gentile. In twenty-first century categories, Ruth is Arab (Jordanian) and an undocumented immigrant. Patriarchy deprives women of voice, agency, and legal rights—but Ruth boldly claims all three anyway. Boaz is male, Jewish, the descendant of one of Israel’s leading families, and a rich landowner. From birth, patriarchy bestows males with power, privilege, and legal rights. The power disparity between the pair is chilling.

In Bethlehem, Ruth’s decision to glean is a matter of survival. At the same time, it exposes her to greater risk by requiring her to venture out alone into the fields of Bethlehem. Even greater danger is involved when she approaches Boaz in the dead of night at the threshing floor. There in the darkness, where no one is looking, Boaz can do anything he wanted to her. If it came down to “he said/she said”, no one in all Bethlehem would take her word over his.

But this is where Ruth’s story (Naomi’s too) changes. Instead of using his power and privilege to exploit, Boaz exercises both to empower Ruth and ensure her efforts on Naomi’s behalf succeed. He lives under the gaze of God, even when no one else is looking. That changes everything—for Boaz, Ruth, and Naomi.

When Boaz connects the unknown gleaner in his field with the young Moabitess all Bethlehem is talking about, he intervenes by telling his men “not to lay a hand on [her].” Later Naomi will urge Ruth to remain in the field of Boaz “because in someone else’s field you might be harmed.”

Clearly the #MeToo risks are there. But where men regard power and privilege as trusts before God, the #MeToo stories stop.

During this Lenten season, let us lament with Naomi the suffering of God’s daughters; let us step out in courage like Ruth; and let us pray that God will raise up more men like Boaz to join us in breaking our silence and ending the #MeToo/#ChurchToo epidemic.


Carolyn Custis James, is an author, activist, and international speaker. She is a consulting editor for Zondervan’s Exegetical Commentary Series on the New Testament and an adjunct professor at Biblical Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. She blogs at www.carolyncustisjames.com and as a Leading Voice at http://www.missioalliance.org/author/carolyncustisjames/.  She’ll tell you the Old Testament book of Ruth has changed her life. She has published two books on Ruth to get that explosive message out—The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules (2008) and the newly released Finding God in the Margins (2018).

you have taken up my cause

by Kate Wallace Nunneley


I was told once that lament can open up things in your soul that you didn’t know were there. When we feel like we have no words, perhaps borrowing them is a place to start. I’ve borrowed a few from the book of Lamentations. How telling that I only had to change a few words to lament our story – the story of women.

How lonely sits the womanwho was once so full of life.She that ruled over creationis now considered subject.

She weeps bitterly in the nightwith tears on her cheeks;among all her loversshe has no one to comfort her; all of them have dealt treacherously with her,they have become her enemies.

She is alone in this world of suffering and servitude;alive with no resting place;her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress.Her foes have become the masters, her enemies prosper.Is it the Lord that has made her suffer?

And she remembers all the precious things about her life long pastbefore her sisters fell into the hand of the foe and there was no one to help her,the foe looked on mocking over their downfall.

The woman cries out,“Gone is my glory, and all that I had hoped for from the Lord.My eyes flow with rivers of tears because of the destruction of my sisters.

My eyes will flow without ceasing, without respite, until the Lord from Heaven looks down and sees.

My eyes cause me grief at the fate of all the women around me.

I called on your name, O Lord.From the depths of the pityou heard my plea.You came near when I called on you; you told me, “Do not fear!”

You have seen the wrong done to me, O Lord;judge my cause!You have seen all their malice,all their plots against me.

You have heard their cat calls,their taunts, their murmurs.Whether they sit or they rise,I am the object of their taunting songs.

Pay them back for their deeds, O Lord, according to the work of their hands!Let them feel my anguishas you judge them for the evil they have done.

You have taken up my cause, O Lord,You redeemed my life.Restore my sisters, O Lord, to what we were meant to be.”



This lament first appeared here, on the Junia Project.

Kate Wallace Nunneley is Co-Founder of The Junia Project and Associate Pastor at Wellspring Free Methodist Church in Bakersfield, CA. A committed Christian and feminist, Kate enjoys writing and speaking on the intersection of politics, religion, and gender. Her favorite theologian is Gilbert Bilezikian, and she holds a Master of Science from London School of Economics and a Bachelor of Arts from Azusa Pacific University. Kate is currently pursuing her Masters of Divinity at Azusa Pacific Seminary.