“Christians don’t have to be feminists in order to believe in social justice. Feminism is not something that must be added to Christianity in order for the church to honor women. The gospel itself is pro-women.” So argues Sarah Sumner in her thoughtful, humble, and deeply personal book Men and Women in the Church. With gentle questions and painstaking logic, she explores the identity of women and men as biblically defined, refusing to adhere simplistically to either side of the “complementarian vs. egalitarian” debate.
As I read, I harbored a growing irritation that surprised me. I felt betrayed by my own tradition in a new and unsettling way. Early in the book, Sarah quotes many church fathers who shamelessly belittled women’s usefulness and dignity. While they did this with good intentions, and probably honored women more than the world in which they were writing did, I am still startled at some of their statements. Augustine writes that “not the woman but the man is the image of God,” and that while a man on his own may be the image of God, a woman cannot be the image of God, unless she is joined to her husband. Tertullian writes these harsh words to his sisters: “And do you not know that you are an Eve?... You are the devil’s gateway: you are the unsealer of that tree: you are the first deserter of the divine law: you are she who persuaded him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack… On account of your desert—that is, death—even the Son of God had to die.” Sumner also writes that Aquinas had little context to see women as useful; he even says that a “father should be loved more than the mother… the father is principle in a more excellent way than the mother, because he is the active principle, while the mother is a passive and material principle.” Yikes!
These patristic quotes all sound preposterous to me as a modern, educated woman. As an Anglican who sits under the preaching of a woman every month or two, along with the teaching of women at Moody Bible Institute, these thoughts of women’s uselessness to the church body or ontological inferiority are ridiculous to me. But the way their practical implications have shaped my upbringing and self-image is hard to ignore. The idea that a woman’s place is the home—and that her highest calling is to be a beautiful wife, nurturing mother and cheerful housekeeper—is not foreign to me.
In response to all this, Sarah adamantly urges her readers not to “absorb [the church fathers’] bias,” and to recognize that traditional teaching and biblical teaching are not always synonymous. Sarah compares the traditional view of women (that which has prevailed through much of history, within and outside the church) with complementarianism; the first suggests that “women as inferiors [in relation to men] should always assume subordinate roles,” while the second claims that “women as equals [to men] should always assume subordinate roles.” It is this second mindset that has been more toxic in my upbringing.
Especially in high school, I eagerly devoured literature on the topic of women’s roles as wife and mother, and I eagerly embraced complementarian ideals—despite the reality that even within my home, my mother took roles of leadership and authority that I often considered inappropriate. I believe now that the reason I did this was partially from desire to follow as closely as possible God’s ideal. But I also desired that I would be the kind of woman that a strong, dominant man would be happy to invite into his mission. Looking into muddled visions of the future, I saw no role for myself beyond that which would be given to me as I attached myself to a man. He would do the dreaming, I would do the helping, and smart, cute kids would follow.
While it has been enlivening to read Sarah’s book (and learn what women are not only capable of or permitted to do, but actually gifted, called, and designed to do), I find myself more often frightened and overwhelmed than empowered. It’s one thing to be a strong-willed, “driven” woman finding a hole in the fence; it’s another thing to feel intimidated by my call, paralyzed by my freedom, inundated with options, while also feeling the discrepancy between the world open to me and the limited roles modeled for me as a child and adolescent.
The book has many strengths. I appreciated how logically Sarah laid out her argument; she included many personal stories and emotional elements that strengthened her argument, but avoided manipulating readers. Logic and submission to Scripture are the guiding principles in this book. One weakness of the book is the length spent on certain arguments. I appreciated Sarah’s conversation on the meaning of headship, but I think she dragged out her argument (over 50 pages of the book) longer than necessary.
Near the end of the book, Sarah asks “Do I now have the right to serve as a teaching pastor in my church?” Her answer is, of course, “no.” Neither do men have a “right” to serve as pastors! This is a sacred calling and a humble service. The freedom to use our gifts should never be a power tool to validate ourselves, but a means to serve Christ and the body. Sarah affirms towards the end of the book that “none of us have to prove who we are in order to be who we are. You are who you are no matter what.”