Anonymous Was a Woman

I came home the other day to see that atop my pile of mail was my January copy of the Yale Alumni Magazine. Now I’ll be honest and say that my alumni magazine is something that usually goes straight to the recycling pile. But this month, the cover story was something that caught my eye. The headline on the cover said: “Anonymous Was a Woman.” This headline was particularly intriguing to me since I was preparing to preach this morning on “women in mission”-- as requested for this special UMW Installation service. I thought perhaps I might find some good food for thought to inspire my sermon. However, upon opening up the magazine I discovered not so much a traditional magazine article, but rather a compilation of famous quotations whose female authorship was either never recognized, or was misattributed altogether and put into the mouths of their more famous male counterparts. One notable example was this famous line:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.”

This line was uttered by Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inaugural address, and is often attributed to him. However, he is not the original author of this insight. It was originally penned by female author Marianne Williamson in her 1992 book—A Return to Love. Now, the author, or perhaps I should say compiler, of this collection of quotes did not offer much in the way of analysis as to why these misattributions tend to occur. Rather, he simply allowed the vast number of quotations to speak for themselves. Easily making the point that women’s voices have, historically, not been recognized as much as they should.

It’s hard to deny this is true— even if we recognize that women fare much better in today’s world— or at least in some parts of today’s world. There is a long history of the marginalization of women’s voices in leadership— both in the church and in the wider societies in which they live and work. But that’s not quite what I want to focus on this morning. The fact that women were not always recognized for the work they do does not mean that they weren’t leaders. The fact that we don’t see their names prominently displayed in the history books doesn’t mean there aren’t whispers of their legacy scattered across the historical record. It’s those whispers that I’m interested in exploring a bit more this morning.

To hear those whispers, one can start by examining scripture. At first glance, it might seem to many of us— particularly those of us who are women and who have grown up in the church-- that our biblical stories are written largely by and about men. However, if one looks more closely one can find that there are actually many examples of the importance of women’s leadership found throughout the biblical witness.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, which we heard from this morning, is just such an example. It’s easy to miss, but it’s there for those who are willing to read a bit more closely. Paul is writing in response to the report that there is disunity and division in the church at Corinth. But what’s telling (for our purposes) is the name that appears as the person who is apparently a leader in that church: “It has been reported to me,” writes Paul, “by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you.” Of course we can only speculate what Paul means by “Chloe’s people.” We don’t know who this Chloe was, whether she was actually the leader of the church there. But clearly, Paul implies that she was a prominent person in the community, and that her testimony carried some weight. And this isn’t the only clue to be found in Paul’s writing. In Romans 16, Paul gives a litany of those who have been significant leaders in the church community--- at least five of whom are women, and the first of whom is Phoebe-- who he names as a minister of the church. In Philippians, Paul names two women— Euodia and Syntyche— as co-workers and fellow evangelists.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, women are occasionally lifted up as exemplary leaders. Take Deborah, for example, who shows up in the book of Judges as a fierce and courageous leader of the tribe of Israel. A lone woman in what was truly a man’s profession. Then there is Esther, whose courage and leadership saved her people from what otherwise would have been a terrible reign of oppression and genocide.

Finally, in the gospels, it is women who follow Jesus to the cross when his more well-known male disciples flee in fear. And it is women who are the first witnesses of the Resurrection— conveying the good news to the dubious male disciples.

So while it may be true that the stories of women in scripture are often whispers more than they are shouts, they are never-the-less stories of women who provide strength, nurture, and solid leadership, without which, the story of God’s people would not be complete.

Similarly, in modern history, women’s voices still aren’t heard as much as they ought to be. They may not be anonymous, but their contributions in service and leadership often aren’t recognized to the degree of their male colleagues. There is one particular story I would like to share this morning as an illustration. It is a relevant story given that we just celebrated Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and will soon be celebrating black history month. It is the story of a woman named Pauli Murray— a name I’m guessing may be familiar to a few of you, but relatively unknown to many of you.

Pauli Murray was an African American woman who was born in 1910 into the segregated Jim Crow south. But she was never one to accept the limitations that others tried to place on her because of her race or her sex. In 1965 she was the only woman in the graduating class at Howard Law School. She was the first African American— male or female-- to receive a law degree from Yale. And, she was working for civil rights and desegregation long before Martin Luther King Jr.’s name was known to anyone. We all know about the lunch counter sit-ins that happened in the 1960’s. Many of us can conjure the image in our minds of that famous photograph of four African American young men sitting at a lunch counter, protesting segregation laws. But what you probably don’t know is that Murray was staging sit-in’s as early as 1942— sit-in’s that successfully desegregated diners and lunch counters all across the city of Washington DC. And as if all that weren’t enough, Murray was also the first African American woman to be ordained as a priest in the Episcopal church at the age of 66. Murray’s story is an amazing one, and it is one that few people know. Yet it was Murray whose trailblazing work laid the foundation for so many of the civil rights victories that came later.

Now, I’ve talked a lot about women so far. But the heart of the issue here is actually not unique to women at all. It’s a problem of the human race that has been around forever,and doesn’t look to be going away any time soon. It has to do with the tendency of those who have power choosing not to see the full humanity and potential of those who they consider to be weaker, or lesser, than themselves. It’s a problem that Jesus himself often addressed— constantly reaching out to those whom no one else seemed to see. The sinners, the outcasts, the lepers, the poor. Jesus always saw the full humanity in those whom everyone else ignored— recognizing the image of God in every person.

In the gospel reading for today, Jesus surprises the woman at the well when he acknowledges her in a way that most men of that time would never have dared to do. Not only was she a woman, but she was a hated Samaritan. By all accounts, Jesus should have ignored her. The woman herself recognizes this when she says to Jesus: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” But instead of ignoring her, Jesus acknowledges her. He converses with her, and revels himself to her. Jesus sees her full potential— he sees in her someone who can be an effective witness to the gospel. And in fact, the gospel tells us that many Samaritans from her city believed in Jesus because of her testimony.

Unfortunately, we never find out the name of the woman at the well. In this particular case, we can conclude that anonymous was indeed, a woman. But this story is just one of many stories that is representative of this aspect of Jesus’ ministry— his ministry of recognizing the full worth and dignity of all people, no matter what labels or stigma society may have placed upon them. Jesus teaches us that God is to be found in the faces of the poor, the prisoners, the hungry, the stranger. “Whatever you do for the least of these,” he told his disciples, “you do also for me.” If we take this seriously, we must ask ourselves: who are those whose full humanity we still do not recognize today? Who are those in our society who remain anonymous? Whose full potential is ignored because of their age, their ethnicity or immigration status, their religion, their economic status, their ability or disability, their sex or sexual orientation?

Pauli Murray once said, “I have never been able to accept what I believe to be an injustice. Perhaps it is because of this that I am America’s problem child, and will continue to be.” Murray stands in a long line of “problem children”— both male and female. A proud tradition of troublemaking that goes back to Jesus himself. For indeed it is often those who insist upon seeing the fullness of God’s image in all people who are considered the “problem children” in their own societies-- threatening to take down the powerful from their thrones and lift up the lowly. Perhaps it’s bad news for any who wish to remain too comfortable, but it’s good news for all who yearn to see God’s justice and transformation in the world. And that is precisely who we are called to be as Christ’s church. We are called to be God’s good troublemakers in the world. God’s “problem-children”, if you will. And if you have do now, or have ever, counted yourselves in the ranks of those who have been ignored, or marginalized, or discounted for any reason, you can be sure that God sees you for who you are. You can be sure that God calls you to great work.

Yes, anonymous was a woman. But anonymous was also black, Hispanic, disabled, too old, too young, too poor… you get the point. Let’s make sure the story of all God’s good troublemakers continues to be told— in shouts rather than in whispers. And let’s make sure the long line of “problem children” continues proudly-- with our stories, our actions, and our voices.

A Sad Day in Arizona

What will it take for us to realize that our words matter? That rhetoric is not isolated from action? Sadly, and ironically, one who did realize this is now in the hospital recovering from an attempt on her life. Representative Gabrielle Giffords said this of the violent rhetoric of the 2010 political campaigns:

"For example, we're on Sarah Palin's targeted list, but the thing is, that the way that she has it depicted has the crosshairs of a gun sight over our district. When people do that, they have to realize that there are consequences to that action."

Other candidates made statements such as the need for "second ammendment remedies" (the right to bear arms), or the need to "lock and load." I don't think that those who made these statements actually wanted to see violence occur. However, there must be more responsiblity taken by our leaders and those in the public sphere. What if our rhetoric spoke of peace, tolerance, and respect rather than hate, violence, and condemnation of those with whom we disagree?

I would love to see this change the nature of the political discourse. I don't know that it will, but one can always hope...