Biblical women and modern-day mentors gave me courage to visualize my ministry

by Irene Pak

"She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” (John 11:27)

Many of us are familiar with Jesus’ powerful words, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die” (John 11:25-26). What we usually don’t hear or remember is the question following that statement and the response.

Jesus then asks, “Do you believe this?” He is talking to Martha, a woman, and she responds with a profound articulate theological answer. “Yes, Lord, I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

When I took the time to really listen to that response, I was surprised for a couple of reasons. I was surprised because throughout the gospels none of Jesus’ twelve disciples could articulate who Jesus was like Martha was able to do. They usually didn’t get it, or get him. They were the ones that asked questions of clarification and were told stories in parables. So, it surprised me to hear such a strong statement of understanding from a woman.

Then again, when I think about the women in the gospels, I notice a pattern. Women on the margins, women who are outcasts, the “other,” are the ones who dare to ask for healing and trust it will happen. They are the ones touching the cloak, wiping Jesus’ feet with perfume and hair, making bold faith statements, asking about living water, and making articulate claims as to who Jesus is as Savior.

Why is it then, even with these stories in my mind, I am surprised when a woman in the Bible or even in the present day can make strong statements of understanding and faith? Why is it that when I envision a “pastor” the first image that appears is an older white male?

As a young adult woman of color and candidate for ordination, these realizations bother me. It was what deterred me from responding to the calling I felt to ministry at a young age. Pastors were older, men, usually white, and “really holy.” I was none of those things and shoved the Spirit’s calling aside. I had never even seen or met an Asian American female pastor until I went to seminary years later!

Praise God for an older white male pastor who when I finally “gave in” to God’s calling gave me opportunities to lead, experience and share my faith and begin to articulate my understanding to God’s people. I am incredibly thankful for him and for the nurture and mentorship he provided me during those formative years.

It wasn’t, however, until I met other women and other women who looked like me in different forms of ministry that I began to fully enter into and feel empowered to do the work God was calling me to do.

In the recent celebration of 50 years of ordination of women as ministers of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), my heart was grateful for all of the women who have paved the way for me so that I have the privilege to follow my own call. And yet, we all know that the line of strong women of faith traces its roots to biblical times. It’s amazing to know that I am a continuing part of that legacy.

When Martha responds, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world,” she affirms her belief in Jesus and who he is and springs forth life into his prior statement. This is the One who broke boundaries and dared to reach out, eat with, heal and touch those considered on the margins, including women. This is the One who she boldly affirms and puts her trust in.

As I dare to join the circle of women who have courageously walked in faith, I pray for a day when we automatically envision women and men of all races, ethnicities, age and abilities as leaders of the church. I am excited to be part of that vision.

Irene Pak is a young adult intern serving in the ministry of Racial Justice and Advocacy. A graduate of McCormick Theological Seminary, she is a candidate for ordination in the Presbytery of Utah.

“Too much of the white church is timid and ineffectual, and some of it is shrill in its defense of bigotry and prejudice. In most communities, the spirit of status quo is endorsed by the churches.”
- Martin Luther King, Jr

These words, spoken in 1965, make me uncomfortable. These words, spoken almost 43 years ago, make me uncomfortable because these words are as true today as they were then.

Such are the words of true prophets: they stand for decades—even millennia—and as long as they stand they continue to afflict those who have ears to hear. When I hear these prophetic words, I am afflicted because not only do I know that they are true, but I know that they implicate me. I know that King is talking about my Church, about my actions, about me.

Toward the end of his life, King grew more and more disenchanted—angry, even—with moderate and liberal whites in America, and especially with the white church. In the same interview in which King spoke the words in the above quote, he shared that his personal disillusionment with the white church began when the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South did not prove to be the strong allies he expected them to be during the Montgomery bus boycott.

The white church (and the majority of whites in America, really) only continued to disappoint King as his prophetic ministry continued through to its untimely end in 1968, when King was murdered. I am ashamed to imagine what he would say of us (and to us) today.

As a young white woman living in the United States, I benefit from the status quo. The status quo upholds white privilege, which not only makes it difficult for white persons to recognize and understand racism (“a fish doesn't know water,” as the saying goes), but also to move toward dismantling racism once we do begin to understand what racism is, why it is a sin, and why it is so destructive. For racism requires those of us who benefit from its oppressive structure to relinquish the ill-gotten privilege we receive from that structure. And let’s be honest: power and privilege are hard to let go.

But power and privilege hold nothing to God’s vision of shalom, of wholeness, justice and righteousness, and peace. And it is for nothing less than shalom—life abundant—that we are called to follow Christ. We cannot faithfully follow Christ’s call and still hold on to the sins of oppressive power and privilege. In order to follow Christ, we must seek a different sort of power, a God-given power that is shared by all, and this will require a giving up of power currently held by some so that it can indeed be shared with those from whom it has so long been withheld.
May God continue to provide us with prophetic voices in our midst to call us to God’s shalom. And may God give us the strength to answer that call.

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline” (II Timothy 1:7, NIV).

For information on how to combat racism, please visit the Web site of Racial Justice and Advocacy, a ministry of the General Assembly Council.

by Rachael Whaley


Good afternoon, fellow feminists! I write to you on a rather blustery day in East Tennessee, and I am glad that winter weather has finally returned, although I did enjoy the few 70-degree days last week.

I am taking an Ethics course during this January mini-term, a three-week course that meets for 3 hours everyday (think summer school, except without the pool waiting for you in the afternoon). I have been pondering several concepts this week, such as what makes an act good? Or ethical, moral, etc. My assigned reading for today discussed virtue ethics, which asks what humanity ought to be rather than what we ought to do. (If this sounds a little mundane, I apologize for reviewing for my exam tomorrow while simultaneously writing this blog). The part of my reading which caught my attention was a section entitled, “Masculine and Feminine Virtues.” The following quotation is a portion of that section:

The context for women’s moral decision making is said to be one of relatedness…They are partial to their particular loved ones and think that one’s moral responsibility is first of all to these persons…Women stress the concrete experiences of this or that event and are concerned about the real harm that might befall a particular person or persons…Men are more inclined to talk in terms of fairness and justice and rights. They ask about the overall effects of some action and whether the good effects, when all considered, outweigh the bad. It is as though they think moral decisions ought to be made impersonally or from some unbiased and detached point of view.

The text also includes a table that lists contrasting virtues that fall in either masculine or feminine columns, such as men value reason while women value feeling, and women are partial while men are impartial. The logical inconsistencies not withstanding, I was appalled to find such blatant sexism in a textbook written in 2007.

I took a course during my sophomore year in Western Civilizations covering the Early Modern Period to the present, and anyone who has studied this time period knows that a large portion of the class was dedicated to colonialism. This particular course focused on British India in the 19th and 20th centuries. One particular lecture focused on the supposed justification for colonization, and the professor began to write a table on the chalkboard with opposing attributes that the British applied to themselves, the colonizers; and to the Indians, those being colonized. These attributes were lies the British told themselves in order to justify exerting power on another nation. This table looked something like this:
British--Indian
Masculine--Feminine
Rational--Irrational
Universal--Concrete
Strong--Weak

Look familiar? After reading the appalling list in the textbook I could not help but dwell on the uncanny resemblance to that colonization table. The idea that all women and all men think in certain ways is extremely problematic, but it is not the crux of the issue. The virtues associated with femininity in the first case and with the colonized Indians in the second case are commonly known as inferior virtues. In the post-Enlightenment West, impartiality, rationality, and universality are believed to be superior virtues of superior minds, and by applying these virtues to men (or to a colonial power) they are implying that they are superior beings.

I end this blog asking you to ponder one question: Is there such a thing as the female moral/ethical perspective? And if so, does it only apply to women? Is it superior or inferior? Do you think your gender has any affect on your ethical decision-making?

Rachael is a member of NNPCW's Coordinating Committee and a senior at Maryville College in Maryville, TN.

by Maisha Johnson

For a while now, I've been without a church to call my own "home" church. There's no real reason for this, and I'm sure it's not uncommon for college students, busy and away from home, to go for a while without a home church. Recently I've been feeling the desire to find a church of my own. I can feel in my heart that somewhere in this city I live in is a faith community of love and joy, where I can feel comfortable and spiritually grounded.

So far, my search has been a promising one. But I have to admit, the optimism and hope that I've been feeling while looking for a church is somewhat new to me. In the past, I would step into a new church with trembling hands and an anxious heart. I'd sit in the back and stay quiet, reluctant to reveal too much about myself for fear of being judged. I'd pray, I'd sing, I'd prepare myself for the inevitable possibility that something would be said to make me feel offended, misjudged, out of place, or like I was doomed for the fiery pits of hell. And in the end, I would simply accept that this was church, and if I wished to express my devotion to God by attending church, this is what I would have to deal with.

I found my first PC(USA) home church by fleeing from one such experience into the sanctuary of United University Church in Los Angeles, where I felt nothing but welcomed and loved by a congregation that didn't even know me. I was surprised and relieved to discover that my previous experiences were not what make up the universal experience of "church." Since then, my search for a home church has changed. It begins, I'll admit, with the Internet. It ends, usually, with a feeling of comfort as I mingle with people who love each other and show that they would gladly extend their love to me. It turns out there are churches where feminism is not condemned, where all people are seen as equal, and where the focus is not moral judgment but compassion and social justice. These are the kinds of churches that I am looking for.

This past Sunday I continued my search. I wanted to attend church to mark the loss of a friend. It's times like these when I feel something missing without a home church, and the old feelings of anxiety began to creep in. I needed warmth, love, friends and family, and instead I would be spending my Sunday surrounded by strangers.

Oddly enough, I hardly noticed the difference. I was visiting a Presbyterian church with a small, close-knit congregation that welcomed me as one of their own. I didn't tell anyone why I was there, but when the time came to say prayers aloud I silently offered prayers for my friend and I felt that somehow I was heard. I even ran into a friend and member of NNPCW, Heather Grantham. I watched as the congregation said a heartfelt good-bye to one of their friends and staff members, and warmly welcomed Heather in her place. I felt that it was a place I could potentially call home.

If we want to follow Jesus' example we must pay attention to how he treated outsiders. I am grateful for everyone who has done as Jesus would, reaching out a hand when I felt alone and making me feel loved.

What do you look for in a home church? What do you love most about your church?

Maisha is an NNPCW Coordinating Committee member. She attends San Francisco State.