Journal: Priscilla Papers
Volume: PP 28:1 (Winter 2014)
Article: Ideas Have Consequences: Faith, Gender, And Social Ethics
Author: Mimi Haddad

PP 28:1 (Winter 2014) p. 5

Ideas Have Consequences: Faith, Gender, And Social Ethics

Mimi Haddad

Mimi Haddad (PhD, University of Durham) is president of Christians for Biblical Equality. She is a founding member of the Evangelicals and Gender Study Group at the Evangelical Theological Society. Mimi is an Adjunct Assistant Professor at Fuller Theological Seminary (Houston, Texas), an Adjunct Assistant Professor at Bethel University (Saint Paul, Minnesota), and an Adjunct Professor at North Park Theological Seminary (Chicago, Illinois).

The unilateral authority of males is evident in shaping nearly every culture throughout history. Further, when patriarchy is framed as a biblical ideal, it is not only at odds with the teachings of Scripture and the purposes of God’s covenant people, it also becomes a deadly spiritual disease that chokes life all around it. As Jesus said, if the fruit is bad, the tree also is bad (Matt 7:17-20). This is not to say that gifted men should not exercise authority, but, at the same time, they should affirm the gifts and authority that God grants women as well, working mutually to lead and serve the church and the world. As a balance, it was thrilling to see three women receive the Nobel Peace Prize in 2011 for their courageous activism in advancing democracy and justice for women. Three days later, a blog appeared by CBE member Jenny Rae Armstrong, who wrote:

I haven’t stopped grinning since I heard the news about the Nobel Peace Prize recipients. You see, it was in Liberia that I first witnessed the true ugliness of gender injustice, first understood that a tiny seed of pride and superiority dropped into the heart of a man would blossom not into a sheltering tree but into an ugly, invasive weed that choked . . . life . . . around it.

My “Damascus road” experience happened when I was nine years old, peering out the window of our second-story apartment in Monrovia. Just outside our gate, a woman was curled up on her side under a palm tree, [a] tee-shirt stretched thin across her torso as she shielded her head with her . . . arms, her knees tucked close to her chest. The man kicking her wore camouflage, and had a government-issued machine gun slung over his shoulder.

I was horrified. It wasn’t that I hadn’t witnessed beatings before—to the contrary, they were common in Liberia. But this was different, an armed man beating a helpless, cringing woman. And I had heard the whispers, the muted conversations adults thought I was too young to understand, about what men with guns did to women.

I heard my father approaching and froze, expecting to be shooed away from the window. But he stopped a few steps behind me and just stood there, watching the scene unfold ov...