SHE WAS A SMALL, HUDDLED FIGURE at the side of the room. I didn't notice her at first. I was visiting a small Quechua Indian village perched high in the Andean mountains of Ecuador to learn more about the human needs and the development work being attempted in this poor community.
The men of the village were doing all the talking, while the women maintained their distance from the visiting strangers. As I listened I became aware of the woman sitting silently on the dirty floor against the wall, holding her baby who was tightly wrapped in a colorful blanket. Around her were four other young children, the boys dressed in the traditional woven red ponchos and the girls with brightly embroidered blouses and black felt skirts reaching to their bare dirty feet.
I found myself wondering about this Quechua woman. What would the gospel of Jesus Christ mean in her life? Would she hear it as good news? Or would the gospel only give her hope of heaven and leave her daily existence untouched?
I decided to interrupt the reports being given me by the men of the community and asked if I could talk with the woman by the wall. The men's first response was, "What woman?" as if there were no woman in the room.
I answered, "That one, right there."
"Oh, that one. Why would you want to talk to her? Well, if you must, all right."
They became very nervous as I interviewed her. Although schools were being built, she was illiterate, and no programs were designed for her. I discovered that the women in that community not only had the care of the home and children but also worked the fields, often with babies on their backs, and had the care of any sheep, cows, and pigs.
I saw no old women in that village. When I asked about it, I was told that very few survived into their 40s because their life was so hard and resources so few.
The Chinese quote a saying that "women hold up half the sky." Surely that was true in this village. Yet women had little share in decision making, few opportunities to learn, and very limited possibilities for the future. While men went to school and to market, the women's world was limited to thatched huts and small fields.
I BEGAN TO ASK SOME difficult questions, not only about her life and culture but about my own life and the life of women in North American culture as well. Although the material circumstances of our lives are very different, as women both she and I have learned what is appropriate for women from our own cultures. Like her, I have often felt invisible and unimportant, wondering why anyone would bother with me or take me seriously. From the moment of birth, whether carried on our mother's back or carefully laid in a silk-lined bassinet, the fact that we are female has enormous implications.
Expectations and assumptions from those around us powerfully shape our activities and attitudes. You know you are dealing with assumptions when people say, "This is the way we always do; things." When asked why, there comes a look of astonishment or bewilderment, maybe even anger if they suspect a veiled criticism.
"Because this is the way it should be." "Because we have always done it this way." "Because it works best this way." "Because God made it this way."
Part of the excitement of the Christian journey for me is the way I find my assumptions challenged as I seek to follow Christ. I grew up in a non-Christian family that assumed that men would work outside the home, making and controlling the money, while women would stay at home, cajoling and spending the money grudgingly given to care for the family. I had early dreams of college and career that were tolerated in a bemused way but not really supported.
When I became a Christian during my college years, I received mixed messages in my new Christian subculture. I was encouraged to share my faith actively while always granting to men the formal positions within our campus fellowship and church. I was taught that men should be the visible, upfront leaders, while women quietly work behind the scenes, making it all possible.
I found myself eager to serve Christ, but gradually I realized and accepted the assumptions of my Christian culture that a woman can serve best by marrying a committed Christian man and supporting his ministry through home.making and raising a family. So I married and tried to fulfill that understanding of my call. It didn't work out that way. My husband went into science, and I went into full-time service in the church. God kept surprising me with new challenges and opportunities to get involved directly in ministry.
It was an astonishing thing to discover as the years went by that my call to follow Christ went beyond traditional expectations. It was a clear call straight to me as a particular person to serve Christ and the church in visible and recognized ways as a teacher, pastor, and leader. This did not diminish my love and commitments to my husband and children, but instead my ministry opportunities helped to enrich our life together. Often, I was encouraged by friends and colleagues to move from the margins into the middle channels of Christian service.
It is sometimes frightening to move from invisibility to visibility. People can scrutinize and criticize you in ways not done when you stay in the shadows. I have needed courage and strength to respond to God's call when a few people around thought it wrong for me as a woman to answer yes. I have found that taking the risks is possible only because of the support of Christian community and the comfort and power given by the Holy Spirit.
As other women and I have tried new roles, we have consistently experienced both encouragement and criticism. But the criticism fades sooner than you might think, and the support for women continues to grow. As people continue to experience women leading in worship and preaching or in other non-traditional roles, many fears and questions fade into relative insignificance.
Much of the church is a more welcoming place for women in ministry, whether lay or ordained, than i t was even 10 years ago. The first time I taught an adult Bible class at a Seattle Presbyterian church was probably a bigger challenge than anything I have done since. The love and the encouragement of those Bible class members launched me into all that has happened since.
The gospel is good news for both Ecuadorian peasant women and North American women and everyone else. Christ calls, transforms, and uses us, women and men, astonishing as that may seem. Even though much remains to be done to enlarge the church's view of and response to women, I live in hope. The doors are swinging open.
Roberta Hestenes served for 12 years as associate professor and director of Christian formation and discipleship at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California and had recently accepted the position of president at Eastern College in St. Davids, Pennsylvania when this article appeared.
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