While women in many countries legitimately constitute an oppressed group that is consistently subjected to cruel and unjust treatment, this is not the case in most of the Western world. Affirming the proposition that “women in America are oppressed” requires us to redefine “oppression” not in terms of concrete unjust treatment, but in terms of more shadowy and contested social norms. The most relevant examples are male eldership within the church and male headship within marriage. Historically, feminists have seen such rules as a few of the many ways women are oppressed by “the Patriarchy.” To reach this conclusion prior to any analysis of what the Bible says on this subject is to shut the door to biblical correction.

Editor’s Note: The following article appears in the Spring 2024 issue of Eikon.
1. Introduction
With cultural conversations increasingly centered on the radical proposals of critical race theory and queer theory, discussions of gender and feminism seem almost obsolete. However, a deeper analysis reveals that contemporary feminism is a critical social theory which shares the same basic framework as its more extreme ideological cousins.
In this article, we provide a very brief historical overview of feminism, an explanation of how it falls under the umbrella of critical theory, a discussion of the overlap between contemporary feminism and evangelical egalitarianism, and a biblical response to both feminism and anti-feminist “red-pill” movements.[1]
2. The History of Feminism
Many feminists and historians analyze modern feminism in terms of three waves: the first began with the Seneca Falls Convention of 1848, the second arrived in the 1960s around the time of the Equal Rights Amendment, and the third began in the 1990s.[2] We recognize that wave distinctions in feminism can be overstated and too neatly defined; nevertheless the prevalence of their usage compels us to employ them and give some brief explanation.
First-wave feminism centered on issues like women’s voting rights, property rights, the abolition of slavery, and the temperance movement. It culminated in the ratification of the 19th amendment to the US Constitution in 1920, which granted universal female suffrage. Leaders within first-wave feminism included Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony in the United States and Emmeline Parkhurst in the United Kingdom.
Second-wave feminism was motivated by concerns around female economic, educational, and social empowerment. French Philosopher Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex and Betty Freidan’s The Feminine Mystique were both seminal texts of the second wave. Figures like Gloria Steinem galvanized and popularized the movement. Its legislative centerpiece was the Equal Rights Amendment, which was passed by Congress in 1971 but did not secure sufficient state support to amend the US Constitution.
Third-wave feminism, which began in the 1990s, embraced the critiques of womanist (black feminist) activists like bell hooks[3] and Audre Lorde, who argued that second-wave feminism had centered the concerns of middle-class white women. Highly relevant to third-wave feminism was the concept of “intersectionality,” a term coined by legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989.[4] Intersectionality argues that our identities are complex and that race, class, and gender interact to produce unique forms of oppression.
Conventional wisdom among most conservative evangelicals today is that first-wave feminism was unequivocally good and foundationally Christian, while second- and third-wave feminism were more secular and problematic. The actual history, however, is more complicated (and uncomfortable). For example, in 1895, first-wave pioneer Elizabeth Cady Stanton published The Woman’s Bible, which, on its very first page, made statements like “instead of three male personages [within the Godhead], as generally represented, a Heavenly Father, Mother, and Son would seem more rational;” and “The first step in the elevation of woman to her true position [is] the recognition by the rising generation of an ideal Heavenly Mother, to whom their prayers should be addressed, as well as to a Father.”[5] Other prominent first-wave feminists embraced free love, female superiority, and various heterodox doctrinal positions.
We raise this issue not to poison the well against feminism, but to emphasize that Christians should be careful to distinguish between their support for particular goals within a movement and their support for the ideology or theology of said movement, a crucial point that we will return to later.
3. Critical Theory and Contemporary Feminism
The critical tradition began with Karl Marx and expanded through the work of prominent intellectuals like Antonio Gramsci, Max Horkheimer, Pierre Bourdieu, Paulo Freire, Michel Foucault, and Kimberlé Crenshaw.[6] Critical theory today is a broad category that encompasses many different critical social theories: critical race theory, critical pedagogy, postcolonial theory, queer theory, etc. At its root, contemporary critical theory can be described in terms of four central ideas: the social binary, hegemonic power, lived experience, and social justice.[7]
The social binary divides society into oppressed groups and oppressor groups along lines of race, class, gender, sexuality, physical ability, and other identity markers. Oppressor groups are identified by their hegemonic power, that is, their ability to impose their values and norms on culture in a way that makes them seem “natural” and “objective.” These values then justify the dominance of the ruling class (men, whites, heterosexuals, Christians, the able-bodied, etc.). However, through their lived experience of injustice, oppressed people (people of color, women, LGBTQ people, non-Christians, the disabled, etc.) can recognize these hegemonic norms as arbitrary and oppressive and can work for social justice, the dismantling of systems and structures (e.g. white supremacy, patriarchy, heteronormativity, Christian hegemony, ableism, etc.) which perpetuate the social binary.
Scholars recognize that contemporary feminism is a critical social theory because it applies these specific ideas to the subject of sex and gender.
First, feminism has always understood women as a collectively subordinated group in need of liberation. Feminist scholar Deborah Cameron writes that despite the historical and geographical diversity of feminist movements, they all share two minimal feminist ideas: “1. That women occupy a subordinate position in society” and “2. That the subordination of women . . . can and should be changed through political action.”[8]
Second, feminism in all its iterations has believed that female emancipation doesn’t merely require legal equality, but also necessitates a change in social norms and commonly accepted views of gender. This emphasis grew in importance during feminism’s second wave but, as we saw in the Stanton quote above, was present even in first-wave feminism.
Third, consciousness-raising and the importance of “embodied knowledges” became increasingly central during second-wave feminism. Influenced by New Left thought, feminists turned to Marxist theories of “false consciousness” to explain the resistance they encountered not just from men, but from many women as well. They argued that men who rejected feminism were trying to protect their patriarchal power and privilege, while women who rejected feminism were suffering from internalized misogyny.
Finally, the importance of intersectionality to contemporary feminism cannot be overstated. In fact, according to feminist scholar Kathy Davis, “‘intersectionality’ — the interaction of multiple identities and experiences of exclusion and subordination — has been heralded as one of the most important contributions to feminist scholarship.”[9] Intersectionality does not merely suggest but requires that feminists work for the liberation of all marginalized groups, whether people of color, or the poor, or the disabled, or the LGBTQ community. This insistence is part and parcel to feminist theory. As bell hooks asserts, “eradicating the cultural basis of group oppression would mean that race and class oppression would be recognized as feminist issues with as much relevance as sexism.”[10] Such solidarity is especially noticeable in feminist support for the demands of transgender women (i.e., biological men who identify as women) even when they conflict with women’s interests (e.g., sex-segregated prisons or locker rooms or sports).
4. Critical Theory and Egalitarianism
The relationship between contemporary feminism and egalitarianism (the belief that there are no God-ordained gender roles in either the church or the family) is complex. While non-evangelical egalitarians are more likely to explicitly claim the label of “feminist,” evangelical egalitarians often resist it.
In recent years, however, evangelical egalitarians have increasingly adopted a feminist ideological framework regardless of their attitude towards the label.
One case in point is Beth Allison Barr’s The Making of Biblical Womanhood, which includes numerous statements that show strong affinity with critical ideas.[11] For instance, she repeatedly appeals to the idea that sexism is one of many interlocking systems of oppression. She writes “patriarchy walks with structural racism and systemic oppression” (33), that “patriarchy is part of an interwoven system of oppression that includes racism” (34), that “[p]atriarchy and racism are ‘interlocking systems of oppression’” (208), and that misogyny “especially hurts those already marginalized by economics, education, race, and even religion” (212). Note that “patriarchy” here means “complementarianism” because Barr explicitly equates the two: “Complementarianism is patriarchy” (13).
Read More
Related Posts:

While those siding with the left’s narrative of church and politics point to evidence that Americans have a general, theoretical preference for religious leaders to avoid politics,11 when the question becomes practical, few notice it in their own congregation, let alone find it bothersome. When the Pew Research Center asked Americans attending church services at least yearly about the partisanship of the clergy and other religious leaders in their own churches, 16% said they were mostly Republicans, 11% mostly Democrats, 27% said a mix of both, and 45% were unable to say.12 This is hardly evidence of the sort of politicized pulpits the left’s narrative of Christian politics would have one believe. 

In increasingly popular view among pastors and other Christian leaders accepts a secular scholarly narrative about Christian engagement in politics. This view holds that when Christians engage in partisan politics to advocate for public policy that conforms to their beliefs about what is good for the polity, they politicize religion in ways that undermine unity in the congregation and ultimately drive people to apostasy.1 Those who engage in partisan politics also risk their own souls, creating false idols that threaten to come between them and God.2 
There are likely several reasons why this view is en vogue. As we operate increasingly in what Aaron Renn calls the negative world, one which is increasingly hostile instead of positively inclined or even neutral towards Christianity, many pastors have sought shelter by advocating political neutrality to avoid conflict with the wider society – especially if that conflict threatens to divide their congregations. Some small number, surely, have taken this position to smuggle their own liberal politics into their churches so as not to be noticed by their laity.3 More commonly, however, is that, knowing no better, pastors simply accept this narrative on faith because it is repeated by “experts.” Drawing from a point raised by the sociologist Bryan Wilson regarding the clergy’s loss of status and purpose after scientific professions took over most of the myriad roles priests once served4, pastors feel compelled to adopt scholarly views unchallenged to retain what little respectability the modern world offers to have a chance of being effective in their compartmentalized roles. 
Unfortunately, many of the claims about politics to which pastors and other leaders assent are wrong. Repeating them, even if simply to maintain respectability fails to diagnose – and very likely hinders their ability to successfully address – the real problems facing churches today. Following the recommendations of pastors spreading these myths undermines rather than strengthens religious faith. 
Both Sides-ism
For as much as issues of concern to Christians may be voiced by politicians, American politics revolves around two formally secular political parties. This fact underlines an important truth to the critiques of Christian participation in politics: because these parties are ultimately focused on winning elections and holding office, American politics can become an idol in its own right. When secular political parties and politicians, for reasons of expediency, operate in ways that defy Scripture, Christians’ loyalties are tested, and many are tempted to side with their political loyalties over their Christian identity.5 
Out of an overabundance of caution, then, pastors have sought to distance themselves from politics and similarly encourage their parishioners to steer clear. In doing so, these pastors take a position that treats both sides as equally bad. This provides what appears to be a safe position – both from a hostile culture that grows less tolerant of its enemies by the day, as well as safe from having to wade into topics that would divide their congregations – from which they offer bland commentary aimed, however feebly executed, at preventing politics from displacing religion among the laity. 
Regardless of the degree to which they may be believed, such “both sides” arguments are simply unsupported. One recent book, The Great Dechurching, claims that the right is just as injurious to faith as the left – or worse. The authors claim that “among evangelicals, there is more danger of dechurching on the right than the left…we saw evangelicals dechurching on the political right at twice the frequency of those on the political left, almost catching up to the total percentage of those who have dechurched on the secular left” (p.31). 
The authors do not present direct evidence to support the claim that “there is more danger of dechurching on the right.” While they present a graph (from a separate work by the political scientist, Ryan Burge) as supporting evidence (p.32), this graph merely shows that, over time, more white Evangelicals who reported that they never attended at the time of the survey identify as Republicans – not that more Republicans have ceased attending than Democrats. It may be the case that among Evangelicals, there are more on the political right than the left who have dechurched. However, observing a greater “frequency” of conservatives dechurching is only possible because most white Evangelicals are politically conservative – implying that both sides are not equal. 
While the authors’ language gives the impression that both sides are (at least) equally deleterious to faith, the second part of the quotation above nonetheless admits that the left has been more likely to dechurch than the right. Claiming that conservatives are “almost catching up” still requires a great deal of faith from the reader, especially because a fairly clear, robust finding in the scholarly literature shows that during the period of The Great Dechurching, liberals have been significantly more likely to cease attending than conservatives.6 A similar finding shows that Democrats are more likely to quit attending than Republicans.7 As people become more liberal politically, they become less devout and less likely to retain their faith – while the reverse is also true.8 Both sides are not equally detrimental to faith, no matter how hard some pastors pretend. 
The Impact of the “Right’s” Culture-War Politics
At the same time that they claim “there is more danger of dechurching on the right,” the authors of The Great Dechurching also lay the decline in attendance of Christians on the left at the feet of ministers with conservative politics – or merely the conservative implications of their adherence to biblical teaching.9 So the argument goes, it is the right’s involvement with the culture war that has fueled much of the decline in church attendance and the rise of the religious “nones” since the start of the 1990s. In this telling, it was the right that initiated the culture war, which produced a backlash among liberals and Democrats who, so disgusted by this entanglement of religion and conservative Republican politics, disavowed their faith. The fact that conservatives and Republicans remain so much more religiously devout than liberals and Democrats serves as the proof, this story claims, that the weaponization of religion by conservative Republicans is to blame.10 
To believe this, however, requires that one ignore the fact that the secularization of society through politics has been driven by the left.
Read More
Related Posts:

Christ is one, and he alone is righteousness for all who believe in him, irrespective of anything in themselves and irrespective of their place in the church. But office has higher standards than membership, is available only to a select few (Jas. 3:1), and is not meant to glorify the ones who hold it but so that they may serve everyone else in humility and without partiality. (Mk. 10:42-45; 1 Tim. 5:21). 

Last year I asserted that we should reconsider what terms we employ in discussing the question of fitness for office in the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). Subsequent correspondence suggests that such an assertion merits further consideration. Of particular interest is the concept of the unthinkable in moral questions.
In such matters conscious obedience to what has been explicitly stated is, it needs but little comment, of great importance. God has revealed his moral law in the Old Testament, clearly transcribing by the hand of his prophet Moses those things that he wishes men to do or refrain from doing. But alongside of the question of intentionally obeying such explicit commands is the related matter of the unthinkable.
Consider an example. Some time ago I was working in a clinic where a boy was getting a shot. He resisted by making a scene, to which what appeared to be his grandmother responded by chiding him for his incivility. The boy responded by loudly cursing this poor woman.
When I mentioned this incident to a coworker from Michigan, he, while not approving the behavior, nonetheless asserted there were occasions in which he could conceivably curse while addressing his mother, albeit not with a disrespectful tone. That notion, like the boy’s behavior, is utterly foreign to my Southern upbringing, so much so that I am not sure what would have happened to me if I had ever done either. It was simply inconceivable that I would ever curse in the presence of a parent or grandparent, much less toward one.
Nor was this because I had the advantage of a rigorous Presbyterian upbringing (I didn’t). I knew that one does not disrespect familial authority like that even when I was, at most, vaguely familiar that Ex. 21:17 exists. This was because I was the beneficiary of a common moral sense that had been developed and propagated by my culture in the form of sundry taboos.
And central to the effectiveness of such taboos is the concept of the unthinkable: for what cannot be thought in one’s own mind cannot be discussed with others, and what cannot be discussed openly cannot be done with impunity. The creation of the taboo is a strong impediment to the commission of the behavior it ultimately seeks to defend against.
Now such taboos are not merely a result of God’s common grace (where they are beneficial), nor a result of sin (where they depart from his will, Mk. 7:1-5, 9-20; 1 Tim. 4:3-5); they are to have their place also in the church, provided of course that they are fully in accord with scripture and do not go beyond it by forbidding what God allows (Col. 2:18, 20-23; 1 Tim. 4:3) or requires (Matt. 15:3-6). See, for example, 1 Corinthians 5. A man in Corinth had married his step mother (a violation of Lev. 18:8), and Paul in his letter is aghast that such a thing had not only occurred but also been boasted over (vv. 2, 6).
It is not clear why the church was boastful about such a thing, but some think that it involved a misunderstanding of liberty in Christ.1 Whatever its precise cause, the church had stumbled by permitting what even pagans recognized as intolerably evil  (v. 1).
Read More
Related Posts: