Preaching Sensitized to Violence Against Women
March is Women's History Month, a particularly meaningful time to acknowledge the issue of violence against women. We’re grateful to Nilza Oyola, Executive Director of City to City Miami, for sharing this important and personal story, gospel hope, and call to action.
The faint winter sun of a Sunday morning in the 1990s struggled to get through the grimy windows of the small Bronx church. The recession had cast a shadow over the city, and even the vibrant hues of the stained glass windows seemed muted. Inside, however, the air vibrated with a different kind of heat—the fervent energy of an African-American gospel choir. Their voices, rich and powerful, rose throughout the sanctuary, filling every corner with the melodies of faith and praise. But on a bench near the back, a young Hispanic woman felt a chill deeper than any winter could bring.
Just an hour earlier, she had fled her apartment, echoes of her husband's rage still ringing in her ears. Her two-year-old and ten-month-old children, clinging tightly to her arms, groaned in fear as they descended the graffiti-ridden staircase. She sought refuge in the imposing doors of the church, whose stained glass windows promised refuge from the brutal winds outside and the storm that raged within. Inside, the air was filled with the scent of incense and damp woollen coats, but the voices of the choir, raised in an evangelical hymn, felt discordant with the agitation of their souls. Her husband's words, mixed with venom and contempt, echoed in her mind, a cruel counterpoint to the hymn's message of hope.
Every joyful "Amen!" and every applause from the congregation felt like a rebuke, a stark contrast to the silent shouts trapped within it. Just hours earlier, her apartment had been a battlefield. Violence had erupted without warning, fueled not by substances, but by a deep-seated anger that twisted her husband's features and weaponized his words. Now, the lingering sting of their blows was a bitter polyphony to the sweetness of the hymns. She clutched her swollen belly, the life growing inside her a terrifying reminder of the violence that had conceived her.
Her two young children, their faces still scarred by fear, huddled nearby, seeking the warmth of a mother who felt as cold and shattered as the city outside. The pastor, a charismatic figure with a booming voice, climbed into the pulpit. His sermon, "God's Plan for Your Life," centered on Jeremiah 29:11: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." But his words, meant to inspire, seemed like a cruel mockery. Was this God's plan for her, to be trapped in a cycle of violence and fear? Was this the "hope" God offered—a future filled with bruises, broken promises, and another child conceived with violence, a constant reminder of her husband's abuse?
“Was God real in this harsh and unforgiving city? Was there a God who understood the unique burdens she carried as a woman, as a Latina, as a victim of violence?”
The pastor spoke of hope and a future, but he didn't acknowledge the pain that makes us long for those things in the first place. He did not speak of the pain, of the injustice, of the brokenness of the world that makes God's promise of a future so desperately needed. He preached a gospel that felt clean and easy, ignoring the dirty and messy realities of life in the Bronx, of life for a woman trapped in a violent relationship. He failed to recognize the cultural pressures, the expectations of obedience and submission that could keep a woman, especially a Hispanic woman, tied up in silence in this prison.
At the end of the service, she slipped away, unnoticed among the crowd of worshippers. Was God real in this harsh and unforgiving city? Was there a God who understood the unique burdens she carried as a woman, as a Latina, as a victim of violence? Or was she, like the faded graffiti on church walls, just another overlooked victim of life in the Bronx?
This woman was me.
A Cry of Hope and Healing
Violence burst into my life in early childhood. When I was seven years old, my own uncle molested me, a man who positioned himself behind pulpits and preached the Word of God. This violation, a grotesque betrayal of trust and innocence, cast a long shadow over my life and my faith. Years later, as I navigated the complexities of adolescence in a new country, I was faced with another dangerous situation, one that could have led to exploitation.
It was a summer day in New York City in 1987, and it was a hot one. The station was buzzing with the activity of a million people, but this was a surface glitter that hid a deepening gloom. I was thirteen years old, and I was walking with my older sister when a man in a shiny red Maserati pulled up next to us. He gave me a chance to be a model, to leave the poverty and the uncertainty that followed us like a cloud. My sister, who wanted to give me a better future, consented to my going with him to an 'audition.' He took me to a fancy restaurant, gave me a lot of compliments and described a life of utmost sophistication. But the 'audition' was to happen in a seedy motel room. I was standing there shaking and looking confused when something changed for him. He looked at me, not with lust, but with a flash of compassion. He called me an "uncultivated pearl" and, to my surprise, took me home.
I may never know what caused that man's change of heart, but I believe God intervened that day, protecting me from a fate that befalls countless vulnerable young women. However, violence did not disappear from my life. Years later, physical and emotional abuse became a constant in my marriage. My husband's words, filled with contempt and degradation, echoed in my mind, eroding my self-esteem and making me believe that I was somehow to blame for my own suffering.
I sought refuge in the church, hoping to find sanctuary, a place of healing and support. But often, it felt more like a place of judgment. Sermons on the role of women, submission, and forgiveness seemed to ignore the pain and complexity of my situation, leaving me isolated and condemned. This dissonance between the church's message and my lived reality, coupled with the experiences of abuse I carried with me since childhood, ignited in me a fierce conviction—the church must respond to violence against women with compassion and action, not with silence and judgment. And so, a passion for trauma-sensitive preaching was born in me, preaching that acknowledges the deep wounds of abuse, validates women's experiences, and offers a genuine message of hope and healing.
The Need for Sensitized Preaching
“Women who have experienced violence need to hear a message of hope and healing, not guilt and condemnation.”
Women who have experienced violence need to hear a message of hope and healing, not guilt and condemnation. They need to know that God is on their side, that He sees them, hears them, and loves them unconditionally. To achieve this, awareness-raising preaching on violence against women must, first and foremost, recognize the reality of violence. We cannot ignore or minimize the problem, whether inside or outside the church.
We must start from the understanding that violence against women is a reality that affects millions of people around the world. As Dr. Judith Herman, a renowned trauma expert, states in her book, Trauma and Recovery, violence has a profound impact on women's lives and their path to healing is full of challenges. In addition to acknowledging the problem, preaching must validate women's experiences. We must listen to their stories, believe them, and offer them support.
It is essential to avoid blaming the victims. Rather than perpetuating the idea that women are responsible for the abuses they suffer, preaching must confront the power structures and cultural norms that perpetuate violence and inequality. The authors of Violence Against Women in Latin America and the Caribbean highlight the magnitude of the problem and the need to address it from a comprehensive perspective that questions these structures.
Preaching must offer, above all, a message of hope and healing. We must remember the words of the prophet Isaiah: "He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." (Isaiah 40:29-31). For many women, faith can be a powerful resource on their path to liberation.
Finally, preaching must empower women. It must encourage them to break the silence, seek help and claim their dignity. It must remind them that they are loved by God, that they have immeasurable value, and that they deserve to live a life free from violence. Let us remember that the World Health Organization estimates that 1 in 3 women worldwide has suffered physical or sexual violence. In the United States, an estimated 403,000 people live in situations of human trafficking, a modern form of slavery that often involves sexual exploitation. In the face of these alarming figures, the church has a duty to raise its voice and offer support to the victims.
Beyond Silence: Echoes of Violence and Resilience in Scripture
The Bible, although written within a patriarchal context, is not silent on the issue of violence against women. Throughout its pages, we find stories of women who endured oppression, abuse, and injustice, but who also demonstrated extraordinary courage, resilience, and faith. These narratives, often overshadowed or misinterpreted, offer powerful testimony to women's enduring strength and serve as a poignant reminder that the fight against gender-based violence is not a modern phenomenon, but one deeply rooted in human history.
A heartbreaking example is that of Tamar, whose story is set in 2 Samuel 13. Raped by her half-brother Amnon, she becomes a tragic embodiment of the trauma of sexual violence and the agonizing struggle for justice. Her raw and unflinching story exposes the devastating consequences of abuse within families and the systemic barriers that often silence victims.
Similarly, the story of the Levite's concubine in Judges 19 confronts us with the brutality of violence against women. Brutally assaulted and murdered, she becomes a symbol of the terrible consequences of unbridled violence. Her story, while deeply disturbing, forces us to confront the darkest realities of a world where women are dehumanized and their lives considered expendable.
These narratives, though difficult to read, remind us that the Bible does not shy away from the reality of violence against women. It does not offer easy answers or simplistic solutions,but it does provide a space to deal with the complexities of human suffering and the urgent need for justice and healing. It is precisely in this space that the church has the opportunity to offer a message of hope and redemption.
Thankfully, in the course of the Bible there are also some rays of light. The Bible is such a testament to this as we see Ruth, a widowed Moabite woman, who is courageous and resilient as she moves to a new land with no knowledge of what awaits her there, vulnerable. She finds love, a place, and a part of Jesus himself. We can learn from her story that there is a way out of the adversities and that there is healing.
Finally, there is Esther, a young Jewish woman who has risen from obscurity to a position of power and, when her people are facing genocide, risks her life to save them. A story which is often depicted as a submissive and obedient story of a woman has a strong message of the potential of women, their strength and dignity and the capacity to lead. We learn from Esther that women are also capable of being agents of change and leadership in oppressive circumstances.
These stories and many others explain that God sees and looks for the oppressed. They are a challenge to the church to be a real sanctuary, a place where women can feel safe, loved and empowered to break the silence of abuse and find healing and restoration. The church is enriched and made whole by the gifts and talents of women, who are made in the image and likeness of God, and their voices are not to be silenced, or their contributions marginalized.
Dangers of Insensitive Preaching
The narratives of Tamar, the Levite's concubine, Ruth, and Esther paint a multifaceted and difficult portrait of womanhood in biblical times. They invite us to wrestle with tough questions about power, vulnerability, and justice. How do you make sense of such stories if you are convinced that God is loving and just? How can we continue to applaud the strength of these women while at the same time cringing at the oppression they suffered? But more specifically, how can we use their experiences to help others and better respond to violence against women in the world today?
“How can we continue to applaud the strength of these women while at the same time cringing at the oppression they suffered? But more specifically, how can we use their experiences to help others and better respond to violence against women in the world today?”
One critical area in which the church must examine its focus is on its preaching. The words spoken from the pulpit have immense power—the power to hurt or to heal, to condemn or to deliver. As Proverbs 18:21 reminds us, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat of its fruit." Therefore, insensitive preaching on the issue of violence against women poses significant dangers.
First, it can reinforce victim-blaming by placing responsibility for the abuse on herself, leading to crippling feelings of shame and guilt. This can perpetuate the cycle of abuse, as victims, burdened with shame and guilt, may be discouraged from seeking help, allowing abusers to continue their behavior without consequences.
In addition, callous preaching creates a culture of silence within the church. It makes victims afraid to speak up, ashamed of their pain, and doubtful that anyone will understand or believe them. This silence prevents the Church from effectively addressing the problem of violence and offering the support and healing that survivors desperately need.
Perhaps most sadly, it is possible that thoughtless preaching may harm the victim’s faith. It can lead them to question God's existence, love and justice, causing deep spiritual and emotional damage. When the church does not offer a message of compassion and understanding, it risks alienating those who need its care the most.
In view of this, the biblical stories of women who suffered violence call us to reflect on the church's response to this problem. Preaching should be an instrument of hope and healing, not a source of additional pain. It is crucial that the church promotes a culture of sensitivity and support, where victims feel safe to speak out and seek help.
Sensible Preaching
Preaching with a sensitized approach starts with acknowledging the existence of abuse, the severity of the consequences, and the authenticity of the stories told by survivors. It is important to have a clear understanding of the processes that lead to abuse, the causes of abuse and the barriers that exist for women from different cultures and societies.
Revisiting the famous Bible story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11) makes it easier to conceptualize how a more sensitized approach could be developed. In first century Palestine, women were in a subordinate social position. Under the law of Rome and in Jewish custom, women had few legal rights and were considered chattel. Adultery was a big offense, but the law was heavily against women. Divorce was easier for men to initiate than for women; women had nearly no way out. It's likely that only the woman was brought before Jesus, highlighting the double standard prevalent at the time.
We can start by acknowledging this power imbalance and recognizing that she was likely caught in a compromising situation due to a system that often punished women disproportionately for their sexual activity. We can highlight Jesus' compassion and emphasize how he defended her from the judgment of the crowd, refusing to condemn her and offering her a path to a new life. By writing on the ground, he shifts the focus away from the woman and challenges the accusers to examine their own consciences. His words, "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her," reveal the hypocrisy of the ones who were eager to condemn her while paying no attention to their own sins.
A sensitized approach to preaching preaches a message of forgiveness as well as hope and conveys that God's grace is available for everyone regardless of the sins they have committed. It demands justice and accountability and challenges the congregation to create a safe and supporting environment for the victims of abuse. It tells the truth to the power, disputes toxic cultural trends, and enables both women and men to become agents of change.
In the end, sensitized preaching is about preaching the word of God in its actual spirit, a spirit of compassion, justice and redemption, and creating a place in the church for everyone to find shelter, healing and the ability to freely live fully in God’s love.
Responding to the Cry
That cold winter morning, the woman sitting on the bench, her body bearing the scars of violence, her spirit bearing the weight of shame and fear, wanted a word of hope, to receive a message that would touch her pain, and tell her there is a way to healing. In its details, my story is unique, but in its essence, it is not unique. It resonates with the stories of women who have sought shelter in the church, only to have their pain dismissed, their voices muffled, and their wounds reopened by insensitive preaching.
But it doesn't have to be this way.
Preaching has the power to transform lives. Sensitized preaching about the realities of violence against women can offer a lifeline of hope, a balm for wounded spirits, and a catalyst for change. It can help to break the chain of silence on abuse, to challenge cultural norms that support abuse, and to create a safe haven in the church for everyone to find shelter, healing and liberation to fully be who God created them to be.
“Do our sermons reflect this vision of God’s kingdom? Do our words offer healing and hope to those who have been hurt by violence”
As pastors and leaders, we are entrusted with the sacred task of proclaiming the Gospel, of molding the hearts and minds of those who gather within the walls of the church. This is not a responsibility that we can take lightly. Our words carry weight, they have the power to hurt or heal, to perpetuate harmful patterns or to pave the way for transformation. We must remember that the church is called to be a reflection of God's kingdom, a kingdom where the vulnerable are protected, the marginalized are embraced, and the wounded find comfort. It is a kingdom where violence and oppression have no place, where love and justice reign supreme, and where all are valued and cherished as God's image-bearers. Do our sermons reflect this vision of God's kingdom? Do our words offer healing and hope to those who have been hurt by violence? These are questions we must honestly and prayerfully grapple with if we truly desire to be faithful shepherds of God's flock.
This is my cry for hope and healing, not only for myself, but for all women who have been silenced, shamed, or hurt by violence. May we, as a Church, rise to the challenge and become a true sanctuary, a place where the voices of the suffering are heard, their wounds are recognized, and their spirits are renewed by the power of God's love and grace.
