Call to Action: A Review of Women Rise Up: Sacred Stories of Resistance for Today’s Revolution by Katey Zeh

Post Author: Shannon E. Sullivan

I first met Rev. Katey Zeh before either of us were ordained, at a training around sexual health and reproductive freedom on college campuses. We continued to run into each other through our organizing work. I reached out to her when trying to figure out if there was a way my annual conference of The United Methodist Church could support the organization she was on the board of at the time (and now serves as the interim executive of), Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, in the wake of a misinformation campaign in the denomination against RCRC.

Because of the connections we had made previously, the conversation turned to my personal life when she offered me support in the wake of my second miscarriage. She was one of the first people who was able to articulate to me the deep grief not just of the loss of a loved one but the grief of an incomplete family, or a family that looks nothing like the one for which you had hoped. From this woman whose activism and pastoral care has touched my life comes a book called Women Rise Up: Sacred Stories of Resistance for Today’s Revolution, in which her activism continues to inspire me and her writing offers me care I didn’t realize I needed.

Women Rise Up is an exploration of ten different stories of Biblical women in conversation with current realities of women’s experiences and struggles, from human trafficking to purity culture, from immigration to entrepreneurialism. Zeh explains: “I yearn for stories of resilience, of women overcoming systems of oppression who found ways to survive and even thrive despite the constant threats to their bodies, their humanity, and their livelihood.” She did not hear many of those stories preached when she was growing up in church, but she has seen them in her organizing work and in her own life.

Unlike some celebrations of Biblical women, Zeh is clear that even when she celebrates their bravery, these women are complicated. Sarah is celebrated as a mother of faith in many churches traditionally, but she perpetuates the abuse she received from her husband on her slave Hagar. Rachel also abuses her handmaid, and Zeh reminds us that Rachel does not name her son Benjamin but rather Ben-Oni, “Son of My Sorrows.” Moses’ mother, she reminds us, is a clever hero, but one who still underwent a devastating reproductive loss even if it was to save her child. Rev. Zeh strives to read the stories of these women in new ways, ones faithful to scripture itself and to our own complicated lives.

Zeh is a white cis straight women, like myself, but she is aware of her privilege and uses it to introduce us to the stories of maternal health workers she encountered in Kenya. She uses her privilege to lift up voices of Ghanaian women theologians when she discusses debt in the story of the widow with the oil from 2 Kings 4:1-7.

When Zeh writes about the many extraordinary women from the first and second chapters of Exodus and wonders what other Hebrew women did to keep their baby boys safe, I think about the way many mothers live in fear for their black and brown sons today because of police violence. Zeh focused that particular chapter on educating about midwifery around the world, but I couldn’t help but see another parallel between ancient story and contemporary reality. I found myself wondering how interpretations of these stories would change reading through a queer lens or the lens of a woman of color, but I appreciated Zeh’s ability to focus not always on her own experience but to use her platform to include other voices in the conversation.

Zeh often draws readers into each story by using familiar church language before asking a well-placed question or revealing a new insight that subverts traditional understandings of these stories. In the chapter about Martha of Bethany, she relied largely on Martha’s story in Luke and spoke of women’s work and the bind that women find themselves in focusing on housework and caring for others. She reminds the reader how often preaching on this story puts more work on women’s plates: be both Mary and Martha. She uses her own story to illustrate her affinity for Martha and the work of hospitality. But then she pointed to the word that actually describes what Martha is really doing: diakonian. Zeh writes, “When this word appears elsewhere in the New Testament, it’s often translated as ‘ministry.’” Could this story be one about Jesus encouraging sabbath rather than denigrating housework or busy, productive women? How do we allow sexism and perceived gender roles to influence our reading of scripture? And will we allow new insights to change the way we read these old stories?

Women Rise Up can introduce readers to little-known stories of Biblical women, complicate the pictures they already have of better known Biblical women, and link reflection on scripture to action in today’s world. Zeh does not give specific examples of what to do about maternal mortality rates or human trafficking, but her writing itself prods readers to recognize that our faith should impact the world around us.

The second to last chapter is about the hemorrhaging woman from Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, and Luke 8:43-48, and Zeh titles the chapter “Heal.” She teaches about the period poverty present in so much of the world and focuses on the bravery of the hemorrhaging woman. As I personally continue to struggle with fertility treatments that have changed my body and cycle as well as my spirit and mind, I gave thanks for the reminder for myself that I discovered in the story of the hemorrhaging woman. Zeh writes, “Her faithful act of reaching out for what she needs—of risking failure and disappointment—is what heals her.” In my own struggle, I need to risk failure and disappointment and keep reaching out for healing.

Women Rise Up is the title of this book, and it is a call to action. How will we read these stories of Biblical women and let them change us? Zeh writes in such a way I found myself writing questions of the story and of myself in the margins. I found myself asking questions about the work we need to do today, for our own healing, but also for the healing of women around the world.