By Magdalena Sanchez 
“When patriarchy disguises itself as theology, the pulpit becomes a trench, and the altar a battlefield.”
The spirituality of millions of women has been shaped by religious structures deeply marked by patriarchy. The image of God that has been taught is embedded within a system we don’t always recognize, yet one that profoundly shapes our faith: patriarchy. This is not only a political or economic structure, but also a way of imagining and organizing religious life. It is expressed in hierarchies, rigid gender roles, the exclusive authority of men, and theologies that have silenced the female voice for centuries. A God who commands, who rewards obedience, who punishes doubt, who demands sacrifices, and who calls the silent woman “virtuous.”
“God is our Father.” From childhood, many women learned this phrase as part of their faith formation. It was taught as a symbol of love, closeness, and trust. Yet for many women, this image did not bring comfort, but confusion. The father figure they experienced was often authoritarian, distant, or emotionally or physically abusive. In other cases, religious authorities or pastoral figures imposed an image of God as demanding, punitive, or inflexible. Consequently, when the term “Father” is invoked, it is not associated with tenderness but with fear. This difficulty in relating to a masculine image of God does not stem from a lack of faith; rather, it arises from deeply painful experiences marked by spiritual confusion. For if God is understood as a father, why did this “Father” appear to remain silent when the suffering became unbearable?
Brazilian theologian Ivone Gebara describes this reality clearly: religious patriarchy has constructed a God “as an all-powerful male being who establishes hierarchies, imposes punishments and expects submission”1. This image, preached as “revealed truth”, has had concrete consequences: the invisibility of women’s leadership in the church, the validation of suffering as a spiritual virtue, and the silencing of abuse.
Silence when someone is abused and is told to “endure for love”.
Silence when a woman wants to preach and is told that “it’s not her place”.
Silence when a wife reports violence and is advised to “forgive and trust in God”.
These responses do not stem from the gospel, but from a distorted spirituality. It has been taught that obeying one’s husband is obeying God, that forgiving the abuser is a sign of holiness, that remaining silent is “Christian witnessing.” Submission has been spiritualized, when in reality it is manipulation disguised as faith.
Mexican theologian Nancy Bedford denounces that when God is presented as someone who justifies everything without justice or reparation, even abuse, he becomes “an accomplice of the aggressor”². And thus, a spirituality that should console and liberate ends up oppressing and binding.
I’ve heard women say things like:
—“I don’t know if God hears me.”
—“Perhaps I’m the one who doesn’t have enough faith.”
—“Perhaps God wants me to suffer, like Jesus on the cross.”
These are not theological doubts. They are spiritual cries. As Marcela Lagarde points out, patriarchy not only dominates from the outside, it takes root in the soul³. It shapes how we feel, how we pray, how we understand ourselves before God. Abuse, therefore, becomes a spiritual violence as well: one that not only breaks bones, but also extinguishes hope.
Some call God their mother, friend, or companion. Others simply find Him in the tenderness of a safe community, in restored dignity, in the justice that is beginning to pave the way. As Ada María Isasi-Díaz affirmed, the spirituality of Latin American women is born from below, from daily struggle, from resistance⁴.
I, too, believe there is another way to live faith. One that is not hierarchical, nor guilt-inducing, nor imposed by masculinity. Rather, a spirituality that restores dignity, embraces with justice, and liberates with compassion.
God is not patriarchal. What is patriarchal is the system that has hijacked his name. And that—like everything that oppresses—can, and must, be unmasked, dismantled, and rebuilt through justice.
References:
- Ivone Gebara, Rompiendo el silencio: Una fenomenología de la espiritualidad femenina, São Paulo: Paulinas, 2002.
- Nancy Bedford, La subversión del sufrimiento: teología feminista y violencia de género, Buenos Aires: Kairós, 2010.
- Marcela Lagarde, Los cautiverios de las mujeres: madresposas, monjas, putas, presas y locas, México: UNAM, 2005.