The good news of the gospel is never more jarring than when put alongside the raw facts of human suffering, yet that is precisely the place where it has the most to say. It is in this place of tension that Christian educators stand when facing students—somewhere between the cross and the unavoidable brokenness of life in this world. The educator names the truth of both places and helps students find ways to navigate this tension in ways appropriate to their age and understanding.

In her recent work, The Cross and Gendercide, author Elizabeth Gerhardt stands firmly in this place by laying out both the unavoidable truths of the various kinds of violence against women and girls happening all over the globe, and also a well-grounded theological basis for response.

The statistics are chilling: “In the United States, one out of every four women has experienced domestic violence and one out of six has experienced attempted or completed rape” (14). Think about that for a minute: this is the context from which female students and colleagues arrive at school each day. Educators cannot afford to ignore the issues Gerhardt brings to light in her book.

As Gerhardt insists, the problem is so widespread that the best way to label what is happening is gendercide. The author’s case is as urgent as the issues she presents. Women and girls across the globe deal with violence, abuse, early marriage, trafficking, poverty, AIDS, and a host of other forms of interrelated forms of suffering.

Gerhardt draws on more than twenty-five years working with abused women to put forward a compelling case for a theologically-based response “that is faithful to the proclamation of the whole gospel of life and is equipped to address the underlying economic, cultural, religious and political causes of the violence” (17). Interwoven with personal stories, theological reflection, and call to action, the book presents the reader with a clear sense of the complexity and terrors of these issues.

The difficulty is not to feel so overwhelmed in the face of gendercide that we do nothing—that we stand back and fail to face our own complicity in systems that may be fundamentally unjust, that we fail to see it as an urgent issue among so many other forms of oppression in the world today. This book is a call to name sin and stand in the place of suffering, which is ultimately a call to the cross.

Gerhardt’s thinking is rooted in Martin Luther’s theology of the cross, which “insists on the proclamation of the gospel as the primary focus of the church” (92). Every educator, every person of faith receives the “invitation to join Christ’s mission to heal, to bind up the brokenhearted, and to free those who are oppressed” (84). We do this—and we teach our students to do this—by getting our hands dirty and acting as agents of renewal who stand against all forms of oppression of women and girls. This task is essential and not optional: “To abandon the call to root out evil systems that support violence is to abandon Christ’s mission” (104).

Despite the enormity of the problem, we are not entirely without hope. As Gerhardt notes: “Within this reality of suffering, we can be assured that God meets us in our powerlessness and weakness. This is a great message of hope to abused women and girls.” And even with its many challenges, the work brings its own rewards: “Paradoxically, by engaging in this work of Christ, in the shadow of death and pain, life is found” (99).

This book deals with a huge topic, and so necessarily skims the surface of the wide range of global issues around gender violence and the historical place of women in the church, but it does provide a solid grounding in a theology of the cross to do this work. This is an urgent call to people of faith not only to bandage up the wounded, but also to continue the fight on a systemic level to stand against deeply held beliefs and ingrained systems of violence that may be hiding in the very places we live and work.

The Cross and Gendercide is an important work, not only for the global church, but also for all educators. We need to be aware of the context from which half the children in the classroom come to school each day. Sadly, Christian schools are not exempt from the misogyny, abuse, and violence that are part of women’s experiences.

What can we do? What can you do? While it is a global problem, you can start with the places you live and work; you can ask questions; you can listen. Perhaps, along with some of your colleagues, you can discuss questions like these:

• What are the experiences of women in your school?
• How does your school identify and support girls who may have experienced abuse?
• How aware is your community of the global nature of this crisis?
• Do you think Gerhardt goes too far in calling this a “human rights” issue and using the word gendercide? If so, talk to a woman who has experienced abuse or violence, and see if she agrees.
• How might God be calling you to take up a theology of the cross that is risky and bold in actions on behalf of the oppressed in your school?

The issue is dire and the challenge is great, but Christian educators are uniquely qualified to speak hope into the vastness of that hopelessness, to stand for truth and justice, and to insist that all who bear God’s image—both male and female—be treated as the beloved children they are.