The Genealogy of Jesus: Where are the Women?

I recently reread the genealogy of Jesus in Luke 3:21-38 and Matthew 1:1-17. During Christmas, we have a high chance of stumbling across them. They are hard to miss, being in the early chapters of Matthew and Luke.

Often, we might see the genealogy of Jesus as another list of names—a tradition essential to the Gospel writers, connecting his lineage to David or God. 

As we read these names, we notice men’s predominant inclusion. I have always consciously been aware of the male names, but I never assigned meaning to their prominence, accrediting it to the patriarchal undertones of the time.

In our context, it might appear irrelevant. Why should we care about the genealogy of Jesus or a list of male names? Claiming our family names and lineage is no longer an expectation. 

Yet, this year, I focused not on what was there but on what was missing. Something glaringly came across my mind—where are the women?

Previously, I did the same thing as the authors and the patriarchy. I ignored the silencing of the women. Their names and impact omitted and purposely forgotten.  

How many women’s names have been lost? How many matriarchs of our faith have been forgotten due to being female? 

Who were they? What did they sacrifice?

These women did more than carry Jesus’ ancestors in their wombs. Every single woman had a unique personality and identity. 

They had hopes, dreams, and their own relationship with The Divine. They passed down their faith, raised their children in the eyes of the Creator and sacrificed for their families. 

Jesus’ grandmothers witnessed God’s revelations throughout all Israelite history. I will never know their names, stories, and experiences. I am left pondering their truth. 

Five women are recorded in Matthew’s genealogy—Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, Ruth, and Mary. All were recorded due to the shocking nature of their stories, surviving the actions of the men around them. 

Tamar, known as the daughter-in-law of Judah, had to trick her father-in-law into impregnating her, ensuring her future.

Rahab became a prostitute to survive. She protected the Israelite spies and provided the victory of Jericho. 

Bathsheba was forced to become David’s wife after he “slept with her” and killed her husband. 

Ruth, a Moabite, protected her mother-in-law, Naomi, and sought out Boaz. 

Mary, the mother of Jesus, became pregnant at an early age, out of wedlock, facing the risk of being shunned from society.

Yet, these stories are not enough. They will never be enough. 

Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, Ruth and Mary only present a fraction of women’s stories, surviving their patriarchal and unfair context. This leaves us in a predicament. 

What do we do with the silencing of women and the limitations of represented stories? I argue, we remember. 

We remember a history, appearing throughout the Bible, where women are treated as vessels to be used and second-class humans. 

We remember that there is a woman for every man in Jesus’ family tree: a mother, daughter, sister, granddaughter, grandmother, niece, aunt and wife. 

We remember the women authors deemed not important enough to include. 

We remember they are equally made in the image of God, demanding our attention.

In our churches, we remember the importance of women, affirming their agency and sense of self. We create a community where a little girl never has to grow up questioning her worth or silencing her voice. 

To redeem Jesus’ grandmothers, we give importance to the feminine experience of God and how that appears in the church. 

As I have often heard throughout my life, there is a reason we study history, theology and ethics. It forces us to remember the evils of humanity. 

If not, we face the cruel reality of forgetting again and repeating the exact same actions of the past.