Women Prophets in the Old Testament: Implications for Christian Women in Contemporary Southeastern Nigeria

Differences between the Women Prophets and their Male Counterparts

While they share many things in common, as seen above, with their male counterparts, the women prophets in the Old Testament are also different from the men.

They are, first of all, fewer in number. In fact, while fifty male prophets are mentioned in the Hebrew bible, only half a dozen female ones are (Nissinen 2017: 346). While such paucity does make women prophets look like an exception rather than the rule (Nissinen 2017: 312), it is possible that those mentioned may (or may not) be only a few of multitude of women prophets who in reality exercised their ministry then (Meyers 1998: 195–96). This may not be strange, given that while in Old Babylonian texts male and female prophets were roughly even, in Neo-Assyrian prophetic texts the women formed the majority of the prophets (Stokl 2012: 216).

Unlike their male counterparts, these women prophets do not have written documents bearing their names, and opinions are divided as to the reason behind this. While some believe that they actually did not write anything, others believe that what they wrote may have been ascribed to or recorded under the names of the male prophets (McKinlay 2012: 11, n. 3). In fact, Kessler goes so far as to suggest that their works, sayings and voices could be located in the books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the twelve so-called Minor Prophets—but as always, under the names of male prophets (Kessler, cited in Lee 2015: 5, n. 12).

Unlike their male counterparts, the women prophets, if not all, at least a greater number, probably practised their calling on a part-time basis since their primary roles were those of wife and mother (Ebeling 2010: 126). While fulfilling those primary roles, they had enough space and freedom to function as prophets. In fact, it has been stated that no nation ever gave a bigger place to women in the home and in family matters than the Jews did (Barclay 2003: 74).

In contrast to their male counterparts, however, they do not have many words or lengthy messages ascribed to them in the Hebrew bible.

Although Meyers (1998: 257) has observed that “there are no absolute statements in the Hebrew bible of categorical male supremacy over women,” the fact remains that ancient Israel was a patriarchal society where males played dominant roles (Frick 1995: 457; Brueggemann, 2002: 102–03; Otuibe 2003: 97–98). This is evident even in the things that concerned the above women prophets, who, by the way, had to function in such a situation. One of the interesting things about them, especially those of them whose prophecies are presented, as shall be seen shortly, in a much more positive light, is that they are each under the authority of a male relative. Such a relative could be either a husband (Deborah, Huldah, Isaiah’s wife) or a brother (Miriam). The only exception here is Noadiah, whose prophecy is not highly valued and thus is called a “false prophet.” It is not known for sure whether she came as well under the authority of a male relative (Marsman 2003: 562). The same could be said of the daughters of Judah whom Ezekiel criticized, as hinted at above, for prophesying “out of their own imagination” (Ezek13:17).

Again, compared to their male counterparts, a greater percentage of the women prophets, especially, Miriam, Deborah, Huldah and Noadiah (Isaiah’s wife could be an exception) appeared to have functioned in times of social, political and cultural instability (Ackerman 1998: 173). This, of course, does not mean that there are no male prophets at all in the Old Testament who could have lived and functioned also during such periods of social upheavals in Israel.

The priesthood in ancient Israel was not a vocation, but an office (De Vaux 1997: 346). Although sometimes conferred by royal appointment, it was in the major part, hereditary. By that very fact, it was not even open to all men. However, it is still a fact that some of the male prophets in the Old Testament were priests (e.g. Zechariah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel). But this is unlike the situation of the women prophets: None of them was a priest. This is because priesthood, in ancient Israel, was an all-male territory into which women never ventured, although it must be acknowledged that women in priestly families were supported by the tithes given to priests.

Differences Within the Camp of the Women Prophets in the Old Testament

There are some differences among the aforementioned women prophets.

Placed on a certain scale of a strict understanding of who a prophet is, it could be said, in a way, that rather than being prophets in the strictest sense, Miriam (like Moses) and Deborah (like Samuel) are respectively divinely inspired leader and judge (Nissinen 2017: 29).

While Deborah, Huldah and Isaiah’s wife are married; of Miriam and Noadiah, not much is known of their marital status.

While Noadiah remains the only recorded post-exilic female prophet, the others, especially, Miriam (in the period of Exodus), Deborah (in the period of the Judges), and Huldah (in the period of the Monarchy), function in pre-exilic times. The daughters of Judah function during the exilic period.

While Deborah and Huldah have their words recorded in the Old Testament, Noadiah has none.

While some, especially Huldah (most probably through her husband) and Noadiah are connected to the temple, others are not (Marsman 2003: 571).

While four—Miriam, Deborah, Huldah and Noadiah—are obviously identified by name, Isaiah’s wife and the daughters of Judah are not.

While three, Miriam, Deborah and Huldah (and probably as well, Isaiah’s wife), have many positive things said about them, Noadiah as well as the daughters of Judah mentioned in Ezekiel are the only ones presented in a very negative light. Yes, they are called “false prophets.”

Apart from Noadiah, the meaning of whose name is positive (Yahweh has become manifest), and Miriam and Isaiah’s wife whose are not known, the names of Huldah (“rat”) and Deborah (“bee”) are obviously those of small animals (Brenner 2005: 59).

Prophets are sometimes divided into two cateegories: those who criticize and evaluate the present and particular situations of the nation (political, moral, religious and liturgical), and proclaim or speak forth thereof the word of God, for which they have come to be called “Forth-tellers,” and those who tell what may happen in the future, good or bad—the “Foretellers” (Redditt 2008: xiii–xiv). While Miriam, Deborah and Huldah are forth-telling prophets, Deborah and Huldah are also fore-telling prophets (Hodgkin 2020: 297).

A Brief Consideration on Some of the Women Prophets in the Old Testament

Miriam: Sister of Moses and Aaron, she is mentioned in Exodus 15:20 as a woman prophet: “Then Miriam, the prophetess, sister of Aaron, took tambourine in her hand and all the women followed her dancing and playing tambourines.” This is immediately after the drowning of Pharaoh’s chariots in the Red sea and the consequent deliverance of the people of Israel. Moses intones the song of praise to God (vv 1–18) while Miriam, dancing, accompanies him, singing and playing tambourines. But Miriam soon gets herself into a problem, when, following Moses’ marriage to the Cushite woman, she, alongside Aaron, speaks against Moses and tries to put herself on the same pedestal with Moses: “Has Yahweh only spoken through Moses? Has he not also spoken through us?”(Num. 12:2). But that statement is pregnant with meaning. Therein lies not only the real reason for her attack on Moses—the marriage issue being only a smokescreen and an occasion for the dispute (Hiesberger 2007: 178), but also an indirect acknowledgement of the fact that, like Moses, she too is a prophet, a spokesperson for God. Wilson (2007: 72) believes that that statement presents her as a woman ministering unto the people of Israel and thus shows that she has a leadership position from God. Indeed, she remains the first woman to lead a nationalistic movement to new heights in the development of God’s people (Schubert 2015). No wonder, in the prophet Micah God tells the people of Israel: “I brought you out of Egypt: I rescued you from the land of bondage; I sent Moses, Aaron and Miriam to lead you” (6:4).

However, Miriam’s aforementioned jealousy-induced attack on Moses, who is too humble to even defend himself, has her infected with leprosy and confined for seven days outside the camp (Num 12:13). Aaron, her accomplice in the act, is not afflicted with the same leprosy. This surely brings up the question as to why it is so. Among other reasons, the most prominent is the fact that the complaint about Moses’ marriage to the Cushite woman and, especially, his peculiar relationship with God, seems to have originated more from Miriam than from Aaron, although the latter later buys into it. In that case, while Miriam is the instigator, Aaron is only a conspirator. This is already evident in Numbers 12:1, where it is written: “And she spoke, Miriam, and Aaron, against Moses”—with the verb here being third-person, feminine and singular and not plural (Hamilton 2005: 325).

Deborah: In the galaxy of male judges in Israel, she stands out as the only female judge. But she gives a good account of herself. Sitting under the palm tree in the land of Ephraim, precisely between Ramah and Bethel, she is able to administer God’s justice to the people of Israel. And rising, with courage, wisdom and power, “as a mother of Israel” (Judg 5:7), she helps to silence the enemies of the same Israel. One of those enemies is Yabin, the king of Canaan, who, for twenty years, has kept the Israelites oppressed. This Yabin owns nine hundred chariots of war and has a powerful commander, Sisera. But Deborah is never afraid of either of them. She summons Barak, the commander of the Israelite army, and makes known to him the order of Yahweh: that he go, with ten thousand men from the tribes of Naphtali and Zebulun, and fight Sisera. Barak is afraid, but Deborah promises to go with him. Sisera is eventually killed.

There have been questions as to why Barak refused to go to that war in the first place unless accompanied by Deborah. Opinions, as usual, are divided. In the first place, it could be his own way of expressing his disrespect and articulating, as it were, his disapproval of a woman’s command over a man in a society that is obviously patriarchal. It could as well, on the contrary, be a way of expressing his respect and belief in God’s unique relationship with Deborah and consequently acknowledging Deborah’s competence (Schroeder 2014: 2; Hamilton 2008: 121). Again, it may even indicate his belief that Deborah’s presence at the battle may inspire courage in him and in his soldiers. Whatever be the case, the more probable explanation tilts towards Barak’s lack of courage and what Kalmanofsky (2017: 54) considers his compromised masculinity and faith.

Deborah is not only a judge, however; she is also a prophet. The book of Judges calls her “a prophetess and wife of Lappidoth” (4:4). In the entire Bible, only Moses and Samuel enjoy this privilege, of being both a judge and a prophet, even as Samuel was equally a priest. But questions have also been raised as to whether she is actually the wife of Lappidoth. This is consequent upon the ambiguity in the translation of eshet lappidot which could be given either as a “woman of flame/fire” or the “wife of Lappidoth.” But it is much more plausible that the latter is the case, that is, that Lappidoth is not only her husband, but that she even has children (Idestrom 2017: 29). This is more probable because being married to Lappidoth would not have prevented her from being both the judge and prophet she is, or, at the worst, illegitimized her status.

But then, in preparing for the aforementioned war with Sisera, she prophesies that if she goes with Barak to that war, a woman, rather than Barak, would kill Sisera and the honor would be the woman’s (Judg 4:9). And truly, a non-Israelite woman, Yael, the wife of Heber, the Kenite, does kill Sisera. She hammers a tent peg through Sisera’s temple while he sleeps (Judg 4:11–22). Even truer still, the honor of that victory goes to Yael rather than Barak. “Blessed among women be Yael, wife of Heber the Kenite” (Judg 5:24), so does Deborah sing, among others, of this woman’s exploits in a poem, “Song of Deborah.” She composes this poem, acknowledged by many as one of the oldest texts of the Old Testament (Tonucci 2015: 58; Sparks 1998: 109; Abramson 2012: 45; Nowell 1997), after the victory, in which, of course, she does not forget to thank and praise Yahweh who made it all possible (cf. Judg 5:2; 31).

Huldah: Her story is told in the books of Kings (2 Kgs 22:14–20) and Chronicles (2 Chr 34:22–38). She predicts that since King Josiah has done penance, he will be spared the evil that the Lord has planned to send to Jerusalem and its inhabitants as contained in the newly-discovered Book of the Law (cf. 2 Kgs 22:16–20). So it happens. It is actually during the time of Johoiakim who reigned years after Josiah that Jerusalem, thanks to Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, is destroyed and its inhabitants taken into exile. But Huldah’s prediction has come following the visit made to her by five men, Hilkiah, Ahikam, Achbor, Shaphan, and Asaiah, sent by King Josiah. The latter has just listened to the above-mentioned Book of the Law recently discovered in the House of Yahweh by Hilkiah, the high priest. It is the king’s secretary, Shaphan, who reads the book—believed by many today to be the Book of Deuteronomy—to him.

On hearing the contents of the book, he, King Josiah, tears his clothes and commands the aforementioned five men to do something: “Go and consult Yahweh about the threats in this book which you have found. Consult him for me, for the people and for the whole of Judah, since our fathers did not listen to what this book says nor to its ordinances. This is why the anger of Yahweh is ready to burn against us” (2 Kgs 22:13). And they “went to consult the prophetess Huldah, wife of Shallum, son of Tikva, son of Harhas, keeper of the wardrobe.”(2 Kgs 22:14). She is living in Jerusalem at that time. But, here, as well, the question must be brought up as to why they go to consult with Huldah when there are the prophets Jeremiah and Zephaniah, who are not only her contemporaries but also more famous. And opinions could not have been any more divided. It has been suggested that the King might have known Jeremiah and thus wished to hear something fresh and less gloomy (Goldingay, 2003, 678.) Others believe that the male prophets are not within the confines of Jerusalem at this time and thus Huldah is the only one available (Brenner 2005: 157). There are some who believe that Huldah is consulted because she is much more literate than Jeremiah, the latter a mere speaker, who relies on his secretary, Baruch, to put his oracles into writing (Phipps 1992: 86). Huldah, for some others, is a mere lackey for King Josiah who has to use her as a woman he could manipulate more than the male prophets around, for a reform he might have earlier planned but just needed a prophetic stamp to begin (Weems 2003: 330). She has also been seen as a mere mouthpiece and a tool in the hands of Deuteronomisitc ideologues, theologians and scribes (Weems 2003: 330; Mckinlay 2012: 10). Still others believe that Huldah’s husband, Shallum, who works in the temple as keeper of the wardrobe of the priests, has a hand in making her known to the King’s emissaries and thus their going thereof. In fact, Brueggemann (2002: 103) sees her as a “known quantity in the circles of Judean royalty.”

Whatever be the case, Shaphan and others would not have gone to her if they had doubts about the authenticity of her prophecy and of her learned ability to ascertain the authenticity or otherwise of the just-discovered Book of the Law. And the King himself would not have accepted her oracles as easily as he does and sets out to work on them. Hence, it could be said that Huldah is a woman who has passed through the furnace of prophetic test and comes out unscathed, becoming by that very fact an “unquestioned and uncontested religious institution in southern Kingdom” (Winston & Winston 2013: 159). Thanks to her above-mentioned dexterity at authenticating the above Book of the Law and her consequent pronouncement thereof, she has been given a privileged place in the hallowed chambers of biblical scholarship. This is to the extent that she has not only been called the founder of biblical studies (Swidler, cited in Swidler 1979: 89), but also the first canon-eer (Phipps 1992: 92), the latter in view of her immense contribution to the eventual canonization of both Testaments of the bible.(Pokrifka 2012: 306, n. 115). Kavanagh (2013) is even of the opinion that since Huldah’s association with the Book of the Law is not limited to her having authenticated it as shown above, but goes to the point that she could have written a good portion of the other parts of the Hebrew Scripture, she should, therefore, be seen as a “principal author of Hebrew Scripture, … an extraordinary writer [who] arguably … ranks with Second Isaiah as the best in Hebrew Scripture”(1–2).

Noadiah: Ordinarily, a prophet is an instrument in the hands of God. But in extraordinary cases, the same prophet can degenerate to a point where he/she can become an instrument in the hands of men and women. If the story told by Nehemiah in the sixth chapter of his book is anything to go by, Noadiah is an example of a prophet, much like the male prophet Balaam, who becomes an instrument in the hands of some men: Sanballat, Tobiah and Geshem, who employ her in attempts to realize their aims. These men are the enemies of Nehemiah who oppose his rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem. One of the ways used by them is bribing some prophets like Noadiah to give false prophecies aimed at frightening Nehemiah out of his cherished project. Hence, Nehemiah’s prayer: “O my God, remember Tobiah and Sanballat for what they have done; and also the prophetess Noadiah and the rest of the prophets who tried to frighten me “(Neh 6: 14).

But as in the other cases above, Noadiah’s story surely brings up some fundamental issues for consideration, the first of which is the question of how to assess a true prophet. This is significant since in the Old Testament the biblical terms that refer to prophets do not of themselves distinguish ‘true” prophets from “false” (Fredenburg 2002: 120). In view of this, some scholars (relying still on some passages in the Old Testament) are known to have come up with what they consider better and more appropriate criteria for determining the authenticity or otherwise of prophets and, perhaps, their mission (Fredenburg 2002: 122–23; Chan 1998: 203; Barth 1991: 298–99; Loken 2010: xxi–xxiii; Schmidt 1992: 199). But beyond these criteria and beyond what is said of Noadiah above, the question must be asked whether the ideological projects which the writer of the book of Nehemiah obviously defended played a role in the writer’s categorization of some prophets as “false” and others as “true.” This to the extent that one could talk of the writer’s co-option of some prophets who supported the projects and the refusal of other prophets who opposed them (Carroll 1992: 90). This is more interesting when one considers that there is no book or text of the Old Testament—and ipso facto, of the Bible—that is ideologically innocent (Tracy 1987: 79; Brueggemann 2003: 400; Brueggemann, 2008: 38). Again, the question must be asked whether Noadiah’s clash with Nehemiah automatically saw her on the wrong side of history and thus condemned in continuation of what seems to be a pattern in the Old Testament whereby women prophets (e.g., Miriam) who clashed with the male leadership (e.g., Moses) are condemned and those who do not are praised (e.g., Deborah and Huldah) (Carroll 1992: 94)

Similarly, there is the issue of what the Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, calls the “Danger of a Single Story” (2009). This is the danger of assuming that an incomplete single story that tells part or one side of the whole story about a person, place or thing, is the only story, the whole story. Granted, one may not have heard the actual words of these women prophets since what is heard could have been reconstructed many years after the events for particular purposes. And even, what is presented as their actual words, in some instances, has a way of differing from the narrative of the same (e.g., the Song of Deborah in Judges 5 differing from the narrative of Judges 4). All these considerations notwithstanding, most of these prophets almost come out in positive colors. The only exception here is Noadiah. And the strangeness of her case is that what is known about her is from the words put on the lips of her opponent, Nehemiah. Her side of the story is not heard. (Only a few opponents in history are known to be gracious enough to present the proper position of their adversaries.) Hence, the sixth chapter of Nehemiah where Noadiah’s story is contained may be a specimen of a single story: a story told only by Nehemiah and according to Nehemiah (Carroll 1992: 92). Hence, there is not only the possibility that the chapter may not contain the whole story, but also that the story could have come out differently if Noadiah had narrated it or if it had been narrated from her perspective. But instead, everything was expressed from the perspective of Nehemiah, who came out immaculate and unscathed. It may be along this line that a better understanding may be made of Achebe’s observation that “Until the lions produce their own historian, the story of the hunt will glorify only the hunter”(2000: 73).

Be that as it may, for the purposes of this article, it may suffice to accept the false-prophet tag pinned unto Noadiah and to acknowledge the fact that her association with Sanballat, Tobiah, and Geshem in a way occasioned it.

The Wife of Prophet Isaiah. Her name is simply not given, but one is told by her husband, the prophet Isaiah, that she is a prophetess: “And I went to the prophetess and she conceived and bore a son” (Isa 8:3). And that immediately brings up the question whether she is a prophet like the aforementioned women prophets by having actually been involved in the prophetic art, or whether the title is honorific in relation to her marriage to Isaiah and the consequent child she gives birth to. And as expected, scholars have been divided about it: Some are for the first position (Willis 2007: 117; Herbert 1973: 67) and others for the second (Ackerman 1998: 173; Smith 2019: 70). Some have even gone beyond these two options to suggest that she is neither, but simply a temple or sacred prostitute (Selvidge 1990: 69; Swidler 1979: 85). The position of the third group is helped by two facts. Although there have been doubts raised in recent times on the existence of temple prostitution in ancient Israel (Oden 2000: 131–53; Keefe 2001: 53–62; Budin 2009: 17–32; Marsman 2003: 584; Beard & Henderson 1998: 56–79; Roth 2006: 23–24). There are still many who believe that it was a common reality (Vriezen 1967: 169; McKenzie 1965: 700). The second fact is that Isaiah’s association with a prostitute would not have even been strange since another prophet, Hosea, even married one, Gomer (Hos 1:2). This is said despite recent scholarship that sees Gomer not simply as a prostitute but instead, as a promiscuous wife, “wife of promiscuity,” (Yee 1998: 209), or better, “a wife who becomes promiscuous” (Andersen & Freedman, cited in Mc-Comiskey 1992: 13).

But this article takes the first position: that she is a prophet in her own right (Williamson 2010: 65). And this is not surprising; the prophetic call comes from God, who has the right to address it to whomever he chooses. Since God had previously called a brother and sister (Moses and Miriam) to be prophets, calling a man and his wife (Isaiah and the wife) in this case would surely not have been out of the ordinary. He had also called married women (Huldah and Deborah) before now, so Isaiah’s wife would not have been in a better company!

Increase in Self-Confidence

Like the land of Israel in which the aforementioned Old Testament’s women prophets lived and exercised their ministry, traditional Igbo society is also patriarchal. It is, in a way, more of a man’s than a woman’s world. Even in some Igbo areas like Ohafia and Afikpo, where a certain kind of matrilineality is practised, it is still the man who, in one way or the other, holds the aces. That is why, for instance, women in Igboland are more often than not denied the right of inheritance both in their fathers’ houses as daughters and at their husbands’ places as widows. Again, Basden (1966: 68) has rightly pointed out that to be childless in Igbo society is the “greatest calamity that can befall a woman.” This is more so because even when the man rather than the woman is responsible for the childlessness, it is usually the woman that is apportioned the greatest blame (Eze 2016: xvi; Nnamani 2005: 29). But in most cases, it is a calamity for the woman, not only when she is childless, it is equally so when she is sonless, without a son. This is because there is in traditional Igbo society a certain kind of entrenched male gender preference.

For instance, in a survey some time ago of about 790 pregnant women who presented themselves for prenatal ultrasound at four selected hospitals in Anambra (one of the five Southeastern states), it was found out that more than half (58.6%, 463/790) of the women desired to have male babies in their present pregnancies while 20.1% (159/790) desired female babies and 21.3% (168/790) did not care if the baby was male or female (Ohagwu et al. 2014). And these male babies when they arrive are normally given such names, among others, as Obiechina (“the compound must not revert to bush”) (Ike 1973: 9); Amaechina (Amaechi, for short—“may the path never close”); Amaefule (“may my lineage never be lost”); Ahamefuna (“may my name never get lost”); Obialorm (“my soul can now be at rest/I am consoled”); Akujoubi (“a child that soothes the soul” [of the parents, mostly, the mother]); Nwokedimkpa (Nwokedi, for short—“a son/male child is essential”); Ugwunna (“the pride of the father”); Iheanacho (“the desired child”); Nkemjika (“what I have [a son] is better”); Ebisike (“one can now put one’s feet firmly on the ground”); Ihemyorochi (“what I asked of God”); Nkemakolam (“may I never fail to have that [male child] which is mine”); Echetaobiesike (Echeta, for short—”one whose remembrance makes the soul strong”); Nwanakpauha (Uha for short—“a child that brings joy/happiness [to the family]”). What these names and similar others have in common is that they show that the bearers were truly desired and expected.

On the contrary, the female children, like the character Adah in Emecheta’s Second Class Citizen (1974: 1), that come in place of the desired male child are often given such names, among others, as Nwanyibuife (“a female is also something”) (Achebe 1987: 87); Nwanyikwa (“a female child again”); Ejinwanyiemenini (“what can one do with a female?”) (Mbonu 2010: 75); Nwanyiabunwa (Abunwa, for short—“a female is not a child/a female does not count”); Chielozona (“may God never forget [to bless me with a son]”); Anayochi (“let’s continue praying to God[for male child]”); Ogechikamma (Ogechi for short—“God’s time [to give me a male child] is the best”), Mgbeodichimma (“whenever it pleases God [he can give me son]”), Anyadinama/Anyadiniro (Anyadi, for short—“I am still on the lookout[for a male child]”); Nkeiruka (“what is in front [the expected birth of a male child] is bigger”). As Mbonu (2010) rightly observes, these female names and similar others are “not merely a convenient collocation of sounds by which a person could be identified. They represent a maker which suggests ideologies of subordination and marginalization” (75).

In fact, from the foregoing, if it is said of the biblical Ruth that she is worth more than seven sons (cf. Ruth 4:15), that cannot be said of any female child in the traditional Igbo society. A male child is always valued more. This is evident even in a very recent Facebook post by a certain Igbo man, Ezechinyere Ugo, a post that caused somewhat of a stir on social media, thus: “One male child is worth more than ten daughters” (lindaikejisblog.com). And it is according to this mentality that in contemporary Igbo culture, a boy, no matter his age, during kolanut ritual, would be asked to bless and break the kolanut in the presence of older women. Hence, the words of the character, Papa-Nnukwu, to her daughter, Aunty Ifeoma, in Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus (2004), could, in a way, be applied to a typical Igbo woman today: “You are a woman. You do not count” (83). This male-gender preference, it is good to know, is often hinged, as shown in the names given to the boys above, on the need to ensure the continuation of the lineage and to make inheritance possible. While it is granted that things have picked up a bit today from what they were in the past in terms of male preference, the unfortunate thing is that some women themselves have often come to internalize this mentality that they do not count. And this has led, on their part, to a certain lack of self-confidence and overall inferiority complex.

Be that as it may, West (2015: 22) has observed that interpreting the biblical text in African biblical hermeneutics is never an end in itself; instead it is something that makes for personal and societal transformation. Similarly, recognizing that there are women prophets in the Old Testament and then focusing attention on some of them and the fact that they could function notwithstanding the patriarchal situation in which they found themselves, would not be an end in itself, but would make for both personal and societal transformation. This could certainly boost the confidence of many contemporary Christian women in Southeastern Nigeria. It could instill in them a certain sense of pride that, contrary to some of the aforementioned elements of the Igbo culture that often regard them as nothing, they truly count, they are really somebodies! Hence, the transformation that could see each of them move from being a Nwanyibuife (“a female is also something”) as is the name of a character in Achebe’s Anthills of the Savannah to becoming each an Ifeoma (“something good”) as is the name of a character in Adichie’s Purple Hibsicus. In fact—combining the names of both characters—they can each become a Nwanyibuifeoma (“a woman is also something good”).

This enhanced confidence can surely inspire many Christian women in Igboland to continue, among other things, their fight against all forms of alienation and subjugation to which many Igbo women are subjected today. One powerful way to accomplish this is education—education of the girl-child. Granted, in contemporary Igboland, unlike the situation in the past, more girls than boys are in school (Igboanusi 2019: 112). But that should not make Igbo Christian women complacent—keep them from ensuring that more and more girls have access to quality education. Education is and will always remain the most functional, visible and enduring source of power in any age (Dozie, cited in Uwalaka 2003: 196). Hence, in their various groups, both at the village and Church levels, they should endeavor to institute scholarships for girls, especially those from indigent and, maybe broken, homes, so that such girls would be helped to achieve their destinies.

The Reality of Women’s Leadership

Another indication of the patriarchal structure of the contemporary Igbo culture is the fact that women are sometimes not allowed to head joint meetings and committees This is not on account of their incompetence, but merely because they are women. Uchem (2002: 20) articulates this well:

Irrespective of personal talents, women are not usually appointed as chairpersons at social functions or as head of committees. An incompetent man might even be put in as a leader in place of a woman who might be even more gifted in leadership than the man. Occasionally, a woman is made assistant, and only an assistant. Even if it is her genius that runs the whole organization, someone else, the man, gets the credit.

This obtains not only in the wider society, but often also within many churches: the notion most often prevails that while the man and leadership are like Siamese twins, the woman is only a specialist in playing second fiddle. But the above story of how Deborah, a woman, actually led Barak, a man, and his soldiers, in the war against Yabin remains both a challenge and source of encouragement to Igbo women today. It is an encouragement that should see them not just head commissions and joint meetings, but also come to play greater roles at the national level, where not too many Igbo Christian women have featured up to now. This is all the more important when it is realized that for a number of years now, Nigeria, a country that got her independence from Britain in 1960, has moved on as if it had no leaders; most of the presidents and heads of state that it has had so far, all male, have never lived up to expectations. A testament to this fact is that despite the various human and natural resources at her disposal, the country is today the world’s poverty capital (Adebayo 2018; Akinkuotu 2018), with well over 60% of her citizens living in abject poverty (Achunonu 2012: xx) amidst growing insecurity, social unrest and economic crisis. Meanwhile, many of these leaders have been interested only in enriching themselves and their cronies. A case in point here is General Sani Abacha, who ruled Nigeria from 1993 until 1998. When he died in 1998, it was discovered that he and his family members had embezzled from the state coffers up to 4 billion dollars, stashed away in major banks in Paris, London and Geneva (Joly 2008: ix). Little wonder, then, that Achebe (1984: 1) maintains that “[t]he trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.” Maybe, it could be added: a failure of male leadership!

While cognizant of obvious contextual realities, it could be said in a way that the situation in Nigeria today may not be much different from the way things were in Israel in the time of Deborah. In her poem, the “Song of Deborah,” she confessed: “There were no leaders in Israel until I, Deborah, awoke and arose as mother of Israel”(Judg 5:7). Yes, she arose, in the apparent absence or incapacity of male judges, and took Israel to a greater height. And it may be said as well that given the failure of male leadership in the country it is high time another Deborah arose from the ranks of Christian women in Igboland in particular and, indeed, in the country as a whole, to take Nigeria to greater heights. Deborah is the only major judge in the Bible whose death is not recorded (Hamilton 2001: 127; Hahn & Mitch 2015: 23). This may be a way of saying that she lives on and there cannot be a better way for her to live on in the context of this paper than to live on in the contemporary Christian women in Igboland.

But this cannot come about when there is among contemporary Christian women in Igboland and, indeed, in Nigeria, a certain lack of interest in political matters (Okonjo 1976: 46; Oraegbunam 2002: 50). Many of them still regard their involvement in politics as a taboo (Ojo 2004: 169). Of course, there have been several factors that brought them to this level of political apathy. Among these is the lack of necessary finance, especially in a country like Nigeria where politics has a “cash and carry” connotation (Catholic Secretariat 1999: 47). There is also the reality of political violence; the wrong understanding of politics as being ontologically a “dirty game” (Amaefule 2019: 184) and the bad example of some Christian women already in governance (Adesanya 2012: 266). There is also the issue of lack of support. This is often fueled by at least two factors:

The same lack of support often also comes from other women who, having probably internalized the erroneous belief that political leadership is not for women, often refuse, despite their large number, to support and vote in, as it were, their own fellow women even when the latter are more qualified than their male opponents (Oraegbunam 2002: 50; Iyidobi 2002: 62). There is also outright opposition to women’s leadership by some male chauvinists in Nigeria. This is evident in the following statement accredited to one of them:

My own opinion is that a woman should never be the president of Nigeria unless all men are extinct and only one man is alive. Even in that case a man should take over as president…. The presidency of Nigeria is not a woman’s job…. Whatever a woman is, in Africa, she is not qualified to be president because she is a woman. God created women to serve and not to lord it over men…. Our fathers never gave women chance to interfere in the affair of men. They were no fools. They knew what they were up to. Today we have given women a chance. They have polluted all our sacred enclaves and shrines. That is why today, they are aiming at the presidency. The secret plan is to mount a coup against men and take over all offices of state. They will not succeed in our life-time. Let them take it from me. They will fail woefully [Cited in Schatzberg 2001: 187].

All this notwithstanding, the life of Deborah and the success she recorded remain a strong invitation to these Christian women to take the plunge into the deep and admittedly murky waters of national leadership and politics. Their attempt here may be helped by the examples of few Igbo women in recent times, who, against all odds, entered the political arena (even if theirs had been political appointments) and in most instances, gave a good account of themselves. Here, one remembers the late Professor Dora Akunyili, the former Director-General of the National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control (NAFDAC) and later, the Minister of Information and Communications; Dr Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, former Minister of Finance; Oby Ezekwesili, who was not only a former Minister of Solid Minerals and later of Education, but also a presidential aspirant of the Allied Congress Party of Nigeria (ACPN) during the 2019 presidential elections.

The Igbo Christian women could as well be encouraged by the exploits of their forebears in pre-Christian and Pre-colonial Nigeria. Igbo women then were never mere pushovers in the socio-political affairs of their communities. More than women from the other tribes in the country, they were really vocal in political matters (Uchendu, cited in Uchem 2001: 40; Ihenacho 2012: 567). And while some believe that Christianity and colonialism ensured the decline in the political status of the Igbo women (Uchem 2001: 48) and, indeed, worsened the then overall existing gender inequalities (Nnamani 2005: 28), it is good to note that even in colonial Nigeria, it was an Igbo woman, Ahebi Ugbabe, who was able to become the only female warrant chief and king in colonial Nigeria and arguably in British Africa (Achebe 2011: 2). According to Achebe,

Ahebi’s transformation into a female king was unprecedented, an ife di egwu (thing of great incredulity) that perhaps surpassed her coronation as a warrant chief or at the very least lent increased legitimacy and support to her colonial transformation. But what was even more incredible was the fact that Ahebi was able to achieve this feat in a society in which kings had no place; the institution was viewed almost as an affront to the Igbo belief in egalitarianism in which the community led itself…. The Igbo maintained very clearly that Igbo enwe eze (the Igbo have no kings) [23–24].

Similarly, there is the story of the advent of the Catholic mission in Emekuku near Owerri around 1912. It was on the invitation of their traditional ruler, Eze Obi Ejeshi, who had addressed the head of the Catholic missionaries then living at Ulakwo, one Father Feral, thus: “Father come, come, come Emekuku, plenty, plenty.” (Njoku 1980: 43). But when these missionaries came and wanted a place to build their church, a dispute arose between them and the Emekuku men, with the latter ordering the missionaries to leave their place. But the Emekuku women could not accept that. Realizing that the presence of the missionaries would be for the good of their children, they refused to allow the missionaries to go. The men had no other choice but to give in to their wishes. Hence, the missionaries were asked to choose any piece of land for the Church (Ekechi 1972: 223; Isichei 1976: 179; Okorocha 1987: 248; Mbefo 1997: 31). While Ekechi (1989: 77) acknowledges that this account has been recently challenged, it is good to observe that it was the unique intervention of Emekuku women and the mission that they protected, which ensured that many places in the present-day Imo, Abia and Rivers States, were evangelized.

The Fact of Courage

In Igbo culture, a man is normally taken to be the repository of courage, strength and power. He is a “Dike” (master of strength). Any man, therefore, who is perceived as being not strong or courageous, is often dismissed as a “woman.” For instance, in the play, The Mad Priest, one sees a scene involving three characters, Kalu, George, and Catechist Obi. They had come together to deliberate on their next line of action following a huge donation given to their parish church of St. Dominic, which the parish priest, Father Ashiegbu, had refused to accept. Kalu, supported by Catechist Obi, had proposed their going physically to the donors to take the donation back. George, instead, had a different idea. For him, writing a letter to them could suffice: “It’s our money, no doubt about it. But let’s just leave Kalu and his queer initiative for now. Only queer things will come from queer individuals. We’re not going anywhere. Let’s write them” (Amaefule 2016a: 45). To this, Kalu, mimicking George, retorted: “ ‘Let’s write them.’ Woman! What we’ve come here to do are things men do and not what women do. A sheep that has decided at last to put up horns, should it not be prepared to have a strong head to carry them?” (45). But theirs is only an instance of how things really are in traditional Igbo society, where right from infancy the Igbo male child is taught to gravitate towards the male and courageous things. That is why a certain Okonkwo in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart always “encouraged the boys (Ikemefuna and Nwoye) to sit with him in his obi, and he told them stories of the land—masculine stories of violence and bloodshed” (2008: 42). This is usually against the “women stories” told by mothers to their children as they prepared evening meals in their huts: “stories of the tortoise and his wily ways, and of the bird eneke-nti-oba who challenged the whole world to a wrestling contest and was finally thrown by the cat” (42–43).

If, as the foregoing made clear, the typical Igbo man is considered synonymous with courage, the reverse holds in the case of the woman: she is often considered synonymous with lack of courage. Hence, a woman who has done a courageous or great deed is often eulogized as Nwoke (a man) or Agunwanyi (a lion-hearted woman), or simply Agu (a lion). But it does happen sometimes that not all are happy with such Agunwanyis, lion-hearted women. This is with particular reference to some mothers who often go to the extent of inquiring what gives their Agunwanyi-daughters the audacity to act beyond the female frontiers. Iyidobi (2002: 58) brings this out clearly:

Women, in Igbo reckoning, are, generally, seen as the weaker sex, more to be guided and protected, incapable of doing anything strong or demanding courage and this has gone down even into the psyche of women themselves. A little girl once killed a snake. When the mother learnt of it, she scolded the child: “what gave you the courage to do that? Don’t you know you are girl?”

Granted that that there are women of courage in the Old Testament who are not called prophets (Abigail, Esther, etc.), what the lives of these women prophets, especially those of Deborah and, to an extent, Huldah, show is that courage is not the exclusive preserve of the male sex. Women are also courageous. In fact, there have been occasions when women have shown themselves more courageous than men. The story of the Israelite commander, Barak, and Deborah lends credence to this. Even in the history of colonial Nigeria we see another instance. The ogu umunwanyi, women’s war, of 1929. This was a war that saw Igbo women revolt against the British colonial government’s plan to impose taxes on them. Even as some of them died, they were able, at the end of the day, “to restore social order and a seemingly political stability, which their male counterparts failed to achieve through armed conflict with the British colonial administrators” (Ekeopara 2011: 80).

While it has been postulated that their success in that revolt may have been because the colonial masters were reluctant to attack them because they were women and thus “untouchable vultures” (Chuku 2005: 4), and while it is now acknowledged that it was not an-only-Igbo-women affair as women from Ibibio, Opobo, Andoni, Bonny and Ogoni also participated (Abaraonye 1998: 109), it remains incontrovertible that those women exhibited a high level of courage. And it is a courage that other Igbo women in their individual capacities also exhibited. For instance, if it is understood by Agbasiere (2000: 42) that in principle Igbo women do not act as priests of public shrines, in reality, many of them actually did—and still do. Many of them were and are priests (Ozigbo 1985: 118; Uzor 2004: 198). This is because the priesthood in Igbo traditional society was and is open to both men and women, as it is in many other societies in West Africa (Kanu 2015: 130; Mbonu 2014: 112; Mbiti 2015: 161). For example, in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, the character Chielo is a female priest, a priestess of Agbala, the Oracle of the Hills and the Caves (2008: 39). Her courage and dexterity in the dispensation of her priestly duties were never in doubt. This to the extent that Ojaide (2004: 380) admits that she, Chielo, exhibited “courage, energy and decisiveness, qualities many might attribute to the males.” Another character in the same novel, Chika, was also a female priest. She was, even before Chielo, a priestess of Agbala, the Oracle of the Hills and the Caves, and her encounter with Okonkwo’s father, Unoka, showed that she gave a good account of herself (Achebe 2008: 13–14). Like them, many Igbo women priests in pre-colonial and pre-Christian days also carried out their ministry and, ipso facto, exercised leadership in the religious cum political affairs of their respective communities with dignity, integrity and valor.

Similarly, other Igbo women in those pre-colonial and pre-Christian days were not afraid to venture into roles reserved for men and came out with their heads held high. With particular reference to the Ohafia people of Igboland where, in those days, the number of human heads brought home by a man from the battlefield determined his worth in the society, Chuku (2005: 14) observes that some women also held their own:

Generally, songs, in Igbo society, serve a variety of purposes: as a means of social control, to praise some people, to celebrate childbirth, marriage, or to observe a death. Many of the epic songs of the Ohafia Igbo include images of women, some of whom are the “great mothers” or the dike nwami—brave and extraordinary women who like their male counterparts, have brought human heads back form the battlefield, women such as Nne Egbelenwa, Inyan Olugu, Nne Mgbafo and Nne Uko. Nne Uko, for instance, was so outstanding that she was admitted into the all-male Ekpe society. She was a female husband and the priestess of his family Ududu shrine.

The challenge, therefore, for Christian women in Southeastern Nigeria is to endeavor all the more to cultivate this courage wherever they find themselves today: in their families, places of work, business, governance, etc. And the courage in question here is not the absence of caution. Instead, it is the ability to prudently overcome hurdles and the attendant fear to accomplish one’s noble dreams and aspirations. It is one that should enable them to speak out as the women prophets did, especially when things go awry, as they often do.

Myriads of Prophetic Opportunities

A walk through the lives of the women prophets evaluated here reveals something striking: Their involvement in the other affairs of life did not prevent them from being prophets. For instance, even in the midst of her dancing and playing of tambourines with all the women following her shortly after the Israelites had walked through the Red Sea upon dry land, Miriam still remained a prophet. In fact, it has been suggested that her prophetic office may have been related to her musical performance (Marsman 2003: 561). This to the extent that Williamson (2010: 73) observes that the most consistent element in the portrayal of the prophetess in the Old Testament is the association with inspired singing and accompanying instruments and dancing. The same phenomenon is observed in the case of Deborah; while being a judge (she could, like Miriam, sing her own song of victory as well), she did not cease to be a prophet. Similarly, Huldah, in her encounter with the Book of the Law, remained equally a prophet. The implication of this is simple: no one vocation, profession, occupation or even talent is devoid of the seed of and occasion for prophecy. This is all the more important in the case of Igbo women, whose industry, expressed in diverse endeavors and myriads of opportunities, has never being in doubt. Two demands, therefore, are made on them: each is to try and develop whatever gift or talent that she has been blessed with and try to grow, as well, wherever she is planted; and each is to see her gift or whatever she is doing as an opportunity or occasion to be what she is called to be: a prophet of God, the God of Jesus Christ, the latter who, as Hopkins (2011: 46) observes:

plays in ten thousand places

Lovely in limbs, lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through features of men’s faces

The Reality of Inclusiveness

One of the interesting things about these women prophets is the fact that while, for instance, three of them—Deborah, Huldah and Isaiah’s wife—are married; of Miriam and Noadiah, one has no information about their marital status. Again, while Isaiah’s wife has children (Isa. 8), it is not clearly stated whether Deborah does, although she calls herself a “mother of Israel” (Judg 5:7). Similarly, while Deborah is from the tribe of Ephraim, the other women prophets do not come from the same tribe or, even, village. One implication of this is that in the comity of women prophets, no one prophet is excluded on the basis of marital status, tribe, class, dialect, etc. Any woman could be invited by God to the table of prophecy.

This is important in the context of the current situation in Southeastern Nigeria, and probably elsewhere, where some women have mastered the art of oppressing other women. They want to exclude these other women from their circles based on class, village of origin, state of origin, tongue—or better: dialect, marital status, etc. There is often that you-are-not-from-my-place and you-are-not-my-class and I-am-bigger-than-youare kind of attitude to which some women subject other women. Uchem (2002: 51–52) sees this as an example of “internalized oppression.” It leads one to question Agbasiere’s observation that at all levels of interaction, the Igbo woman is open and accommodating (2000: 7). Hence, the contemporary Christian women in Igboland are challenged to be more accommodating and welcoming, especially in the many Church and social associations to which they belong. They should endeavor to live and to live as well and enjoy the benefits of the abundant life that Christ brought to the world. This is all the more interesting when one realizes that this suggested “live and let live” mentality—often couched in the Igbo proverb of egbe bere, ugo bere (let the kite perch and let the eagle perch)—is a “strong modus in Igbo age-long thinking, expression and action, which informs accommodation and tolerance amidst observable differences” (Chigere 2001: 557).

Beauty of Collaboration

In Igbo culture, the dignity and oratorical prowess of a person is often gauged, among other criteria, by the person’s proficiency or otherwise in the use of proverbs, the latter which is often regarded as the “oil with which words are eaten” (Achebe 2008: 6). Such proverbs are pregnant with meaning; they encapsulate the belief, faith, worldview and philosophy of the Igbos. While there are obviously many such proverbs, two are most relevant here: Igurube gbakota aka, ya tiwa oku (when feathers come together, they break the earthen bowl) and Anyukota mamiri onu, ya agba ofufu (when people urinate together, they produce foam). And these proverbs have the same meaning: They underscore the beauty, power and importance of solidarity, cooperation and collaboration. They underline the fact that coming together, putting heads together as a team, often makes it easier to achieve the desired goal.

Over the years, however, this invaluable ingredient of Igbo-African culture and life has been threatened by many factors. Not only is there the reality of globalization and the attendant influence of Western aggressive individualism and I-can-go-about-it-alone-ism, there is also the fact of undue competition (Uwalaka 2003: 30). It is here, that one can appreciate the imperative of the life and ministry of these prophets. This applies especially to Deborah. It was thanks to her collaboration with Barak, and of course, with God’s grace, that their enemy, the enemy of Israel, Yabin, the king of Canaan, was defeated. A woman, Yael, wife of Heber the Kenite, also played a part. This, therefore, is both a great lesson and an encouragement to the Christian women in Igboland today. As they continue to fight the forces that tend to subjugate them in society, they should strive all the more to join hands with every segment of the same society, for:

… we believe that with hands joined,

We effect a louder clap

We believe that with hands joined,

We cultivate a greater portion of the land

We believe that with hands joined,

We produce a more beautiful dance

And cover a greater distance [Amaefule 2016b: 21].

They should bring this same spirit of collaboration into their respective families, churches, workplaces, women’s organizations, and, indeed, into every segment of their lives.

Call for Caution

Noadiah, as pointed out above, was used by some elements that had scores to settle with Nehemiah. She became simply an instrument in their hands as they endeavored to achieve their aim. And there is no dearth of such men and women today in Nigeria in general and in Igboland in particular: These are characters who know how to manipulate and sweet-talk people into joining their selfish conspiracies and causes. Most of the time, such causes are presented as noble, but beneath they are full of “deathtraps.” An example can be seen in the fictional character Chief Nanga in Achebe’s Man of the People. This is a man, a “born politician,” as Achebe calls him (2004: 66), who, thanks to his oratorical prowess, knows how to present himself to the people as their own man, a man of the people (1); but beneath the façade lies a man who is simply after his own affairs.

But Chief Nanga is just a representative of a good number of people today not only, as said above, in Igboland, but also in Nigeria. This is all the more interesting since novels do not fall from the sky, but often reflect and capture the historical, political, cultural and socio-religious realities on the ground. And the Chief Nangas of this world and Noadiah’s kind of men would always be encountered by Igbo Christian women in their daily social and religious intercourse. This, therefore, holds a huge implication for them. They are called to be on the lookout for such men and women and always to look before they leap in their encounter with them so as to not end up like Noadiah. This is more so in an environment like Nigeria where, among other ills, bribery and corruption are rampant (Mbaku 3007: 47; Achebe 1984: 37–43). To this end—as prophets of the day, who, like those true prophets of the bible who refused to be defiled by the corruption of the moment (Ehusani 2003: 68)—they are challenged “to nurture, nourish, and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the dominant culture” (Brueggemann 2001: 3) around them. This would surely see them raise all the more their moral bars and resist any temptation to compromise their principles and standards.

Women of Few Words, but of Mighty Deeds

Women in Igboland are often regarded as a group who talk without thinking and control (Onuegbu 2019: 349). Hence, when a man talks too much or frivolously or even asks questions not expected of him, he is said to talk like a woman. For instance, when in Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus, the character Jaja had asked to know how people got inside the Masquerades, which are regarded as mmuo, spirits, in Igbo tradition, his grandfather, Papa-Nnukwu, told him: “Shh! These are mmuo, spirits! Don’t speak like a woman!” (2004: 87). But one thing noticeable about the aforementioned Old Testament women prophets is the fact that, as hinted above, not too many words are ascribed to them. They are women of few words, but of mighty deeds. Their actions, so to say, speak more and louder than their words. This, as well, is a challenge to the Christian women in Southeastern Nigeria. They should not be known as those who say a lot, but do little or nothing at all. Instead, they should simply try to allow their lives, or better still, their manner of living, speak more for them. Today, people seem to prioritize manners over words. They seem to find actions more convincing than mere words. Hence, one cannot but agree with the following observation of Pope Paul VI: “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses” (Paul VI 1975: 41).

Greater Commitment to the Word of God

While all the women prophets reviewed above are committed to God’s word, it is in the life and ministry of the prophet Huldah that this is most pronounced. Her commitment is so strong that she is contacted to verify the authenticity of the just-discovered Book of the Law. While many reasons, enumerated above, have been given by scholars as to why she is so contacted, it still remains a fact that they would not have gone to her if they did not consider her an expert. And truly she is and remains a woman in love with the Book of the Law. This, of course, has its implications as well for Igbo Christian women today. Nkwoka points out that, “[d]espite the scarcity of the Bible … more and more Igbo Christians are falling in love with the Bible and immersing themselves deep in the religious traditions of the Bible” (2000: 334).

To Igbo Christian women in particular, therefore, the challenge is to fall in love all the more with the Bible and make it all the more their own. They should be committed to its daily reading and make it a rule always to begin their various meetings with the reading of the Bible. Granted that things have improved a bit since Nkwoka pointed out the scarcity of the Bible in Igboland, efforts, should still be made to make the Bible more available. This they can do at least in two ways: by making gifts of the Bible more often to their members, and by organizing bible quiz competitions for their members and rewarding those who do well with, among other things, gifts of the Bible.

Similarly, they are challenged to engage in Bible study academically in the various universities and Church institutions in Igboland and beyond. While it is true that there are today more Igbo women who are biblical scholars than in the recent past, more still have to specialize in this area. And these biblical scholars should take time to explain the Bible to others. They should help other women to know more about characters in the Bible like the women prophets. This is all the more important following the encounter of this writer on many occasions with a cross section of Igbo Christian women. Apart from those of them who are biblical scholars and may be theologians, and others who are much more involved in the teaching ministries of their different churches, many others, the majority, while well aware of the male prophets in the Old Testament, do not know much about the women prophets. Hence, their amazement when they discover that there are actually some women prophets in the Bible.

Furthermore, these “Abrahamic minority” of women biblical scholars should also lend a helping hand to the majority of other Igbo-African women in yet another area: in their reading and interpretation of the Bible. Granted, like many Africans elsewhere, such reading of the Bible has mostly been existential and pragmatic in nature and contextual in approach (Ukpong 2002: 17). But there has at times been a certain tendency towards excessive literalism that has affected their theologies and Christologies (Ezigbo 2010: 114). It is here, therefore, that these biblical scholars can come in, like Philip to the Ethiopian Eunuch in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 8:26–35), to enable these women to read and have a proper understanding of the Bible that they love so much.