It is Not for Kings to Drink Wine

A Sermon on Proverbs 31:1-9

Introduction

Friends, I want to begin this evening by acknowledging something that should make us uncomfortable, even if it doesn’t particularly surprise us: Proverbs 31 has been used as a weapon. For generations, this chapter has been wielded like a club against women, setting up impossible standards and reinforcing narrow definitions of what it means to be faithful, what it means to be valuable, what it means to be worthy of God’s love.

Often called the “Mother’s Day passage,” how many of us have heard sermons about the “Proverbs 31 woman?” How many of us have internalized the message that this passage is a divine job description for women; that to be godly, women must be wives, mothers, homemakers, and nothing more? How many have felt the weight of this text used to keep women in their “proper place?”

Here’s the thing though: when we read Proverbs 31 through the lens of heteronormativity and patriarchy, we’re not just missing the point, we’re actively distorting it. We’re taking a text that was meant to challenge power structures and turning it into a tool that reinforces them.

I want to invite you into a different reading. I want us to discover together how Proverbs 31, particularly verses 1-9, offers us not a blueprint for the perfect woman, but a radical vision of leadership that transcends gender binaries and calls all of us into the work of justice.

The Problem with the “Perfect Woman” Reading

Let’s be honest about how Proverbs 31 has traditionally been taught. The focus has almost always been on verses 10-31, the famous poem about the “woman of valor” or the “virtuous woman.” And how has this woman been portrayed? As the ultimate wife and mother, the perfect homemaker who never complains, never gets tired, and somehow manages to do everything while keeping a smile on her face.

This interpretation reduces a complex literary work to a simple checklist: Are you making clothes for your family? Check.

Are you buying and selling real estate? Well, maybe that’s okay as long as it doesn’t interfere with your primary duties.

Are you strong and dignified? Sure, but remember, that strength should be channeled into supporting your husband and raising your children.

But this reading isn’t just limiting, it’s hermeneutically dishonest. It ignores the literary structure of the text, the historical context, and most importantly, it completely bypasses the first nine verses of the chapter, which set the entire framework for understanding what follows.

The truth is, the “Proverbs 31 woman” has been constructed as the ideal of heteronormative femininity: always in relationship to a man, always defined by her reproductive capacity, always operating within the domestic sphere even when she engages in commerce. This construction has been used to marginalize women who don’t fit this mold—single women, childless women, women who work outside the home, women who love other women, and women who challenge traditional gender roles.

But what if this reading is not just incomplete, but completely wrong? What if Proverbs 31 is actually about something much more radical, much more expansive, much more liberating?

The Literary Structure: A Mother’s Wisdom

To understand what Proverbs 31 is really about, we need to pay attention to how it begins. The chapter opens with these words: “The words of King Lemuel. An oracle that his mother taught him.”

This is crucial information that often gets glossed over. This is not a man telling other men what to look for in a wife. This is a mother teaching her son about leadership, about power, about responsibility. This is a mother teaching her son how to be a man. The entire chapter is framed as maternal wisdom about how to lead justly.

Now, we don’t know much about King Lemuel. He’s not mentioned anywhere else in scripture, and many scholars believe he may be a literary figure rather than a historical king. Some scholars associate him with Solomon or Hezekiah while others associate his name with similar names meaning “consecrated to God.” Whoever he is, here’s what we do know: his mother is the one with the wisdom, his mother is the one with the teaching, his mother is the one whose words are preserved in holy scripture.

In ancient Near Eastern culture, this was already subversive. Women’s voices were rarely preserved in official literature, and when they were, they were usually filtered through male interpreters. Even here where the words of Lemuel’s mother are given such importance, she is not named, and her words are recounted by Lemuel. Still, we have a mother’s voice speaking directly to power, instructing a king on how to rule.

The literary structure of Proverbs 31 reflects this. Verses 1-9 contain the mother’s direct instruction to her son about leadership and justice. Verses 10-31 are not a separate poem about the ideal wife, they’re the continuation of the mother’s teaching, an extended example of what strength, wisdom, and effective leadership look like in practice.

When we read the “woman of valor” poem as an isolated piece of literature about domestic perfection, we miss the point entirely. This woman is not being praised for her ability to keep house, she’s being celebrated as a model of economic leadership, community engagement, and social responsibility.

The Mother's Teaching: Verses 1-9

Let’s turn our attention to the heart of the mother’s teaching in verses 1-9. Here, we find three key instructions that form the foundation of just leadership:

First, avoid the corruption of power. The mother begins with a warning: “No, my son! No, son of my womb! No, son of my vows! Do not give your strength to women, your ways to those who destroy kings.”

Now, this verse has often been interpreted as a warning against women’s sexuality, and it’s been used in the rape culture tactic of shifting blame from men to women and how women act or dress. But that’s not what’s happening here. The Hebrew word translated as “strength” here is the same word used elsewhere to describe military might and political power. The mother is warning against the abuse of power for personal gratification.

In the ancient world, kings often accumulated wives and concubines as displays of virility, power, and wealth. They used their political position to exploit women sexually. The mother is saying: “Don’t use your power to exploit others. Don’t let your position become a tool of oppression.”

This warning is profoundly relevant today. How often do we see leaders—political, religious, corporate—abuse their positions for personal gain? How often do we see power used to exploit the vulnerable rather than protect them?

The mother’s teaching challenges us to examine our own relationship with power. Whether we’re parents, teachers, managers and supervisors, or community leaders, we all have spheres of influence. The question is: Are we using our power to lift others up or to serve ourselves?

Second, stay clear-headed in the face of responsibility. The mother continues: “It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine, or for rulers to desire strong drink; or else they will drink and forget what has been decreed and will pervert the rights of all the afflicted.”

This isn’t about alcohol—though that’s how this verse has traditionally been interpreted—it’s about maintaining clarity of purpose in the face of immense responsibility. The mother’s saying that leaders cannot afford to be impaired, distracted, or dulled when the rights of the vulnerable are at stake.

But then she adds something interesting: “Give strong drink to one who is perishing, and wine to those in bitter distress; let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more.”

The mother is making a distinction between those who hold power and those who are powerless. She’s saying that leaders must stay sharp, alert, and focused because lives depend on their decisions. But for those who are suffering, who are at the margins, who are struggling just to survive, for them, even temporary relief is a mercy.

This passage calls us to recognize that different standards apply to different situations. Those of us with privilege, with platforms, with influence, we cannot afford to be complacent or self-indulgent. We must remain vigilant, aware, and ready to act on behalf of those who cannot act for themselves.

Third, speak up for the voiceless. The mother concludes her teaching with what might be the most radical instruction of all: “Speak out for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the destitute. Speak out, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy.” This is the heart of the mother’s wisdom: leadership is not about accumulating power for yourself; it’s about using whatever power you have to advocate for those who have none.

The Hebrew word translated as “those who cannot speak” literally means “the mute ones,” not necessarily those who are physically unable to speak, but those who have been silenced, who have been rendered voiceless by systems of oppression.

In our context, who are the voiceless? They’re the undocumented immigrants who live in fear of deportation. They’re Transgender people who are being denied healthcare and dignity. They’re the women whose reproductive choices are being legislated away. They’re the elderly who are isolated and forgotten. They’re the poor who are dismissed as lazy or unworthy.

The mother’s teaching demands that we’re not silent in the face of injustice. It demands that we use our voices, our platforms, and our influence to advocate for those who can’t advocate for themselves.

Beyond Heteronormativity: A Queer Reading

Now, I want to push us even further in our reading of this text. What if we approach Proverbs 31 through a Queer lens? What if we recognize that this text’s focus on strength, wisdom, and justice transcends traditional gender categories?

The “woman of valor” described in verses 10-31 doesn’t fit neatly into conventional gender roles. She’s an entrepreneur, a real estate investor, a manufacturer, a merchant. She’s physically strong, economically independent, and politically engaged. She speaks with wisdom and authority. She’s not defined by her relationship to a man or her reproductive capacity. She’s defined by her character, her actions, and her impact on her community.

This woman embodies what we might call a “queer” model of leadership, one that doesn’t conform to rigid gender expectations, but instead integrates traditionally masculine and feminine qualities in service of the common good.

But more than that, the very structure of Proverbs 31 queers our understanding of authority and wisdom. The mother is the teacher, the son is the student. The woman is the expert, the man is the learner. The domestic sphere is the location of profound political wisdom.

When we read this text through a queer lens, we’re not just being inclusive, we’re being faithful to the text’s own resistance to rigid categories and hierarchies.

Personal Discipleship: Living the Mother’s Wisdom

So how do we apply this mother’s wisdom to our own lives? How do we live out this vision in our own discipleship?

First, we must examine our own relationship with power. All of us have spheres of influence, whether large or small. We may not be kings, but we are parents, friends, neighbors. We have voices, votes, and choices. The question is: How are we using whatever power we have?

Are we using our privilege to open doors for others or to keep them closed? Are we using our platforms to amplify marginalized voices or to center ourselves? Are we using our resources to serve our own comfort or to work for justice?

The mother’s teaching calls us to a discipline of power that is fundamentally other-centered. It calls us to stay clear-headed about our responsibilities, to avoid the corruption that comes from self-serving leadership, and to consistently advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves.

Second, we must cultivate the practices that keep us grounded in this calling. Just as the mother warned against the dulling effects of wine, we must be aware of the things that dull our sensitivity to injustice. Privilege can be intoxicating. Comfort can be numbing. Success can be blinding.

We need spiritual practices that keep us connected to the margins and remind us of our responsibility to the vulnerable. We need to cultivate relationships with people whose experiences are different from our own. We need to stay informed about issues that don’t directly affect us but profoundly impact our neighbors.

Third, we must develop the courage to speak out. The mother’s final instruction—“Speak out for those who cannot speak”—requires not just awareness but action. It requires us to move beyond sympathy to advocacy, beyond charity to justice.

This means using our voices in our families, our workplaces, our communities. It means voting for policies that protect the vulnerable, even when—no, especially when—they might cost us personally. It means standing up to prejudice and discrimination, even when it’s uncomfortable. It means using whatever privilege we have to dismantle systems of oppression.

Social Justice Leadership: The Public Square

But the mother’s wisdom extends beyond personal discipleship to public leadership. Her teaching provides a framework for how we engage in social justice work in the broader community.

First, her warning against the corruption of power speaks directly to our current political moment. We live in a time when many of our leaders are more concerned with personal gain than public service, more interested in power than justice. The mother’s teaching reminds us that true leadership is measured not by what we accumulate but by what we give away.

As people of faith engaging in social justice work, we must model a different kind of leadership. We must be willing to use our power to lift others up, to share platforms, to step back so that marginalized voices can step forward.

Second, her instruction to stay clear-headed challenges us to approach social justice work with both passion and wisdom. Righteous anger is important, it’s often what motivates us to act. But anger without strategy is just noise. We need to be smart about how we work for change, thoughtful about our tactics, and strategic about our goals.

This means doing our homework on the issues we care about. It means building coalitions and partnerships. It means thinking long-term about sustainable change rather than just reacting to the crisis of the moment.

Third, her call to speak out for the voiceless demands that we center the experiences and leadership of those most affected by injustice. Too often, social justice work is led by those with the most privilege rather than those with the most at stake. The mother’s teaching challenges us to flip this dynamic.

When we’re working for reproductive justice, we must center the voices of women and people assigned female at birth, particularly those who are poor, of color, or otherwise marginalized. When we’re working for LGBTQIA+ rights, we must center the voices of Queer and Trans people, particularly those who face multiple forms of oppression. When we’re working for economic justice, we must center the voices of those who are poor and working-class.

Contemporary Applications: Living the Vision

Let me bring this down to concrete terms. What does it look like to live out the mother’s wisdom in our current context?

It looks like supporting policies that protect reproductive freedom not just because they benefit us personally, but because they protect the vulnerable. It looks like advocating for comprehensive sex education, accessible contraception, and safe abortion care because we recognize that these are issues of justice which intersect with so many of our identities.

It looks like standing up for the rights of LGBTQIA+ people. It looks like supporting anti-discrimination laws, affirming healthcare, and inclusive education because we understand that justice is indivisible.

It looks like working for economic policies that prioritize the needs of the poor and working class over the comfort of the wealthy. It looks like supporting living wages, universal healthcare, and accessible education because we recognize that these are not luxuries but necessities for human flourishing. It looks like remembering that short of a true redistribution of wealth, we could make all of these things a reality and still not seriously impact the lives of the super wealthy.

It looks like using our voices to challenge systems of oppression wherever we encounter them: in our families, our workplaces, our communities, our government. It looks like being willing to be uncomfortable, to face conflict, to risk our own comfort for the sake of justice.

The Radical Vision: Beyond Binary Thinking

The mother’s wisdom in Proverbs 31 offers us a vision of leadership that transcends the binary thinking that has caused so much harm in our world. It’s not about men versus women, masculine versus feminine, public versus private, or secular versus sacred. It’s about integrating strength and compassion; wisdom and action; privilege and responsibility.

This vision challenges us to move beyond the categories that have been used to divide us and toward a more expansive understanding of what it means to be human, what it means to be faithful, what it means to be a leader.

It challenges us to see that the work of justice is not the responsibility of a few but the calling of all. It challenges us to recognize that our individual liberation is bound up with the liberation of all. It challenges us to understand that the strength we need for this work comes not from domination but from service.

A Call to Action

Friends, the mother’s wisdom in Proverbs 31 is a subversive and challenging teaching. It’s a radical call to discipleship that demands everything of us. It calls us to examine our use of power, to stay clear-headed about our responsibilities, and to speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves.

It calls us to move beyond the narrow interpretations that have been used to constrain and control, and toward a more expansive vision of what it means to follow Jesus in the world.

I want to challenge you to carry this vision with you.

I want to challenge you to ask yourself: How am I using whatever power I have?

What voices am I amplifying?

What systems am I challenging?

What risks am I taking for the sake of justice?

The mother’s teaching reminds us that leadership is not about accumulating power for ourselves—it’s about using whatever power we have to serve others. It’s about speaking out for those who cannot speak, defending the rights of the poor and needy, and working for a world where all people can flourish.

This is not easy work. It requires courage, wisdom, and persistence. It requires us to stay awake when it would be easier to fall asleep; to speak up when it would be safer to stay silent; to act when it would be more comfortable to remain passive.

But this is the work to which we are called. This is the discipleship into which we are invited. This is the leadership our world desperately needs.

The mother’s wisdom still speaks to us today. The question is: Are we listening? Are we ready to respond? Are we prepared to lead?

May it be so. Amen.