Part of a series of interactions with God’s Yes to Women: Why the Bible’s Vision of Partnership Is Good News for Us All.
In her second article on the editorial framing of God’s Yes to Women, Dani Treweek takes exception to the framing of the book’s editors. One aspect of this framing is that “complementarianism is ousted from any genuine claim to some of its own theological convictions and egalitarianism steps into the breach.” As Laura Rademaker writes in the introduction:
I had been told that Christians with different views on gender either hadn’t read the Bible or had chosen to ignore it. This, I found, was simply untrue. The books I encountered challenged me to be more thoroughly biblical in the way I thought about gender, not less. (p. xxii).
The claim is that the traditional view of women’s teaching and leadership (as I outlined in part 1) is based on only one or two texts from the whole of Scripture—flawed, non-contextual readings at that.[1] Mike Bird’s chapter is in keeping with this approach:[2]
Once upon a time, I thought that 1 Tim 2:11–15 was the biblical door slamming in the face of women who believed they were called to preach, teach, and lead in the church. What changed my mind was not compromising the authority of Scripture, not interpretive gymnastics to get around Scripture, but a deep dive into Scripture itself … Putting 1 Tim 2:11–15 under a microscope … locating this text in its ancient context and tracing the line of argument. (pp. 94–5)
I finished my first article by pointing out significant problems with the theory that “the Artemis cult cast a looming shadow upon everything in Ephesus” (p. 83). In this post, I explore how Bird uses this Artemis theory to propose a backstory against which to interpret instructions in 1 Timothy 2:8–15. In both articles, I argue that Bird’s proposed reconstruction, based on a speculative backstory, is exegetically inferior to the traditional interpretation of the text.
Artemis, False Teaching, and 1 Timothy
Bird’s interpretation of 1 Timothy 2 is similar to those of other scholars, though it has some unique features. Here are some key features of his reading. Firstly, he observes that the beginning and end of 1 Timothy (1:3–11; 6:2–10) show that Paul has a particular concern with false teaching in Ephesus (p. 85). Bird believes that the primary false teaching was a form of “proto-Gnosticism”: “the god of creation was a wicked god” and Jesus came to help people escape their material, embodied created existence into a spiritual realm (pp. 85–86). Proto-Gnosticism “may not be the presenting issue in 1 Tim 2” (p. 86); nevertheless, Bird sees it as evidence that false teaching (as a general concept) is in the air and Paul is “sensitive” to it (p. 86).
Bird argues that when Paul uses the word “teach” in 1 Tim 2:12, he means a false teaching related to proto-Gnosticism and Artemis. There is therefore a vital “backstory”—a historical reconstruction that forms the primary lens by which we must interpret this passage:
The backstory is that some wives were disturbing households and house churches by badgering their husbands with erroneous ideas. They were perhaps under the influence of some false teachings related to myths and ascetic practices, and these same women had yet to fully disengage themselves from their inherited religious culture in Ephesus, principally the cult of Artemis. Such occasion is why they needed to be better instructed. (pp. 86–87)
Bird then reads the passage in terms of this backstory: Paul’s instruction for women to “learn” (v. 11) is a specific situational command that we can’t simply apply today. Paul isn’t making a general statement about the goodness of women learning quietly from God’s word throughout their Christian lives. He’s just saying these particular women (newish converts) need to be corrected about a specific error from their pagan background (p. 89), and so “detox from idolatry” (p. 93).
Similarly, Bird believes the backstory shows that the prohibition against women teaching (v. 12) is addressing a specific, local situation. Therefore, the text is not directly applicable to our own situation today. (Unless, your church is beset with Artemis-influenced wives badgering husbands with proto-Gnostic errors. In that case, this verse would be perfect for you.)
The problem with all of this is that Bird is no longer directly interpreting the text of Scripture; he’s primarily interpreting his own reconstructed backstory instead.
The Grammar Factor
Proponents of this line of interpretation often make further grammatical claims to argue that our translations are misleading. Bird mentions two, both related to 1 Timothy 2:12:
I do not permit a woman to teach or (oude) to exercise authority (authentein) over a man. (ESV).
I’ll address Bird’s two claims based on the order in which the relevant words appear in the text of 1 Timothy.[3]
Regarding the Greek word oude (translated “or”), Bird claims that Paul uses it to combine the words for “teaching” and “exercise authority” into a “single idea”. They are “grouped together quite deliberately to make one activity.” Hence, the use of the word “teaching” in verse 12 must be understood as combined with or modified by the word translated “exercise authority” (p. 92).
He also claims that the Greek root word that the ESV translates as “exercise authority” (authenteō) is really a negative word, meaning “domineer” or “dictate” (p. 90).
Both these claims need to be true for Bird’s argument for his revised translation of this verse to work, a translation compatible with the Artemis backstory discussed in my first article. His argument is that when Paul says he does not permit a woman “to teach or to exercise authority over a man”, he actually means: “a wife should not attempt to ‘dominate her husband with dubious doctrines’” (p. 92).
I don’t have space here to go into all the details of why both of these grammatical claims (especially the first one) have serious problems (though I plan to in a forthcoming essay dealing with other scholars who make these claims). Here, I’ll simply point out a few issues with Bird’s argument.
“Teach or Exercise Authority”: A Single Idea?
Bird cites eight phrases in 1 Timothy 2:1–7 where he claims “Paul pairs various items and actions together, usually as synonyms” (p. 92). However, the claim does not stand up to scrutiny. Take the example of verse 5: the phrase “one God and one mediator” is not a single idea, let alone a pair of synonyms. It describes two distinct ideas with an important connection: there is one God, and there is one mediator between humans and God—the human Jesus Christ. Those two distinct ideas aren’t disconnected. But if we understood them to be synonyms, we’d be saying that the incarnate Son of God is identical to God the Father. This is not to charge Bird with heresy; but what I’m saying is that if you poke the “single idea” theory just a little bit, it quickly falls apart, and you end up with confusion.
What does Bird’s list of pairs in 1 Timothy 2:1–7 prove?[4] Just the mundane fact that conjunctions—such as “and” (kai) and “or” (oude)—can be used to connect two ideas to form a bigger phrase within an overarching thread of thought. Grammarians call this a “compound” construction. But such constructions, as in 1 Timothy 2:12, do not necessarily indicate a “single idea” or “one activity”.
There is good reason to read the two words connected by “or” (oude) in 1 Timothy 2:12 in the regular sense of the Greek word oude: as two distinct but connected ideas. This is the sense in which interpreters from the earliest times have read the passage. The Greek speaker Origen, for example, fills out the meaning of the connection so as to emphasise development, with the phrase “[not] simply, but also” (haplōs all’ oude; Origen, Fr. 1 Cor. 74).
“Exercise Authority”: Neutral or Negative?
What about the word translated “exercise authority” (authenteō) in the ESV? Is it inherently negative (e.g., “domineer”), or neutral/positive (e.g., “have authority”)? It’s a rare word, and therefore there’s scholarly debate.
The evidence for authenteō being an inherently negative word is not as strong as is sometimes claimed. For example, Bird cites Wycliffe’s 1300s translation “neither to have lordship on the husband”. He says that this “sounds negative in its translation of authenteō” (p. 91). But there are problems with this assessment. The Latin word that Wycliffe is translating (dominari) does not necessarily have a negative sense.[5] It can easily be used in a positive sense “to exercise [ordered] authority” (e.g. 1 Macc 8:16). To Bird, Wycliffe’s English phrase “have lordship” “sounds negative”, but it is in fact likely intended to be neutral/positive (much like the ESV’s “have authority”).[6]
There is much more that could be said. But the upshot of it all is this: I am convinced that the Greek text in its context is best translated in line with most of our modern English translations. Bird’s translation “a wife should not attempt to ‘dominate her husband with dubious doctrines’” (p. 92) might fit better with his Artemis-inspired backstory, but it has not been convincingly established.
The Clarity of Scripture
This raises a key theological issue. Is this passage, and verse 12 in particular, clear? Bird calls it “particularly notorious and contested” (p. 81). If it’s contested (you might think), surely that means it’s unclear?[7] It’s common for readers to trawl through debates about Greek and Latin translation and end up concluding, “If clever people disagree about this text of Scripture, then this text (and anything like it) must be unclear. We shouldn’t base any decisions about what we do in church on unclear texts. Instead, we should make our decisions based on what feels right and what is contextually effective.”
Such a conclusion is understandable, but we need to regain historical perspective. As I showed in part 1, this passage wasn’t regarded as especially unclear in the church until quite recently. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, emerging political and philosophical ideas; social changes caused by urban life and frontier life; and the spiritual innovations of revivalism all prompted some changes to church practice, sometimes accompanied by attempts to square them with Scripture. But it was especially after the advent of second-wave feminism in the mid-twentieth century that the text became hotly contested. Does that mean that scholars uncovered reasons five or six decades ago for us to be less confident about the interpretation of the text? Or was there also something else going on?
It seems to me that there are obvious reasons why this text is contested today. These have little to do with its inherent lack of clarity. Bird’s own framing of his discussion is instructive here. As we saw in part 1, Bird’s description of his former view about the text shows he came to understand this view in negative terms evoking feminist critiques such as a “door slamming in the face of women,” a “stained-glass ceiling,” and a defensive “masculine moat” (pp. 80–81, 94–95). He wants to reject such attitudes, yet he wants to avoid “compromising the authority of Scripture” (p. 95, cf. p. 81). He invites his readers to consider his Artemis-based backstory as a way to do both those things. As a reader in a post-feminist world, I certainly feel the appeal of going down that path! Is it possible that these incentives were at least part of the motivation for Bird himself to take his “deep dive” into alternative interpretations of 1 Timothy 2? Scholars can be motivated to consider alternative translations and interpretations of Scripture for all sorts of reasons other than a dispassionate reading of the text. The proliferation of alternatives is not in and of itself, evidence that the text is in fact unclear. Of course, it’s also quite possible that the interpretation of Paul across previous centuries has been coloured by Greek or Roman hierarchical ideas that have also distorted the reading of these texts in various ways. But that still doesn’t mean the text is unclear. Nor does it imply we need to create a reconstructed historical backstory to explain it. Instead, it means we need to take stock and read the text even more carefully.
We Need to Do Better
Certainly, the whole debate shows that there are issues that we need to grapple with. But they are issues in ourselves and our preaching, not with the text itself. As we proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ and share it together in a world where people are confused and hurting; where the “manosphere” of ashamed men shamefully lashing out at women is growing alarmingly; where women really have been hurt; and where even simple assertions of the binary of “man” and “woman” are regarded as evil; we need more than exegetical tweaks and theories about Artemis.
What we need is to engage more carefully with the text, especially Paul’s theological grounding in verses 13–15. We need to articulate—clearly, for ourselves and our world—how the biblical binary of “male and female”, introduced in Genesis 1:27) and developed in Genesis 2, actually works for good in our theological anthropology. We need to think more deeply about men and women, not as separate entities in a zero-sum battle of the sexes, nor as largely indistinguishable in family and church, but as interdependent and ordered in the image of God. And we need to grapple with what Paul is actually doing in 1 Timothy 2:13–15 with his allusions to Genesis 2–3 (and probably chapter 4). Why does Paul think that the account of creation, fall, and ongoing hope through childbirth in Genesis is relevant to a gendered order of how we learn and teach in gathered prayer and worship?
Bird’s answer is that Paul’s appeals to Adam and Eve are “not necessarily about creation but reflect cultural norms buttressed with an understanding of how people perceive the natural world” (p. 93). Hence, “Eve’s deception simply illustrates what might happen if the women in Ephesus fail to learn quietly and in submission to their teachers” (p. 94). We can do better.
By grappling with a biblical-theological reading of these verses, we have the opportunity to learn more about how God himself perceives the natural world, and ourselves as God’s image-bearers, male and female. The richness in these compact and elliptical, yet theologically loaded verses has the potential to help us to think more deeply about all sorts of key questions in our world: the true nature of leadership; gender fluidity; the value of children and motherhood in family life; masculine defensiveness and shame; abusers in need of rebuke and victims in the process of healing. They should also challenge us to re-examine personal lives, our relationships, and our church practices. The challenges arising from these riches may not always be comfortable, but they are nevertheless of great value, as wisdom from Scripture always is.
In these two articles, I’ve looked at Bird’s reinterpretation of Paul’s prohibition against women teaching or having authority in 1 Timothy 2:11–15. Based on the influence of Artemis in the historical context, Bird constructs a backstory involving quite specific circumstances that removes its direct applicability to our church life today. I’ve argued that the evidence for the Artemis theory is very thin, that we should aim to read the text as it stands rather than base our interpretations on a reconstructed backstory, and that Bird’s retranslation of the verse lacks firm support from the Greek text. The text is contested, but it is not especially unclear, nor is it isolated from the rest of Scripture. It is, of course, challenging, but that’s not a reason to shy away from it. As the true and living God speaks to us through his written word, we should expect the challenge to be worth it.
[1] Similar claims can be found elsewhere: e.g. Laura Rademaker (p. xxi–iii); Amy J. Erickson (p. 5, 12); Hannah Craven (pp. 47–8).
[2] “Leadership, Teaching, and Women in 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus” (pp. 80–96).
[3] Bird’s chapter addresses authenteō first and oude second, but for clarity it’s helpful to follow the textual order.
[4] Seven uses “and” (kai) and one “parataxis”—a pairing with no conjunction at all (“I’m telling the truth and I’m not lying,” v. 7).
[5] Bird wrongly states that Wycliffe’s translation is from the Greek when it’s actually a translation of the Latin Vulgate.
[6] It’s worth noting that if Bird’s claim that “teach or exercise authority” are a single idea is rejected, then the definition of “exercise authority” isn’t the be-all and end-all for interpreting this verse. “Teach” stands as a positive term in its own right. That’s why, as we saw in part 1, traditional interpreters working with the KJV’s negative translation “usurp authority” did not understand it as recasting “teach” in negative terms.
[7] A classic example of this view is Jamin Hübner, “Revisiting the Clarity of Scripture in 1 Timothy 2:12,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 59.1 (2016): 99–117.
