I grew up as a member of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, a church body which rejects the ordination of women to the role of pastor. The publishing branch of that denomination, Concordia Publishing House, put out a book entitled Women Pastors? The Ordination of Women in Biblical Lutheran Perspective edited by Matthew C. Harrison and John T. Pless. I have decided to critically review the book, chapter-by-chapter, to show that this teaching is mistaken.
Two “Historical Studies” Chapters
“Liberation Theology in the Leading Ladies of Feminist Theology” by Roland Ziegler
Pless and Harrison’s introduction to this section suggest the chapters included will demonstrate certain claims to be true. Ziegler’s chapter could be intended to support the following-
Claim 2: “Fueled by theological movements that set the charismatic distribution of the Spirit in opposition to an established office, the emerging equalitarianism of the feminist movement, historical criticism’s distrust of the biblical text, and in some cases a pragmatism that saw the ordination of women as a way to alleviate the clergy shortage… many Protestant denominations took steps to ordain women.” (Pless and Harrison, Section II introduction, 107)
Ziegler gives but the briefest historical survey of the origins of feminist theology and liberation theology. The point of the recent-ness is important, because Pless and Harrison claim in their historical section introduction that ordaining women is a novelty in the history of the church. As such, the authors must be at pains not to trace the lineage of ordaining women back too far, lest it not be such a novelty. Unfortunately, the author of the previous chapter already falsified that claim, noting that women were ordained in the earliest times of the church. The internal inconsistency of this collection of essays continues to pile up.
Anyway, Ziegler himself notes the origins of feminist theology reach back into 19th century (138), though he fails to cite any specific examples. Nevertheless, he asserts that feminist theology only “became visible” in the 1970s, thus supporting the “novelty” claims of Harrison and Pless. The 19th century is when we can find the origins of the LCMS itself, though. If novelty is such an argument against the truth of something, would these pastors also argue the LCMS is a “novel” development in the history of the church? Doubtful.
Ziegler moves on, dividing feminist theology into a somewhat arbitrary “radical” and “evangelical” segmentation. Then, over the course of two pages, he traces the “method” of feminist theology (notably, all from just one author). Then, he outlines various alleged beliefs from feminist theology, whether about its doctrine of God or Christology. Again, one author’s work looms large here, though a few others are cited.
The conclusion Ziegler offers is basically just that Confessional Lutheranism cannot accept feminist theology. But none of this supports the claim that the ordination of women directly arose out of the streams of feminist theology he traces. No attempt is even made to show that connection. Liberation theology, briefly referenced and defined at the beginning of the chapter, makes no impact on the rest of the chapter. It’s not clear to me at all why the chapter even attempts to cite both liberation and feminist theology, given the focus is entirely upon the latter. Readers looking for support for Harrison and Pless’s theses will find basically nothing here. It’s just a very limited look at (largely one author’s perspective on) feminist theology and then a rejection thereof.
“Forty Years of Female Pastors” in Scandinavia by Fredrik Sidenvall
Sidenvall asserts that because of women pastors, “it is impossible to proclaim any truth based on Scripture in our church” (154). With rhetorical flourish, he refers to women pastors as a form of “spiritual terrorism” (ibid). Most of this chapter is just that: rhetorical flourish. Sidenvall knows his audience will be people who agree with him, so throwing out one-liners to the crowd for applause takes up a great deal of the chapter.
The chapter turns to a short historical overview of how women’s ordination happened in Sweden. It all began, of course, with giving women the right to vote (154). This nefarious practice [my words, but not off tone for the chapter] led to liberalism taking hold. A neo-church movement then arose which led to an orthodox pushback. But then, the state appointed an exegete “who, though far from having any position in the faculties, had the qualifications to produce the answers the politicians wanted” (156). And what did the politicians want!? Women pastors! Or… something. The political pressure put on the church meant the church caved. So goes Sidenvall’s story. The facts he shares speak a slightly different tune, as he complains about the democratic organization of the churches, which thus allowed theology to flow with the times (157).
The rest of this historical survey holds up the tiny confessional remnant as a kind of heroic effort against a liberalizing church, apparently making one of the confessional leaders the “most hated person in Sweden” (162). Again, this rhetorical flourish plays well to those in agreement, but it seems little more than lionizing on the outside. Finally, Sidenvall turns to the impact of ordaining women, which includes stories of “horrifying… psychological torture” happening to those who are against women pastors going to “pastoral institutes of the Church” (165). Sidenvall ends on a hopeful (for him) note: Perhaps there will even come a day when the culture as a whole will find itself in chaos after having experimented with the roles of gender and deconstructing family, and there will be a desperate need for change” (166). This hopeful (he uses the word hope) message is alarming, showing a pastor genuinely hoping for societal chaos, breakdown, and turmoil. Rather than praying for peace, he hopes for destruction.
The chapter, of course, does basically nothing to demonstrate the claims Harrison and Pless said would be shown by the chapters in this section. And this chapter ends the section. My previous post noted how the chapter actually contradicted Harrison and Pless’s claims on a number of points. These two chapters basically do nothing to advance them. And that’s it! There’s nothing left. What we’ve been offered is an oddly terse summary of feminist theology (with the very briefest gloss of liberation theology at the front), and a rhetoric filled look at women pastors in Sweden followed by a hope for societal chaos. How does this support the claim that women pastors aren’t or should not be ordained? I’m unsure. It’s those opposed to them here who are hoping for destruction.
The reasons I left the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod were complex. Whether it was the science I was taught as a child not aligning with reality or the misogynistic and racist actions of pastors and those training to be the same, or any of a number of other issues I had, these all were contributing factors. Now, I am going to spend some time on perhaps the biggest reason I am no longer part of the LCMS, which is their views on women in the church and home. This is a deeply personal subject for me, and I have numerous personal stories related to it. Names and other details may be modified for privacy.
Points of Fracture: Women in the Church, Part 1
My dad was an LCMS pastor, which meant that I’d only had a male pastor–him–my whole life. I don’t recall ever hearing anything about whether women could or could not be pastors as a young child. I met several other pastors and families, of course. My parents formed lasting friendships at seminary and many of their friends and circles they were in were LCMS pastors as well. I never really thought about the fact that all the pastors I met were men.
The first time I remember encountering anything about whether women could be pastors was in middle school, at an LCMS school. We were in small groups talking about future careers and in my group there was a girl who said she wanted to be a pastor when she grew up. Again, I’d never really thought about it one way or another that I can recall. I mentioned it to a few LCMS people in the school and was told that no, women couldn’t be pastors. It was against the Bible. Nothing could be a higher authority than that. There wasn’t an in-depth discussion of why women couldn’t be pastors, or what verses allegedly made that the case. It was just that: because the Bible says so. Carelessly, I then went back to that girl and told her she couldn’t be a pastor. Why not? Because the Bible says so. I felt a kind of righteous vindication, because I was telling her what God had said about what she could or couldn’t do. I’m sorry.
It wasn’t until college that I would have any further reflection on women pastors. After a deeply religious experience, I decided to become a pastor. Knowing the LCMS well, I knew that involved a kind of commitment to doctrinal purity. Whether it was biblical inerrancy, ordaining only men, or something else, I knew I had to be ready to fight the ways of the world when it came to these things. After the summer, I was in student leadership as a spiritual life representative–think of them kind of like Resident Assistants, but for spiritual life. We did devotions in the dorms, were there for talking, that kind of thing. I helped move the freshman in on their first day, and I met one young woman. We hit it off and decided to hang out later.
Later that week, I was at breakfast for pre-seminary students, those who were planning to go on to be pastors, and she showed up at the breakfast. I was stunned. Why… was she here? It turned out she was there because she was planning to study to become a pastor–something she was manifestly Not Supposed To Do. The series of events after that is difficult to piece together, but I know that the theological question of whether women could be pastors went from something I couldn’t be bothered to learn more about to something that I needed to be able to prove to others. I needed to be able to show that women should not be pastors.
Like some of my favorite literary characters, when confronted with a challenge to something I thought, I hit the books. And, like most people do, I hit the books on my own side to see how I could refute this belief. The first book I dove into was Women Pastors? The Ordination of Women in Biblical Lutheran Perspective edited by Matthew C. Harrison and John T. Pless. The book was published by Concordia Publishing House, the publishing arm of the LCMS. It had, in other words, a doctrinal seal of approval that meant I could trust implicitly anything that it had to say therein. I knew that this book would have the answers I was seeking. However, as I cracked the cover and skimmed through the chapters, I found some things of deep concern. While passages like 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 were cited and used to silence women in the church, other exegesis did not align with what I was being taught about how to read the Bible.
For example, in a chapter about the Trinity in the book, I read, “Even though [God the Son] is in all ways equal to the Father and in no way inferior to the Father, he is nevertheless utterly subordinate to the Father… Christ’s relation as Son to his Father is therefore characterized by his subordination to the headship of the Father” (222-223, first edition only, the chapter by John Kleinig). This was not what I’d learned about Trinitarian orthodoxy. Indeed, it seemed to be skirting the lines of Arianism. I was strongly put off. Much later, I’d learn that this chapter was either removed or heavily edited in a subsequent edition. At the time, I was shaken. If this was the kind of thing that got past official doctrinal review, what would it mean for other doctrinal issues?
Of course, this hardly caused a collapse of my position. Other chapters seemed more solid in their approach, and I felt like I was armed to show people, especially this young woman, why women shouldn’t be pastors after all. I don’t recall exactly how our discussion played out, but I do know it didn’t escalate into an outright argument. She decided to switch from the pre-seminary program to a different one, and I thought that’d be the end of it.
It wasn’t. The question was opened in my mind. It was even more open because I realized there were people who appeared to be faithful Christians who nevertheless believed women should be ordained and, shockingly, there were even ordained women pastors who weren’t clearly working to undermine Christianity at every step. I know this reads dramatically, but this is truly the way I thought, and certainly the way many pastors and others I interacted with thought about women pastors. The Bible, it is assumed, is simply so clear on whether women can be pastors that anyone who disagrees and even engages in the opposite practice absolutely must be some kind of heretical person or someone actively working to try to discredit Christianity. But because the question had been opened, I couldn’t just drop it. I kept investigating, despite the fact that the woman I was dating had changed course. This wasn’t the kind of thing I could just drop and leave aside. The very question of whether God was calling women into the ministry was at stake. If I really believed that God wanted to keep one half of the human population from even being possibly called by the Holy Spirit, I wanted to be sure that I was supremely confident that I was right.
I kept reading the Women Pastors? book, but became more and more disillusioned with the LCMS arguments against women pastors. Contradictory arguments abounded, and the exegetical principles used to conclude women couldn’t be pastors were simplistic even by the standards I was being taught in LCMS pre-seminary classes. It was like the pastors and theologians who’d written the book had abandoned things like the historical grammatical method when it came to this one issue. I began to start asking questions, mostly in private, about the LCMS teaching on women pastors, but was met with either horror or a blanket statement about how clearly the Bible taught against it.
It’s worth a brief aside here at how often people–including more than one pastor–would try to silence the questions I was asking about women pastors or other issues by quoting Satan in the Garden of Eden: “Did God really say?” [Genesis 3:1]. This was used time and again as an answer to any questioning of the LCMS’s supposedly clear and exclusively biblical teachings. So, when it came to Genesis 1-3 and I pointed out that it seemed to be based upon ANE myths while turning them on their heads to refute aspects of them, not a literal, blow-by-blow account creation, I was told that I was like Satan in saying “Did God really say” that creation happened a certain way. When I asked about whether a verse truly taught what I was told it did, I was again questioning not the interpretation, but the word of God itself: Did God really say what the LCMS said it did–oops–what the Bible says God did? This clobber passage in context, of course, isn’t intended the way these pastors and others were using it at all. Indeed, the phrase itself is ripped from the middle of a sentence from the serpent’s mouth in which he was asking specifically about whether God had told them not to eat from any tree in the garden. The way the passage was being used against me was abusive and did cause trauma. Imagine being told that you’re just like Satan, tempting others with your nefarious questions just because you genuinely care about and want to know what the Bible says. It’s terrible.
My questioning would continue as I kept reading more about the topic, but while I was no longer convinced the Bible taught women shouldn’t be pastors with certainty, I was also unconvinced by arguments that women should or could be pastors. I was stuck in a kind of confused middling view. It was deeply uncomfortable, and not just because the woman I was dating had agreed to change her life based upon my discomfort. No, the very way God worked to call people to the ministry was at question, and I struggled to find any reason why God wouldn’t call women apart from a trite “The Bible says God doesn’t do that” type of answer. But did the Bible say that, or did it only read that way if one adopted the overly-simplistic hermeneutic I saw time and again in LCMS works on the topic–a hermeneutic that was different from the one I was being taught in LCMS classrooms? It was a question that would loom larger soon.
Next Time: Women in the Church, Part 2
There had to be some kind of reason why women weren’t called to the ministry. Only in some older LCMS works or references to earlier Christian teaching on the topic would I find any kind of answer.
 I wrote more about this same phenomenon when it came to young earth creationism. Time and again, despite being told to read the Bible contextually and take care to try to find the original meaning, the historical sense, etc., I did not find that reading reflected in LCMS teaching or reading of various texts. And, when I challenged those readings, I was told that I was challenging the text itself.
 I have been critically reviewing the Women Pastors? book chapter-by-chapter. Not all of the issues I raise with it in my reviews were ones I realized at the time I’m writing about now, but the more one reads the book, the more one realizes the poorly argued nature of it. See also note 1 above and the link therein about how I found on other issues the hermeneutical method I was being taught and the one actually being used did not align.
What if there had been a woman who was a bishop in the earliest parts of Christian history? What would her life have been like? And, if we found out about her now, what would that entail? These are the questions raised by John I. Rigoli and Diane Cummings in their historical fiction novel, The Mystery of Julia Episcopa.
The Mystery of Julia Episcopa has two primary storylines: the first, set in modern times, follows Valentina Vella and Erika Simone, two archaeologists who come across a tantalizing discovery. The second plot follows Julia Episcopa’s life in the first century as she encounters Christianity and navigates her household life.
The story of Valentina and Erika starts off with a bang: the discovery of a document case that had some intentional damage done to remove the evidence that it was from Julia Episcopa, the last syllable indicating the person involved was a woman. It’s found at the Vatican during the tenure of a pope who is working to make reforms to the Roman Catholic church. These scholars have been, in part, charged with seeing whether there is any evidence of women in leadership in the earliest periods of the church. Their discovery launches them on a quest to attempt to find more information about Julia’s life and position in the church. To that end, readers are taken on an archaeological quest enlisting a few other experts as Valentina and Erika work against the clock and church leaders who are less interested in finding women in leadership than in suppressing them. It’s got the makings of a thriller, and at its best, it delivers the goods.
It’s difficult as a non-expert to assess how accurate the representation of Julia’s life is historically. As a reader, however, these sections delving into her life are among the strongest in the novel. Julia is a complex character with a difficult life, despite being born into wealth in the Roman world. No small amount of reflection on household dynamics and paterfamilias is built into this part of the story. But the concepts the author’s put forward in these sections never overtake the character of Julia and her own tale. It’s a spellbinding story, and strong enough to stand upon its own.
These two stories intertwine as Valentina and Erika come closer and closer to discovering the truth of Julia even as they try to hide the massive significance of their discovery from church authorities who are determined to prevent women from having authoritative roles in the church. Forced to conceal their findings for fear of losing funding in retribution due to others not liking the implications of their discovery, they continue on, using whatever resources they can find and their wit to keep the investigation going. It leads to some surprising discoveries.
One difficulty with the novel is twofold: things happen either too easily or with too much difficulty. For example, when Valentina and Erika decide to try to track down Julia’s tomb, they are convinced they’ll be able to find it. They simply enlist another expert and go to find it. However, archaeological finds, to my knowledge, don’t work that way. Picking a name and then going to try to find that specific person’s tomb from 2000 years ago is not how such finds usually happen. Though there are some pointers to help locate the tomb, the sheer confidence of Valentina and Erika that they can easily find the tomb made it difficult to suspend disbelief. On the flip side, when discoveries are made that include languages like Greek, at least one of our two main characters is unable to read it. It does not seem possible that anyone could become a renowned classical scholar and work with archaeological finds in the ancient world around the Mediterranean and not know a language like Greek.
The novel stumbles a bit in the last third. The following includes major spoilers. The archaeological expedition manages to discover Julia Episcopa’s tomb. Rigoli and Cummings here start to introduce a number of fantastic discoveries all at once. Not only do they find the tomb and therefore strong evidence of a woman who was a bishop in the early church, but they also find her mostly intact diary. The discovery of the tomb alone pushes on plausibility a bit, but adding in ancient texts starts to stretch credulity. Then, however, it truly starts to hit home how much is being packed into this novel at the end. They also find ensconced there a letter revealing the origins of a strong hierarchy for the papacy. If that’s not enough, they also find the Holy Grail! Then, at the end, additional events twist and turn so rapidly it’s hard to keep up. It’s a clear set up for a second novel, but by the end I was left wondering if I thought the whole thing was plausible enough to dive in to the next volume. I will, of course, because the premise alone was enough to sell me into the next book, but I was disappointed by this stumble towards the end.
All of that aside, The Mystery of Julia Episcopa is a refreshing read. More and more real world evidence turns up showing that women did have a much stronger role in the church than has been known for some time. This historical fiction novel, despite some flaws, delivers a compelling tale that lets readers wonder what it might have been like–and what it could be like–if huge discoveries to that end turn up.
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The history of interpretation is an important subject for understanding Christian theology. One part of that history that is, thankfully, at last getting the attention that it deserves is the history of women’s interpretation. Amanda W. Benckhuysen’s The Gospel According to Eve is a fascinating look at this history that particularly focuses on questions related to women in Christian theology and practice.
Benckhuysen explores several topics from the perspective of women interpreters, drawing on women who wrote throughout Christian history on these fascinating topics. The main themes surveyed are Interpreting Eve–a chapter that focuses on how women interpreted the passages related to Eve; Defending Women’s Worth, in which women interpreters highlight the equality of women; promoting women’s education; Supporting Women as Wives and Mothers; Empowering Women to Preach and Teach; Forming the Character of Children; Advocating for Social Reform; and Influencing Gender Ideology.
There are many major points of interest found throughout the book. The chapter on women as wives and mothers sounds like it may be an affirmation of traditional gender roles, and some of the authors tended in that direction, but it also had fascinating early discussions from women about the beauty and wonder of breast-feeding and questions of class related to it. Here specifically Benckhuysen cites Elizabeth Clinton (c. 1574-c. 1630) and Hannah More (1745-1833) as two women who wrote on this topic. Clinton cited multiple biblical examples of women who nursed their children, but also broadened her argument beyond what was best for mother or child. She argued additionally that using wet nurses had a negative impact on lower classes due to taking away the autonomy of women, whose husbands often directly made deals over how much they’d be selling their services for (103-104).
The chapter on women preaching and teaching shows women both interacting directly with biblical texts often used to silence women’s voices, while also citing examples of pragmatic cases in which women needed to teach or preach. Benckhuysen also shows the array of women’s opinions on the topic, as some women agreed women should preach but still argued they ought to be under the authority of men. Time and again, in chapter after chapter, Benckhuysen shares portraits of women and their work that show the breadth of women’s voices throughout Christian history and the importance of hearing these diverse voices and opinions on a wide array of topics.
The Gospel According to Eve is a fantastic introduction to both the history of women’s interpretation and to investigating questions about the theological importance of women in Christian thought and practice. It is highly recommended.
Disclaimer: I was provided with a copy of the book for review by the publisher. I was not required to give any specific kind of feedback whatsoever.
Andrew Bartlett’s Men and Women in Christ: Fresh Light from the Biblical Texts is a major study on the question of how women and men are to relate to each other according to the Bible. Bartlett approaches the question from a more judicial approach, using his experience as an arbitrator as well as his background in theology to shed light on the biblical texts.
The book is more than 400 pages of text and it is filled to the brim with exegetical insights. The first chapter is about tradition and unity; the second explores 1 Corinthians 7’s implications for marriage and male-female relations; the third interprets Colossians 3 and Ephesians 5; the fourth focuses more closely on Ephesians 5; the fifth examines what Genesis 1-3 has to tell us about men and women; the sixth looks at 1 Peter; the seventh through the eighth focus on 1 Corinthians 11; the ninth and tenth look at the meaning of 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 and its place in Scripture; the eleventh through the thirteenth are about 1 TImothy 2; the fourteenth surveys the biblical evidence for women leaders; the fifteenth asks about women elders in light of 1 Timothy 3; the sixteenth and final chapter brings the conclusions together and offers a way forward. Appendices explore methods of biblical interpretation, arguments against mutual submission, uses of the Greek word authenteo, the structure of 1 Timothy 2:12, interpretations of 1 Timothy 2:15, shortcomings in complementarian readings of 1 Timothy 2, and translation issues.
Bartlett begins with a chapter on “revising tradition, seeking unity” in which he looks into how these issues have become as divisive as they are alongside the development of various views. Here it is particularly of interest that Bartlett spends some time arguing that the “complementarian” view is not the traditional view of the church. It is demonstrably the case that complementarianism is not, in fact, that traditional view, despite many of its proponents claiming that title. Bartlett shows that the traditional view, in fact, viewed women as ontologically inferior to men. Woman, on that view, was by nature inferior. By contrast, Jesus explicitly went against his cultural conventions and elevated women throughout the NT. Additionally, modern complementarianism at least claims to support the equality of men and women, itself a direct contradiction to the traditional view.
1 Corinthians 7 is extremely important to the questions related to male-female relations. Bartlett notes that this chapter gives the only explicit details about how decisions are to be made in marriage. Despite the clear importance of this passage to the questions at hand, then, it is curious that so few complementarians offer thorough exegesis of the text. Bartlett notes the various qualities of male-female relations brought to the front in this text, including that they have equal duties in the marriage bed, equal authority to the other partner, the same advice to both widowers and widows, same restrictions on divorce, same rule about unbelievers for men and women, the spiritual impact of the spouses on each toher, the same advice for engaged persons of either sex, the same advice for married/unmarried persons of either sex, and more (25-26).
1 Peter finds that husbands are to give honor in the same way as wives are to do so. English translations may obfuscate the mutuality of the relevant passages, but in 1 Peter 3:7 there is a clear wording that parallels Peter’s other use of the same notion, thus leading to the conclusion that the honor/respect that many complementarians so often attribute only to the male side of the relationship is mistaken. Bartlett challenges egalitarians to see that there are specific biblical obligations for husbands to wives that he says are “asymmetrical” and thus not something wives must do. Specifically, the concept of self-sacrifice, argues Bartlett, is something husbands are called to do in marriage (62-64). His argument here is indeed challenging, but one might counter that the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence–having “asymmetry” in this specific instances does not imply asymmetry in function with certainty.
Bartlett’s careful exegesis of 1 Corinthians 11 deserves a thorough read. Essentially, he notes the various unjustified conclusions from word studies people have drawn from this text. Additionally, he notes problems with Trinitarian theology as taken from the text. The question of what exactly is the “veil/symbol of authority/etc.” looms large, and Bartlett makes a convincing case for reading these passages as referencing sources and hairstyles (143-148). Additionally, he argues that the reading of “a woman ought to have authority over her head” is to be preferred because it avoids major pitfalls of rival views (148ff). It both goes along with Paul’s context in which he specifically mentions women praying and prophesying and also fits in with the concepts related to “source” in the passages.
1 Corinthians 14:34-35 is one of the best known passages in this debate, and Bartlett makes a convincing case, going along with several other scholars, that this text is, in fact, an interpolation that was not in the original text. This is due to both internal and external evidence, such as preserving the unity of thought in the letter, questions about what the verses are supposed to be referencing, and numerous textual evidences related to the floating of the text in different locations as well as marks that indicate it is likely an interpolation.
1 Timothy 2 is another major section of the book, and Bartlett does a service by laying out the context of the text in great detail. There is little doubt that 1 Timothy was written to discuss false teachings and false teachers, with numerous mentions throughout the letter as well as in 2 Timothy of these problems. Bartlett, however, goes more deeply into the context and uses primary sources to note that it appears as though the letter is referencing astrology specifically in numerous places and that the false teaching is related to sorcery/astrology. This puts 1 Timothy 2:9-12 contextually in a discussion of wealthy women with ungodly conduct who should learn to do good works and learn in full submission to God. The nature of the letter as a periodical sent for a specific purpose must not be ignored.
A survey of women church leaders leads to numerous examples of women in various leadership roles in the church. This leads into a discussion of 1 Timothy 3 and whether women may be elders. English translations have mangled these verses in a number of ways, adding male pronouns prolifically where there are none. Additionally, interpreters have failed to take into account that the list of qualifications parallels qualifications Paul explicitly gives for women throughout the letter as well (318-319).
Bartlett ends the book with a call for Christian unity in spite of sharp disagreements on the place of men and women in the church and alongside each other.
If there is one point of critique of I have for Bartlett’s work, it is the occasional uncritical acceptance of anecdotal evidence in questions of modern application. Nowhere is this more clear than in Bartlett’s discussion of the alleged inherent differences of men and women on pages 82-83. Here, Bartlett chides egalitarians for being “sometimes shy of acknowledging innate differences between men and women” (82). What evidence does Bartlett offer for his own perspective, that some differences beyond child-bearing are “innate”? He offers a journalist’s comment from a game show in the UK, who, in trying to offer a good reason why two all-male teams should be the best representatives for a quiz show, offered the example of her husband who arranges his books in alphabetical and chronological order, and whose “proudest boast is that while on holiday in North Wales in 1974, he won a hubcap identification competition. Who could compete with that? Who would want to?” (82-83). It is honestly difficult to fathom how this single anecdote can be taken seriously as an example of alleged innate differences between the sexes. [Edit: The author contacted me and let me know this was intended as a joke–a possible cultural miss on my part not understanding the joke. I’ve made a correction in the rest of this paragraph.] He also offers a footnote referencing a study that argues for hard-wired differences in how male/female brains have differences. I haven’t read that study, so I can’t comment on it specifically. Again, this is a minor complaint in a massive text, but it seemed out of place and worth commenting on.
Men and Women in Christ: Fresh Light from the Biblical Texts is a monumental achievement. It sets standards for rigor as well as for Bartlett’s attempt to find unity in Christ among such hotly contested issues. Anyone who is truly interested in engaging in the questions related to women in the church and home from a Christian perspective will find this book a must read. Highly recommended.
Disclaimer: I was provided with a copy of the book for review by the publisher. I was not required to give any specific kind of feedback whatsoever.
I have seen multiple complementarians recently on Twitter asserting that women prophets in the Bible were in submission to men; particularly to male teachers who were in the role of what we have turned into the modern pastor. Denny Burk, the current President of the Council for Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, responded to a lengthy series of questions and comments about a post he wrote supporting complementarianism recently. One of the questions was about women who were prophets in the Bible and whether they submitted to men. Burk wrote:
“Right. They [women prophets] would be subject to teachers/preachers AND to other prophets. The spirits of prophets are subject to prophets, except for female prophets. They are to be in subjection, as the Law also says. That’s my understanding.”
Another complementarian, John Carpenter, pastor at a Reformed Church, wrote “…I’m a lax complementarian, believing that women can ‘pray and prophesy’ in church under the authority of all male elders. But I could be wrong. The stricter [complementarians] may be right. I know the egalitarians are wrong.”
The problem with these and related statements is that they actually directly contradict Scripture. This isn’t an issue of interpretation that allows for disagreement. Instead, complementarians, by asserting that women prophets would explicitly be under teachers in the church, are going directly against the Word of God.
1 Corinthians 12:28 quite clearly states “…God has appointed in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then miracles, then gifts of healing, helping, administrating, and various kinds of tongues” (ESV).
So in the church, we find that prophets, in fact, rank above teacher/preachers, though Denny Burk, the President of a major evangelical group that promotes complementarianism, says they do not, and that instead “they are to be in subjection as the Law also says.” We might ask Denny Burk where he finds that verse in the “Law.” Which verse in the Hebrew Scriptures state that women prophets are to be in subjection to teachers/preachers? There is none. But not only that, he and other complementarians who make this argument are going against the very Bible they purport to affirm when they hold to complementarianism.
A Brief Biblical Proof for Women Pastors– Read why 1 Corinthians 12:28 is an even bigger problem for complementarians, as it effectively guarantees women may hold the same or more authority than that of pastors.
On the Femnization of the Church– It is frequently alleged that the church is being “feminized” and that this is a bad thing. Check out this post, wherein I analyze this notion from a few different angles.
Women in the Ministry: The philosophy of equality and why complementarianism fails– I argue that the position in which women are excluded from church leadership entails inequality of being.
I continue my review of Women Pastors? edited by Matthew C. Harrison and John T. Pless here with a few brief comments on the introduction to Section II: Historical Studies. I thought it was worth commenting on due to the way it sets the table for the upcoming chapters.
Section II: Historical Studies Introduction
There are several claims made within this three paragraph introduction to the Historical Studies section. We will outline those claims, make a few comments, and then use this post to see whether these claims are supported and sustained by the arguments in the chapters that follow.
Claim 1: “The practice of ordaining women to the pastoral office is a novelty in the history of the church.” (107)
This claim is fairly straightforward, and the editors go on to clarify, noting that the first woman ordained in the United States was ordained in 1853. The implication seems to be that this was around the first time women were ordained into the pastoral office. This is a positive claim about a universal negative: to sustain the claim, the authors must demonstrate no women ever was ordained as a pastor in the history of the church before a time that could be called a “novelty.” We have already seen issues with this. One problem is the definition of the “pastoral office,” something the editors clearly struggled with. Some authors have simply not defined the pastoral office, assuming readers would fill in the gaps. Others have defined it in such a way that there is not a single example of anyone holding such an office anywhere in the New Testament. So the first step of a defense of this claim is to establish what the pastoral office is, and demonstrate it in the New Testament itself. The second step is to show the universal negative is true; something nearly impossible. Moreover, given that another author has granted some sects did ordain women (though they were, he claims, entirely Gnostic ones), one would have to demonstrate those were not examples of the early church whatsoever. Additionally, the examples in the New Testament of women leading (eg Phoebe, Prisca/Priscilla, Junia) have to be shown to clearly not be functioning as the pastoral office, however defined. Will these authors manage to show these to be true? If they do not, this claim is false.
Claim 2: “Fueled by theological movements that set the charismatic distribution of the Spirit in opposition to an established office, the emerging equalitarianism of the feminist movement, historical criticism’s distrust of the biblical text, and in some cases a pragmatism that saw the ordination of women as a way to alleviate the clergy shortage… many Protestant denominations took steps to ordain women.” (ibid)
The authors in the following section must show that these different influences are demonstrably what made churches ordain women rather than anything else, like a re-exploration of church history or the Bible’s teaching on women. We should see in-depth sociology happening here, done by authors with expertise in the history of ideas and social development of thought. They must outline the movement of theology from point A to point B by means of these various movements said to be the instrument thereby people ordained women. If not, this claim is falsified.
Claim 3: The women who are noted in the history of the church “were holy and learned but never pastors” (referencing an upcoming chapter’s claims).
I find this claim very important, but also very slippery. After all, we’ve already seen (links above) that the definition of “pastor” is unclear throughout this book. The authors must provide a very clear, textually sound definition of pastor. If not, how can they even claim that any one group of people were “never pastors”? So, again, we must see a clear definition of what a pastor is. Then, we should see the authors surveying many, many women throughout church history and showing how they do not meet that definition. The definition must not be tailored to make it beg the question against women pastors (eg. by saying “pastors are men who lead worship”). Instead, it must be a definition that can be used to show one person is a pastor, and another is not by virtue of the roles of the pastor. The author of whatever chapters involved in this should have expertise in church history.
Claim 4: “Ordination of women is a monumental turn in the history of the Church.” (107)
This claim is tied closely in with claims 1 and 3 and faces the same issues.
Claim 5: “[Ordination of women] puts those church bodies that practice it on dangerous ground, for it indicates that they are out of step not only with two thousand years of Christian history but with the will of the Lord of the Church.” (Ibid)
The first problem here is the editors already falsified this claim. 2000 years is a set period of time. Jesus died sometime around AD 33-35, though there are a few who move it a few years outside that range. Thus, 2000 years from AD 33 would be 2033. We have not yet reached that year, so people ordaining women are not outside of 2000 years of Christian history. The editors themselves note a woman ordained in 1853, which would be 1820 years of history, if it were the first ordination of any woman anywhere. One may object and say this is a petty complaint. But this section is the “historical studies” section. We should expect historical precision here, of all places. But “two thousand years” has better rhetorical value, so that’s what the editors used rather than an actual number corresponding to reality. The authors then have an impossible task: showing the history of the church is different from what it is. Moreover, they must demonstrate that the ordination of women goes specifically against the will of the Lord of the Church.
In the coming posts, we will see whether the authors sustain these lofty claims.
“‘As In All the Churches of the Saints’: A Text-Critical Study of 1 Corinthians 14:34, 35” by David W. Bryce
The first thing to note in this chapter is that it directly contradicts the previous chapter. In the previous chapter, Kriewaldt and North made the claim that the textual integrity of this passage, 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 is “certain.” That word is a very strong claim. Yet at the very beginning of this chapter by David W. Bryce, we find that there are textual critical issues that indicate it does not have “certainty” when it comes to textual integrity. Indeed, the entire chapter is dedicated to just that issue. Of course, Bryce ultimately concludes that the text is not an interpolation, which could hardly be anything but a foregone conclusion given his theological commitments, but the very fact that there is enough material to even question whether the text is an interpolation must surely indicate it is not “certain.”
Bryce begins by noting an argument for the text here being an interpolation. Though no ancient manuscripts omit the verses, the placement is unclear because some manuscripts have it placed after verse 40, while others have it where it generally appears in modern English translations after verse 33. Bryce surveys the manuscripts and argues that the placement of the verses after verse 40 stems from a single, no longer extant Western manuscript (61).
Interestingly, Bryce then turns to a section in which he tries to discern who the alleged scribe is who may have tried to take 1 Cor. 14:34-35 out of the text. One of the aspects of the profile of this alleged single scribe is that “He opposed the exclusion of women from the ordained ministry and sought to reverse the traditional ecclesiastical practice of his day” (63). But what is this based upon? Nothing more than a conclusion that a non-extant single manuscript led to the verses being seen as a possible interpolation in the Western text type. Of course, those who have read a lot of textual criticism know conclusions based on extrapolated manuscripts aren’t uncommon; but to go from that extrapolation to theological conclusions about the alleged single (and male) scribe who may have taken the verses out of their context seems to be an exercise in mythmaking.
Yet Bryce is not content to merely leave it at some unnamed scribe of allegedly questionable theological motivations. Instead, he goes on to argue that the scribe is none other than the heretic Marcion! Just in case readers are confused by this jump, I want to outline the argument here. Bryce argues first that the evidence for 14:34-35 coming after verse 40 (and therefore possibly being an interpolation due to it being a “floating text” is only found in the Western tradition. Because it is only in a few manuscripts, he posits that the evidence comes originally from a single, earlier manuscript that no longer exists. Because it being an interpolation would aid those who believe women may be pastors [never mind any other possible motivations], he argues that it must be from a scribe who stood against his own tradition’s practice of not ordaining women. Now, he argues that this scribe was Marcion because Paul was “Marcion’s hero” and Marcion practiced exegesis by cutting out verses he didn’t like wholesale (64). Marcion used the Western text type, Bryce argues, and he would have had the motivation to take out these verses from the original text. From there, Bryce concludes that “Marcion had motive, opportunity, and an established modus operandi to excise this offensive passage and reclaim, what was for him, the pure text of St. Paul” (65).
Simply reading through this maze of reasoning ought to be enough to lead readers to question it, but there are any number of problems with his hypotheses. First, he has presented no actual reason to even think that the omission or movement of the text was intentional other than that it is a convenient text for his own position (and therefore someone would want to remove it). Second, Marcion’s creation of his own texts seems to have been rather notorious even in his own time, as Bryce notes in his own argument. If that’s the case, then why would a man who went from basically cutting out the Old Testament from the Bible go to such effort to try to remove a single verse? Why not simply publish an entirely new New Testament with all of his excisions therein instead of trying to plant a single manuscript somewhere to deceive later generations? Third, Bryce’s argument assumes quite a bit about how manuscripts can be transmitted intentionally by reading intention behind such a transmission of an alleged non-interpolation. After all, to read intent rather than error into the “mistake” is an evaluation of purpose of the scribe, one clearly not warranted when by Bryce’s own admission we don’t even have the alleged single original source manuscript. Fourth, Bryce’s own analysis of the text does not warrant his conclusion that the verses in question must have been original to the text (see next paragraph). Fifth, Bryce’s attempt to place a notorious heretic as the one to blame for evidence for an interpolation looks unfortunately like an attempt to poison the well against his opponents. Sixth, Bryce’s analysis of the textual critical data is mistaken (see below).
Philip B. Payne has argued forcefully for the text being an interpolation. In his work, Man and Woman: One in Christ he lays out the case, and while Bryce downplays or doesn’t include elements such as scribal distigme notating potential interpolations in the text. Moreover, directly in contradiction to Bryce’s conclusion, Payne notes that:
Codex Vaticanus’s evidence that 1 Cor 14:34-35 is an interpolation is especially important for several reasons. Its distigme (mark of a textual variant) at the end of v. 33 with no corresponding distigme at the end of v. 40 is evidence of a textual variant that was not the Western displacement was written prior to Codex Vaticanus.
So Bryce’s conclusion that the textual evidence can or should be traced back to a single Western manuscript is incorrect. Codex Vaticanus’s textual evidence reveals that the textual variant goes beyond the Western text type. This single piece of counter-evidence guts much of Bryce’s theorizing both regarding how pervasive the variant is and, certainly, all of his hypotheses about Marcion being responsible. Payne’s article also notes several issues with Bryce’s analysis of MS. 88, as interested readers can peruse.
Bryce’s essay, then, is mistaken on several counts. First, his theorizing about the source of the textual variant (again, which simple existence contradicts the previous chapter in this very book) is based upon tenuous evidence at best. Second, his analysis of the textual critical evidence misses key points regarding the Western tradition and beyond. It seems that those who argue that 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 indeed an interpolation may be on to something, and that Bryce’s argument, though requiring an answer, doesn’t overcome the evidence of the text being just such an interpolation. Surely Bryce, with his commitment to ensuring we only follow those texts that are original to the Bible, would therefore agree that 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 must not be followed in “all the churches of the saints.”
Interpretations and Applications of 1 Corinthians 14:34-35– Those wondering about egalitarian interpretations of this same passage can check out this post for brief looks at some of the major interpretations of the passage from an Egalitarian viewpoint.
“1 Corinthians 14:33B-38, 1 Timothy 2:11-14, and the Ordination of Women” by Peter Kriewaldt and Geelong North Part 2
1 Timothy 2:11-15
It is interesting to note that in this subheading (in the first edition, anyway), the verses noted are different from those in the chapter title, though the authors don’t actually address verse 15 in their verse-by-verse analysis.
Kriewaldt and North begin by noting the context of the letter- “to Timothy in Ephesus, the economic, political, and religious center of Asia Minor. In that region, the social position of women was well developed. There were numerous female doctors there. In politics, women were thoroughly involved in leadership. Female philosophers were known to teach…” (50). Moreover, they state that “In Paul’s day the Greek and Roman world was awash with priestesses” (ibid). With this context in mind, the authors here argue that Paul is going against the cultural norms of the surrounding environment. They also note that “False teaching had invaded the church in Ephesus…” and “sowed dissension…” According to them, “One of its features led women to discard traditional roles…” (51). They allege that part of the problem was that women “were endeavoring to teach the apostolic word…” (51-52), which is taken to be a bad thing (“false teaching”). Women, they argue, were to learn in full submission, which they take to mean “submit to Christ’s Word and those who teach it. Paul is not saying that all women are to be submissive to all males” (52).
1 Timothy 2:12 is taken to mean that a woman ought not teach or exercise authority over a man. Kriewaldt and North argue that Paul’s saying “I do not permit” cannot suggest a personal opinion because the letter “bristles with apostolic authority” which “suggests that apostolic authority underlies and pervades this whole section…” (52). Specifically, however, women are “not permitted to teach the apostolic doctrine or engage in apostolic ministry of the Word in the worship assembly” (ibid). Verse 13 is taken to mean that “God’s will” is “revealed through the priority of Adam’s Creation… Adam was created first. ‘First’ is not merely first in time, but carries with it a position of leadership, authority, and responsibility (1 Cor. 12:28…)” (53). In response to those who say that making this argument means animals are are masters, the authors dismiss it by saying “That is really scraping the barrel!” (ibid). Verse 14, they argue, shows that the man “who was meant to be the leader and head, fell down on the job… He deliberately and knowingly chose to listen to the woman and thereby sinned by following her teaching” (54).
There are several issues with Kriewaldt and North’s analysis of 1 Timothy 2:11-15. First, and most obviously, though the section heading says they take it to go through verse 15, as almost every commentator does that I have read, they fail to so much as remark on verse 15. Yet verse 15 may be a pivotal verse in the understanding of the whole passage, though it is generally acknowledged as an extraordinarily difficult passage to interpret. What does it mean to say that the woman is saved through [the?] childbirth? Is it a reference to Christ? Is it a note that women do indeed have some kind of power? Is it a bringing women back into equality with men by noting no man exists without a woman? We don’t know Kriewaldt and North’s own opinion because they excluded the verse from their comments and utterly ignored what seem to be the closing remarks of Paul in the section they are trying to interpret properly.
The cultural context is quite interesting because Kriewaldt and North emphasize false teaching over the cultural context. That is, they use the context briefly to frame it as Paul going against the context, but don’t tie context and false teaching together. When we do tie them together, it seems to be sensible to think that perhaps women were teaching in the churches (a cultural norm in the area) but were the ones teaching falsely. Thus, Paul’s teaching for women to be silenced would be directed at this false teaching, which Kriewaldt and North explicitly mention as a major issue in the church in Ephesus (51). Thus, Paul’s silencing of women ought to be understood as localized, but normative. Localized, because it applies to the Ephesian church in the specific case of women spreading false teaching. Normative, because it allows a rule where an entire group of people may be silenced in order to stop false teaching. If, for example, a number of elderly people had imbibed false teaching and continued to spread it, it may be appropriate to call for their silence such that the false teaching does not continue to spread.
Another issue in just the first few pages is why Kriewaldt and North take women “endeavoring to teach the apostolic word” as a bad thing. After all, would they not agree that if it is true women are to be silenced from public teaching, they ought to teach that very apostolic teaching to others? Is it not a strange situation in which anyone is considered a false teacher for wishing to teach the apostolic word? Yet that is exactly what Kriewaldt and North charge women with in the Ephesian Church! The false teaching isn’t actually a teaching on their view; rather, the false teaching is related simply to which chromosomes those people doing the teaching have! This nonsensical reduction of false teaching to actually teaching the apostolic word as a woman shows, frankly, the lengths to which some are willing to go to silence women. The preconception that women ought not teach is what is dominating the interpretation here, not the text itself. Think about it abstractly: is it really false teaching for anyone to teach the apostolic word? Really, truly? But Kriewaldt and North come back later and once again insist women are not to “teach the apostolic doctrine.” I find this doubling down astonishing. Imagine actually using the Bible to insist that about 50% of all humans on the planet may not actually teach that which the apostles do, or that they ought not even endeavor to teach the apostolic word. Incredible.
Kriewaldt and North also seem to contradict Henry Hamann in the same volume, who himself argues that women should not hold political office or other positions of authority over men. Yet in this chapter, Kriewaldt and North suggest submission is not to all men everywhere, just in the specific instance of teaching apostolic word (strange as that is). Thus, despite the fact that this book tries to present what is seen as the unified teaching of the Bible and church, its authors can’t even agree on how much women ought to be submissive.
It is odd for Kriewaldt and North to take other verses in the same letter to mean that the entire section must be explicitly apostolic teaching that persist for all time. Do they use the same reasoning in 1 Timothy 5:23 and insist no one drinks water but rather imbibes wine for stomach illness? That goes a bit against what my doctor has advised, but the authors of our chapter insist that the entire section takes on the authority of eternal commands because Paul’s claim of apostolic authority is scattered throughout the letter. But, as we’ve noted with other authors in this same book, it becomes clear Kriewaldt and North don’t actually mean that. Rather, they mean it when it suits their own theological perspectives.
I am so pleased that Kriewaldt and North take 1 Corinthians 12:28 as a clear example of a list of authority. As I’ve noted before, if they do acknowledge this, they’ve already conceded women hold more authority than pastors, which clearly undermines their entire argument. As every other author has done at some point so far in the book, Kriewaldt and North fail to actually counter the arguments of their theological opponents. When it is noted that Paul’s appeal actually is to the temporal order of the creation of male and female, they dismiss the clear point that animals were created before people as an argument that “scrapes the bottom of the barrel!” Truly? If so, it ought to be simple enough to refute. But they don’t engage it, apparently hoping their readers will quickly dismiss arguments that show the absurdity of their position simply because they do so. Their disdain for women is once again shown by the lurid language of the first man stumbling and falling down on the job and indeed sinning simply by listening to his wife! This position has absolutely nothing redemptive to offer women and it contradicts itself.
Kriewaldt and North fail completely to show that the passages they address exclude women from the ministry. Their selective editing of the text to exclude passages that may be difficult to fit with their reading is just one issue. Far more problematic are their simplistic dismissal of opponents’ arguments without engagement, the self-contradiction inherent in their views, the failure to actually address the totality of the culture to which the letters were addressed, inconsistent literalism, their poisoning of the well, lack of knowledge or engagement with textual critical issues, and many more serious difficulties demonstrate that the complementarian perspective does not adequately address these texts. This is particularly important, because these two passages are the most powerful ones typically mustered by complementarians.
See Part 1 of this chapter here.
The New Testament and the Ordination of Women by Henry P. Hamann Part 2
Hamann notes that “One might get the impression that the prohibition of female leadership in the church is something of an arbitrary opinion of the apostle…” (21). He argues that, instead, “Paul’s views on this matter [women in the church] are embedded in his theology of creation, the fall of man, and the redemption through Jesus Christ” (ibid).
First, I would note that I believe Hamann is deeply mistaken here in adding the issue of gender roles into the basics of the Gospel. By placing gender roles on the same level as creation, the fall, and redemption, Hamann is dangerously close to adding to the Gospel and taking away from the Lutheran doctrine of Christ alone. He is confounding the Gospel by making it equivalent to the demand that women stay silent (however qualified) in the church.
Second, how does Hamann justify this claim? He does so by arguing that 1 Corinthians has a whole theology of “the place of woman,” borrowing heavily from Peter Brunner. Effectively, by weaving together 1 Corinthians 11, Genesis 2, and Ephesians 5 with Paul’s thought, he argues that “head” must mean some kind of structure of authority (21, 22). Interestingly, Hamann’s own reading seems to undercut this interpretation because he goes on to say that “woman is ‘from’ man” (21), an interpretation that fits better with the typical egalitarian reading of “head” as “source.” Genesis 3 is taken to show that woman is to submit to man because the fall of humanity didn’t occur until “it also became the sin of Adam.” Yet in Genesis 3, we see that each of the players is held accountable, despite trying to shift responsibility. Hamann’s analysis here does little to support the notion that head = authority, and a clearer reading of the account would be source. After all, in Genesis 2, which Hamann seems to take to support his position, woman is taken from man, as Hamann himself states. But that would make man a source of woman, would it not? Moreover, multiple studies of the Greek seem to suggest that “source” is a more natural reading of the text. See here, here, or here for example. Thus, Hamann’s exegesis is critically mistaken on the meaning of the term kephale.
Hamann provides responses to two objections in this section. First, the objection that “the church is inconsistent in prohibiting the ordination of women while allowing women a whole host of other activities which are just as contrary to the apostolic directive as the pastorate” (24). His counter-argument is to say that the things like singing or speaking “would not fall under Paul’s rule” (ibid). But of course this is to simply make an assertion. He nowhere provides any reason for narrowing the prohibitions to ordination, and as noted in part 1 of this review, he himself admits his definition of “ordination” is nowhere found in the New Testament. Thus, Hamann has simply made an invented definition that he then asserts is Paul’s true meaning, without providing any exegetical reason for limiting the scope of his reading of the Pauline prohibitions. I believe this objection carries for a number of reasons, most simply because Hamann fails to provide any reason to narrow the meaning of 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 and thus makes it a verse he cannot consistently read literally. And, as noted, Hamann simply asserts the contrary without argument.
The second objection Hamann notes is that some would argue complementarians ought to expand the scope of their prohibitions by “protest[ing] against women taking up positions of authority in non-ecclesiastical spheres, in society and in politics” (24). Remarkably, Hamann’s response to this argument is to say that “if anywhere, then at least in the church Christians should insist on the role of women which fits the created order. Not every development in the world can be changed or even challenged by the church, but a witness to the proper state of affairs can be given by what goes on in the church. And the complaint of the prophet may not be so far off the mark: ‘My people–children are their oppressors and women rule over them’ (Isaiah 3:12)” (24-25). That’s right, Hamann simply states that the church can’t stop everything, and his clear implication is that women ought not hold such positions of authority. This certainly allows for a more consistent position, but it is one that means, apparently, no woman can hold authority over men. It is the enshrinement of patriarchy in the church and the world at large. That is what Hamann explicitly affirms.
Hamann then notes various roles women may have in the church. Interestingly, one of these includes the “baptizing those who have been approved by the pastor… and the dispensing of the cup at the Lord’s Supper” (25), despite Hamann explicitly having “the administration of the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper” as part of his invented definition of ordination (14). Inconsistency looms time and again, and Hamann is not the only one guilty of it in this volume, as we shall see in posts to come.