The negative review of my book Icons of Christ: A Biblical And Systematic Theology for Women’s Ordination continues at The North American Anglican. It is tempting to reply with a point by point response. However, a reading of the most recent criticism makes clear that where the author really disagrees with me concerns issues of basic theological methodology. In particular, the author objects first to my advocacy of a narrative interpretation of Scripture, and, second, to my use of the principle of what I call “Christological Subversion.” Before addressing these specific criticisms, I think it would be more helpful to explain how I do theology. I have published two recent books – the first in favor of women’s ordination¹ and the second (with my colleague Joel Scandrett) about the history and doctrine of the atonement.² Both books have been favorably reviewed by competent peers in the fields of biblical and systematic theology, and both follow the same basic methodology. Although it was published later, I began the atonement book first, so the principles of narrative interpretation and “Christological Subversion” were first developed in that book. And the atonement book itself developed out of one of the first essays I published over two decades ago.³

Narrative interpretation and Christological subversion are subordinate to a third principle, which is more basic, the principle of the priority of the object over the subject in theological methodology, what Karl Barth calls nachfolgen or “following after,” what in Thomas Aquinas is the principle of an a posteriori approach to theology, and a citation from Hillary of Poitier that provides the motto for my blog: Non sermoni res, sed rei sermo subjectus est: “The word is subject to the reality, not the reality is subject to the word.” It is what I call in the title of this post “follow the bouncing ball.”

A major theme in both books is the problem of incommensurable theological systems. This is even more evident concerning the doctrine of the atonement than it is concerning women’s ordination. For women’s ordination, there are basically four options: Protestant complementarian (hierarchical) opposition; Catholic sacramental (non-hiererarchical) opposition; liberal Protestant/Catholic modernist affirmation; critically orthodox or evangelical catholic egalitarian affirmation. Gustaf Aulén’s book Christus Victor discussed three atonement models: satisfaction/substitution, exemplarism, Christus Victor. In the book on atonement I wrote with Joel Scandrett, we discuss eight historic models and finish with a comparison of contemporary discussion. Even then, for space reasons, we had to omit several other approaches. So there is actually more disagreement about atonement theology than there is about women’s ordination.

Why is it that theologians who read the same Bible and share in a common Christian tradition end up with such wide disagreement about issues like the atonement and women’s ordination? One could include other issues as well such as sacraments (infant or believer baptism; merely symbolic or instruments of grace), justification by faith alone (Protestant Reformation or Roman Catholicism), grace and free will (Calvinism or Arminianism) or polity (papacy, episcopacy, conciliarism, presbyteral, congregational).

A common but simplistic solution is to appeal to the authority of Scripture. If there is theological disagreement on an issue, one side (our side) follows the clear teaching of the Bible; the other side (their side) does not. I have found that this has often been the case with evangelical Protestant complementarian opponents of women’s ordination and (again) evangelical Protestant advocates of penal substitution. But how does one resolve disagreement when there are numerous incommensurable options and most of them appeal to the Bible? As our book on atonement points out, even apart from the liberal Protestant position of “mere exemplarism” (Jesus is just a good example) there are at least six other options – all of which appeal to Scripture. Protestant complementarian opponents of women’s ordination presume it self-evident that the key issue concerns the hierarchical authority of men over women, but every one of the three alternative positions (including the Roman Catholic sacramental position) affirm egalitarian relations between men and women, and both Roman Catholic sacramentalists and evangelical catholic egalitarians claim their positions are compatible with Scripture.

My reading concerning both the doctrine of the atonement and women’s ordination has led me to conclude that positions divide in the following ways.

Follow the Bouncing Ball

First concerns whether or not we “follow the bouncing ball” or the principle of submitting to the priority of the object.

The division between Protestant liberalism/modernism and historically orthodox theologies breaks down to what I call the distinction between Cartesian and Non-Cartesian theology. Cartesian theology begins with the knowing self rather than the known object, and theological positions must be brought into agreement with prior fundamental commitments of the knowing self. So folks like the German New Testament scholar Rudolf Bultmann and the late Episcopal Bishop John Spong already “know” before they read the New Testament that dead people do not rise from the dead. So if the Bible or the Creeds say that “on the third day,” Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead, this language cannot be accepted as literally true.

There is an ironic methodological parallel to Cartesianism in “Rationalist” approaches to theology. Rationalist theologies begin with a few key fundamental theological commitments, and then follow these principles through to what are thought to be logical conclusions. The approach is a priori and deductive.

In the area of atonement theology, rationalist approaches can be found in Anselm of Canterbury’s satisfaction theory and Charles Hodge’s articulation of penal substitution. Anselm’s satisfaction theory of the atonement begins with an abstract notion of retributive justice as satisfaction (not punishment), from which he deliberately excludes Jesus Christ from the equation. (Jesus appears only at the conclusion of the argument.) Charles Hodge begins with a different notion of retributive justice as punishment (contrary to Anselm). But despite disagreeing about whether the atonement is or is not a form of punishment, in both cases the argument is rationalist and deductive. How Jesus Christ atones for sin is a logical conclusion to a previously defined notion of justice as retribution rather than an inductive a posteriori reading of the account of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection in the Gospels and NT epistles.

In contrast, non-rationalist theologies are a posteriori and inductive. They follow the inherent intelligibility of the subject matter (nachfolgen), and derive their theologies from a close reading of the biblical texts. They are subject to constant correction in the light of that subject matter. Concerning atonement theology, contrasting examples to Anselm and Hodge would be Thomas Aquinas and Karl Barth.

Like Anselm, Aquinas uses the language of satisfaction, but his discussion of the atonement is preceded by a detailed discussion of the key events in the life of Jesus as well as the doctrine of the single person of Jesus Christ as divine, and the two natures of Jesus Christ as divine and human. In consequence, Aquinas’s approach to atonement theology includes not only juridical language (satisfaction), but also themes of victory (Christus Victor) and incarnational exemplarism (echoing patristic models), the priority of love over justice, and pariticipation/theosis, again echoing the church fathers, but primarily based on a closer reading of the Gospels (paritcularly the Gospel of John), and the NT epistles (particularly Hebrews).

Like Hodge, Karl Barth discusses a forensic/legal notion of the doctrine of the atonement in “The Judge Judged in Our Place,” Unlike Hodge, Barth engages in a careful reading of the narrative structure of the synoptic Gospels to point to the paradoxical nature of God’s judgment. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God does not condemn sinners but pronounces them not guilty. Like Aquinas, Barth’s atonement theology includes themes not only of judgment and pardon, but also echoes patristic incarnational and Christus Victor models. Readers of Barth distinguish between Hodge’s “rationalist Calvinism” and Barth’s “non-rationalist” approach. A more recent approach that follows a similar a posteriori methodology, and thus includes not only forensic themes, but also themes of sacrifice and worship, and themes of participation and victory over death would be that of Thomas F. Torrance.

Narrative Readings

Crucial to Barth’s atonement theology is a narrative reading of the synoptic Gospels. A narrative reading of Scripture is important in both my atonement book and my book on women’s ordination.

The discussion of the significance of the narrative structure of biblical texts for Christian theology and ethics is neither novel nor out of the ordinary. It has been a standard tool of biblical exegesis for decades. Neither are narrative readings and literal readings incompatible. However, an important observation of narrative readings is that the dominant genre of biblical texts is narrative and symbol, not propositional commands, and when reading narrative texts, a literal reading means that narrative texts must be read as narratives.

An important second interpretive principle when reading narrative texts is that biblical symbols must be interpreted in light of their narrative context rather than assuming ahead of time that we know what the symbols or metaphors mean. That is, proper interpretation of narrative texts demands that symbols must be interpreted in the light of the narrative structure.

In contrast to narrative readings, mainstream feminist theology embraces a “hermeneutic of suspicion” in which the New Testament’s references to God as “Father” are assumed to be oppressive to women. In the words of feminist theologian Mary Daly: “If God is male, then male is God.” To the contrary, a narrative reading of the Synoptic Gospels makes clear that the God who is named as “Father” in the New Testament is not a generic male deity, but the “Father” of Jesus who is his Son. What it means for God to be Father is made clear in the parable of the prodigal son, in which the Father greets and welcomes the returning son. The parable might better be named the Parable of the Welcoming Father. The feminist “hermeneutic of suspicion” is a bad reading of the text.

A further point of narrative interpretation is that biblical narratives provide the clue to ethical and spiritual practices that follow from the Bible’s theological content. For example, in his book Old Testament Theology in Canonical Context, Old Testament scholar Brevard Childs spells out the meaning of the Ten Commandments through the use of narrative examples from throughout the Old Testament.⁴ If we want to know what the command “You Shall Not Kill” means, we find the example of Moses killing an Egyptian slave master. If we want to understand the commandment “You shall not commit adultery,” there is the biblical example of King David’s taking of Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.

The literary structure of each on of the four Gospels illustrates this as well, a point I make in my initial discussion of narrative interpretation in Icons of Christ: Mark’s narrative structure makes clear that what it means for Jesus to be the Son of God and the Messiah is that Jesus is the crucified suffering servant, and followers of Jesus are called to follow a crucified Messiah. Matthew’s Gospel portrays Jesus as the second Moses whose reinterpretation of the law demands a radical righteousness of the heart. In Luke, Jesus is the Spirit-empowered servant of God who creates a new Israel in which there is justice and compassion for the poor, and in which the Father of Jesus seeks out lost sinners. In John’s Gospel, God’s glory is found in the incarnate Word made flesh, whose glory is not recognized by his own people, whose glory is firmly located in the crucified Son of God incarnate.

One of the characteristics of narrative interpretation of biblical texts is that it is again an example of “following after,” of paying attention to the literary structure of narrative biblical texts rather than assuming ahead of time that we already know what the texts mean.

Learning From Those Who Have Gone Before

I am not at all an original theologian. In writing both of my books on atonement and women’s ordination, I had no intention or desire to offer anything new to the discussion. What I tried to do was to provide a synthetic account of what other (and more competent) biblical scholars and theologians have already said. One of my motivations in writing Mapping Atonement was to introduce readers to the rich variety of ways of thinking about the atonement – to go beyond the simple opposition between liberal Protestant exemplarism and evangelical penal substitution. One of my motivations in writing Icons of Christ was to introduce evangelical readers to the published writings of biblical scholars like Ben Witherington III, Michael Gorman, Philip Payne, Craig Keener, Anthony Thiselton, and Richard Bauckham or (for Catholics) to liturgical theologians like Edward Kilmartin or Orthodox advocates of women’s ordination like Elisabeth Behr-Siegel and Bishop Kallistos Ware.

Those who disagree with my book are not then disagreeing with someone who teaches Systematic Theology in a small Anglican seminary, but with some of the most respected scholars in the field of New Testament studies and liturgical theology. If nothing else, I have hoped to steer people toward the scholarship of people far more competent than I am. This is equally true concerning my book on the atonement. My goal is to guide people to reading Irenaeus or Thomas Aquinas or Karl Barth of Thomas F. Torrance for themselves.

Christological Subversion

For a better understanding of what I have called “Christological Subversion” in my reading of the Gospels in Icons of Christ, the following two texts provide crucial background to the discussion:

Kenneth E. Bailey. Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels (InterVarsity, 2008)

David DeSilva. Honor, Patronage, Kinship, and Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture (InterVarsity, 2022)

For general cultural and historical background, I recommend Ben Witherington’s two books:

Women in the Ministry of Jesus: A Study of Jesus’ Attitudes to Women and their Roles as Reflected in His Earthly Life (Cambride University Press, 1987)

Women in the Earliest Churches (Cambridge University Press, 1988)

On cultural background to the writings of the apostle Paul:

Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthian (InterVarsity, 2011)

Philip B. Payne, Man and Woman, One in Christ: An Exegetical and Theological Study of Paul’s Letters (Zondervan, 2009)

Craig S. Keener, Paul, Women, and Wives: Marriage and Women’s Ministry in the Letters of Paul (Baker Academic, 1992)

Cynthia L. Westphall, Paul and Gender: Reclaiming the Apostle’s Vision for Men and Women (Baker Academic, 2016)

The list above is just a good starting place for a review of contemporary biblical scholarship concerning Jesus, the apostle Paul, and the background of contemporary first-century Jewish and Mediterranean culture. The above authors are highly respected biblical scholars; they are orthodox evangelicals, published by standard evangelical presses. They are not radical feminists; they are not liberal Protestants. They are certainly not “Marxists.”

I have found that complementarian advocates of hierarchical relations between men and women tend to downplay any problematic aspects concerning the place of women in first-century Mediterranean culture. In concert with this, any possibilities that Jesus or Paul might have challenged the hierarchical family or leadership structure of first-century culture are minimized. According to complementarians, there was nothing problematic about relations between men and women in first-century Jewish or Roman culture. There was nothing unusual in Jesus having a conversation with a Samaritan woman at a well. There was nothing exceptional in Jesus teaching Mary the sister of Martha in the privacy of her home. Paul did not challenge first-century understandings of the relationship between household “heads” and wives, children and slaves. Rather, he affirmed them.

To the contrary of complementarian claims, first-century culture was considerably different from contemporary culture in numerous ways, and I provide some of this cultural background in my book: first-century culture was extremely hierarchical, with husbands exercising absolute control over wives, children, and slaves. Laws of property, inheritance, and divorce favored men; if most people were uneducated, women were even more so. In Judaism, there was a strict separation of the sexes, and the abilities of women to participate in worship were restricted. Generally, women did not study the Torah. The first century was a slave culture, and one in five Romans was a slave. Above all, first century Mediterranean culture was an “honor culture,” in which shaming the family was one of the worst things one could do.

Far from simply acquiescing to this culture, both Jesus and early Christians challenged it in numerous ways. DeSilva’s book on “honor culutre” is especially helpful here, but the books mentioned above make the same point in numerous ways. Challenges to hierarchical Meditarranean “shame culture” is crucial in understanding what I write in my book about “Christological subversion.”

What is “Chirstological subversion,” and is it a thing? In my book, I define “Christological subversion” as a use of irony and paradox in which Jesus turns our ordinary conceptions “upside down.” Far form “Christological subversion” being problematic, the notion is at the heart of New Testament faith, and I provide several examples before I connect the concept to questions of gender equality. So, nothing could be more “chistologically subversive” than the apostle Paul’s notion that the wisdom and power of God are hidden in the foolishness and weakness of the cross. It is Christological subversion when Paul writes in Philippians 2 that the pre-exising Christ who existed in the “form of God” emptied himself and took on the “form of a servant,” dying on a cross. It is Christological subversion when the apostle Paul suggests that Philemon free his slave Onesimus.

In the course of Jesus’ ministry, christological subversion takes place when Jesus appears on Palm Sunday as the Son of David who comes into Jerusalem riding on a donkey, when Jesus is crucified under the title King of the Jews. In terms of the “honor/shame” culture of the first century, “Christological subversion” is Jesus responding to a questioning expert of the law that the Samaritan who helps the man beaten and left by the side of the road is the neighbor rather than the priest and the Levite who pass by. In Luke’s parable of the prodigal son, “Christological subversion” is the father who welcomes the returning prodigal rather than shaming him.

Does Christological Subversion exist in the Gospels in their account s of Jesus’ relations with women? Absolutely. I provide the following examples:

The story of Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well is not “subversive” because he asks (rather than demands?) a drink of water. Rather, the problem is, first, that the woman is a Samaritan – historic enemies of Jews – and second that she is a woman. Jewish rabbis did not speak with strange women even in public places. Moreover, as a woman with five husbands, she would have been a moral scandal even in her own Samaritan community. Nonetheless, Jesus’ enters into a conversation with her, and one by one dismantles all of the barriers that should have excluded her from being a recipient of grace.

Contrary to the critic at The North American Anglican, I do not refer to the passage about Jesus and the Syrophoenecian woman as “problematic” because I am an egalitarian, but because Jesus first outright refuses her request, and second, he calls the woman a “dog.” To anyone familiar with other stories of Jesus’ healings, this encounter is indeed surprising. Jesus never refuses to help non-Jews– he gladly heals the son/servant of a Roman (gentile) centurion. Jesus never insults those who ask for his help by naming them as “dogs.” Nonetheless, the passage is indeed subversive in that by healing the woman’s daughter, Jesus crosses a gender and cultural barrier – he heals the daughter of an historic enemy of Jews, but he also challenges the prejudices of his disciples that his ministry should not extend to Canaanites.

The subversive significance of Jesus having women “disciples” is not that these women were not apostles – indeed they were not included among the Twelve, an issue I address elsewhere in the book – but that a Jewish rabbi included as among his immediate disciples numerous women as well as men is indeed culturally subversive. There are no historical parallels to this elsewhere in the ancient world.

Other examples that are indeed subversive of contemporary Jewish expectations that I discuss include Jesus’ healing a woman suffering form a hemorrhage and raising a young girl from the dead. In both cases, Jesus should have been made ceremonially unclean; instead he spreads holiness to make the unclean clean.

Finally, the example of Jesus’ teaching Mary despite the complaints of her sister Martha is not simply a case of “Jesus staying in the house of two friends on his way to Jerusalem,” and Martha being “upset because Mary wasn’t doing her fair share.” Such a minimizing of context is parallel to what Wayne Grudem has tried to do with this passage, which I addressed at some length in this chapter of my book. First, as I point out, numerous scholars make the point that the expression “to sit at the feet of” is a technical formula meaning “to be a disciple of” (Acts 22:3). I cite NT scholar Ben Witherington III: women could learn in the synagogue, but for a rabbi to come into a woman’s house to teach her was “unheard of.”

Moreover, as I had indicated earlier in the chapter, women’s roles in first-century Jewish and Mediterranean culture were domestic: cooking and cleaning. Martha is doing what a woman would have been expected to do, but to the contrary Mary is doing not what was expected of a woman, but what was only allowed to a man, and Jesus praises Mary not Martha. As I finish the paragraph: “Jesus’ response to Martha is not a rejection of her desire to serve, but a reversal of the notion of service. It is Jesus who has come to serve. He is the host, and Mary and Martha are his guests. The ‘one thing’ that is important is not performing the typical domestic tasks that would have been expected of women in first-­century culture, but listening to and becoming a disciple of Jesus.” Complementarians try to minimize the significance of what is happening in this text, but within a first-century Jewish context, the meaning of Mary “sitting at the feet of Jesus” to learn from him would have been scandalous.

Of course footnotes are important here. The reference is to Witherington’s landmark text Women in the Ministry of Jesus. Those who question my readings need to track down the more full discussion not only in Witherington, but in other authors on whom I depend. “Christological subversion” is indeed a “thing” in the Gospels, and it applies not only to Jesus’ relations to the religious and political leaders of his time with whom he clashed, but also occurs in his relations with women. To deny that anything significant is happening in Jesus’ relations with women almost seems a determined refusal to recognize that Jesus regularly challenged the culture around him, and in the end challenged it so much that it led to his crucifixion.

My initial discussion ends here. In a further post, I will discuss the question “Why does the impasse continue concerning women’s ordination?”