In a recent post, I looked back on the reception of my book Icons of Christ: A Biblical and Systematic Theology for Women’s Ordination three years after its publication. In that essay, I focused on why I had given the book its title:

The single argument that appears repeatedly in these several chapters is that Christians resemble (are “Icons” of) Jesus Christ not through physical likeness or through exercising hierarchical authority over one another, but in the same way that Paul makes clear in both Phillippians 2 and 2 Corinthians 2-4, first, by pointing away from ourselves and our own authority and accomplishments to the saving work of the crucified and risen Jesus Christ, and, second, by imitating Jesus Christ’s own kenotic cruciformity in service to one another.

However, I also noted:

My book received quite a few positive reviews, and the positive reviews consistently have recognized this key argument about what it means for Christians to resemble Christ. My book has received a fair amount of criticism as well, but almost none of this has acknowledged or addressed the central argument. Rather, the negative reviews have focused on defending the traditional arguments against women’s ordination – whether complementarian Protestant or Catholic sacramentalist.”

A recent reviewer claims to have read this essay: “Witt declares what he believes is the most important part of his book.” In that light I had thought that the author would address what I have claimed is the key issue of the book – how it is that all Christians (not just men) resemble Christ — through cruciform discipleship. He did not do that, however, but instead followed the predictable pattern – not at all addressing the key point of the book but rather (once again) offering a defense of the hierarchical complementarian position – beginning with an interpretation of the account of the creation of man and woman in Genesis 2.

I am not going to address the author’s biblical argument except to point out that it is largely based on philology rather than careful exegesis. Because the Hebrew word ha’adam translated “human being” is masculine, the author claims this gives some kind of priority to male masculinity. Do I need to mention that it has been pointed out time and again that the feminine Hebrew ruach or the neuter Greek pneuma does not mean that the Holy Spirit is either female or a “thing”? The author claims that I follow Phyllis Trible, who translates the word ‘ezer as “companion.” He, however, prefers the translation “helper,” suggesting that “helper” presumes that the woman provides assistance to the man in cultivating the garden, and that such help implies subordination.

This shows a poor reading of what I had actually written. I do not deny that the word means “helper”: “As pointed out above, Hebrew ‘ezer does not mean a subordinate or an inferior partner, but someone who provides genuine assistance.” I also point out: “the way in which the woman serves as a helper is made clear. The woman (unlike the animals) relieves the man’s loneliness. She is a companion like himself, one who is fit for him” (Icons, 63). This does not deny that the woman assists the man in the garden, but it does have the advantage of interpreting the passage from its immediate context. Genesis 3:18 states: “Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the human being [ha’adam] should be alone; I will make him a helper [‘ezer] fit for him.” God then brings the animals to the human being: “But for the human being [ha’adam],there was not found a helper fit for him.” God then creates the woman, who is brought to the human, who now recognizes her as woman [issa] and himself as man [iss], not because she can help out in the garden but because she is his match: flesh of his flesh and bones of his bones. The passage then concludes: “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Gen 2:18-24).

A standard rule of biblical interpretation is that context determines meaning. The entire context of the passage determines the meaning of ‘ezer. It is not good that the human being should be alone. He needs a helper “fit for him.” The animals fail in this regard because they are not “fit for him.” The woman is ‘ezer because she is “flesh of his flesh and bones of his bones.” The passage ends with a “therefore,” indicating that the conclusion follows from the immediately preceding verses. What does it mean for the woman to be the man’s helper? It means that the man holds fast to his wife and they become one flesh. Nothing in the context suggests anything about the woman’s help consisting in helping out in the garden. The writer’s interpretation is a clear example of eisegesis — reading into a passage one’s desired conclusion rather than following the passage’s internal logic.

Since I have already dealt with exegesis of Genesis 1-3 not only in my book but elsewhere in my blog, I refer readers both to the book and to the following essays:

https://willgwitt.org/theology/response-to-the-anglican-diocese-of-the-living-word-man-and-woman-in-genesis-1-to-3/

https://willgwitt.org/theology/womens-subordination-and-the-fall-genesis-316-is-the-womans-desire-for-or-against-the-man/

The rest of the review does not consist of discussion of the actual content of anything I had written, but either of diatribe or an exercise in what I had called in the book “natural theology.”

So first the diatribe. The author insists on referring to ordained women clergy as “priestesses.” He recognizes that I do not approve of this language, but fails to address my actual reasons. The discussion occurs in a chapter entitled “A Presbytera is not a Priestess: Old Testament Priesthood.” In that chapter, I make the argument that an ordained Christian woman would not be an Old Testament Priest (or a Priestess), but the female equivalent of what is called in the New Testament a presbyter. Thus the appropriate title would be presbytera, not “priestess.” The review does not address the actual argument, but simply doubles down on “priestess” language.

Because I follow two female scholars – Tikva Frymer-Kensy and Carrie Miles – in drawing a connection between the “gender divisions” of ancient Israel, but also of other pre-industrial cultures and “socioeconomic” realities, the author claims, first, that “Witt must not believe the OT Law was from God,” and, second, accuses me three times, of being a “Marxist.”

This is either carelessness or distortion. First, not everything in the Old Testament is “law.” Much of the Old Testament consists of history, and there is much OT history we would not want to emulate. For example, the patriarchs were polytheists; slavery was an accepted practice in the Old Testament. David and Solomon had multiple wives. Unless we want to affirm the continuing practice of slavery and even perhaps polygamy, we are on thin hermeneutical ground to simply state that OT practices are “biblical law.”

Second, much Old Testament law reflects aspects of ancient Middle Eastern culture that simply do not apply in the modern era. There are laws about goring oxen, property transference when there is no male heir, how one distinguishes between Hebrew and non-Hebrew slaves. One would be hard-pressed to find in Old Testament law specific claims either to female subordination to males in general or that such subordination is rooted in creation.

Third, the New Testament and later church tradition provide a standard hermeneutic for the church’s application of Old Testament law. Moral law binds; ceremonial law no longer applies because fulfilled by Christ. Moral principles behind civil law apply, but not the specific civil laws themselves. Accordingly, although slavery was an OT (and even a NT) practice, the NT itself makes clear that emancipation of slaves was the eventual logical outcome of the gospel (Paul’s epistle to Philemon). 

Accusing me of being a Marxist is just silly. Given that my argument concerning modernity has to do with the rise of post-industrial culture, one could more readily accuse me of being a blind advocate of free enterprise capitalism – which I’m not. But recognizing a connection between socioeconomic realities and culture is not Marxist – unless people like Max Weber and Alexis de Toqueville were Marxists.

Finally, the heart of the author’s argument really has nothing to do with either biblical exegesis or socioeconomics. It is rather a kind of “natural theology” argument in favor of traditional masculinity: “men today are less masculine than they should be . . . . a masculine man is a full citizen . . . . what we need is a restoration of respectable men, not a renunciation of masculinity . . . . women are less suited to the work of a priest, because they lack masculinity.” This is the author’s real argument.

In response:

There is nothing remotely biblical about such an appeal to masculinity and the reviewer does not provide any biblical defense. There are indeed “masculine” men in the Bible, but more often than not, their stories do not end well: in the OT, Samson, Esau, Saul, Solomon; In the NT, Herod the Great and Herod Agrippa, Pontius Pilate.

Nothing in the NT portrays “masculinity” as an essential value to be emulated, and discussions of family order (Ephesians 5-6) and church order (1 Timothy 3; Titus 1) challenge such notions. Jesus’ own ministry challenges what I have called in chapter 6 “Mediterranean Honor Culture.”

This connection between priesthood and “masculinity” ignores a crucial point I had made in my essay – which the reviewer claims to have read: while Protestant objections to women’s ordination are buttressed by appeals to masculine authority, the modern Catholic position no longer affirms any notion of gender hierarchy, but instead affirms egalitarianism – both in marriage, and even in the church. Thus, although the reviewer uses words like “priest” and “priestess,” he is affirming the Protestant complementarian position, not the Catholic position. This is especially evident in that he defines ordination almost exclusively in terms of “leadership” and “authority” over others. T’he word “authority” appears eleven times, “rule” or “ruler[s]” seven times. The word “role” or “roles” — an expression introduced into the discussion by Protestant complementarians — occurs twelve times. The concluding sentence in the main body makes the position clear: “Christian morality is premised on a division of labor and ‘gender roles.’ There must be a newly formed Christian hierarchy to match our newly deformed political situation.”

Despite their sacramental rejection of women’s ordination, any position of hierarchy based on “gender roles” is explicitly rejected in the new Roman Catholic position. If my affirmation of “gender equality” means that I “simply dislik[e] Christianity,” this would apply equally to all recent popes, from John Paul II on.

Finally, I do want to thank the reviewer for confirming the central point in my essay to which he claimed to be responding:

The single argument that appears repeatedly in these several chapters is that Christians resemble (are “Icons” of) Jesus Christ not through physical likeness or through exercising hierarchical authority over one another, but in the same way that Paul makes clear in both Phillippians 2 and 2 Corinthians 2-4, first, by pointing away from ourselves and our own authority and accomplishments to the saving work of the crucified and risen Jesus Christ, and, second, by imitating Jesus Christ’s own kenotic cruciformity in service to one another.

Once again, there is a consistent pattern in negative reviews of my book. They show no indication of actually understanding my central argument, and in that sense are reviews of a book I did not write.

I add a final observation. At least in the case of the complementarian criticisms of my book (and to some extent they have all been complementarian), the primary concern seems to be about preserving male authority and power over women– this review perhaps more than any of the others so far. As I read both the Old Testament but especially the New Testament, challenging such notions of “hierarchical power” based on no more than either social status or sexuality are key concerns behind the notion of what I have called “cruciform discipleship” and “mutual submission” in the New Testament.