You have probably noticed it without saying it out loud.
The same letter-writer who said there is no longer male and female; you are all one in Christ Jesus also, supposedly, said I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent. The same one who greets a woman in Romans 16 as prominent among the apostles, and another as the deacon who has been a benefactor of many, including myself, also wrote — supposedly — that a bishop must be the husband of one wife who keeps his household in order. The same apostle who said it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me wrote, supposedly, that women would be saved through childbearing if they continued in faith and modesty.
Most of us who grew up reading Paul have run into the dissonance and quietly filed it under complexity. Or under he must have meant something different by it in context. Or, if we were being honest, under I don't actually want to think about this right now. The two voices don't sit easily in the same head, but the letters are bound together in the same Bible, and the people who taught us the Bible were sincere people who told us, in good faith, that this is what Paul said.
Here is the thing that has held up under a century and a half of critical scholarship and that almost nobody hears in church. Paul did not write most of the verses that bothered you. The verses that bothered you were written, in his name, by people working a generation or two later, inside institutions that needed something different from what the apostle had been offering. The critical knife that cuts those passages away does not leave a smaller, paler Paul. It leaves a sharper one.
This is a piece about which sentences came from the man who said Christ in you, the hope of glory, and which ones came from the bishop-trainer two generations later who needed widows enrolled and households in order. And it is about what is still there — what gets more concentrated, not less — once you stop trying to make the two voices be the same voice.
Thirteen letters in the New Testament are attributed to Paul. Critical scholarship has, for about a hundred and fifty years, sorted them into two piles.
Romans, 1 Corinthians, 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, Philemon. Near-universal scholarly consensus that these are by the historical Paul, writing in the 50s CE, within roughly twenty years of the crucifixion.
Ephesians and the three Pastorals (1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, Titus) are near-consensus deutero-Pauline — written by someone else in Paul's name a generation or two later. Colossians and 2 Thessalonians are genuinely contested; the field is closer to split than to settled.
I remember when I first learned this — not from a professor, from a footnote in a study Bible I was reading in a coffee shop somewhere in Georgia. I sat there with my coffee getting cold, staring at the page. Seven letters. The rest, possibly not. The Paul I'd been arguing with my whole life might not have been Paul at all.
The numbers, roughly: about 80% of critical scholars reject the Pastorals as Pauline. Around 70–80% reject Ephesians. Colossians and 2 Thessalonians are genuine coin-flips — the British New Testament Conference's 2011 survey returned 56 for / 17 against / 36 uncertain on Colossians. The undisputed seven, by contrast, have held without serious challenge for a hundred and forty years.
Five independent lines of evidence pointing the same direction. Each one alone is suggestive. The convergence is what makes the case.
Style. Ephesians builds sentences that don't appear elsewhere in Paul. Of its roughly hundred sentences, nine run over fifty words. Philippians has one such sentence in a hundred and two. Galatians has one in a hundred and eighty-one. Romans has three in five hundred and eighty-one. This is not the same writer reaching for a different mood. It is a different writer.
Vocabulary. The Pastorals contain 175 words that appear nowhere else in the Pauline corpus — about 36% of their vocabulary is unique to them. Their favorite virtue word is eusebeia, "godliness" or "piety" — a quietly civic Greek virtue that doesn't do the same kind of work in the undisputed seven, where the central word is dikaiosynē, righteousness. The author of the Pastorals is fluent in Greek, but not in Paul's Greek.
Ecclesiology. In the undisputed letters, churches operate through charismatic gifts (1 Corinthians 12) and household hosts. There is no episcopal office. Presbyteros — elder — never appears as an ecclesial title. In the Pastorals, the episkopos (bishop) is singular and takes the definite article, with a list of qualifications. There is an enrolled order of widows with eligibility criteria. There is a deposit (parathēkē) of doctrine to be guarded against false teachers. That is not first-generation Christianity. That is third-generation institutionalization, with Paul's name on the door.
Eschatology. In the undisputed letters, Paul expects Christ's return within his lifetime. He writes "we who are alive, who are left" will be caught up (1 Thess 4:15, 17) and "we will not all die, but we will all be changed" at the last trumpet (1 Cor 15:51–52). The practical instructions follow directly from this: "in view of the impending crisis, it is good for you to remain as you are" — if you are unmarried, stay unmarried; if you are married, do not seek divorce; live as though you had no spouse at all, "for the present form of this world is passing away" (1 Cor 7:25–31). These are not general-life aphorisms. They are emergency instructions that only make sense if the clock is near zero.
In the disputed corpus, the clock has been reset. Colossians and Ephesians move the resurrection into the past tense — believers have already been raised and seated in the heavenly places (Eph 2:6, Col 2:12; 3:1) — where Romans 6 still holds it as future. The Pastorals go further and actively reverse the 1 Corinthians 7 instructions: "So I would have younger widows marry, bear children, and manage their households" (1 Tim 5:14), directly contradicting stay unmarried. The appointment of bishops and deacons across the Pastorals assumes institutional continuity across generations (1 Tim 3, Titus 1). And 2 Thessalonians, most explicitly, pushes the day of the Lord into the future by inserting intervening events: "that day will not come unless the rebellion comes first and the lawless one is revealed" (2 Thess 2:1–3). The undisputed 1 Thessalonians says it comes like a thief, suddenly. The disputed 2 Thessalonians says it waits behind scheduled signs. The eschatology does not deepen. It changes to serve a church that has outlived its founding generation and needs a different relationship to time.
Setting. The Pastorals presuppose travelling false teachers, doctrinal deposits, qualified-as-husband-of-one-wife elders, and an institutional apparatus that nobody documents in the first generation. The historical Paul is writing into a charismatic, household-based, end-of-the-age movement. The author of 1 Timothy is writing into a stabilizing church.
Any one of these lines could be explained away — a secretary, a different mood, a late development. The case is the convergence: five independent variables shifting in the same direction at the same gradient, with the gradient correlating to a single underlying variable — distance from the historical Paul.
The "wives submit, husbands love, children obey, slaves obey, masters be just" passages — Col 3:18–4:1, Eph 5:21–6:9, 1 Pet 2:13–3:7, 1 Tim 2:8–15, Titus 2:1–10 — are called the household codes. They have a literary genealogy that runs straight through the non-Christian Greco-Roman world.
"The primary and smallest parts of the household are master and slave, husband and wife, father and children." Three relationships, in that order. Laid down in the fourth century BCE as the basic unit of Greek political theory.
"Of household management there are three parts — one is the rule of a master over slaves, another of a father, and the third of a husband." The same three pairs, transmitted as part of the standard Greek philosophical curriculum.
"If they submit (hypotassō) themselves to their husbands, they are commended; but if they want to have control, they cut a sorrier figure than husbands controlled by them." Same verb as Ephesians 5:22. Same construction. Different religion.
"A woman, says the Law, is inferior to the husband in all things. Let her therefore obey, not for her humiliation, but that she may be directed; for God has given authority to the man." Jewish, Greek-language, written within a decade of the Pastorals.
Read those four passages and then read Ephesians 5 and 1 Timothy 2 again. The structural identity is not subtle. The same three relationships in the same order, the same verb of submission, the same theological grounding in a created order. The Josephus line is the one that stops you in the doorway: written by a Jewish historian in Greek, in Rome, in the 90s, with no Christian agenda at all, and it could be lifted into Ephesians 5 with one word changed and an "in the Lord" added at the end.
And here is the part worth saying flat: the household codes do not appear in any undisputed letter. Not in Romans. Not in 1 or 2 Corinthians. Not in Galatians. Not in Philippians. Not in Philemon — which is, conspicuously, the one letter the historical Paul writes about a slave, and which spends no time telling slaves to obey. They appear in Colossians, Ephesians, the Pastorals, and 1 Peter, and nowhere else. The literary form that the Christian tradition has used for two millennia to underwrite hierarchy in the home was imported wholesale from pagan and Jewish ethics, dressed in Christological vocabulary, and attributed to an apostle who never wrote it.
There is one passage in the undisputed seven that reads like the disputed letters and does not fit the rest of the letter it sits in. 1 Corinthians 14:34–35: "Women should be silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as the law also says."
Three chapters earlier, in the same letter, Paul has just given instructions for how women should dress when they pray and prophesy aloud in church (1 Corinthians 11:5). Now, suddenly, they are not permitted to speak at all. He has been writing about prophecy and tongues and orderly worship for two chapters. Then a hard rule shows up that contradicts what he wrote earlier and breaks the argument's flow. Then he picks up where he left off.
The text-critical case that these two verses were inserted later — by a scribe smoothing the letter to match the household-code consensus of the second century — is one of the strongest in the New Testament. The evidence stacks up cleanly:
At the end of the line of 14:33, Vaticanus has a distigme-obelus — a tiny scribal mark of two dots and a horizontal bar. Philip Payne's database work shows that in five of the six other places this mark appears in the Vaticanus New Testament, it sits at a known textual disturbance. For sixteen hundred years, that mark has been pointing at these verses.
Bishop Victor of Capua personally ordered 1 Corinthians 14:33–40 rewritten in the page margin — in a form that omits verses 34–35. A Latin bishop in the 6th century already knew these two verses were textually problematic enough to need correction.
Codex Claromontanus, Augiensis, Boernerianus, Old Latin d and g, minuscule 88, the Vulgate Reginensis — an entire stream of Western witnesses places the two verses after verse 40 rather than after verse 33. Manuscripts do not float blocks of text around like that unless the block is unstable in the tradition.
1 Corinthians 11:5 — three chapters earlier, same letter — has women praying and prophesying aloud. The author of these verses either forgot what he wrote three chapters ago, or it is not the same author.
Gordon Fee's commentary on 1 Corinthians, the standard evangelical critical commentary, judges these verses a later interpolation. Philip Payne in Man and Woman, One in Christ goes through the manuscript evidence in fine-grained detail. I want to be honest that this is the active majority position among critical-egalitarian scholars but not the consensus of text-critical editors — Antoinette Wire and Peter Head have pushed back, and the verses still appear in NA28 without brackets. The interpolation reading is the strong reading. It is not the only reading on the table.
What I will say flatly is this: the two verses that contradict the rest of the letter, that match the later household-code consensus, and that sit at exactly the place where a sixteen-hundred-year-old scribal mark points to textual disturbance, did not come into the letter from nowhere. The sequence of evidence is too clean to ignore.
Romans 16 is the chapter the Pauline-restrictive tradition has had the hardest time with. Paul ends the most theologically dense letter in the New Testament with a long list of greetings to people in the Roman house churches. Sixteen of the twenty-nine named individuals are women.
Verse 1: "I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon (diakonos) of the church at Cenchreae… for she has been a benefactor (prostatis) of many, including myself." The Greek word for "benefactor" here, prostatis, is the feminine of prostatēs — a Greek political and religious leadership term, the word used for the patron of a synagogue or the head of a guild. Paul is calling himself led by Phoebe, in the same letter the Pastoral tradition will later use to forbid women from teaching men.
Verse 7 is where the editing got interesting. "Greet Andronicus and Junia, my relatives who were in prison with me; they are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was." Junia — a common Roman woman's name, attested over two hundred and fifty times in the Greco-Roman epigraphic record — is called an apostle by Paul. Not in some metaphorical sense; the construction episēmoi en tois apostolois is most naturally read as "prominent among the apostles," and the patristic tradition read it that way without exception.
Origen read Junia as a woman. John Chrysostom read Junia as a woman — and called her "great and noble" for being thought worthy of the apostolic title. Jerome, Theodoret, Theophylact, Peter Abelard. The reading is unbroken from the second century to the late thirteenth. The masculine form Junias has zero attestations in the Greco-Roman epigraphic record. Not "rare." Zero. There are thousands of women named Junia in surviving inscriptions; there is no man named Junias. The form first appears in a commentary by Aegidius of Rome in the late thirteenth century, and it spreads from there.
In the twentieth century, the United Bible Societies Greek New Testament — the standard scholarly Greek text — printed the masculine "Junias." Eldon Jay Epp's Junia: The First Woman Apostle walked through the UBS committee's own published minutes for the decision. The reason given, in the committee's own words, was that "it seemed unlikely that a woman would be among those styled apostles."
An editorial assumption — it seemed unlikely — masculinized her, against the unanimous patristic tradition and zero epigraphic attestations of the masculine form.
She was restored to the feminine in NA27 and UBS4 in 1993. For most of the twentieth century, your Bible called her Junias because a committee in the 1950s found the alternative culturally improbable.
The pattern I want to flag is this. The egalitarian Paul is in the undisputed text. The restrictive Paul is in the disputed text or in editorial overlay. The further a sentence sits from Paul's own hand — by composition, or by transmission, or by translation committee — the more restrictive its gender ethic becomes. That correlation is data. What you do with it is interpretation.
The single verse that has done more work against women in church leadership than any other is 1 Timothy 2:12: "I permit no woman to teach or to authentein a man; she is to keep silent." The Greek verb in the middle of that sentence is the one I want to spend a paragraph on, because it is doing something strange.
Authentein is a hapax legomenon — a word that appears only once in the entire Greek New Testament. Paul's normal word for authority is exousia. He uses it dozens of times in the undisputed letters. He uses the verb exousiazō ("to have authority"). He does not use authentein anywhere else. Neither does anyone else in the New Testament.
The cognate noun, authentēs, primarily meant "one who acts on his own authority" and, in much of its attested usage in the same period, "murderer." Wisdom of Solomon 12:6 — Greek Jewish text, roughly first century BCE — uses authentas for the Canaanites' child-killers. The Latin Vulgate translates the verb in 1 Timothy 2:12 as dominari, "to dominate." Cynthia Long Westfall's and Linda Belleville's database studies of the verb's contemporary usage argue it carried a pejorative coloring — to seize authority, to act unilaterally, to dominate — at the time 1 Timothy was written.
Paul's normal vocabulary for authority is right there. The author of 1 Timothy reaches past it for a rarer, harsher word. That lexical choice alone is one of the strongest single arguments that 1 Timothy is not by Paul. But it doesn't sit alone. The next two verses run an argument from creation order that contradicts undisputed Paul directly:
Romans 5:12–19 and 1 Corinthians 15:21–22 build Paul's whole Adam–Christ typology on Adam as the one through whom sin entered the world. Adam falls. Christ as second Adam redeems. Eve is not the figure everything turns on. Adam is.
"Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor. Yet she will be saved through childbearing." The typology inverts. Eve is now the figure of deception. And the salvation-through-childbearing clause directly contradicts 1 Corinthians 7's preference for celibacy.
This is not Paul subtly developing his theology in a late letter. It is a different writer running a different theology — built on Genesis 2–3 in a way Paul never does, contradicting the typology Paul does run, reaching for a verb Paul does not use anywhere else, and arguing for a soteriology (saved through childbearing) that the apostle who wrote 1 Corinthians 7 cannot have meant.
I want to mark the line here clearly, because the textual facts are one thing and the reading I lay over them is another.
The textual facts: the household codes do not appear in any undisputed Pauline letter. Junia was unanimously read as a female apostle from the second century to the thirteenth. Authentein is a hapax that Paul does not use elsewhere. The further a letter sits from the historical Paul on independent stylistic and ecclesiological grounds, the more restrictive its gender ethic becomes. These are correlations in the data.
The reading: I read this less as anyone sitting down to forge letters in order to dominate women, and more as the predictable institutional drift of any movement. Charismatic and participatory at the founder's stage. Stabilizing and household-ordered a generation later, when the movement needs to look respectable to magistrates and neighbors and not be mistaken for a threat. Formal-office and doctrine-guarding the generation after that, when the founders are dead and the question becomes how to maintain the thing without them. Margaret MacDonald's three-stage frame in The Pauline Churches names this cleanly: community-building → community-stabilizing → community-protecting. The letters didn't shift because the gospel changed. They shifted because the institutions absorbing the gospel needed different things, and the second-generation writers reached back for the apostle's authority because the apostle's authority was what they had.
I've been reading Paul since I was a teenager with an NIV in my lap, and I've spent years trying to make these two voices be the same voice. They're not. And once you stop trying, the Paul who remains is sharper, not smaller.
Stand back and look at what the critical knife actually cuts. If you set aside the Pastorals and Ephesians, and bracket Colossians and 2 Thessalonians as genuinely contested, here is what falls away — not from Paul, but from the cooled-down composite that the second-century church handed forward:
Every one of those pieces is one that modern readers, including modern Christian readers operating at full intellectual honesty, have struggled to inhabit. The pieces that are most awkward to live with are the pieces critical scholarship has spent a hundred and fifty years marking as not-from-the-apostle. That correlation is itself notable.
Here is the thing the dismantle leads to, and the reason this piece is in this body of work rather than in a deconstruction podcast.
Run the cut on the indwelling axis. Strip out everything that does not appear in the undisputed seven. The participation Paul — the indwelling, the Christ-in-you texts that the rest of the work on this site has been built on — does not weaken. It concentrates.
"It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." Undisputed. The single densest statement of the indwelling in the Pauline corpus. The "yet I live" clause built into the same sentence — the soul does not dissolve.
"But we have the mind of Christ." Undisputed. Not borrowed knowledge. Participation in the Logos's own kind of knowing.
Three times in three verses: the Spirit of God dwells in you, Christ is in you, the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you. Undisputed. Christology and pneumatology collapse into one indwelling.
"Do you not realize that Jesus Christ is in you?" Undisputed. Stated as the assumed condition, not the aspirational ideal.
Real union with Christ's death and resurrection through baptism. Undisputed. The participation is not metaphor; the soul is joined to what Christ underwent.
"But anyone united to the Lord becomes one spirit with him." Undisputed. One spirit. Indwelling stated in the strongest possible terms.
"As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus." Undisputed. The new humanity in which the household-code categories dissolve.
"For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain." Undisputed. Eight words. The whole indwelling axis compressed.
Colossians 1:27 — Christ in you, the hope of glory — is the famous one. It is also from a disputed letter. The single phrase that has carried the indwelling axis through two thousand years of Christian devotion may not be by Paul. Hold that for a moment. And then notice: the axis it names is everywhere in the seven. Strip Colossians from the conversation and the indwelling Paul does not weaken. He concentrates.
Run the same test on the cosmological axis — the Logos-Christ frame that maps onto the QFT convergence (developed in There are no particles). 1 Corinthians 8:6: "yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist." Undisputed. Romans 11:36: "From him and through him and to him are all things." Undisputed. 1 Corinthians 15:28: "That God may be all in all." Undisputed. Philippians 2:6–11, the Christ-hymn: "who, though he was in the form of God…" Undisputed.
Colossians 1:15–20 and Ephesians 1:10 make the cosmic-Christ frame more lyrical and developed. They do not invent it. The substance is already there before you reach Colossians. The Logos-Christ does not require Colossians. The participation-Christ does not require the disputed letters at all.
What the cut removes is the institutional, the patriarchal, the cooled-down. What remains is Christ in you, the new creation, neither male nor female, and the cosmos held together in the Logos.
The pieces that are awkward to inhabit at full intellectual honesty are the pieces critical scholarship pulls out. The pieces that have been carrying the weight for everything else this work has been building are the pieces the critical knife cannot reach.
There is one more thing I want to say, and then I am going to stop, because the next move is not mine to make for the reader.
Albert Schweitzer, in The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle in 1930, already said something close to what I want to say here: that justification by faith is a "subsidiary crater within the main crater of the mystical doctrine of redemption through being-in-Christ," and that Paul's participation language is real, not metaphor. Schweitzer is the underread grandparent of this whole conversation. Almost no one is reading him today.
In 1977, E.P. Sanders published Paul and Palestinian Judaism. It became the founding text of the so-called New Perspective on Paul and rearranged most of the field. Sanders' central claim was that the center of Paul's theology is not justification by faith — the Lutheran-Reformation reading that had dominated Western scholarship for four hundred years — but participation in Christ. Real participation. The "in Christ" language. The indwelling.
Then, in the last pages of that book, Sanders said something I keep coming back to. He admitted that the technical literature did not yet have an adequate category for what real participation actually is.
The center of Paul's theology… is participatory in nature… I must confess that I do not have a category of reality — real participation in Christ — which lies between naive cosmological speculation and a revised self-understanding.
E.P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977), pp. 522–523.
For nearly fifty years now, the technical Pauline-studies literature has openly carried this hole. Participation is at the center of Paul. We have no adequate category for what real participation is. Major edited volumes have circled the gap ("In Christ" in Paul, Mohr Siebeck 2014, runs nearly five hundred pages around it). Nobody in the mainstream has closed it.
I read that gap as exactly the shape of a non-dual idealist metaphysics. The Logos is the rational structure of a render that appears within Being. The soul is a localized perspective in the one field of awareness. The indwelling is God present within the soul. Together, they give Sanders' gap a category. The Paul who survives the critical cut is the Paul who has been waiting for it. I want to mark that connection plainly as an overlay — a reading I make, not a deduction the texts force. But it is what I see when I lay the consciousness-first metaphysics over what is left of Paul after the cut.
I am not claiming Paul was a Kastrupian idealist. He wasn't. He was working in a covenantal-pneumatological frame — the Spirit of the God of Israel poured out on the community of the new covenant. What I am claiming is the same kind of convergence the rest of this work has been claiming: when two traditions, working from opposite ends, point at the same structure, the convergence is worth taking seriously. Paul's participation language and a consciousness-first metaphysics are pointing at the same thing from different ends of two thousand years. Whether that convergence is real or my own pattern-matching is an open question I hold open.
I am not making the case that the disputed letters should be thrown out. They are second-generation Christian writing inside the canon. Ephesians is genuinely beautiful in places — the Christ-hymn of chapter 1, the temple-built-of-living-stones move of chapter 2. Colossians 1:15–20 is one of the great cosmic-Christ hymns of the New Testament. The Pastorals carry real pastoral wisdom alongside the office-stabilization material. Stanley Porter — an evangelical — has argued that if the Pastorals are not Pauline, intellectual honesty requires removing them from the canon. It is one coherent position. Treating them as Pauline-school deutero-canonical writing inside the tradition is another. I do not pretend to settle that here.
What changes is the weight that any individual sentence can be asked to carry. A sentence from Romans, addressed by Paul to a community he had not yet met, in a letter whose authorship has been continuously accepted for nineteen hundred years, carries different weight from a sentence in 1 Timothy whose authorship has been openly contested since 1807 and rejected by roughly four out of five critical scholars today. Both can be in the Bible. They do not have to do the same work in your theology.
For a reader who has spent a lifetime hearing "wives submit" and "women keep silent" treated as the immovable bedrock of Pauline Christianity, knowing which sentences are likely from the apostle who wrote no longer I but Christ and which are likely from the second-generation church standardizing its household ethics is, by itself, a different way of being able to read.
The Paul who said there is no longer male and female, who called Phoebe a benefactor and Junia an apostle, who said we have the mind of Christ and Christ in you and to live is Christ, was always there. He has been on the page the whole time. He gets sharper, not paler, once you stop trying to make him say what the institution two generations later needed him to say.
I don't know how that lands for you. I'm still working out what to do with the disputed letters myself. But the participation axis — the thing the rest of this work has been building on — survives the cut, and it survives the cut more clearly than I expected when I first started running it down properly. The dissonance that was always there in reading Paul has a name, a date, and a fairly clean set of textual fingerprints. And under it, the apostle who said the thing the Greeks did not say — Christ in you, the hope of glory, in the disputed letter, but also it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me, in the undisputed one — is right there, waiting to be read straight.
Sources — Friedrich Schleiermacher, Über den sogenannten ersten Brief des Paulos an den Timotheos (1807) · F.C. Baur and the Tübingen school · Hilgenfeld 1875; Holtzmann 1885 · P.N. Harrison, The Problem of the Pastoral Epistles (1921) · Albert Schweitzer, The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle (1930) · Krister Stendahl, "The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West" (HTR 1963) · E.P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977) · David L. Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive (1981) · Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians (1983) · Margaret Y. MacDonald, The Pauline Churches (Cambridge UP, 1988) · Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, NICNT rev. ed. (Eerdmans, 2014) · Philip B. Payne, Man and Woman, One in Christ (Zondervan, 2009) · Antoinette Clark Wire, The Corinthian Women Prophets (Fortress, 1990) · Eldon Jay Epp, Junia: The First Woman Apostle (Fortress, 2005) · Cynthia Long Westfall, Paul and Gender (Baker Academic, 2016); "The Meaning of αὐθεντέω in 1 Timothy 2:12," JGRChJ 10 (2014) · Linda L. Belleville, "Teaching and Usurping Authority" (IVP, 2005) · Bart D. Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery (Oxford UP, 2012) · Paula Fredriksen, Paul: The Pagans' Apostle (Yale, 2017) · Pamela Eisenbaum, Paul Was Not a Christian (HarperOne, 2009) · Aristotle, Politics 1.1253b · Pseudo-Aristotle, Oikonomika 1.1343b · Plutarch, Conjugalia Praecepta · Josephus, Against Apion 2.199–208 · Codex Vaticanus · Codex Fuldensis (AD 546) · Companion: There are no particles.