A Response to Tom Schreiner’s Review of From Genesis to Junia

I’ll never forget emailing Dr. Tom Schreiner in 2003. I was an unknown seminary student; he was a widely respected New Testament scholar. I didn’t expect a reply.

Five minutes later, I had one.

Not only did he respond immediately—he was warm, generous, and personal. That moment stuck with me. Tom is an excellent scholar, but more than that, he’s a sincere and gracious Christian. I remember thinking: I want to be that kind of scholar.

Over the years we’ve had many good conversations. I still regard him as a top-tier scholar, which is why I was genuinely honored that he took the time to read and review my book From Genesis to Junia. As expected, his review is critical—not just of my conclusions, but of my arguments. And I welcome that. As I wrote in the book, I fully anticipated “the barrage of critiques” that would come (pp. 294–95). Tom’s is the first wave, and I’m grateful to engage it.

Below I’ll respond to several of his key concerns.

1. Creation Order and Primogeniture

Tom critiques me for “disregarding creation order” because I don’t believe the text of Genesis 2 supports the notion that Adam being created first is meant to promote the principle of primogeniture—the ancient belief that the firstborn son has priority over his siblings when the father dies. 

My point is simple: primogeniture does not actually fit Genesis 2. Adam and Eve are not siblings. There is no deceased father. The text itself does not describe firstborn inheritance or priority.

More importantly, God often overturns the priority of the firstborn at key junctures in the Scriptural narrative, especially in Genesis. As I say in my book: “God gives priority to Isaac, not the firstborn Ishmael; to Jacob, not Esau; to Joseph, not his older brothers; to Ephraim, not Manasseh; to Perez, not Zerah. This pattern is repeated at key points elsewhere in the Old Testament story: God chooses Moses over Aaron and David over his seven older brothers” (p. 22). There are many more examples we could give, not least Jesus’s oft-repeated mantra that the “first will be last and the last will be first” (Mark 10:31; cf. Matthew 20:16; Mark 9:35; Luke 13:30). Thus, “it’s unlikely that God was establishing a universal principle of primogeniture, since he was so fond of overturning it” (p. 23).

If God repeatedly overturns primogeniture, it seems unlikely that Genesis 2 establishes it as a universal rule baked into creation.

Tom believes that “None of these arguments accounts for the text as it’s actually written in Genesis” and asserts that “Sprinkle explains away instead of explaining.” 

Despite Tom’s characterization of my argument as “explaining away instead of explaining,” my approach is simply to stay close to the text of Scripture—and to refuse to make assumptions that aren’t actually in the Bible. I point out that the principle of primogeniture doesn’t factually fit the situation of Adam and Eve. Tom acknowledges that Adam and Eve aren’t siblings and there’s no dead father in the text, but he still argues that Genesis 2 establishes a “rule” of primogeniture etched into creation. As for God often overturning primogeniture throughout Scripture, Tom thinks these moments are “exceptions” that “prove the rule” of primogeniture.

I do wonder how many exceptions we need before such exceptions become the rule. The “first will be last, and the last first” principle and other such kingdom reversals capture the heart of Jesus’s ministry and challenges the foundations of primogeniture. In any case, my analysis of primogeniture is derived from the text—not in spite of the text, as Tom suggests. But I’m happy for the reader to decide whether my observations of the text are as “mystifying” as Tom thinks.

2. Eve as “Helper”

Tom also critiques my analysis of Eve being described as Adam’s “helper” (Gen 2:18, 20). I point out that the word “helper” (ezer) almost never describes someone under the authority of another person, and Tom seems to agree. But Tom points out that there are a few exceptions to this rule, like in 1 Chronicles 12:1, where David’s soldiers offer “help” to David, who has authority over them. Apparently, in this case, exceptions do prove the rule. 

Tom argues that, when God is described as a “helper” (as he often is), the word doesn’t refer to a subordinate under the authority of another. But in the context of Genesis 2, Tom claims, “helper” does imply a subordinate role when it describes Eve. Tom writes: “The issue centers on what Genesis 2 means in its own context when it describes the woman as being a helper. Crucially, Paul picks up on the idea of women being helpers in 1 Corinthians 11:9, where woman was created for man’s sake.”

I address this line of reasoning in my book, though you might not get that impression from reading Tom’s review alone. Here’s a summary of my arguments:

(1) Since ezer is most often used of God helping Israel, the word itself does not imply that the “helper” is under another’s authority. In 1 Chronicles 12, the brave warriors who “help” David (v. 1) are later identified as mediating the “help” of God: “success to those who help you, for your God will help you” (v. 18). David would go on to make these warriors “leaders of his raiding bands” (v. 19). 

The point is: The word “helper” simply means, well, to help. It’s not intended to convey some kind of authority structure between the helper and the helped. If we read that meaning into Genesis 2, we’re inserting it for ourselves, not drawing it out of the text. If the author of Genesis wanted to highlight Adam’s authority over Eve, using the word “helper” is not a clear indication of this. 

(2) There’s nothing in the context of Genesis 2 suggesting that Eve being a “helper” means Adam is her authority. As I say in my book: “Eve is created to ‘help’ Adam to carry out the creation mandate of Genesis 1:26–28: populating,cultivating, and ruling over the earth…. Genesis 1 makes no distinction between male and female in their ruling roles” (p. 26). If Adam is Eve’s authority, this conclusion must come from somewhere else, not from the word “helper” or the context of its use in Genesis 2. 

(3) Tom appeals to Paul’s interpretation of Genesis 2 in 1 Corinthians 11:8-9, which clearly (to his mind) says Adam has priority over Eve. Indeed, I acknowledge that Paul’s interpretation of Genesis in these verses seems to support the view that Adam has some kind of priority over Eve. But, as Tom notes, I don’t believe this is the best way to interpret 1 Corinthians 11:8-9 in light of 11:11-12. Tom, of course, disagrees with my interpretation of this passage. Regardless, 1 Corinthians 11 says nothing about the meaning of the word “helper,” nor does it say anything about only men and not women occupying positions of leadership in the church. Indeed, the only ministries mentioned in this chapter (prayer and prophecy, 11:5) are performed by men and women alike. 

Tom concludes this section by asserting that “Sprinkle seems to think… equality and mutuality cancel out different roles and responsibilities” between men and women and that I “flatten the biblical text and the beautiful differentiation between men and women in Scripture.” Unfortunately, he fails to accurately represent this book’s arguments or my beliefs. I never appeal to “equality” in my argument. In fact, I argue throughout the book that “we shouldn’t read our modern notions of equality and power into an ancient Near Eastern text” (p. 44), and I disagree with “secular perspectives about equality, some of which try to erase male-female differences” (p. 293). Contrary to Tom’s assertion, I write that “I still believe passionately that men and women are different by design; I just don’t think our differences determine who can teach or leader in our churches” (pp. 291-92). Rather than “flatten[ing] the biblical text,” my argument is based on close attention to the actual text of Scripture (extensive word studies, contextual analysis, etc.). This doesn’t mean my interpretive conclusions are correct, of course. But the approach Tom claims to disprove in his review is not the approach I take in this book. 

3. Rest of the New Testament and 1 Timothy 2

The rest of Tom’s critique is focused on my interpretation of 1 Timothy 2, which he identifies as a “key text on men and women.” Indeed, my chapter on 1 Timothy 2 is the longest in the book—over 50 pages. And I’ll respond to Tom’s critiques momentarily. But I first want to point out that Tom doesn’t interact with huge portions of my book (chapters 2-9) which form the Scriptural backbone for my view. He interacts only with my treatments of Genesis 1-3 and 1 Timothy 2. He doesn’t deal with my analysis of women in the ministry of Jesus, female prophets in the Old and New Testaments, Paul’s diverse leadership language (which is one of the more important arguments in the book), female house-church hosts, and Paul’s description of Phoebe, Priscilla, Junia, and other women described as leaders or doing leadership-type activities in the early Church. He does mention in passing that I “reflect on leaders and leadership, female prophets in the Old Testament,” and “the marriage relationship in Ephesians 5.” But rather than offering analysis or counterargument, he simply says, “These matters have been debated ad infinitum.”

Of course, I don’t expect a relatively short review to touch on every aspect of my book. But Tom’s review would carry much more exegetical weight had he shown where my primary arguments were wrong. As I point out in the book, we shouldn’t approach 1 Timothy 2 in a vacuum, but in light of everything else Scripture has said about women in early Christianity—women who, according to the text of Scripture, are doing leadership-type things in the Church.

In 1 Timothy 2, Tom’s critique of my interpretation centers on three issues: (1) the meaning of “to have authority” (authentein, v. 12), (2) the meaning of “to teach” (didaskein, v. 12), and (3) whether the Artemis cult shapes Paul’s argument. 

As I point out in the book, every time the verb authentein is used elsewhere, it refers to the kind of authority exercised by a master over his slave, or a high-status person over a low status person. That is, authentein describes the kind of authority wielded by Gentiles who “lord it over them,” which Jesus denounced in Mark 10.  

Tom seems to agree this is how the word is used elsewhere, but he still finds my argument “astonishing.” He writes, “We would all agree that a master exercising authority over a slave isn’t a good thing since slavery is wrong, but that tells us nothing about the term’s meaning in an ancient text.” He goes on to argue: 

For this argument to carry much force, Sprinkle would have to show that in the ancient texts where authentein was used, the authors in question thought that masters exercising authority over slaves was negative, or that those in the social hierarchy thought exercising authority over one lower on the social ladder was negative.  

This reasoning is unconvincing to me. A word’s meaning is shaped by how it’s used in other contexts, not whether one author agrees with another author’s worldview. Secular masters wielding authentein over their slaves didn’t think anything was wrong with this kind of master-slave authority. But their positive understanding of authentein doesn’t mean Paul must view such authentein positively. That would be like saying that the word katakurieuousin (“lord it over,” Mark 10:42) must be a positive word in the eyes of Jesus, since the “rulers of the Gentiles” were quite fond of ruling over people in this way.

Tom is also “astonished” at my understanding of “to teach” (didaskein) in 1 Timothy 2:12. Here’s the issue: Is Paul prohibiting women from doing good teaching (the kind that would be permitted if they were men)? Or is there something negative about the kind “teaching” Paul is prohibited these women from doing, either in the manner of their teaching or the content of what is being taught? 

In my book, I point out that the word didaskein (“teach”) is a neutral word used positively or negatively based on the context. (I work through several examples to illustrate this point.) In 1 Timothy 2:12, nothing in the context indicates that “teach” refers to a good kind of teaching (something men should do but women shouldn’t). And since it’s coupled with the word authentein, which conveys a dominating master-slave kind of authority (negative in Paul’s eyes!), “to teach” also probably conveys something more negative: “While Paul often uses didaskein positively, the context always makes this clear, and such clarity is lacking in 1 Timothy 2:12. Because Paul joins didaskein with authentein—a word that most likely conveys a negative kind of authority—Paul is therefore prohibiting women from teaching men in a domineering manner” (p. 261). 

Tom claims that I don’t engage “in a significant way with Andreas Köstenberger’s careful study of the syntax of the phrase ‘teach and exercise authority’ (1 Tim. 2:12), which shows that both teaching and exercising authority are positive.” He says my “[s]kating over Köstenberger’s analysis is a serious deficiency, since that analysis hasn’t been overturned even after much discussion.” 

Perhaps Tom skated over my analysis of Köstenberger’s analysis. I do cite and engage with Köstenberger’s study, both on pp. 244 n. 9 and on pp. 257-261. In fact, my argument significantly agrees with Köstenberger’s syntactical analysis. Köstenberger says that when two words are joined by the “neither…nor” construction, both must be positive or both must be negative; he therefore argues that since didaskein is positive, authentein must also be positive. I agree with Köstenberger’s premise but suggest the opposite conclusion: since authentein is negative, and there’s no indication in this context that didaskein is positive, it’s more likely that both terms overlap to convey a negative idea. As I write, “It wouldn’t be unusual for Paul to join didaskein to authentein with the ouk … oude construction to convey a single idea—namely, that women are not permitted to teach (didaskein) in a domineering manner (authentein) over man” (p. 260). 

Lastly, Tom critiques my exploration of how the Artemis cult may have shaped Paul’s argument in 1 Timothy 2:8-15. I think Tom raises some good points here and overstates others. I’ll be brief, since this response is already way longer than I planned, and I really want to get to my main concern with Tom’s review before I run out of juice. 

• Tom rightly points out that, in 1 Timothy, “Artemis is never mentioned, which is strange if the cult exercised such remarkable influence.” But it’s actually not strange at all. As I point out on p. 272 (n. 90), “Paul never mentions foreign deities in any of his letters. (Luke does throughout Acts, however.) Certainly, Paul dealt with the influence of pagan deities throughout his letters, but he always avoids mentioning the names of pagan gods.” 

• Tom notes that the “deviations perpetuated by the false teachers actually point to Jewish roots: devotion to myths and genealogies (1:3–4), the Jewish law (vv. 6–11), asceticism (4:3–4), and knowledge (6:20–21).” Yes, there’s certainly a Jewish influence on the false teaching at Ephesus. But the influence of Artemis permeated every fabric of the social, economic, and religious life in Ephesus, and 1 Timothy also shows many touch-points to Artemis mythology (1 Tim 2:15 is a clear example). Can’t the false teaching be shaped by both Jewish influence and Artemis mythology? 

• Tom critiques me by noting: “Egalitarians tend, as we see here with reference to Artemis, to appeal to matters not stated or found in a text to overturn what a text actually says.” Maybe they do, but this would be an inaccurate summary of my argument. As I state plainly on p. 278: “To be clear, my exegesis of 1 Timothy 2:8–15 rests primarily on the text itself, not on the cultural context surrounding Artemis. While this context might help color in Paul’s argument, the text itself must direct our interpretation.”

A Final Concern

I knew Tom and I would disagree on some key exegetical points, and I thank him for reading both earlier drafts of this book and the final version. However, my main concern with his review is how frequently he implies—or plainly asserts—that I “flatten the biblical text,” “domesticate the text,” “don’t account for the richness and fullness of what the text says,” and that my “arguments… echo contemporary cultural norms.” 

Those are serious charges. They are not, however, arguments.

Disagreement over exegesis is healthy. Asserting without evidence that someone is capitulating to culture is less helpful.

If scholars are going to have vigorous Scriptural debates over this important topic, I recommend that we avoid such mischaracterizations and stick to exegesis. As for the strength of the exegetical arguments in my book, I’m happy letting readers decide for themselves. 

I want to thank Tom, again, for writing a review of this book. I look forward to our future interactions on the topic.