Amy Peeler, Women and the Gender of God. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2022. Pp. xi + 274. Paperback.
God Is Not Male
My initial comments.
It may come as a bit of a surprise to the average church-goer in the 21st century that the historic position of the Christian Church, through the last 2000 years, has been that God does not have a sex. God is neither male nor female.
Nonetheless, especially in the last 30 or 40 years, the notion that God is masculine has gained a great deal of traction in the western church. Deriving from that idea has been the claim that the Christian church itself, as John Piper has put it, “has a masculine feel.” Or, is the reverse the case: that God is masculine is a projection by some Christians back from the idea that Christianity is masculine? Could be! Some common phrases: “God initiates like men initiate”; “God begets like men beget.” It’s likely that you’ve heard these “teachings” in your local church; I have.
Peeler’s approach to the entire question of God and gender concerns is different from quite a few others in recent times in that she is concerned to maintain and elaborate on the basic idea that God in the Bible does not have sex or gender—but, at the same time, she does not wish to abandon the biblical language surrounding God. She thinks that it’s important to retain such terms as “father,” “son” (as applied to Jesus), and the pronouns used of God (usually “he,” “him”).
Furthermore, she wants to emphasize the value of women as fully made in the image of God, that God highly values women, and, crucially, that God chose to become incarnate through birth to a woman.
This is a dense book; if you end up interested in the topic, I highly recommend you get a copy and read it for yourself.1
She supports these core theses in 6 chapters.
Chapter 1: The Father Who Is Not Male
Although the First Testament does not use the word father frequently of God, it does in fact use it. But it doesn’t use the term in a sexual sense. The texts of the First Testament strongly “resist any portrayal of a sexualized male deity” (p. 13). Instead, “father” or “king” are the basis of Israel’s founding and of God’s care for his people; these are metaphors, used to communicate to God’s people but do not suggest that the deity is male.
This carries over into the Second Testament, which uses “father” language a great deal, especially in regard to the “son.” This terminology is the language of analogy, not of actual sexualization. In the primary case, the birth of Jesus, God caused a baby—but no sexual activity per se is involved at all, and it is not God as male that is involved, because God is not male. (A human woman is certainly involved, but Peeler gets at that in a later chapter.)
Peeler supports these claims through looking at the way Christians through the ages have stipulated that this sort of language is metaphor, figurative, and that it would be a wrong move to take these words as more than an accommodation to human experience (thus, metaphor). We do not have words for things we have not experienced.
It’s important to note, too, that in the ancient world (whether of the First or the Second Testament), a deity that is neither male nor female is rare if not non-existent. This is one of the distinctives of Scripture.
Peeler’s conclusion: “The mode of God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ prohibits any notion that God the Father is more like men than women, that God the Father is more fittingly masculine than feminine” (p. 31).
With this I wholeheartedly concur. It’s a mistake to take the language of masculinity as applied to God to conclude that God is male, masculine.
Chapter 2: Holiness and the Female Body
There has been a tradition of considering women to be more impure than men, especially in certain readings of the holiness laws in the Pentateuch in late Judaism and in Christianity. Peeler’s concern is to show, as many others have in the past, that impurity is not the same as sinfulness. The notion of impurity in social and religious contexts is pretty distant from modern ideas of what’s acceptable, so it’s difficult for many of us to get past this equation; but we must. It would be better to see these “rules” as “boundaries born out of respect for the distinct experiences of the female body” (p. 41).
In the case of Mary, the mother of Jesus, Christians are left with something of a mystery. What’s reported in the gospels (Matthew, Luke) is that, on the human side, only a woman is involved in the birth of Jesus. There is at least a little bit—and maybe a lot—of mystery here, if we accept the gospel reports and the testimony of the early Church.
Peeler says—and this is something I’d not thought about previously—that “the overwhelmingly dominant position in the church has been that Jesus took his flesh solely from Mary” (p. 45; emphasis mine). To put it slightly differently, all of Jesus’s DNA was from Mary; he had none of Joseph’s DNA, and since God is not human (gods don’t have human DNA; at least the biblical God doesn’t) and not sexual—well, there’s no other DNA to be had—it’s all Mary’s.
Mary is central to the birth narratives; it’s she who is mentioned in every portion of it. Peeler’s elaboration on this point is to make clear that God’s incarnation was through a faithful woman, even though presumably God could have chosen radically other means of becoming human. Jesus, gestating for 9 months in Mary was born through a woman’s birth canal, with all of the mess implied; needed whatever passed for a diaper in that era; was nursed at a woman’s breast; had hiccups; barfed—in short, everything that a human baby experiences and does.
Mary had full access to what was most holy as the mother of Jesus. I agree that this has huge implications. This means that women do not have lesser access to God, to what is holy. Remember the penalties that existed for non-priests who touched holy items, let alone God incarnate himself. Mary carried the divine-human Jesus inside her for 9 months.
Chapter 3: Honor and Agency
“God is strong and Mary is female” (p. 65). That’s the problem addressed in this chapter: how could a female be anything other than overpowered by God?
One of the claims sometimes made is that Mary had no choice in the conception and birth of her son, Jesus. Some have said: “Mary had no choice; this may even be a case of divine rape”—something that is found in other ancient literature.
Peeler shows that the Scriptural report is quite different. She lists:
Although Zechariah goes to the holy place and there learns that he will become a father (of John the Baptist), the angel comes to Mary in what is ordinary space. This is respectful of Mary.
The angel’s message to Mary is that God has already been with her and shown her favor; and this unique, unprecedented visitation that will result in her becoming a mother is a sign of God’s favor on her: God is honoring her.
Mary questions the messenger. Her question makes clear that she knows, from the fact that a divine messenger is visiting her, that this will not be a typical pregnancy: she’s not had sex yet, and there’s something odd/unusual about the message. Her questioning is not presented as unfaithful or doubting; it’s a desire for understanding. She’s very thoughtful, even, about the implications of all of this; something bigger than what is usual for a faithful Israelite woman is underway.
Although God certainly has the power to force a human to do something, no coercion is involved; none at all. “God waits to enact his word until Mary accepts it” (p. 76). She’s an example of faithfulness not of servile submission.
Mary is seen not as an object of God’s activity but as an agent in her own right. Quoting Richard Bauckham, Peeler shows Mary to be “the active and responsible subject of her own story, when she acts as the Lord’s servant, taking God at his word and taking responsibility for acting with trust in that word” (p. 85).
“God honors [Mary], grants her agency, and she says yes” (p. 87). I found this chapter helpful in demonstrating Mary’s involvement as agent, her primacy in the birth narratives, and her response as faithfulness rather than servile.
Chapter 4: God Is Not Masculine
“The assumption that God is more like men than women still thrives” (p. 91).
Yes, it does. It’s all over the internet, many books, from many pulpits, in many small group studies, and in my own history (perhaps more implicitly than directly; nonetheless. . . .).
Peeler identifies three primary areas in which the notion of God as masculine appears: (1) God as the source of life, (2) God as sovereign initiator, and (3) Jesus’s maleness. This chapter covers just the first two.
The idea that God as (1) the source of life is male is derived from the claimed analogy with human life—that fathers are the source of life, the ones most responsible for the creation of human life. The claim is that “the dominant energizing principle of life is located with the male” (p. 94). This is an idea that is present in ancient (pagan) thought and also is frequently visible in modern thinking. But, Peeler notes, this is actually incorrect biology! Males cannot create life on their own (to say the least!). This argument, then, is a projection of (mostly incorrect) human perspectives onto God. God doesn’t need a partner in order to create.
To connect human procreation with God’s creation activity is to make the connection between God and the created world too close. This means that speaking of God as “mother” also has the danger of identifying the creation too closely with the Creator. Familial language as applied to God (as noted above) is always metaphorical, whether the term used is “father” or “mother.”
In the case of the second area—(2) God as sovereign initiator—creation is frequently seen as feminine, as the recipient of God’s activities (with God conceived of as male). In this line of reasoning, creation, and we humans as part of creation, are said to need to maintain a feminine attitude of receptivity toward God.
Peeler rejects this argument as an example of “anthropological projectionism” (p. 106). “To say that God initiates and that humans’ role is to respond, and that these are masculine and feminine actions, posits God as an aggressive human male” (ibid., emphasis Peeler’s). Instead, we need to conceive the relationship as Creator to creation, not male to female or of masculine to feminine. If the analogy of God–world is carried over into male–female relations, then male and female are clearly unequal (God is not equal to the world!). This is a dangerously wrong analogy.
Nonetheless, Peeler wants to retain “father” language for God the Father. Why? She argues that the Incarnation provides the primary basis for this choice. “Jesus does not call God “Mother” because he already has one. . . . Christians can and should address God, the first person [of the Trinity], as ‘Father’ not because God is male and not because God is more masculine than feminine but because God the Father as an expression of the triune will sent forth his Son born of a woman” (p. 115).
For my thoughts on language, how we use it when speaking of God, and how analogy works, see my comments about the nature of language at the end of this post. I’m still considering what Peeler argues for here; I’m not entirely convinced that the language used in Scripture has retained the meaning, or needs to be retained because it was used in Scripture. But see below.
Chapter 5: The Male Savior
Jesus was/is male. This is the claim of the entire Christian tradition. How are we to understand this maleness?
Ephesians 5:21–31 uses the image of Jesus as bridegroom and the church as his bride. This image is also connected with God as the lover or husband (of Israel) in several First Testament passages. Peeler argues, however, that these images are subservient to the image of Jesus as the incarnate Son, which is also dependent on Jesus’s unique embodiment. He was conceived by the power of God, not the power of any male, through a woman, Mary, and only Mary. Jesus is different from all other humans.
Various theories have been suggested for explaining this unique, complex situation: a male born only to a woman (no male involved in the conception). As Peeler points out, if one adheres to the Christian tradition, several completely non-natural events are required: the Resurrection of Jesus and the virgin conception, at the very least. If we accept these non-natural events, we still have to think about what it means that Jesus, a male, was born only of a female. Peeler’s primary explanation is that this presence of both female honor (Mary) and the birth, life, death, and resurrection of a male (Jesus) “embraces [both] male and female” and “therefore can in a powerfully and beautifully inclusive way save all humans” (p. 137).
Furthermore, because Jesus is inclusive of the flesh of Mary in a male body he “is the perfect image of God”; “the inclusion of male and female in the incarnate body of the Lord provides the christological justification for rejecting an exclusive maleness in God” (p. 139). The conclusion is that “God’s choice to incarnate as a male through a woman sets the precedent for the embodied inclusion of both men and women, all, in the body of Christ” (p. 142).
As a result, males and females by themselves can only ever represent only a part of Christ: it takes both to fully represent the Messiah. This conclusion is something that I’ve held, and argued supported, for 20–30 years (as have many others; I’m not alone!).
This also means that it is wrong to reduce women to motherhood, maternity, and concomitant child-rearing. Mary’s bearing of Jesus is much more than motherhood; it was an act of faith that represents all women; it is much more than a biological act.
Chapter 6: Ministry
“The God of the New Testament does not silence the verbal ministry of women” (p. 153). Peeler traces this through the angel’s encounter with Mary when she first learns that God wishes her to bear a child, miraculously—Mary has many words (the Magnificat)! Then, on through her very obvious presence at the first “sign miracle” at Cana, her discussion with Jesus at his visit with his parents to the temple (Luke 2:48ff.), her presence at his crucifixion, and her presence at Pentecost, among the disciples. The point is that she has a lot to say, and none of what she has to say is rebuked or minimized in any way. God honored her speech; her voice is frequently the voice of God in the Gospel narratives.
Mary was present at the end of Jesus’s life, and she was present as a witness to the Resurrection as well (Acts 2:32, in Peter’s description).
All of this is an example of God’s honoring the mother of Jesus as a prominent proclaimer of truth in the Second Testament’s record. I (and all of us in the Protestant tradition) have much to learn about Mary’s place in God’s work in the life of Jesus and the early Church.
Conclusion
This is Peeler’s summary conclusion: “Preference for divine masculinity cannot stand in the face of the event in which God causes a pregnancy. God the Father is not male. God the Father is not masculine. The son Jesus is embodied male but, because of the mode of his incarnation, is male like no other, denying the necessity that only males represent him. God the Father is rightly “Father” because God is Father of the eternal Son Jesus the Messiah, whose mother was Mary of Nazareth.” (p. 188)
Modest Additional Musings
Human language is imperfect. We’ve all had occasions where we experienced something and as a result felt “at a loss for words.” We experience things that we’re not sure we can describe. Our language, at the least, is inadequate.
So when we speak about God, the divine, things that we cannot see, we end up with metaphor and approximations. We always will. As humans, we will not get beyond this limitation. That’s OK.
But . . . we need also to be careful not to take the language of Scripture, human as it is, and assume that we can fully describe God. The terms “male” and “female” (and any others we might come up with) are limited and limiting. This is at least partly why orthodox Christians have always said that God is neither male nor female. These categories are human, and they are limited to human beings.
So this results in a huge caveat: let’s be very careful when applying human categories, human language, to God. Let’s also recognize that Scripture is written in human language that only approximates divine realities.
In some respects, Peeler’s book is all about this limitation and related matters.
There’s another factor that I think is often overlooked, and I’m not certain about the full implications: Biblical Hebrew does not have a word for parent. Only the gendered words exist: “father,” “mother.” The Greek language of the Second Testament does have a word for “parent,” but it is used relatively infrequently. Furthermore, in Biblical Hebrew, the word “son/sons” is used as a default for “children.” That is, if a group of “children” is referred to, the term used is “son/sons,” most frequently in the phrase “the sons of Israel,” referring to the entire Israelite peoples. Many translations realize that this use of the term is inclusive of both genders and translate the phrase “the children of Israel.” That’s correct.
Some of the same “bias” toward male terminology is found when the Apostle Paul addresses his siblings (a common English word that is non-gendered) as “brothers in Christ” and the like. “Siblings” sounds a little less close than we prefer; so, frequently, we’ll use the inclusive “sisters and brothers” as a translation for Paul’s term.
In short, I sometimes wonder if the terminology for God as “Father” is essentially also inclusive. Is the language itself simply defaulting to the first-choice term when one isn’t attempting to name God? Especially if, as in Biblical Hebrew, another term isn’t even available? Peeler suggests (p. 101) that “Parent” may sometimes be a better term to use than “Father” when describing the eternal source of Jesus the Son.
What I’m suggesting is that we treat language with care and take deeply to heart its limitations.
Sometimes I wonder what our language would be like if God chose to incarnate today instead of ~ 2000 years ago. Would it simply default to our common usage now? I think so. Would that dispense with a fair amount of contemporary argumentation about the language? Perhaps.
Other reviews have appeared in public places; in general, I’ve created my own summary and places of agreement: for the most part, I’m in agreement with Peeler’s analysis and theses.
There is a review at The Gospel Coalition that is more appreciative than I would have anticipated; the author of the review wants to take issue with some concerns that feel to me to be more about systematic theology than about the core questions at hand.
There is also a review at First Things, which I am somewhat hesitant to link to, because I find much to disagree with in it (as I often do with the direction that First Things has taken in more recent years; but there it is, in case you’re interested.
Finally, Scot McKnight has devoted several blog posts to summarizing and evaluating the book: here’s the first one, followed up by a second post, a third one, a fourth one, and the last one. It’s worth reading all of them if you haven’t already. (I don’t think I missed any!)
I have this book on my reading list. I look forward to engaging her work. Thanks for sharing your thoughts Jim.