The writer of 2 Timothy claims to be Paul, and he claims to be writing to his protégé Timothy, but many scholars have serious doubts about whether this is true. Paul and Timothy were historical figures who lived and worked in the decades following the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus in the year 29 or 30 CE. Tradition tells us that Paul was martyred in Rome around the year 64, during the imperial reign of Nero. Timothy’s death is described in a couple of different yet similar traditions to have taken place in the city of Ephesus, where he was beaten to death by a mob in the year 97.

If these dates are at all accurate, we encounter a problem. Reputable scholars date the composition of the “pastoral epistles” (1 and 2 Timothy and Titus) no earlier than the first or second decade of the 2nd century, well after both men’s deaths. This leads to the conclusion that someone else wrote the letters using the name Paul as a pseudonym. This was actually a common practice at the time—writers would seek both to honor a personage from the past and to boost their own authority by claiming that person’s name. This was considered acceptable in a time when there were no plagiarism laws.

The reason for a later date for the pastoral epistles is that in many cases they are not only incompatible with Paul’s thought as we know it from his undisputed letters (Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, and Philemon) but also at times directly undermines Paul’s ideas. An examination of the seven genuine epistles reveals a Paul who is quite radical. Convinced that the second coming of Jesus was imminent, Paul counseled the churches he planted throughout Asia Minor and Greece to live under the leadership of the Holy Spirit. He emphasized spiritual gifts such as healing, prophecy, and speaking in tongues as indispensable elements of church life (see 1 Corinthians). He declared the obliteration of ethnic and gender distinctions in the church (see Galatians). And he promoted the liberation of slaves (see Philemon). Although his letters contain some obscure instructions about women’s head coverings and the like, in his actual practice he counted several women among his partners in ministry, even fellow apostles (see Romans, Philippians, et al.).

Apparently, the radical nature of Paul’s ideas made some later leaders in the churches uncomfortable. In Ephesians and Colossians we see an edging away from Paul’s views on women and slaves and an advancement of more traditional and conservative roles for those groups. These letters were probably written in the generation after Paul’s death. The apostle’s predictions of the return of Christ had not yet come true, and church leaders began to perceive a need to tone down Paul’s charismatic approach.

This tendency only intensified in the following generation. By then the idea of a purely Spirit-led church seemed not only hopelessly out of date but also dangerous. Around this time the Gnostic movement was gaining steam, and some church leaders were alarmed by such “heretical” teachings. What was needed, these leaders decided, was the development of doctrines and creeds to define the faith and decide who was in and who was out. While they were at it, they asserted their patriarchal control by circumscribing the liberty of women that Paul had encouraged and excluding them from leadership roles in the church. It is in the pastoral epistles that we hear “Paul” say that he does not allow women to speak in church or to have authority over men. The brief period during which women held coequal leadership with men had come and gone.

In 2 Timothy 1:13–14 we see this emphasis on—and we even get a hint of anxiety about—true doctrine. “Paul” warns “Timothy” to “hold to the standard of sound teaching that you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us.” Note the emphasis on “sound teaching” and the need to “guard” it. Note also that the Spirit, whom the genuine Paul viewed as the driving force of the church, has now been relegated to the role of rubber-stamping the doctrine.

This kind of institutionalization and regimentation are unavoidable. Abraham Maslow identified the process by which one person’s or group’s “peak experience,” such as a direct encounter with the Holy, if it is to be carried on to future generations must be shored up by organizational structures to perpetuate something resembling the original experience for those several times removed from it. Jesus and Paul could look to the Spirit to communicate their vision; “Paul” and “Timothy” and other 2nd-century figures had to have something extra. Rules about who can serve as leaders. Rules excluding women from positions of authority. Sound teaching to counter the poison of heresy.

In our day, how do we balance the need for structure and doctrine with the equally (or more) important need for the wind of the Spirit to blow through and shake our foundations every once in a while? Which need do you find most compelling? Are you more of an advocate of sound teaching and rules of order, or do you prefer the wild and unpredictable ride that comes with the movement of the Spirit? Can you see the value in both? How can we honor “the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints” (Jude 3) while also celebrating the truth that, as the United Church of Christ says, “God is still speaking”?