In the last several years, I’ve started reading the Bible. Really reading it—not in a faith-promoting way, not to follow the Come Follow Me curriculum or prepare a lesson, not to get closer to God. But reading it like a novel, a history book, a legal code, a cautionary tale, a founding mythology, a message, a library. I wanted to know what it actually said—an impossible task, since the translation-revision-editing-run-through-the-patriarchy-rinse-and-repeat process has taken what was in the “original” books of the Bible, some of which were shared through the oral tradition generations before ever being written down, basically moot.

But more than that, I wanted to know what I thought about the Bible and its characters, its lessons and morals, its stories. For most of my life that was filtered by what LDS church leaders taught me was in the Bible. It is not a simple story of one God and one people or a story of good vs. evil. What’s there is so much more expansive, complicated, hard to make sense of, beautiful and ugly.

Through these studies, I’ve read a lot of interpretations, noticed stories and people I’d never noticed before and interpreted stories differently than I had before, particularly around the women. The Bible has some of the most incredible stories about women, and some of the most horrifying. The horrifying ones were frequently skipped in Gospel Doctrine lessons—it was too difficult to explain why it appeared that God wanted a father to sacrifice his teenage daughter and then just allowed the man—a man whom the author of Hebrews upheld as an example of faith (Heb. 11:32).

Here are a few of the things I’ve learned as I’ve studied. Some come from midrash, some from interpretation drawn from different meanings of the Hebrew words used or from the historical context of the time in question, some are straight from the text that just hit me different one day and I couldn’t go back. They’re not all pretty. But they’ve changed how I approach the Bible—they’ve given me a more honest relationship with this book.

• Some scholars believe that when Ahasuerus called Vashti to him in the first part of Esther, the command was that she arrive wearing only her crown. No clothes. No wonder she refused to be paraded in front of the court.
• In Judges 4, Sisera might have raped Jael. Or she might have had sex with him willingly (willingly being in the context of a man of violence showing up at her door and demanding shelter). Jael is not really portrayed as a hero in the scriptures or in the discussion of scripture; she is at best complicated. Her actions were so … unwomanly, not just at the time but even when read now. She violated the rules of hospitality by betraying her guest, plus, we don’t expect such violence from a woman. If there was sex involved, it’s even more complicated because she’s violated more rules. But I see a survivor—a woman who did what she needed to do. She used the tools she had.
• Also in Judges 4, Deborah the prophetess is called the wife of Lapidoth. Lapidoth may not be a name, though; it means fire or flames. She’s been called the woman of fire. If you do not remember the story in Judges 4, go read it now. It is my favorite Bible story because it is a story of two women who took charge and did what they needed to do. Neither gets credit (though Hebrews 11 gives Deborah’s male partner-in-war credit, so …).
• Rachel steals her father’s teraphim, or household gods. When he comes in search of them and Jacob swears that the thief will be put to death, Rachel sits on them and tells her husband and father when they approach that she is menstruating and can’t rise. I imagine them panicking, backing out, scared of that “mysterious” curse that literally every woman around them has every month (Gen. 31:19-35 with a bit of extrapolation on my end). This is literally in the scriptures. Why doesn’t that get its own lesson every cycle? Pun very much intended.
• Zipporah was a priestess. She was the oldest daughter of a priest, and she performs a circumcision on her young son, a rite that could have required the priesthood (Exodus 4:24-26). Honestly, Moses is alive because of women. The midwives protected him, his sister Miriam protected him, Zipporah saved him.
• The Hebrew Bible uses the phrase “mother in Israel” twice. The first time, Deborah says it of herself (Judges 5:7). The second is said by the wise woman of Abel (the phrase “wise men” is often used to describe leaders. There’s no reason to assume “wise woman” would be any different); she intercepts one of David’s henchmen who is seeking a runaway. The henchman is a violent man who will destroy the city, and the wise woman calls her city a mother in Israel. Then she handles the situation and saves her city. Neither is an actual mother.
• Some Jewish feminist scholars teach about the Shekinah, or the glory of God, and that she is female. When the children of Israel were in their 40-year journey through the desert, the Shekinah was the pillar of fire that guided them in their journey. Some Christian scholars teach about Lady Wisdom (Sophia, the Greek word for wisdom, is a feminine noun.) At least one woman I know believes the Holy Ghost is female, perhaps Heavenly Mother’s official role, which tracks–most ancient Near Eastern religions believed in a husband-wife-son godhead.
• Job’s wife got a raw deal. I’ve already written about this once, in “Curse God and Die,” but so I’ll just say, again–she lost all her children. And then she got condemned for her grief. And then the trial was over and she just got 10 new children, as though that could make up for the loss of those other children, who are as forgotten as she is.
• Samson is not a hero. He gets his first wife killed—yes, I realize she told his secret to the Philistines, but let’s go back to consent and how it’s not consent when someone tells you to do a thing or they’ll kill you—he commits mass murder and he’s utterly convinced of his own strength that he acts like he doesn’t need God (Judges 14-16). And you know what the author of Hebrews 11 calls that? Yup, faith. I’m team Delilah. Or at least team It’s-Complicated-and-We-Really-Need-to-Understand-what’s-Happening-in-the-Bible-Before-We-Teach-It-to-Children.
• Polygamy. Was. Not. Good. At all. It doesn’t happen that often in the Bible; there are only a few noteworthy examples: Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon. None of them goes well. There is jealousy, there is neglect, there is abuse. In Solomon’s case, what follows include total destruction of the kingdom of God. Why—why?—did anyone read this millennia later and think, “Interesting. Should we try this?”

There are many other women, many other stories, some good, some terrible. There are villains of the highest order—Jezebel and Athaliah are my favorites. There are women—girls—who had crimes perpetrated on them, supposedly by men of God, that are sickening and disturbing. Two of the worst—the daughter of Jephthah and the Levite concubine—didn’t even get names. But their stories remain, and feminist scholars have for decades given voices, identities and some small measure of justice to these victims of the patriarchy.

I no longer read the Bible as an act of faith. Now it’s an act of resistance—these stories are mine, and I will read and interpret them according to my understanding. Turns out what I’ve learned most frequently is there is right way to read or interpret the Bible.

Top photo: A rock formation on the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea. The legend is that this is Lot’s wife, the woman who was turned into salt for turning around when she thought she’d lost everything, including some of her children. She is one of many women who have been misunderstood and maligned through millennia of patriarchy in the scriptures.