Head and Body: A Metaphor of Unity, Not Hierarchy
Post 5 of 7 in a Series on "Headship"
In earlier posts, we explored the meaning of the Greek word kephalē, often translated as “head,” especially in Paul’s letters. We questioned the widespread assumption that kephalē implies authority, and instead showed that in both Greek usage and Paul’s context, it more often refers to source or origin. That lexical and contextual work matters, because it clears away interpretive debris that can obscure what Paul is actually trying to say.
But in this post, we take a different angle. Rather than asking what the word “head” means, we focus on the metaphor Paul uses: the head and the body. What does this image communicate? What would Paul’s original audience have understood it to mean? And how does this metaphor function in Ephesians 5—not just as a word, but as a richly textured image of relational unity?
Metaphors are not blueprints. They are images designed to evoke understanding, not to prescribe systems. They draw us into reflection, using comparison to shed light on a deeper reality. But when metaphors are interpreted as if they were literal definitions—especially in theology—their meaning is often distorted beyond recognition. This is what has happened in many interpretations of Ephesians 5, where Paul refers to the husband as the “head” of the wife, as Christ is the “head” of the church. Instead of seeing the metaphor as a picture of unity, connection, and mutual flourishing, many have turned it into a justification for male authority.
To recover the meaning of Paul’s metaphor, we must ask: what would the original hearers have understood when they heard “head” and “body”? As Christy Hemphill—a Bible translation consultant and biblical linguist—argues in her analysis of Ephesians 5, modern readers often impose assumptions of authority that the original audience would not have recognized. Drawing on ancient Greco-Roman physiology and linguistic context, Hemphill notes that the head was not a symbol of hierarchical rule but a source of connectivity and integration—the part that coordinated and unified the body.¹ Her work highlights how misreading this image as a command structure imposes a rigid framework onto what Paul likely intended as a relational metaphor grounded in mutuality and union.
Hemphill identifies a common interpretive mistake: treating metaphors like policy statements. The metaphor “husband is head, wife is body” doesn’t yield doctrinal hierarchy unless we assume the metaphor is literal. But metaphors don’t work that way. They depend on linking conceptual domains—in this case, body and unity. Paul uses the familiar domain of the body to reveal something about the nature of the marital union. And once we allow the metaphor to speak, we see its theological depth: just as the head and body are organically interdependent, marriage is a relationship marked by cohesion, reciprocity, and shared life. The metaphor doesn’t teach authority; it teaches oneness.
This distinction is critical. As Hemphill warns, reducing metaphor to doctrine can lead to theological distortion—where illustrative language becomes the unintended basis for enduring structures of gender hierarchy.
And it’s not as if Paul lacked vocabulary for authority. As Hemphill also points out, Paul had access to a full range of Greek terms (exousia, kyrios, archōn, hupotassō used in command structures), yet he intentionally avoids them when describing the husband’s relationship to the wife. His choice to use metaphor instead signals that he was not outlining a chain of command but inviting reflection on the mystery of relational union.
Paul draws on this metaphor throughout his letters. In Ephesians 4:15–16, Christ as “head” causes the whole body to grow and build itself up in love. In Colossians 2:19, the body grows as it is “held together” by the ligaments and sinews that connect it to the head. These are not authority structures; they are organic relationships, emphasizing cohesion and mutual dependence. The head’s role is not to issue commands, but to foster connection and wholeness.
When Paul says in Ephesians 5 that the husband is the “head” of the wife, the original hearers would not have instinctively heard “leader” or “commander.” They would have understood the metaphor as describing a relational dynamic marked by unity, self-giving, and mutual participation. Paul then defines this headship not in terms of power, but of love: “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” This is not hierarchical authority—it is sacrificial self-offering.
The context confirms this. Ephesians 5:21 opens the household code with the instruction to “submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Everything that follows is downstream of this command. The wife’s posture of respect and the husband’s calling to love are both expressions of this broader framework of mutual submission. This is not a one-way dynamic; it is a covenant of reciprocity.
Today, the metaphor of head and body is often misused to reinforce rigid gender hierarchies. But this is not how the metaphor would have functioned in the minds of Paul’s original audience. Nor is it consistent with the broader theological vision of the New Testament. Rather than justifying male dominance, the head-body metaphor calls us into deeper unity—a relationship of connectivity and integration marked by love, sacrifice, and mutual care.
In this series, we began by clarifying what Paul meant by kephalē—not a term of command, but a reference to source, origin, and relational unity. Here, we’ve taken the next step: interpreting the metaphor itself. What does it mean for a husband to be the “head” of the wife as Christ is “head” of the church? When we allow Paul’s metaphor to function as it was intended—drawing on the Greco-Roman understanding of connectivity and integration and on the theological logic of embodied unity—we find not hierarchy, but harmony. Not control, but communion.
To read Paul rightly is to preserve the richness of his imagery and the radical ethic it points to: mutual self-giving, unity in difference, and love as the defining feature of Christian relationships—especially marriage. The metaphor of head and body, far from justifying gendered power dynamics, calls us to a higher vision of shared life. Let’s not reduce that vision to a structure. Let’s receive it as an invitation to love.
¹ Christy Hemphill, “Where Complementarians Go Wrong with Metaphorical Reasoning,” Substack, in Michael F. Bird’s newsletter, April 2024.
