Blog 2: When Words Aren’t Enough — Why Vocabulary Differences Don’t Settle the Case Against Paul

Did you know that many scholars today question whether the Apostle Paul actually wrote the Pastoral Epistles—1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus?

These three letters are traditionally understood as correspondence from Paul near the end of his life to two of his trusted co-workers: Timothy and Titus. They were not written to churches, but to individuals Paul had appointed to shepherd and organize Christian communities—Timothy in Ephesus, and Titus on the island of Crete.

Because they focus heavily on pastoral leadership, teaching sound doctrine, and guiding local congregations, they’ve come to be known as the “Pastoral Epistles.”

And it’s precisely these differences—the personal tone, the administrative focus, and the mentoring style—that lie at the center of modern debates over whether Paul actually wrote them.

The Case Critical Scholars Make

Critical scholarship often begins its case against Pauline authorship of the Pastoral Epistles with a straightforward-sounding claim: the vocabulary is too different.

On the surface, it sounds decisive. If Paul didn’t normally use these words, then surely someone else wrote the letters. Simple, right?

Not so fast.

The moment you begin to analyze the method behind this claim rather than the claim itself, the air of certainty begins to evaporate.

What Linguistic Critics Point To

To be fair, we should present the argument in its strongest form.
Scholars who question Pauline authorship typically appeal to three linguistic observations:

1. a high number of hapax legomena 2 differences in syntax and sentence structure 3 shifts in tone and emphasis

These are real features of the text.
No one disputes that.

The question is not whether the differences exist.
The question is what those differences mean.

Critical scholars often leap from “different” to “inauthentic” far more quickly than the data warrants.

Why Vocabulary Differences Aren’t a Smoking Gun

Human beings do not write with machine-like consistency.

We change vocabulary and tone based on:

• topic
• audience
• age
• experience
• co-writers
• circumstances
• and purpose

A seasoned apostle in prison writing to a young pastor in Ephesus is not the same writer—in context—as a missionary planting a church in Corinth.

It would be surprising if the vocabulary didn’t shift.

And the assumption that stylistic variation = authorship forgery is methodologically fragile at best.

How Would They Know

Critical scholars will readily acknowledge that stylistic change can and should occur. They are not arguing for robotic uniformity. Their argument is more subtle: the amount of difference in the Pastorals exceeds what they believe Paul would naturally produce.

But here’s the problem:

How would they know?

We do not possess:

• Paul’s full literary output
• private letters
• everyday correspondence
• sermons or speeches
• early or late-life samples

We have only a selection of his writings—mostly occasional letters, addressing different crises, to different audiences, at different stages.

So the claim that the Pastorals represent “too much difference” depends entirely on a subjective expectation of how much variation Paul “should” exhibit.

There is no fixed scale.

No baseline.
No objective metric.
No independent control sample.

Just an intuition dressed up as a measurement.

And intuition is not the same thing as evidence.

Linnemann’s Challenge: Is This Method Scientific?

At this point, the question becomes unavoidable: if vocabulary is being used as a measuring tool, how reliable is that tool?

Eta Linnemann—who was trained and respected inside the historical-critical establishment—argued that the use of hapax legomena in authorship debates is not nearly as objective as it is often portrayed.

She noted something striking:

Only in those New Testament writings already suspected of being inauthentic is the frequency of hapax legomena treated as decisive.

In other words:

• the method is not universally applied
• the criteria are not consistently used
• the conclusions are not derived from neutral analysis

The suspicion comes first.
The method comes second.
And the result confirms the suspicion.

That is not scientific investigation.
That is circular reasoning.

If a method is only employed after a conclusion has already been assumed, then the method isn’t discovering evidence—it’s justifying a verdict.

Linnemann’s critique exposes the deeper issue:

It’s not only that vocabulary differences exist.
It’s that the tools used to interpret those differences are not objective, consistent, or falsifiable.

The Hapax Legomena Question — and Linnemann’s Insider Challenge

When critical scholars argue that the vocabulary of the Pastorals is suspicious, they often appeal to a specific linguistic feature: hapax legomena—words that appear only once in the New Testament.

For example, if a letter contains a high number of unique words, critics claim this signals a different author. In the case of the Pastorals, the argument goes like this:

• unique vocabulary
• equals unusual style
• equals later author

This is one of the central pillars in the linguistic case against Pauline authorship.

But before we treat that as a scientific measurement, we need to ask:
How objective is this tool?

This is where the analysis of Eta Linnemann becomes significant.

Linnemann was not an outsider. She was trained in—and later taught within—the historical-critical tradition itself. She earned her doctorate under Rudolf Bultmann, one of the most influential critical scholars of the 20th century, and held a professorship in New Testament studies. In other words:

• she mastered the method
• she used the method
• she evaluated the method from the inside

And her conclusion was blunt.

She writes:

“Words that occur only once in the New Testament (hapax legomena) play a large role in the question of authenticity in historical-critical theology.”

But then she shows how this tool is applied selectively:

“Only in the case of those New Testament writings that have fallen under suspicion is the question of occurrence of hapax legomena broached.”

In other words:

• suspicion leads the method
• not the method leading to suspicion
• and the conclusion simply confirms the suspicion

If hapax analysis is only applied selectively—after doubt is already present—then the method is not discovering inauthenticity.
It is confirming a suspicion that already existed.

That is not objective measurement.
It is circular reasoning disguised as science.

Linnemann presses the point further, arguing that the presence of hapax legomena is not unusual when examined consistently across the New Testament corpus:

“The vocabulary yields no argument for declaring certain writings to be inauthentic… that move is ruled out when we recognize that 35.61% of the New Testament’s words are hapax legomena.”

Her conclusion?

Unique vocabulary is not rare.
It is normal.
And when examined across the entire New Testament—not just the books already deemed suspicious—the Pastorals do not stand out as irregular.

Developing the Audience Shift Argument

Earlier we noted that the Pastoral Epistles were written to individuals—Timothy and Titus—rather than entire congregations. It’s worth developing that point further, because this audience shift explains far more of the vocabulary difference than critics often allow.

Letters written to churches address shared doctrinal issues and communal disputes. Paul’s tone in those letters is often corrective, argumentative, or theological. But the Pastoral Epistles are private correspondence. Their purpose is mentoring, stabilizing local leadership, and preparing successors.

Different aim.
Different audience.
Different vocabulary.

This isn’t a minor contextual footnote—it’s a major interpretive key.

Think of how language functions in real life:

• You write a corporate letter to an entire company very differently than a private memo to a single manager.
• You address a classroom or congregation differently than you advise a friend or student one-on-one.
• You deliver a political speech differently than you craft personal instructions for a successor.

The shift in audience naturally shapes tone, word choice, and emphasis.

So when we find administrative language in the Pastorals—elders, overseers, widows, households—this isn’t a suspicious development or evidence of forgery. It is the vocabulary of pastoral oversight.

And when we hear personal admonitions about character, courage, endurance, or guarding sound doctrine, that isn’t late-stage theological innovation. It’s mentoring language.

Simply put:

A private letter of instruction will not—and should not—sound like a public letter of correction.

This doesn’t prove Paul wrote the Pastorals.
But it does undermine the claim that stylistic differences prove he didn’t.

Conclusion: Vocabulary Differences Raise Questions—Not Verdicts

Vocabulary differences are real. No one disputes that. The Pastoral Epistles do not sound exactly like Galatians or Romans. But difference alone does not equal deception. It does not automatically imply forgery. It does not, by itself, overturn centuries of tradition.

When we look more closely, three things become clear:

• variation in vocabulary is expected when audience and purpose change
• claims about “too much” variation rest on subjective expectations built on a minimal and incomplete sample of Paul’s total writin
• and the tools used to quantify that variation are often selective rather than scientific

In other words, linguistic differences are real. No one denies that, and no one needs to. But moving from “these letters sound different” to “therefore they are deceptive forgeries” is not a responsible conclusion. It assumes what it needs to prove. It treats variation as evidence of intent, and that is not good-faith scholarship.

Critics often reply that vocabulary is just one pillar in a larger case. Fair enough. But if this is truly one of the key pillars, then the case needs far more weight behind it than subjective expectations and a limited sample size. Because so far, the linguistic data does not prove forgery—it barely supports suspicion. And if this is the strongest pillar, I have a sinking suspicion the case built upon it will not stand for long.

In the next blog, we’ll turn to another pillar of the critical case—the historical fit of the Pastorals within the narrative of Acts—and ask whether silence in Acts is evidence against authenticity, or simply silence.