Some Potentially Sacrilegious Thoughts on the Bible
A “book review,” of sorts, of the Old and New Testaments
For the most part, I’ve never believed in God. Growing up the only religion I was really exposed to was the kind of defanged Judaism that emphasized eating bagels and pointing out which celebrities are also Jewish, not what you believe. As a kid I believed in all kinds of stuff—fairies, magic, even (briefly) Santa Claus—but never God.
Like many teenagers on the mid-2000’s internet, I had a brief period as a hardcore atheist. After Bush’s reelection I passed around that meme that had the blue states joining Canada and left the red ones labeled Jesusland, with its electoral map that now seems hopelessly out of date—the Midwest reliably blue, the Southwest reliably red. All of that era’s atheism now seems hopelessly out of date. We were so angry at the religious right, not realizing that the post-religious right would be even worse.
As I grew up, I went from thinking religion was stupid to thinking religion was actually kind of cool, just not for me. The closest I ever came to believing was when I did ayahuasca with a dozen strangers and Peruvian shaman on an old hippie’s farm a couple hours outside San Francisco. For a few moments, right after I’d finished vomiting, I was certain I’d touched the face of God. That experience was powerful enough that afterwards I stopped calling myself an atheist, but it wasn’t powerful enough for me to start calling myself a believer.
This is all a long way of explaining why I decided to read the entire Bible from start to finish. I may not have found God, but I did find a greater interest in religion, even if I was still mostly an outside observer. And I’d happened to hear about a few modern translations that sounded interesting: Robert Alter’s translation of the Old Testament, and David Bentley Hart’s translation of the New.
This was around five years ago, but the Bible, if you haven’t heard, is long, dense, and in many places extremely boring. So it took me a while to get through the whole thing.
I finally finished this summer, and I have a few assorted thoughts. Welcome to my “book review,” as it were, of the Old and New Testaments.
Omissions & Translations
Here’s the first flaw in my plan: merely reading the Bible is not actually a particularly good way to learn about religion. It’s kind of like reading the Constitution and hoping to come away understanding the current state of U.S. politics.
I knew, obviously, that Judaism and Christianity don’t rely solely on the Bible to govern how they operate, but I was still surprised by how far these texts are from the world of religion today. Many fundamental elements of both faiths are completely absent. The Old Testament describes a place-based Judaism that’s heavy on mystic ritual and animal sacrifice; the New Testament is mostly just philosophy.
And that’s even before you get to all the likely mistranslations, which were highlighted extensively in the translations I read. My favorite? There’s pretty good evidence that the whole thing about it being easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven is a mistranslation. The original text probably referred to a rope passing through the eye of a needle. Rich men, you may have a better shot at heaven than previously thought.
Moses Shrugged
Midway through Exodus, I started to feel a vague sense of déjà vu. I’d read something like this before… but what?
Obviously, many modern stories have been influenced by the Bible. But there’s one book that Exodus reminds me of above all, and unfortunately, it’s Atlas Shrugged.
Think about it. Both books tell the story of a special group of people (the Jews/industrialists) who suffer under an oppressive society (slavery in Egypt/burdensome regulations in America). They are led by a charismatic figure (Moses/John Galt) to a new land (Canaan/Galt’s Gulch), where they form a new society based on their special ideology (the Torah/capitalism).
The analogy even extends past Exodus. Infamously, near the end of Atlas Shrugged, John Galt hacks into a national radio broadcast and delivers an extensive speech explaining “his” (but really Ayn Rand’s) philosophy in torturously extensive detail. In Rand’s fictional world, the speech is said to have taken three hours, with America listening in rapt attention. For the reader, the speech takes up around seventy pages, and rapt attention is unlikely. The chapter is basically the book version of being cornered by that guy at the party who just did a bunch of coke and wants to shout his opinions at anyone in the vicinity1.
Rich God, Poor God
Although God has the same name in both the Old and New Testaments, he’s pretty much two different characters. The latter book essentially retcons God into a much more likable—but in turn, much less realistic—figure. I doubt there are many people who choose religions by evaluating the holy books of each for plausibility, but for anyone who is, Judaism clearly presents the more believable version of God.
The God of the New Testament is affectionate and merciful. He has an intimate and loving relationship with humanity, full of grace and mercy. Basically, He’s always there to give you His godly hugs.
The God of the Old Testament is mercurial and full of wrath. He demands obedience, and sometimes He fucks with you just for fun. He might have chosen you, but you wouldn’t exactly say He loves you. Oh, and He hasn’t had a direct relationship with a human for thousands of years. Only one of these Gods is even remotely compatible with actual human life.
Why is the world full of suffering? Why do bad things happen to good people? Religious scholars have spent thousands of years debating these questions. But it’s hard to imagine how anyone could read the Old Testament and come away thinking those were even relevant questions. God’s just like that.
Jesus&Paul&Hillary&Bill
Like most people, I always assumed that if you had to pick a “founder” of Christianity, it would be Jesus. But reading the New Testament—and learning about its history—I changed my mind. Jesus is more like Christianity’s figurehead. Paul is its true founder.
When Jesus was preaching, his followers still considered themselves Jews. It was Paul—who never actually met Jesus, and who only became a follower of his after Jesus was already dead—who took those teachings (or, really, his own interpretation of those teachings) and spread them beyond the Jewish diaspora.
Jesus started a small Jewish cult. Paul turned it into a major world religion.
Terrible analogy warning: reading the various books of Paul, I started to think of Jesus as Christianity’s Steve Wozniak and Paul as its Steve Jobs. The former may have been the genius who had the initial flash of insight, but it took the latter to build that insight into a global phenomenon.
I was also reminded of this old joke about Hillary Clinton that was popular in the nineties. It went something like this:
Bill and Hillary are driving in Arkansas. When they stop to get some gas, Hillary recognizes the station attendant as an old boyfriend. After they drive off, Bill tells her, smugly, “See, if you’d married him, you’d be working at a gas station.” And Hillary replies, “If I’d married him, he’d be the president.”
You could tell this exact joke about Jesus and Paul. They’re walking together when they spot one of the many minor prophet-like figures who were Jesus’ contemporaries. “See,” Jesus says, “if you’d followed that guy, you’d have been stuck with a false prophet.” “No,” says Paul, “if I’d followed him, he’d be the messiah.”
Should You Do This?
I can’t exactly say that I recommend everyone read the whole Bible. Call it reverse proselytizing: having received the good word, I’m now specifically advising you not to read it.
There are definitely large chunks that I technically “read” but did not actually absorb. I think I would have gotten a lot more out of it if I’d read it along some kind of study group, but that would have required a lot more time, not to mention hanging out with the kinds of people who voluntarily join Bible study groups.
But personally, I’m glad I did it, even if it did take almost five years. In retrospect, I find it a little weird that I spent two decades wanting to be “well-read,” whatever that means, while overlooking the most important book in the world.
At the very least, I recommend the Bible more than I recommend Atlas Shrugged.
Like the Old Testament God, I too become full of wrath when I do not receive proper tribute. Calm my mercurial tempers by hitting the ♡ below if you liked this piece.
Rand famously loved amphetamines, which makes this analogy even more on the nose (pun intended).