It is the sweeping, high-speed data-spewing digital life of the Year 2025. We crave instant gratification, dopamine-infused bedtimes, virtual lifestyles, alphanumeric praise, and pleasure within arm’s reach—stimuli that bombard us in ways never seen before. In the 6th century, mastering a few sleight-of-hand tricks could make you a god. Today, those tricks are in orders of magnitude trickier, and while we’re dazzled beyond comprehension, we know in the end—it's just a trick. Our own confidence is as rigid as the confidence man peddling rabbits in hats.
Most people today read the Bible without grasping the nuance, the subtlety, the shear complexity woven into every word. When Jesus said, “I am the Son of God,” it wasn’t just a simple statement—it was a grammatical minefield in Greek, full of implications, nuances, and cultural weight. That’s the kind of detail that makes the story not just a moral lesson, but a linguistic maze of cosmic proportions. As the great scholar Walter Brueggemann pointed out, “The Bible is not just a book of stories; it’s a story of words, and those words carry worlds within them.”
The Bible isn’t just a collection of stories to accept on faith; it’s a delicate web of language, symbolism, and layered meaning. It’s so intricate that most don’t realize how much is lost in translation—how many subtleties get flattened. For example, the Jewish tradition of fusing the Torah with mystical Kabbalah isn’t just an add-on; it’s the foundation. Beneath the surface, the stories of the Red Sea parting, the Garden of Eden, or the Tower of Babel reach deep into a realm of hidden knowledge, sacred geometry, and cosmic architecture—far beyond a simple “believe or don’t,” as the philosopher Joseph Campbell emphasized, “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”
Contrast that with how we tell stories today—movies like Star Wars, undeniably Christ-like in their themes of sacrifice, redemption, and hope. But we don’t just tell those stories as small-scale dramas. We build epic worlds—full of CGI, heavy graphics, charisma, sweat, near-misses, cliffhangers, and cinematic artistry. Why? Because we NEED these stories to be larger than life. We want giants, heroes with A-list stars, sweeping cinematography, impossible stunts, money-shot car chases, all set on fire! We DEMAND that for our $20 ticket to willingly suspend our disbelief for 90 minutes.
The Bible, in all its depth and layered meaning, deserves that same treatment. We don’t need an account of a tiny guy killing a bigger guy—David slaying Goliath—we need the wholesale spectacle of a towering superhero figure, charisma on film, sweat, costumes, makeup, an impossible shot, one mother-of-all-stones, and a story that burns bright. We want to be blown out the back of the theater...
The biblical stories are not just relics of faith—they’re a labyrinth of language, symbolism, and cosmic design. To truly honor their depth, they need to be brought to life with the same passion and artistry that modern cinema offers. I don’t object to anyone who has pursued faith to the Nth degree, but don’t hold a candle to some Bible-thumper with a 220 IQ. I don’t disparage—okay, maybe stereotype—a fellow passenger on a 15-hour flight to Beijing who’s obsessed with “the Force,” if they ultimately realize it’s George Lucas’ fiction that nudged them toward their own rigorous, reasoned exploration of the holiest texts ever written (instead of referencing The Last Jedi).
But above all, I believe everyone—secular humanists, atheists, skeptics—should read the critical texts that underpin Western Philosophy. These are our pillars of knowledge, not some goddamn “sky daddy.” Only then can we truly grasp the magnitude of what’s written in that ancient text, which is more relevant than ever. With a dead Pope and a billion jittery Catholics, who wouldn’t want to see what all the buzz is about? Whether you’re spiritual or skeptical, why not grab a Bible and make yourself useful? I swear—you’ll learn something, and maybe, possibly, everything.