I had to write a book about the Bible. There was just no getting around it. And what I wrote is not likely to be well received. In the first place, it's not exactly a scholarly presentation, a style of writing that seems to merit credibility by those who like to busy themselves with book reviews. But the audience I had in mind doesn't care too much for scholarship or the opinions of book critics. It devotes itself instead to the imaginary inclinations that are ever emanating from the blind faith that continually drives it.

I know this to be true, having experienced it first hand. I grew up in a fundamentalist family, and went to church (the Church of God) every Sunday. I even went to a church college (Southeastern University) after I completed a little stint with the Air Force.

It is my opinion that most people are a slave to the Bible and are not even aware of it. But please don't misunderstand me on this. I happen to like the Bible. It is without question one of the primary pillars of Western civilization, a compelling literary accomplishment to say the least. But thanks to the Church (with a capital C) it has become - most regretfully - something much more.

As the result of centuries of brainwashing and propaganda, motivated no doubt by interests at least somewhat pecuniary, that rather beautiful collection of ancient stories, genealogies, poems and fables has been transformed into a work of art that bears an aspect almost sinister. It has become the word of God.

It is understandable that such a thing could happen in an undereducated barbaric world, but that the masses (the technologically affluent masses mind you) continue to embrace such a primitive notion is nothing less than astounding. Even a novice philosopher understands that a real God, i.e., a perfect and complete Being, would very likely have little, if anything, to do with mere mortals. And if there were such interaction, it is unlikely in the extreme that a pristine Deity (which is surely what a real God is) would publicize it, or posture with the crass familiarity so evident in the Old Testament.

From the book (complete chapters) ...

Chapter 1: Logic

A healthy respect for logic will surely prompt us to consider the issue of God before we approach the Bible, not after. The ever popular phrase, "word of God," means absolutely nothing if there is no such entity as a Supreme Being in the first place to have (or otherwise propagate, or inspire) such a word. We cannot, therefore, properly begin an examination of the Bible without first exploring some ideas about God.

All that we truly know about the Bible (as opposed to what we merely believe about it) is that it was written by human beings a long time ago (technologically primitive human beings at that), who lived in relatively barbaric times, and recorded their claims of contact with a Being they imagined to be God, a contact (by their own admission) quite often experienced in dreams. The Bible is thus very likely little more than the imagined word of a perceived God.

We are of course free to believe or disbelieve the claims of those primitive barbaric people. At present, the vast majority of Americans, for reasons that are ultimately rooted in nothing more than irrational desire, choose to believe.

Personally, I have my doubts.

If God truly exists, as the entire collective unconscious of the West seems to demand, I find it unlikely in the extreme that the manner of His existence would bear any resemblance to the popular conception of it, an apprehension that is somewhat feverishly (if not neurotically) promoted by that same Western mind.

J.B. Phillips, the well-known translator of the New Testament, wrote an excellent book (published in 1952), entitled, Your God Is Too Small, in which he essentially held that our various images of God invariably shortchange Him. God is always much bigger than what we think He is. It is a sentiment I feel I must give the nod to, along with a hearty "Amen."

It is my personal belief that God is so big that it is actually pointless to talk about Him (or Her or It) at all!

St. Anselm, the medieval philosopher and theologian, once said of God (in an attempt to define Him) that He is "that, the greater than which cannot be conceived," a statement which, I suspect, many devoted believers would wholeheartedly embrace.

But if they truly believe this, that God is indeed incomprehensible, it appears that they waste an awful lot of energy by spouting off about Him so much.

Once again, we must appeal to logic. If God is greater than anything we could ever conceive, what could we possibly have to say about Him that we could honestly uphold as meaningful? If we firmly believe this about Deity, that It is virtually incomprehensible, it is perhaps the only thing we should ever say about It. We should simply offer the observation, go on about our business, and never bring up the subject again.

But (I somehow suspect) this is not likely going to happen. I have a strong feeling that we are going to keep on - and on - talking about God, out of one side of our mouth, while on the other side we will keep going on and on proclaiming that He is much too big to ever understand. Go figure.

The whole process, endless and fruitless that it is, is solely attributable to our ability to think in abstract terms, an ability that is, if nothing else, Man’s finest gift and most illusory curse.

It is only because of our ability to create, and to think with, abstract terms that we ever concocted this idea (of God) in the first place. It would not matter if the more rational minds amongst us convinced the rest of the world to desist with all talk of God for an entire generation. The mere ability to think abstractly would eventually (inevitably and inexorably) re-create the fantasy in our minds. It therefore matters not one whit if we refrain from teaching our children about God. Their innate ability to think imaginatively would invent the fantasy all by itself.

The futility, and danger (depending on your beliefs), of talking about God is suggested in my book, Tao, The Way of Words. I would like to take a moment to reiterate what I said there and perhaps expand upon it a little.

If you believe in the Bible, you are surely aware that it expressly forbids (in the second commandment) the making of images. But what precisely (in this day of technological marvels) are images? When their prohibition was first declared, they were of course physical objects, cast in stone or carved in wood, objects that few (if any) in today’s world would scarce be affected by.

Modern images are much more subtle. Instead of stone and wood, they are fashioned of words. Today, we make images of God with our language.

How could we not? Whenever someone is talking about God, are we not forming some kind of image of Him? It seems built somehow into the very nature of language to do this. If I say the word "house," for example, don't you start getting a visual? It is essentially what words do, point to things that we try to make pictures of inside our heads.

The same sort of thing happens when we talk about God. We start getting an image of Him. But since "God" is an abstract word, we don't so much formulate a "picture" image as an "idea" image, and since we have never seen God, anything we say about Him has a highly significant chance of being false, which means that all of our images are almost certainly false as well. We may fairly conclude from this that, if we are worshipping an image of God that we have formed in our heads, an image that is made of nothing but words, we are suddenly guilty of idol worship, of doing obeisance to a false image. It is another very good reason, in other words, to completely desist with all talk of God.

And did you know, by the way (if you will forgive a brief diversion), that that is the reason Matthew opted for using the phrase, "kingdom of heaven," instead of "kingdom of God?" He was a Jew, composing a book for a primarily Jewish audience, and the Jews have serious reservations about using God's name, even though "God" is not His name; it's more like His title. His name (according to the Bible) is actually "Yahweh."

Now, having said this, I'm going to do an about face and share some of my own thoughts about the God idea, which (I am told) are radically opposed to the more commonly held views.

Perhaps the single most important point I would stress is that we never truly speak of God, in spite of the many occasions of throwing the word around. Whether we go to the trouble of saying it or not, the fact remains that whenever we think we speak of God, we are not speaking of God per se. We are speaking of the idea of God. This may sound like nit picking. But the more you think about it, the more significant it becomes. The only way we could actually speak of God is if we had had sensory contact with Him/Her/It. Since we haven’t, all our talk is but hypothetical; the concept remains but a concept, an idea we more or less have some sport with. So far as we know, “God” is a word, nothing more, a mere concept.

Of all the things I could say about the word (and its logically-attendant idea), one characteristic about It stands head and shoulders above all others:

It would never reveal Itself,

but would always - always - remain hidden, so that we could never know if It exists (all knowledge being somehow inextricably attached to sensation). We would, instead, continually find ourselves in a position of wonder and faith regarding It, always forced to believe, one way or the other. As the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews said,

... he that comes to God must believe that He is.

The true God would never violate the sacred boundary that lies fixed between faith and knowledge. It would always and forever remain firmly ensconced in the realm of faith.

In short, an actual God has no place in the world of knowledge, which is always - in one way or another - associated with sensation.

It could even be argued that God’s Self-revelation (in word or deed) is the most un-Godlike thing He could ever do. A simple analogy will help explain it.

Imagine someone asking you if you if you were humble. Most of us would very likely consider this a rather strange question. We would also wonder just how exactly we could answer it. If we were to say that we are humble, it means that we’re really not, because a truly humble person would never say it. They would simply be humble and never, not once, talk about it. In fact, if they were sincerely humble they would very likely be downright uncomfortable with the question.

The same can be said about a "great" person, whatever we conceive them to be. A truly great person would never remark on such a thing. If they did, we would think just the opposite, knowing full well that a truly great person would never make such a statement.

The rather strange (by Western standards) practice of Zen provides us with another example. Zen, it seems, is another one of those things that you don't talk about. If you practice Zen, you simply do it. You don't go around telling people you're doing it. To announce to anyone that you are practicing Zen is a sure-fire indication that you most certainly are not. I once heard a wonderful story about a Zen master that illustrates this point. It seems there was a young student who wanted very much to study under the famous sage. He undertook a long journey to find him. But do you know what happened when he finally made it to the great teacher's hut? The renowned master told the aspiring young student to go away, and further told him that he had nothing to teach him!

To the typical Western mind, this story sounds a little befuddling, to say the least. Here we have this dedicated young student traveling (on foot) for hundreds of miles for the sole purpose of learning from a highly revered teacher, only to be told to go away! Most Westerners would likely read this tale and promptly decide that they wanted nothing to do with Zen.

But there is a subtle (and very effective) message to it. The Zen master, you see, demonstrated that he truly was a master by acting as he did. To warmly accept the young man as a student would have been the most unZenlike thing he could have done. To do so would have been a form of egoistic posturing on the part of the sage, and such posturing is something that a true master would never engage in. Why? Because a true master is always a student himself. A true Zen master would never exhibit the audacity to openly acknowledge the honor of such a title. Just as the truly humble person would be uncomfortable with the very question about his/her humility, the Zen master would be irritated by any suggestion that he was such a master.

In the same way, the true God would never step forth and reveal Itself - as God. As I said, it would be the most unGodlike thing It could ever do.

Of course, an inescapable conclusion of this clearly shows us that It would also never inspire human beings to write about It. To do so would only be another form of revealing Itself. It is for that reason that I refuse to believe that the Bible is the inspired word of God. Such a belief is little more than a shallow sentiment, shoved adamantly down our throats by the churches. I honestly cannot imagine a true God conducting Himself in this fashion. With apologies to J.B. Phillips, if you believe the opposite, that God would indeed violate the boundary between faith and knowledge by exposing Itself in such a way that it would have the effect of inspiring human beings to write about It, then I feel that your God is too small. The Supreme Being whose existence I might be persuaded to consider, is far too big to posture in such a familiar manner.

It is also far too big to be contained in the pages of any book.

The Bible is the work of men, primitive human beings, who devoutly believed in God, especially in a specific image of Him, an image created by the very words they were using to express their faith in Him, and they believed in the image so strongly that they came to believe that It (God Himself) had given them the words they wrote. I do not believe they ever set about to deceive anyone, but firmly, and sincerely, believed in what they recorded in their sacred scrolls. But beliefs, however firmly embraced, do not represent the stuff of the universe. They do little more than reflect the fearful aspect of the human soul.

Chapter 9: The Movies

Have you noticed in the opening credits of a movie how the production of the film is so often described as "based" on the book? It is a practice that may fairly be compared to the presentations that we are all familiar with as "churches."

In the same way that a motion picture derives its plot from a novel, the Baptist church extracts its beliefs from the Bible, as does the Assemblies of God, the Presbyterians, Episcopalians or any other Christian denomination you might care to name.

Also like the movie-book relationship, the belief systems of the several churches do not quite agree with the Book upon which their production is based.

We have all had the experience of seeing a movie and reading the book which supposedly spawned it, and quite often we describe it in the same terms. It is rare to hear someone offer the opinion that the movie was better than the book (or even as good). It is even more unusual to see a movie that offers an exact representation of the novel, or story, from which it was taken.

Invariably, it seems, the original story (for whatever reason) is enhanced or otherwise modified. Sometimes the author himself/herself will even make the changes if ever they become involved in such a capacity.

The analogy of movies to churches is a fair one, but, like all analogies, it has its limits.

The deviation is clearly evident in the fact that we all understand, and accept, movies as a form of entertainment, while the Bible is staunchly regarded (by nearly everyone) as the unerring word of God. Countless numbers have even been killed over it.

One of the primary aims of this book is to present an argument for God's complete non-involvement with the Bible, to rationally demonstrate (and hopefully offer a convincing claim) that He very likely had nothing whatsoever to do with it. In the event that I do not succeed at this task (a very likely possibility, I fully understand), I have established as it's secondary goal the clarification of its primary message, a message that has virtually nothing in common with the sundry pronouncements the various denominations are delivering from their pulpits or teaching in their Sunday School classes.

In short, Christians everywhere are greatly deceived by theological shenanigans that are only very loosely based on the Bible.

It is one thing to be disappointed by a motion-picture company's unfaithful treatment of a novel, but quite another to be so foolishly misled by a church.

What is a church? It is little more than an organized collective of apprehensive (indeed, almost squirming) souls, whose tepid personas are best described in terms of their unabashedly pathetic ability to follow. They are usually led by a self-serving individual (quaintly referred to as a preacher, reverend or pastor) who often struts about with the glow of a used-car salesman.

There is a message to this: if you are such a follower, you deserve to be deceived.

The churches of all denominations are guilty of spreading false information about the Bible, of not following, or giving the proper respect to, its script, if you will. What they do with the first chapter of Isaiah (see chapter 11, The Kingdom) is a classic example. Instead of accepting it for what it says, and trying to understand it in the context of the historical circumstances in which it first appeared, they feel compelled to interpret it (which is the same as forcing it), to make it fit some theological scheme (or belief system) they have contrived, one that is primarily centered in the rather dire need to acquire something they call personal salvation.

But (to give them the benefit of the doubt) I do not believe they've done it (or continue to do it) because they are prompted by evil intentions. I believe that they believe, truly believe, what they are teaching. In other words, I am not suggesting in any way that the churches have set out to deliberately deceive anyone. But the result is still the same. Believers everywhere are nonetheless greatly misled, regardless of the church's good intentions (which surely must remind us of that old saying about the road to hell).

The root of all our biblical waywardness (if not downright silliness) surely stems from our inability to simply let it be.

It appears that we cannot leave it alone and accept it as is. Such a course of action would be much too boring. We feel virtually compelled to figure out what it really means, as if it really means something other than what it says.

It does not say, to cite one of the most egregious examples, that bad people die and go to hell, which is a sort of dreadfully exciting thing to think about. It assures us instead (in several instances) that everyone, good or bad, simply dies, period:

… in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.

(Genesis 2:17)

For the living know that they will die,

but the dead know nothing;

they have no further reward,

and even their name is forgotten.

(Ecclesiastes 9:5)

But such simple, and straightforward, death is far too lackluster. The Greeks had a much better idea, about Hades and the Elysian Fields. It is so much more exciting to not really die, but to somehow go on living afterwards, either in a bad, or a good, place.

So what do we do? We come up with some ideas of our own and try our best (or worst) to make them fit the Bible.

We expend considerable effort to force the Bible to conform to our ideas, much like Cinderella's stepsisters tried to squeeze their ungainly feet into her dainty glass slippers. It's been going on for some time now, long enough for the inertia to settle comfortably in and keep it going.

But when we take a really close look at it, and do so without the preconceived notions that are so popularly bandied about, it is difficult to resist being amazed when we discover how many of those notions are nowhere to be found in its hallowed pages.

I have already mentioned one of the many completely unfounded ideas, the one about dying and going to hell. But there are others, to be sure, many others. Just as it nowhere definitively states that bad people die and go to hell, neither does it make the promise (as it is so widely - and desperately - believed) that good people die and go to heaven. This may be readily confirmed with any good concordance. It also says nothing about accepting "Christ" as our personal savior, or about three mysterious individuals acting equally as God in the form of a trinity, a word that nowhere appears in the Bible, in the Old or the New Testament.

So what is the Bible about?

To narrow it down, and do so without thinking too much about it, not being too cerebral, it is difficult to miss all the attention it gives to one nation's struggle to rise from its tragically disappointing failures (not to mention its sins), and God's perceived involvement in the drama, the nation’s history.

Whatever particulars we encounter as we read the story, we invariably sense in the background an ever-present theo-political dynamic at work, inexorably shaping the major events of that history.

The creation (and management) of the nation of Israel seems to be the Bible's central issue. The entire Old Testament literally revolves around it. In the New Testament, Jesus referred to the nation-state established in the land of Palestine by God, through the intermediary we know as Moses, as the kingdom of God (or heaven if you’re reading Matthew’s gospel) and was utterly fanatical about its regeneration.

The telling of the story is heavily laced with laws, spiritual, personal and economic. As strange as it may sound to put it this way, the Bible is very immersed in political science. It suggests to us (at times rather forcefully) that it most certainly knows how to properly run a country (a primary part of which consists in fairly distributing its resources). It further assures us (in the most solemn terms) that if we do as it instructs, we will have a healthy nation, which means it will be economically prosperous and everyone will be happy.

If we do not conform to its directives, we will be miserable, with crime running rampant and the resources very unfairly distributed (which is one of the primary reasons that crime appears in the first place) and basically on the way to total destruction and misery, a condition from we will need to be saved, which is the very essence of what "salvation" truly means.