An Atheist Reads the Bible: More Human Than Holy

This is the second installment in my series reading the Bible cover to cover as an atheist and ex-Mormon. If you missed the first, you can find it here.

I want to start by acknowledging that this is a longer read. I have split things up with chapter headings to help keep track of where I am.

If you read nothing else, skip to Genesis 22–24 for one of the most abhorrent stories in the Bible.

Genesis 7–9: The Great Flood

I skipped mentioning the flood account that begins in Chapter 6 last time because I wanted to highlight it at the beginning of this installment.

When talking about Noah, we read that "Noah walked with God." This sounds like a very physical thing — a real encounter between God and man. I imagine a divine being walking and talking with a member of his creation. It's a tough pill to swallow that this God had no problem walking among men even at the height of their wickedness. Aren't mortals supposed to wither away in God's presence? Seems he has no problem walking among them and even talking to them when it suits his purpose.

The early verses also describe Noah as a "righteous man, blameless in his generation." This contrasts remarkably with Paul's teaching that all men are sinners and fall short of the glory of God. Noah, however, was righteous and blameless. The text doesn't elaborate on his goodness — it only uses this as a springboard into why Noah was spared the flood.

One is supposed to believe that all the creatures of the earth were gathered together on one boat, that the rains continued for 40 days, and that Noah was able to store not only all the animals but enough food for them and his family. This boat only had three decks. It strains credulity to think that animals from the Barrens of Canada to the penguins of the South Pole were able to gather at the location of this boat, survive the flood, and then trek back home — all without leaving any evidence. No bones or fossils have been found indicating kangaroos in the Middle East. No evidence of horses in the Americas prior to more modern times.

There might be some who claim the story of the flood is symbolic or metaphorical. This was not how I was raised. I was raised to believe the flood literally happened — that all the animals of the earth survived on this boat, and that all of mankind was destroyed because God made a creation he came to regret.

I understand the LDS theology of the flood as a symbolic act representing the baptism of the earth. But if this baptism was literal, why is there no geological evidence of it?

Because the floods prevailed upon the earth for 150 days, it only seems reasonable to believe that all the plant life were also killed in addition to the humans and animals not on the ark. How did the remaining plants propagate? How did an olive tree persist through the flood so that its leaf could be brought back to Noah by a dove?

If there's anything that makes me think God is certainly male in nature, it's the fact that he liked the smell of cooking meat. What man doesn't love a good BBQ, or any BBQ for that matter?

But to be less flippant — it's odd that it was this act of animal sacrifice that preceded the promise that God made to "never again curse the ground because of man." But then it goes on to say, "For the intention of man's heart is evil from his youth." If this is the case, is it not because God made us that way? Could he have not made us otherwise? He wouldn't need to eliminate choice to taper mankind's capacity for violence. Just as we can't fly and it doesn't limit our choices, what if it was simply never in our nature to take each other's lives? I don't think it would be a great feat for God to have made us that way instead. Instead we get God's malevolence being called justice.

I wonder if retribution is the best response to horrendous action. Wouldn't it be more compassionate — more empathetic — to rehabilitate? Why flood the world instead of trying to help humanity see the error of their ways or, at the very least, offer a less cruel means of wiping the slate clean. God could have just poofed the wicked out of existence. Or if he went the more compassionate route, he could have used his infinite knowledge to convince men of the error of their ways.

Genesis 10–12: Genealogies and a Tower to the Heavens

We're already building the portrait of a deity with questionable morals.

The descendants of Noah's sons were gathered together and began to work with brick and mortar. They said, "Let us build a city and a tower with its top in the heavens." What strikes me is that in earlier verses, the text spoke of birds flying in the heavens — all this really means is that the people wanted to build a tower that reached into the sky.

Some of the most monumental structures on earth today are the Great Pyramids. Over four thousand years ago, people built them — the highest reaching 481 feet. They are dwarfed by today's buildings. As of this writing, the tallest tower in the world stands at 2,717 feet. God has no problem with such buildings today. But closer to the beginning, he was upset because people aspired to build a tall building — and for this, he cursed their language. This seems problematic for a god who is not supposed to be an author of confusion (1 Corinthians 14:33).

Before performing the curse, the scripture mentions God coming to walk through the city. Again, this seems an intriguing behavior for an omniscient being. Why would he need to come and walk among the people in order to know what they were up to?

One of the first mentions by name of a woman since Eve marks Sarai as barren — a subtle indication that a woman's value was in her ability to bear offspring.

The story of Abram's deception in Egypt is peculiar. His wife, Sarai, is beautiful, and he worries that if the Egyptians behold her beauty and know she is his wife, they will kill him to take her. So Abram conspires to have her say she is his sister. Pharaoh takes Sarai into his house. Abram was given livestock and other wealth in exchange. But still, the Lord plagues the house of Pharaoh. Upon Pharaoh's discovery of Sarai's true relationship with Abram, Abram and Sarai are sent away but in full possession of the wealth that was given by Pharaoh.

It's remarkable that Pharaoh didn't demand his gifts back. Also, this appears to be one of the first appearances of slaves in the Bible — the servants given to Abram. A quick search confirms this. This would have been a good time for God to tell Abram: "Don't own people as property."

Genesis 13–15: Abram to Be the Father of Multitudes

After the Egypt incident, Abram and Lot return to Canaan. They decide that to remain together would be unsustainable for the land, so Abram tells Lot to take another part of the valley. This reads like nothing but resource management and political maneuvering.

Toward the end of Chapter 13, the Lord says to Abram, "Lift up your eyes and look from the place where you are, northward and southward and eastward and westward, for all the land that you see I will give to you and to your offspring forever." This feels a lot like the scene in The Lion King where Mufasa tells young Simba, "Everything the light touches will one day be your kingdom."

What's interesting is that this promise was not fulfilled. The people of Canaan and Palestine have been fighting over that land for centuries, if not millennia. The Israelites have been taken out of the land several times. I know that Zionists use the Bible as a claim on the land of Israel, but the truth is that Israel is just one subgroup of many that have dwelt in that region and they have no greater claim on it than anyone else.

Despite Abram's great bounty of possessions, when the Lord appears to him in a vision, Abram asks, "What will you give me, for I continue childless." This shows the raw desire of Abram to have offspring. For this, God promises that his seed will be as numerous as the stars in the heavens — a rather ambitious promise given the vast multitude of stars in the universe.

A little foreshadowing: the later verses mention that Abram's offspring will be afflicted for four hundred years. But God promises to bring judgment on the nation they serve, and they will come out of Egypt with great possessions. It seems the bounty of Egypt was indeed great — it enriched Abram, it enriched Lot, and then enriched the children of Israel when they were supposedly brought out of it in Exodus.

Genesis 16–18: Polygamy, Circumcision, and Haggling

Again, the Christian definition of marriage is challenged in the story of Sarai and Hagar. Sarai was unable to have children, so she told her husband to go lay with Hagar so that they might have offspring.

As a counterpoint, the LDS view of polygamy is worth noting — the faith, at least early in its existence, practiced polygamy. LDS scripture, specifically Doctrine and Covenants 132, specifically mentions Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The story of Hagar looking at Sarai with contempt after she had a child isn't entirely clear to me. Maybe Hagar resented being a concubine for Abram. If this is the case, I certainly understand. I doubt she was asked if she wanted to be married to Abram. She may have longed for a husband of her own. She was also a servant and slave to Sarai, so there's that dynamic as well.

We see the false morality of slavery on display when Sarai "dealt harshly" with Hagar — which seems to indicate physical mistreatment. Fortunately, Hagar was able to flee the situation before being killed. No angels were around to intervene...yet.

Often, the apologist will say that this ancient form of slavery was not the same as the slavery practiced in the Americas. Here we see a challenge to that belief. In both circumstances, you're allowed to beat your slaves for disobedience or simply because they are your property. This is another lost opportunity for God to say: "Don't beat your slaves. While I'm at it — don't own slaves."

Instead, an angel appears to Hagar and tells her to return to her mistress. What kind of sick imposition on free will is this? Hagar was able to flee the beating of Sarai, and an angel of the Lord tells her to go back? Even if she was promised a host of progeny, it's sick and twisted to be told to return to your abuser.

To compound God's twisted nature, Genesis 17 introduces the concept of circumcision. This indication of some covenant through genital mutilation is disgusting. Christians today abhor the practice of gender modification, undoubtedly through the idea that we're created in the image of God and should not undo what God has done. But here, God himself commands a practice that, if introduced today, would hopefully be utterly rejected.

To make matters worse, this is to happen to infants at the scant age of eight days old. It is to be forced on slaves. To refuse this procedure is to risk societal ostracism. Agency is not respected — it is denied. Obedience is coerced rather than freely chosen.

God renames Sarai and Abram to Abraham and Sarah, then promises that a son will be born to Sarah. If this was God's plan all along, why would he have allowed the whole incident with Hagar to take place — unless this is nothing more than a story used to explain the origin of different people groups?

The Lord appears with two unnamed others. Then Abraham offers them water and food — a peculiar thing to do for an immortal being. Why would the gods require sustenance? And who are the others with the Lord?

The end of Chapter 18 has Abraham trying to intercede on behalf of Sodom. He asks to find 50 righteous, then 45, then 40, then 30, then 20, and finally 10. Why continue to hedge this request? God would already know what number of righteous, if any, there were in the city. Why does God haggle like a man? Does the unchangeable deity change his mind?

Genesis 19–21: Blinding Angels and God's Selective Hearing

Two angels come to Sodom and Lot takes them in. He is then besieged by a host of men outside his door demanding to "know" the two angels. Rather than the angels doing anything, they let Lot make the offer of his two daughters who "have not known any man." I could understand a man being scared of a crowd outside his house — but if there are two angels in your home, what can a host of men do against you? It's only after this offer, and the crowd getting angry, that the angels take any action and blind them.

If they have the power to make others blind, do they not have the power to erase carnal desires — or do a Men in Black-style memory wipe? Making someone blind does not follow what comes later in the law of Moses where it says to demand an eye for an eye. True justice is proportional to the crime committed.

Raining sulfur and fire sounds like a volcanic eruption. Mankind has long ascribed natural disasters to the wrath of gods. We know now that there are natural forces behind earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and hurricanes. There's no need to believe they have anything to do with divine influence, as they strike at random and we understand the mechanisms behind them. What's to say this isn't what happened here rather than some kind of divine judgement?

We get a bit of incest when Lot's daughters get him drunk and sleep with him. And these are stories that are told to children. I can't help thinking that the women in Genesis don't often come off looking good — but I don't look at them too harshly. Even at this time, as in LDS theology, a woman's value is largely tied to her ability to bear children. And if their father was the only male around, how else would they ensure their survival?

Chapter 20 opens with Abraham lying about Sarah again. God gets angry because Sarah is another man's wife. You'd think one of those angels could have showed up and said, "Abraham, stop lying about your wife. We'll take care of both of you and no harm will come to you."

Wait — Sarah is Abraham's stepsister? They didn't have the same mother, but they did have the same father. That's a detail I don't remember picking up in Sunday school. Perhaps incest was common among Bronze Age men, even men of great means.

Hagar bore a son that Sarah couldn't at the time. Once Sarah has her own son, she no longer has use of Hagar and tells Abraham to cast her out. He does so with God's encouragement. What does this say about God's character — that he would have Sarah give Hagar to Abraham to bear a son, only to tell him later to ostracize her?

And what does Abraham do? He sends Hagar off with bread and a skin of water. Of all his resources, all he could spare for the woman he is all but widowing is bread and a skin of water. That's all Abraham, father of multitudes, the man who exited Egypt with great wealth, could spare.

The amount of water is so meager that the story talks about her running out. Hopeless, she leaves her son Ishmael under a bush and walks away, not wanting to witness his death. She wept. And yet God heard the voice of the boy and sent an angel.

Why are God's ears so selective that he only heard the voice of the boy and not the anguished mother?

Genesis 22–24: The Sacrifice That Wasn't

Abraham had had several encounters with God and his angels. And yet God still found it necessary to test him. God is omniscient, isn't he? If this is the case, he doesn't need to test Abraham. He already knows what Abraham will do.

But maybe the test isn't for God — maybe it's for Abraham. What is this supposed to prove? That Abraham is willing to lay aside his son's life, the one he'd waited a hundred years for? This is grossly unjust. What kind of sick parent gives a child something he's wanted for a century only to ask him to throw it away? Think of this scenario in any other light and you'd call that parent a monster.

What's missing from the story is any mental anguish on Abraham's part. Where is the humanity? Abraham is portrayed as a robot that takes the orders of his creator and carries them out seemingly without question.

What's more, Abraham doesn't even have the decency to carry the wood himself. He makes Isaac carry the tools of his own destruction.

Isaac notices the lack of any animal to offer. He's aware of how sacrifice works. He knows something must die. When his father says, "God will provide…" — does Isaac feel any foreboding at what his father might mean? Or is he so trusting that it doesn't enter his mind to question?

Imagine you're Isaac. You know how sacrifice works. Your father binds you. He places you on the wood. You see him raise the knife. How traumatic would that be? I can't imagine a child ever trusting that parent again — even if an angel appeared. But then again, Stockholm syndrome is real. Victims sometimes have twisted affections for their abusers. What child can afford not to continue relying on caregivers, even when those caregivers are reprehensible?

The Christian sees the typology of Christ being sacrificed for the sins of the world in this story. They portray it as the ultimate act of love: "No greater love hath a man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." But they don't stop to ask: Why is sacrifice necessary? They don't question the justice of intermediary punishment. In what world does a person commit a crime and the judge says, "Let's punish someone innocent"? That does not happen in a reasonable world.

After the angel appears and stops Abraham, God says: "By myself I have sworn, declares the Lord, because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you, and I will surely multiply your offspring as the stars of heaven and as the sand that is on the seashore."

This promise was already made to Abraham back in Genesis 13. Nowhere in the earlier terms and conditions of the covenant did God say Abraham had to be tested. It shows that God makes promises and then changes his mind — something an omniscient God could not logically do.

The whole story stinks because it idealizes obedience over morality and conscience. The fact that God tests you by asking you to violate a morality that is supposed to be absolute is how religion can poison a mind and make otherwise good people commit and condone atrocities.

We're almost to the end of this post, but there are a few more notes to take about what remains after the near-sacrifice of Isaac.

The death of Sarah is recorded, and Abraham speaks to the Hittites. He identifies himself as a sojourner and a foreigner — and then asks for property. He doesn't bargain for it. He asks for it to be given without paying. A man of great means, asking for a gift. Again Abraham shows his greed. The Hittites give him a choice tomb, which he doesn't refuse.

I have to recognize the generosity of the Hittites. They didn't have to give a field and a cave for Abraham to bury his wife. They showed more compassion than Abraham, or Sarah, or God himself did in any of the stories about them.

What is this business of putting a hand under the thigh as a means of swearing an oath? A quick search confirms this is likely an act where the servant placed his hand near Abraham's groin as a covenant representing reproductive purity — since circumcision was part of the covenant between God and Abraham, it approaches that supposedly sacred act.

The servant waits by a well and, before he even finishes his prayer, Rebekah approaches. And what virtues does Rebekah possess that are enumerated first? "The young woman was very attractive in appearance, a maiden whom no man had known." Purity culture and objectification — the first things mentioned about Rebekah are her beauty and the fact that she hasn't slept with a man. Tell me that this isn't a book that degrades women.

What These Chapters Reveal

Reading between the lines, Genesis is trying to paint women as a liability and men as virtuous. But what actually emerges is something closer to the reverse. The women in these stories — Hagar, Sarai, Lot's daughters, Rebekah — are defined by their wombs, discarded when inconvenient, and objectified on introduction. Meanwhile, the men — Abraham who twice sells his wife's safety for personal gain, God who haggles and regrets and tests needlessly — are held up as models of faith and righteousness.

The god depicted in these stories is no longer one I find to be morally good. His actions, and the interactions with him, feel more human than something occurring between a deity and its creation. He walks in cities to check on things. He changes his mind. He selectively hears the boy but not the weeping mother. He is pleased by the smell of meat on a fire.

Maybe that's the most honest thing these chapters offer: a portrait of God made in the image of the men who wrote him — with all the same blind spots, appetites, and contradictions.

Only 600 chapters to go.