Stone Tablets Are Not Software Updates
There is something faintly surreal about the way we handle ancient religious texts in the twenty-first century. On the one hand, we have quantum computing, gene editing, interplanetary probes, and smartphones that can translate six languages before breakfast. On the other, we still have heated arguments about what a collection of Bronze Age shepherds thought about shellfish, fabrics, astronomy, or who is allowed to talk to whom on a Tuesday afternoon. At some point, you have to pause and say, gently but firmly, “Perhaps we are misfiling these documents.” Ancient religious texts are extraordinary artifacts. They are windows into the minds of civilizations that did not have microscopes, germ theory, or Google. They are poetic, symbolic, mythic attempts to understand a world that was vast, terrifying, and mysterious. Thunder meant something. Drought meant something. Disease meant something. The cosmos was personal, not mechanical. That is all fascinating, but can never be a lifes...