Ah, the occidental trap. The neurosis. The spiral of death. Dante’s hell. An eternal maze of nonsensical self-preoccupation. “What is my value?” Which boils down to, well, “nothing.” 

Then you “build” a philosophy department and “create” an entire field of study to “examine,” well, “nothing.” You even give it a fancy Latin name so that none of you look useless when interacting with engineers and medical doctors. You know, people who actually do “something.” 

You call it “nihilism.”  Wow, cool. “Deep.” 

That’s “my value,” you exclaim. I can label stuff that no one cares about and sound smart at parties. I can pout, become indignant, and smirk at working-class people who tell me that I do not make sense. I can pressure corporate boards to fire people who do not use my fake terminology because “I have value.” 

Well, unlike you, I do not have value. I am nothing. I have nothing. I bring nothing, and nothing you have to offer is of value to me. I bore you. 


But like Paul, I do not trust you, and more importantly, I do not trust myself. I’m just a bumpkin from the West Side—a punk who did not attend a fancy school. 

One thing I do know is that if an idiot jumps in front of a moving bus, he will get smashed. Sadly, I am absolutely certain that in your dream world, this fact is up for debate. Good luck. Because, once again, I do not trust you. 

You hear Scripture dismantle me, and you cheer. You hear Scripture dismantle your imaginary “value,” and you mourn. 


Because you not only assume that your supposed “value” is valuable, you believe that your “value” is “you.” 

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, O American, is your permanent teenage identity crisis. 

Like a teenager trapped in endless rebellion, you defend your identity by reducing Scripture to “just another book,” like one of your occidental toys. A “great work” of your boring literature. As if you, O man, have a right to assess it. You deal with it like a trinket on the shelf of your civilization—one that attacks a starving people for being willing to stand up against a genocide you alone have the power to stop.  

Well, maybe not you. You say you are “free,” but even as your rulers commit genocide, your votes mean nothing. You are not free. You are just the slave of the wrong master—only your owner happens to be wealthy. Shame on you. 

He who has ears to hear, let him hear! 

Picture this. (I know you can “picture it” because you are an idolater.)

You are your own reference. You stand for yourself and your own “prosperity.” You refer not to Scripture but to yourself as your reference. You assess your pantheon of ideas (your gods)—which for you “include” Scripture (how noble of you)—and then you refer back to yourself for your decision. Everything on the “menu” in your dream world is “equal” except you. You are above everything and everyone, including me.

You sound like Jordan Peterson, who builds his edifice on Scripture—building up what Scripture destroys—because he seeks to build himself up. 

Scripture does not hold a special place in your occidental library. It is not a great work of Western civilization. It is not your “foundation.” You are not “Bible-based.” It burns your libraries down, and it burns you.

Are you an anti-intellectual Fr. Marc?  No. Scripture is anti-intellectual because the intellect it assesses is human. Scripture is anti-human and thus anti-humanities. 

Or do you really believe that Mustafa Barghouti is a sexist? Of course, you do. He is a Palestinian medical doctor, and you are a student of the liberal arts—a faithful postmodernist. You have the power to jump in front of moving buses and live. Who needs medical doctors? Let alone Palestinians? 

You really are Homelander. 

Scripture is your permanent identity crisis—and it will remain so until you accept that no human being has any value before God. Only then will you finally grow up and (maybe) become of some actual value to your Father, who is in the heavens. 

Or, you can stay in Egypt. 

Up to you, Habibi. 

Allahu Akbar. 

Richard and I discuss Luke 5:21-24. (Episode 515)
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