In view of current events, I am convinced that people who continue to insist upon the language of post-modernism are guilty of murder. 

A bullet is not a narrative. A cylindrical projectile launched from a chamber through the rapid expansion of gas induced by combustion is a fact.

Just ask a nursing mother. She will tell you. 

A bullet is not a narrative. 

It is a sin.


It can be tallied—unless you work for the Washington Post. In that case, it can be explained,

“ad excusandas excusationes in peccatis”

“to make excuses for excuses in sins.”

Your brother is not a competing narrative. He is a man—an earth mammal—standing next to you in the land. 

He is your neighbor. 


If you are a man of Scripture, there is no such thing as a competing narrative, let alone silly descriptors like “deeply tragic.” 

The occidental expression “competing narratives” reigns supreme among all lies ever sown by the makers of bullets because it allows them to masquerade as arbiters of righteousness. 

But I say to you: 

“Put not your trust in the makers of bullets, ‘in princes and sons of men, in whom there is no salvation.’” 

Such men are evil, through and through—“ravenous wolves,” Jesus warns, “who come to you in sheep’s clothing.”

There are no 



“contexts,” or 


Just animals, vegetation, fish in the sea, and birds in the air—“and his righteousness endures forever.”

There is also the ground—the adamah—facts upon it and consonants over it—the rule of Elohim—“and his righteousness endures forever.” 

Those who submit to his righteousness are his to deem righteous, and those who do not are also his—“and his righteousness endures forever.” 

Those wicked who talk about “narratives,” “stories,” “meanings,” and “competing narratives” are the “makers” and “sellers” of snake oil—pundits, journalists, artisans, and apologists—uncle “Thomas Friedmans“ who fashion idols in their own image to set themselves above God and his “Animal Kingdom”:

“Another shapes wood; he extends a measuring line; he outlines it with red chalk. He works it with planes and outlines it with a compass, and makes it like the form of a human, like the beauty of the human form, so that it may sit in a house. Surely, he cuts cedars for himself and takes a cypress or an oak and raises it for himself among the trees of the forest. He plants a fir, and the rain makes it grow. Then it becomes something for a man to burn, so he takes one of them and warms himself; he also makes a fire to bake bread. He also makes a god and worships it; he makes it a graven image and falls down before it. Half of it he burns in the fire; over this half he eats meat as he roasts a roast and is satisfied. He also warms himself and says, ‘Aha! I am warm. I have seen the fire.’ But the rest of it he makes into a god, his graven image. He falls down before it and worships it; he also prays to it and says, ‘Deliver me, for you are my god.’” (Isaiah 44:13–17)

But I say to you:

There is no god but Elohim, and we are all animals in his Kingdom, “and his righteousness endures forever.” 

This week’s episode covers Luke 5:32. (Episode 519)

After ten years of programming, The Bible as Literature Podcast will take a sabbatical, starting mid-February and extending until after Pascha in May, following the Eastern calendar. 

This sabbatical will provide an opportunity for me to concentrate on Fr. Paul’s work and some exciting developments planned for his weekly podcast. Rest assured, while The Bible as Literature is on temporary hiatus, I will continue to produce Fr. Paul’s program, “Tarazi Tuesdays,” on a weekly basis. 

I still have one more episode of this program recorded and ready for release next week. So, stay tuned!
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