Mythologizing the Bible

Freedom means little without responsibility. Explore how ancient biblical stories challenge us to replace good intentions with actions that strengthen our communities.

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to mistake good intentions for real responsibility? We tell ourselves we care about our families, our communities, or the problems facing the world—but caring and acting aren’t the same thing. At some point, every one of us has to decide whether our values will remain ideas in our heads or become actions that genuinely improve the lives of others.

I’m Brandon Jubar and this is Mythologizing the Bible, where we’ll be taking a look at three readings from the Christian Bible through the lens of “sacred myth.”

As we reflect on the readings for the 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’ll explore the balance between personal freedom and personal responsibility, and how our choices shape not only our own character but the well-being of the communities we share.

In this episode, we’re asking a challenging question: Where in my life am I settling for “thoughts and prayers” (good intentions) instead of cultivating the hard, real-world action that my community actually needs?

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When people hear the word “cult,” they often picture a secluded compound or a charismatic guru in flowing robes. But researchers who study destructive cults generally describe them as one form of what are called high-control groups—organizations or movements that systematically shape how members behave, what information they trust, how they think, and even what emotions they are encouraged to feel.

In this week’s main episode of Mythologizing the Bible, we talked about the image of the yoke in Matthew 11. The invitation wasn’t to abandon responsibility. It was to choose a burden that fits your deepest values instead of one imposed by someone else. That idea raises an uncomfortable question: what happens when someone convinces us to voluntarily pick up a yoke that slowly steals our freedom?

Here’s the thing about modern authoritarian movements: they rarely begin with chains. They begin with belonging. They offer certainty in an uncertain world, identity in a confusing world, and purpose in a fragmented world. They don’t usually conquer people by force. They persuade people to surrender their autonomy willingly because doing so feels safe, meaningful, and empowering.

This is where I think it’s helpful to stop talking about politics for a moment and start talking about psychology.

So, let’s dive into that… in this episode of Afterthoughts!

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Real autonomy is not selfish independence or doing whatever we want. It is the ongoing practice of becoming the author of our own lives while using that freedom to build a healthier, more compassionate community!

Have you ever stopped to wonder how many of your beliefs, opinions, and responsibilities are truly your own? We like to think we’re independent thinkers, but we’re constantly being shaped by social expectations, political tribes, religious traditions, advertising, and algorithms that quietly tell us what to value and how to live. Real freedom isn’t just escaping someone else’s control, it’s learning to recognize when you’re no longer thinking for yourself.

I’m Brandon Jubar and this is Mythologizing the Bible, where we’ll be taking a look at three readings from the Christian Bible through the lens of “sacred myth.”

As we reflect on the readings for the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’ll explore autonomy as the practice of self-authorship: rejecting coercive power, mastering our own impulses, and intentionally choosing the commitments that give our lives meaning.

In this episode, we’re asking an honest question: What beliefs do you defend, or what burdens do you carry, simply because someone else expects you to? Because freedom isn’t measured by how loudly we claim our independence. It’s measured by whether our lives are actually guided by our own carefully chosen values.

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We don’t need to throw the cross away as meaningless religious clutter. We can reclaim its historical meaning. Not as a magical object. Not as proof that suffering is holy. Not as a demand that people quietly endure abuse, poverty, discrimination, or oppression while waiting for a reward in another life. We have had enough of that. We can reclaim the cross as a monument to human courage!

Picture a cross for a moment. What do you see?

If you’re an atheist, maybe you see a superstition, or a symbol of an institution that has caused lots of harm over the last 2,000 years. If you’re a humanist, you may see religious iconography: jewelry, church steeples, stained glass, and a lot of theological baggage. If you’re a Christian, you may see salvation, forgiveness, sacrifice, or a source of comfort in difficult times.

Those reactions make sense. They are also almost certainly nothing like what a cross meant in first-century Roman Palestine!

For people living under Roman occupation, a cross was not a decorative symbol. It was not a private spiritual reminder. It was a public instrument of terror. Think less of a necklace and more of a lynching noose. Think of an electric chair, a guillotine, or a brutal execution displayed where everyone passing by is meant to see it. The point was not only to kill a person. The point was to warn everyone else.

That changes the way we hear the line in Matthew 10 about taking up a cross.

Today, people often use “my cross to bear” to describe a difficult boss, a chronic illness, an annoying relative, or the fact that the Wi-Fi goes out during the season finale. Life is hard; we all have burdens. But that is not the meaning that this image originally carried. The language points toward danger, punishment, and the possibility that standing against entrenched power can cost a person everything.

So, let’s dive into that… in this episode of Afterthoughts!

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Advocacy isn’t just a sign at a rally or a Facebook post that earns a few likes. Advocacy begins when we notice who needs safety, welcome, or support and we decide to make room. It grows when we stop excusing the small habits that keep us silent or complicit. And it becomes real when we accept that protecting another person’s dignity may cost us comfort, approval, or convenience!

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to care about a problem without actually doing anything about it? We can offer sympathy, share a post, say the right words, and still leave the person in front of us carrying the same burden… alone. The hard part is not always recognizing that something is wrong. The hard part is deciding that someone else’s dignity is worth our time, comfort, resources, or social ease.

Welcome to Mythologizing the Bible, where we’ll be taking a look at three readings from the Christian Bible through the lens of “sacred myth.”

As we reflect on the readings for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’ll explore advocacy as a way of living: making practical room for vulnerable people, challenging the habits that keep us passive, and accepting the discomfort that comes with standing up for what’s right.

In this episode, we’re asking a practical question: Where in your everyday life is someone carrying discomfort or exclusion, and what small amount of friction are you willing to accept to help change it? Because actions speak louder than words, and good intentions don’t protect human dignity until they become action.

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If your goal is a true meritocracy, you should actually be defending DEI. The idea that diversity and merit are enemies relies on a massive blind spot: the assumption that our institutions were already perfectly fair before DEI arrived. Hint: They weren’t.

One of the most controversial acronyms in America right now is DEI.

If you’ve spent any time watching cable news, scrolling social media, or listening to political speeches over the last few years, you’ve probably noticed that those three letters can trigger an almost immediate reaction. For some people, DEI represents fairness, opportunity, and social progress. For others, it represents discrimination, lowered standards, and institutional favoritism. It’s become one of those topics where everyone seems to have strong opinions, but relatively few people stop to make sure they’re arguing about the same thing!

To be fair, the most common criticism isn’t difficult to understand. Many people have been told that DEI is essentially a zero-sum game. In this view, every opportunity given to a woman, a racial minority, a disabled person, or an LGBTQ employee must have been taken away from a more qualified straight white dude. The story goes something like this: DEI isn’t about fairness at all. It’s about replacing merit with identity and rewarding people for belonging to the “right” demographic category.

Now, whether you’ve heard that argument from a politician, a podcaster, a coworker, or an uncle who spends a little too much time watching Fox News, it’s important to recognize that this understanding is what I would call a meme-level explanation. It’s simple. It’s emotionally satisfying (to some people). And it’s completely disconnected from what the philosophy of DEI was originally trying to accomplish.

So, let’s dive into that… in this episode of Afterthoughts!

CODA Project is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

What if your greatest contribution to the world is simply becoming more fully yourself? This week, we explore the courage to resist conformity, embrace your unique identity, and live authentically in a culture that often rewards fitting in over standing out.

Have you ever noticed how much energy we spend trying to be the version of ourselves that other people want us to be? Families, schools, workplaces, religions, political movements, and entire cultures often reward conformity while making authenticity feel risky. The pressure isn’t always obvious, but it’s there… quietly encouraging us to fit in, stay comfortable, and avoid becoming too different from the crowd.

Welcome to Mythologizing the Bible, where we’ll be taking a look at three readings from the Christian Bible through the lens of “sacred myth.”

As we reflect on the readings for the 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’ll explore the courage required to resist conformity, the surprising power a single unique individual can have on the course of history, and the challenge of living openly as your authentic self in a world that often rewards imitation over originality.

In this episode, we’re asking an honest question: What part of your authentic self is currently being held back by a fear of what others might think? Because if we’re not careful, we can spend so much time “performing for other people’s expectations” that we lose sight of who we really are, and we miss the unique contribution only we can make to the human story.

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If you’ve attended a leadership seminar, read a management book, listened to a business podcast, or spent more than fifteen minutes on LinkedIn over the last decade, you’ve probably heard the same message repeated over and over again: empathy is the ultimate leadership superpower. Great leaders are empathetic. Great managers are empathetic. Great organizations are empathetic. Unfortunately, like so many other corporate buzzwords, empathy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be!

Now, before anyone starts drafting an angry email, let me be clear: I am not arguing for cruelty, indifference, or treating people like malfunctioning office equipment. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I do think we’ve stumbled into a semantic trap. When most people praise empathy, what they actually mean is kindness, understanding, compassion, patience, or simply paying attention to another human being. Those are all valuable qualities. The problem is that empathy, in its most literal sense, means something much more specific. It means feeling with another person. It means emotionally resonating with their experience, absorbing some portion of their fear, grief, anxiety, or distress into yourself.

And that’s where I started getting uncomfortable with the way empathy was being promoted in management circles. Back when I was supervising teams, I used to argue against empathy in the workplace. Not because I was heartless, but because I noticed a pattern. Whenever I began feeling with an employee—when I emotionally absorbed their panic about a deadline, their anxiety about a project, or their frustration with a workplace conflict—my decision-making often got worse. Instead of stepping back and evaluating the situation more clearly, I found myself reacting to the strongest emotional signal in the room. I wasn’t solving problems anymore. I was performing emotional triage.

So, let’s dive into that… in this episode of Afterthoughts!

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Acceptance is more than polite tolerance. This week, we explore what it means to recognize the value of every person, embrace people without demanding conformity, and turn compassion into action. In a world increasingly divided by fear and tribalism, acceptance may be one of the most important skills for human flourishing.

Have you ever noticed how often people claim to value diversity right up until someone’s differences become visible, inconvenient, or uncomfortable? We celebrate acceptance in theory, but in practice, we often expect people to fit in, quiet down, or keep certain parts of themselves hidden before they’re granted full belonging. The result is a world where many people are tolerated, but far fewer are truly accepted.

Welcome to Mythologizing the Bible, where we’ll be taking a look at three readings from the Christian Bible through the lens of “sacred myth.”

As we reflect on the readings for the 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’ll explore the journey from recognizing the value of every person, to accepting people without demanding conformity, to turning that acceptance into meaningful action on behalf of our broader human family.

In this episode, we’re asking a challenging question: Do we actually accept people who are different from us, or do we just tolerate them as long as they stay quiet, invisible, and out of our way? Because there is a world of difference between privately allowing someone to exist and publicly embracing their full humanity.

CODA Project is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Our core value this week is Equality, and in the main presentation we spent quite a bit of time talking about Paul’s beautiful image in 1 Corinthians 10. “Because there is one loaf, we who are many are one body.” It’s a powerful metaphor. Everybody shares from the same source. Everybody belongs. Everybody matters. The image cuts across wealth, status, ethnicity, nationality, and social class. It presents a vision of humanity that is remarkably inclusive for a text written nearly two thousand years ago. But if you’ve ever sat down and read more of 1 Corinthians, you may have noticed something strange. In fact, “strange” might be putting it politely!

Just a few chapters after Paul presented his inclusive “one body” image, we encounter one of the most frequently quoted passages used to exclude women from leadership in the church. Suddenly, the same letter that seemed to be dismantling social barriers appears to be reinforcing them. The same author who sounds radically egalitarian in one chapter sounds surprisingly authoritarian in another. One moment we’re all one body. The next moment women are told to sit down, shut up, and let the men handle things.

That should make us uncomfortable.

Not because we’re modern people imposing modern values onto an ancient text, but because the contradiction exists inside the text itself. The tension is already there. If Paul is truly building a community based on shared dignity and participation, why does he suddenly sound like he’s auditioning for a first-century patriarchy appreciation society?

Most Christians are taught that the answer must be theological. Maybe Paul changed topics. Maybe there’s hidden context. Maybe we’re misunderstanding the Greek. Maybe there’s an invisible footnote that only appears if you’ve attended three years of seminary and consumed an unhealthy amount of coffee.

But what if we’re asking the wrong question?

What if the real question isn’t what Paul meant?

What if the real question is whether Paul wrote every word attributed to him in the first place?

So, let’s dive into that… in this episode of Afterthoughts!

CODA Project is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.