There is an expression that often comes up when talking about the Bible: the best-selling and least-read book in history. It is a formula that works, strikes a chord, and sticks in the mind. But as with many effective phrases, it risks becoming an empty slogan if we do not stop to reflect on what it really implies. It does not just mean that many people own a Bible without ever having opened it. Above all, it means that even when it is read, the Bible is rarely approached as an ancient text, with its own language, its own mentality, and its own specific objectives.
Reading is not the same as understanding. And understanding an ancient text does not mean reading it with a modern sensibility, but accepting to enter a world that is not our own. This is the point from which I started again this year, returning several times to the same texts, not to reiterate ideological theses, but to do what should be obvious and yet often is not: to let the words say what they say.
Words as the foundation of the text
When I speak of “words,” I mean concrete terms, not spiritualized concepts. Biblical Hebrew is an essential, direct, functional language. It was not created for theology, but to describe actions, events, power relations, orders, fears, and alliances. Each word is chosen to say something specific, and to ignore this fact is to distance oneself from the text from the outset.
A central example, now well known but still often overlooked, is ’elohim. This term is almost systematically translated as “God” in the singular, as if the Hebrew text were speaking of a single, absolute, and transcendent entity in the sense in which we understand it today. But ’elohim is a plural. This is a grammatical fact, not a provocation. The Hebrew singular is ’eloah. The masculine plural is ’elohim. The fact that this term is sometimes used with singular verbs is a matter of syntax and function, not a cancellation of its form.
The text, therefore, speaks of ’elohim, not of “God” in the modern theological sense. Everything else is subsequent interpretation.
Ruach: wind, not spirit
Another term that occurs frequently and is loaded with meanings foreign to the text is ruach. Translating it as “spirit” immediately introduces an immaterial, almost philosophical dimension that Hebrew does not presuppose. Ruach means wind, moving air, acting force. It is something that can be perceived, that produces effects, that moves.
When the text says that the ruach of YHWH moves, rests, acts, it is not talking about a spiritual presence in the theological sense. It is describing a concrete, perceptible action, inserted into an operative narrative. The text does not explain what that ruach is; it describes it by what it does.
Kavod: weight, not glory
The same interpretative mechanism is found in the term kavod, almost always translated as “glory.” In our religious language, glory is something abstract, solemn, immaterial. In Hebrew, kavod derives from a root that indicates weight, consistency, mass. Something that occupies space and imposes itself.
When the text speaks of the kavod of YHWH, it describes a presence that manifests itself, that makes a great noise when it rises from the ground, that fills a place, that can frighten, that forces people to move away. It is not a moral or symbolic concept, but a phenomenological description. This is what happens when we stop translating by tradition and return to the literal meaning.
Qadosh: separated, not morally pure
Another fundamental term is qadosh, usually translated as “Holy,” which today means pure, perfect, morally elevated. In Hebrew, qadosh means separated, distinct, reserved for a specific use.
An object is qadosh because it cannot be used freely. A place is qadosh because it is not accessible to everyone. A person is qadosh because they are removed from ordinary life. There is no moral judgment in the term. There is a function, not an ethical quality.
Adam: the human being, not the first man
The term ‘adam also deserves attention. It is often read as a proper name, “Adam,” the first man created by God. But ‘adam, in Hebrew, indicates the human being, humanity, man as a species. It derives from adamah, the earth, the soil. The text speaks of an adam taken from the adamah, that is, a human being connected to the earth, not an individual with a first and last name.
Transforming ‘adam into a unique historical character is a subsequent interpretative choice, not a textual necessity.
An operational text, not a spiritual one
Putting these examples together, one constant emerges: the Bible was not created as a spiritual text in the modern sense of the term. It is an operational text. It speaks of orders, alliances, punishments, strategies, and boundaries. It recounts the relationship between human groups and figures of power called ‘elohim. Everything we now call “theology” is a subsequent reinterpretation, layered over the centuries.
This does not make the text any less interesting. On the contrary, it finally makes it readable. It returns it to history, to philology, to comparative study with other texts from the ancient Near East.
The problem is not faith, but interpretation
One of the most frequent misunderstandings is to think that this type of approach is an attack on faith. It is not. Faith belongs to the personal sphere. The text belongs to history. Confusing the two means doing both an injustice.
The problem is not believing or not believing. The problem is reading. And reading means accepting that the text does not always confirm what tradition has built around it.
What remains after a year spent on words
After a year spent on words, there are no new absolute certainties or new truths to replace the previous ones. What remains is an awareness: the Bible is still largely unread because it is still largely filtered.
Returning to the words means giving the reader back the responsibility of understanding. It means stopping delegating the meaning of the text to others. It means accepting that such an ancient book is not reassuring, but complex, sometimes uncomfortable.
Perhaps this is precisely why, despite being the best-selling book, it continues to be one of the least read. Because reading seriously means questioning what you thought you knew.
And words, when taken seriously, do not console: they question.
