I recently came across a brutal review from a devoted Christian on goodreads of a novel called Insane Entities, he called it blasphemous and asked for it to be removed. The novel takes religious concepts and twists them into something… unsettling. It got me thinking—why do people react so strongly when a book dares to reinterpret sacred ideas?
One scene in the book hit me particularly hard: a character with three eyes, one weeping while the other two smile as he knots a corpse like a bag. It’s gruesome, sure, but the hidden symbolism makes it even darker—it reflects the Christian Trinity, with Jesus suffering while the Father and Holy Spirit remain distant. It’s a powerful and eerie take on an old concept.
It seems like books that tackle religious themes in unconventional ways always get the harshest criticism. Do you think that’s because people fear reinterpretation, or is it just resistance to any challenge of belief?
Faith is fragile. Any belief in something unprovable, based on no more than a feeling is on shaky ground in the first place. Some people base their entire personality on this thin ice. Anything that rattles their perception of self is dangerous for them in the most personal way. It shows them their weakness. Eroding someone’s cornerstone could cause psychological meltdown of their carefully crafted delusions leaving only the questions they have learned to fear the most.
I used to feel insulted by stuff like this when I was Christian, so I get it. For many, religion provides a sense of purpose and meaning, and questioning that can feel like a direct attack. The thing is, for some, logic itself becomes a threat. It shakes the foundation of what they hold most dear, and that’s uncomfortable. This review, for example, comes from a book that explores the idea that a hypothetical god-like entity must be fundamentally twisted in order to make sense in a logical framework. It’s a challenging perspective, but one that makes us rethink how we view divinity in relation to the world around us.
I’ve been out of the church since I turned 18 and bolted out the door on my own, but here’s a very simplified explanation from my own experiences.
Do you think that’s because people fear reinterpretation, or is it just resistance to any challenge of belief?
Yes, to both.
Anything that makes a religious zealot think is pretty much automatically considered satanic, evil, of the devil, etc. Anything that challenges their sect’s interpretation / dogma is also the devil’s work / temptation.
Anything that isn’t strictly in line with the sect’s teachings is “of the world” and to be avoided. The only things they approve of are things that reinforce their existing interpretations. Basically, an echo chamber.
I wish I was joking or exaggerating, but at least in the religious environment I grew up in, that’s how it was.
Here’s the joke / not-a-joke answer: Jesus was a long haired white guy. That is not a picture of a long-haired white guy.
It’s fascinating how anything that disrupts the echo chamber is labeled as dangerous. It makes you wonder—if a belief system is truly unshakable, why fear questioning it? The idea that truth can’t withstand scrutiny seems contradictory. Maybe that’s why reinterpretation is so threatening—it forces people to confront the possibility that their ‘absolute truths’ might not be so absolute after all.
You have to remember that the scripture is dictated from the top: the Pope to the bishops to the priests to the masses, or the equivalent in other sects/religions. Therefore it’s not so much about belief as it is about control: “trust my words only, disregard anything someone else says to contradict it.” And it’s repeated over and over with every sermon. Heck, the whole start of the Abrahamic religion is someone being told “kill your son, trust me bro it’s the right thing to do.”
That’s an interesting point, and it’s true that religious institutions have often been about maintaining control, shaping belief to fit a centralized narrative. The way scripture is interpreted and enforced can definitely create a system where questioning or alternative viewpoints are discouraged. It’s almost like a constant reinforcement of trust in the authority—be it the Pope, clergy, or anyone in a position of power within the religious structure.
The story of Abraham is a stark example of this kind of unquestioning obedience, and it’s unsettling to think about how such acts are framed as divine tests. It raises a lot of questions about the nature of faith, morality, and the ways we accept or challenge authority in our lives. Sometimes, it’s not about belief itself, but about how and why we’re made to believe.
Just go read the 1 star reviews of the game Cult of the Lamb on Google. More than half of them are pearl clutching christians being completely shocked by the thematic. They see it as part of an agenda to promote satanism to kids instead of just being a game with a silly premise.
It’s interesting how deeply ingrained some beliefs are, to the point where even something as harmless as a game can spark accusations of promoting satanism. The real issue, though, isn’t just the perception of a game but the way religious teachings often shape children’s worldviews from such a young age. Take things like forcing kids to wear hijabs or pushing them into child marriages—they’re not just about faith; they’re about control and limiting autonomy.
Even the constant bombardment of fairy tale-like stories in religious settings can harm a child’s development. It stifles critical thinking and encourages the acceptance of the fantastical over rational, evidence-based understanding. The fact that something as benign as a game can be viewed as a threat shows how deep the fear of challenging these narratives goes. It’s a reminder that the real damage is often done when kids are taught to accept things without question, simply because it’s “part of the tradition.”
It doesn’t take much time on any forum to see that people really like to be right, and they like to make sure that everybody knows they are right.
When you’ve built your life around a concept that you think is good and somebody else tries to tell you it’s bad, you tend to get a little defensive.
Whether it’s religion, politics, media, or which way to put toilet paper on the roll, some people are more flexible, but nobody is immune from this.
Exactly! It’s human nature to defend what we believe, especially when it’s something foundational to our identity. But I think the challenge is in being open to the possibility that being ‘right’ isn’t the end-all-be-all. Flexibility allows for growth, but it requires the courage to step outside of our comfort zones and be willing to entertain new perspectives, even when it’s uncomfortable.
why do people react so strongly when a book dares to reinterpret sacred ideas?
For a lot of people, their religion is part of them, so to make fun of it is to make fun of them.
For others, mainly the leaders, it’s an affront to their power. “How dare someone make fun of the tools I use to control people”?
Exactly, and it goes deeper than just the personal or the power dynamic. For many, sacred ideas represent the foundation of their worldview—challenging them can feel like challenging the very core of their existence. It’s a hard thing to digest when your belief system is questioned, especially if it’s intertwined with your identity. But it’s also interesting how these reinterpretations can push people to think more critically about what they believe and why. It’s uncomfortable, yes, but growth often comes from discomfort.
Very true, but I suspect most people would rather double down on their beliefs, much like this comic:
I suppose this is the more common outcome as they will have a considerable pool of friends/family/colleagues that can reinforce their faith and are likely to also feel personally offended
One scene in the book hit me particularly hard: a character with three eyes, one weeping while the other two smile as he knots a corpse like a bag. It’s gruesome, sure, but the hidden symbolism makes it even darker—it reflects the Christian Trinity, with Jesus suffering while the Father and Holy Spirit remain distant. It’s a powerful and eerie take on an old concept.
That seems like a fairly wide metaphorical leap. Are you sure that’s the intended interpretation? Because it just sounds like body horror to me. The third eye has a lot of symbolism in several religions, and comparing a corpse to a disposable vessel isn’t particularly Christian, either.
Either way, yeah, faith is powerful and fragile. It’s a function of humanity, an intellectual crutch that gives people the strength to stand on an idea that isn’t supported by reality. It is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of the unseen. People who embrace faith for what it is will see it carry them through whatever criticism they face. People who use faith to construct delusions, whether knowingly to benefit themselves or unknowingly because it is all they have ever learned, will meet criticism with anger and resentment.
I can see how the scene might come off as body horror, but as the story progresses, the layers of symbolism become clearer. The three eyes and the way the character interacts with the corpse are definitely unsettling, but they take on a deeper meaning as the events unfold. Without giving too much away, the connection to the Christian Trinity becomes a central theme that challenges the viewer’s understanding of suffering, presence, and absence. The Father and Holy Spirit’s seeming detachment plays into a broader commentary that unpacks the way suffering and divine roles are perceived.
As for the concept of faith, I agree with you—faith can be a powerful anchor or a delusion, depending on how it’s wielded. The more we dig into these ideas, the more we realize how much people shape their beliefs to align with what they feel is most comforting, even if it’s not supported by tangible reality.
You have to remember that the scripture is dictated from the top: the Pope to the bishops to the priests to the masses, or the equivalent in other sects/religions. Therefore it’s not so much about belief as it is about control: “trust my words only, disregard anything someone else says to contradict it.” And it’s repeated over and over with every sermon. Heck, the whole start of the Abrahamic religion is someone being told “kill your son, trust me bro it’s the right thing to do.
I can see how the scene might come off as body horror, but as the story progresses, the layers of symbolism become clearer. The three eyes and the way the character interacts with the corpse are definitely unsettling, but they take on a deeper meaning as the events unfold. Without giving too much away, the connection to the Christian Trinity becomes a central theme that challenges the viewer’s understanding of suffering, presence, and absence. The Father and Holy Spirit’s seeming detachment plays into a broader commentary that unpacks the way suffering and divine roles are perceived.
As for the concept of faith, I agree with you—faith can be a powerful anchor or a delusion, depending on how it’s wielded. The more we dig into these ideas, the more we realize how much people shape their beliefs to align with what they feel is most comforting, even if it’s not supported by tangible reality.
