The Family of Thought: Why the Bible Was Never Meant to Be Read Literally

One of the clearest signs that the Bible is not meant to be read literally lies in the unsettling nature of many of its family narratives. When interpreted at face value, these stories can appear incestuous, violent, or morally questionable. But when understood symbolically—as a map of the mind and its inner workings—these same stories take on profound psychological meaning. The ‘family’ becomes a network of thoughts and states of consciousness: the father a dominant belief, the mother the receptive subconscious, and the children the manifestations born from their union. What seems inappropriate on the surface is, in fact, a coded portrayal of how mental states interact and perpetuate themselves within us. This shift in perspective moves the Bible from a troubling historical account to a deeply relevant manual for inner transformation.

Take, for instance, the story of Lot and his daughters. Literally interpreted, it’s deeply disturbing. But symbolically, Lot represents a lingering attachment to an old state of mind—one that hesitates even as destruction (transformation) looms. His daughters symbolise the thoughts born out of fear and desperation, trying to preserve identity and continuity. The act of conception is not physical, but psychological: it is the mind clinging to old beliefs, reproducing the same limited patterns in a supposedly new environment. This story becomes a powerful warning about carrying subconscious assumptions into a new state of being and expecting transformation without inner renewal.

Or consider Abraham and Sarah. On the surface, they are an elderly couple promised a child. But symbolically, Abraham represents faith—an active, imaginative belief in the unseen—while Sarah symbolises the receptive, often cynical subconscious that must be awakened to possibility. Her initial laughter at the promise of a child mirrors how the subconscious often rejects the notion that change is possible. Yet once belief persists, even that closed-off part of us can yield and bring forth a new condition: Isaac, the child of laughter and realised promise.

Another rich example is Judah and Tamar. At first glance, this story is steeped in themes of deception and questionable conduct. But psychologically, Tamar represents a withheld desire or possibility that must disguise itself in order to be recognised by the conscious mind (Judah). The union that seems improper is actually the alignment of the conscious and subconscious—leading to the birth of Perez, meaning “breakthrough.” This is not an immoral episode, but a metaphor for how desires, long ignored, finally break through resistance when the inner and outer self are brought into alignment.

This symbolic reading transforms the entire biblical narrative into an unfolding journey of consciousness. Characters are not merely people, but personified faculties of mind. Stories are not historical records, but parables of psychological development and spiritual evolution. What seems strange or even offensive in the literal reading becomes a mirror, revealing how we think, believe, resist, and ultimately transform.

To read the Bible symbolically is to awaken to its true function—not as a document of external rules and ancient events, but as a living guide to the inner life. Each story becomes a key, unlocking the deeper relationship between thought, belief, imagination, and manifestation. Once we see that the so-called "relatives" are not flesh-and-blood characters, but symbolic expressions of thought dynamics, the Bible begins to speak not just of history—but of us.