An Atheist's Guide to Biblical Hypocrisy

Let's talk about spectacular irony, shall we? I'm an atheist, but I know more Bible verses than the average "family values" politician with three mistresses and a Grindr account. 

It's like being a vegetarian who can identify prime cuts of Wagyu beef—utterly pointless, yet somehow I'm still doing it.

When Your Holy Book Is Just God's Version of "Read the Room"

There's this absolutely devastating passage in Matthew 7:21-23 where Jesus basically lays waste to an entire category of religious performance artists:

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'"

This isn't just Jesus being snippy after a long day of miracle-working. 

This is the Son of God essentially saying, "Your 'I Love Jesus' bumper sticker means jack shit if you're being an asshole to people." 

He's delivering the ancient equivalent of "weird flex, but okay" to people who thought their religious credentials would impress him.

For those blessed enough to have missed evangelical culture, this passage is the biblical equivalent of when someone is kicked off a reality show moments after confidently declaring they're going to win the whole damn show. 

It's divine comeuppance served ice cold, and I'm here for it.

God's Self-Appointed HR Department

Modern Christianity has spawned a particular breed of believer: the self-appointed divine judgment broker who somehow missed the entire "judge not lest ye be judged" memo. These spiritual hall monitors have taken it upon themselves to ensure everyone knows exactly who's going to hell, with all the self-awareness of a goldfish driving a monster truck.

Let's back up. The central premise of Christianity is that God loved humanity so much that he sent his only son to die for their sins. Yet somehow, Brenda from the megachurch with the "Blessed" throw pillows and a Tucker Carlson shrine has decided that what Jesus *really* meant was "be absolutely vicious to anyone who doesn't look, love, or live exactly like you."

This is the equivalent of walking into a hospital and demanding patients heal themselves or interrupting a firefighter to explain that you have some fantastic ideas about how they should put out the 5-alarm blaze.

The Cosmic Irony Olympics

The gold medal in the Cosmic Irony Olympics goes to Christians who use Jesus—a homeless Middle Eastern refugee who hung out with sex workers and lepers—to justify treating marginalized people like they're radioactive. 

Jesus, who touched the untouchable and defended the condemned, is now the figurehead for people whose entire personality is the condemnation of others. The irony is so dense it's developing its own gravitational field.

Consider the following achievements in mental gymnastics:

• Using a religion founded by a man who said "love your enemies" to justify hating your neighbours
• Quoting scripture about helping the poor while voting for policies that crush them
• Weaponizing teachings from a man who literally stopped an execution to judge and execute others socially
• Believing the Creator of the Universe needs you, specifically, to harass teenagers at Pride parades

It's like claiming to be a devoted fan of The Beatles while insisting John Lennon's best work was "MMMBop."

The Absolute State of Religious Performance Art

Modern religious judgment isn't just inconsistent with Jesus's teachings—it's the exact behaviour he explicitly condemned. 

It's as if Jesus said, "Don't do The Thing," and millions of his followers responded, "We hear you loud and clear: we will definitely do The Thing, as aggressively as possible, and claim divine authorization while doing it."

For a faith supposedly centred on a guy who told people to check the lumber yard in their own eye before pointing out sawdust in others', Christianity has produced an impressive number of people who approach moral evaluation like they're auditioning for "America's Got Self-Righteousness."

The average judgmental Christian applies scriptural consistency with all the precision of a drunk toddler performing laser eye surgery. They'll quote Leviticus to condemn homosexuality while enjoying their bacon-wrapped shrimp cocktail and polyester-blend suits, displaying the kind of selective biblical interpretation that would make even the Pharisees say, "Bro, that's a stretch."

Jesus: The Original "Sir, This Is a Wendy's"

If Jesus returned today, he wouldn't be hanging out with the televangelists in their private jets or the politicians using his name to secure votes. Based on biblical precedent, he'd be with the drag queens, the undocumented immigrants, and the homeless—you know, exactly the people his loudest "followers" spend their time condemning.

Picture the scene: Jesus returns, walks into a megachurch, and the pastor, mid-prosperity-gospel-rant, recognizes him.

"Lord! We've been spreading your word, condemning sinners in your name, and accumulating massive wealth by telling people you want them to be rich!"

And Jesus, with that look of divine disappointment that only a deity can truly master, responds: "I literally never knew you. This is the exact opposite of everything I said. Did you even read the book? It has my name on it."

A Humble Suggestion from the Godless Gallery

Here's the thing: I don't believe in God, but I do believe in not being a colossal hypocrite. Worship however you want—or don't. Pray to Jesus, Allah, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or your collection of vintage Beanie Babies. That's your business.

But if you're going to claim spiritual authority while doing exactly what your spiritual authority explicitly told you not to do, at least have the self-awareness to recognize the absurdity of your position. 

It's like joining PETA and opening a steakhouse called "Bambi's Mom."

The truly wild part?

The people most likely to judge others are the ones Jesus warned about in Matthew 7. It's like they read that passage and thought, "This is clearly about other judgmental religious people, not me and my completely justified holy judgment."

So, the next time some sanctimonious warrior for traditional values starts quoting scripture to condemn others, perhaps gently remind them that Jesus had a specific message for people who use his name while missing his point entirely: "I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!"

Or, as I like to paraphrase it, "Your reservation at Club Heaven has been cancelled because you are exactly the kind of person I specifically warned you not to be."

And that, as they say in Sunday School, is the gospel truth.