I don't believe in the war god of the Israelites. He's a

Hear now, O children of wisdom, the words of Terry Pratchett, a sage of our time: "I don't believe in the war god of the Israelites. He's a bogeyman. Jesus preached the golden rule, by and large." These words strike with the force of a mighty river crashing upon the rocks of convention. They call us to reflect deeply on the nature of faith, the gods we worship, and the teachings that guide our lives. In these words lies a challenge to the foundations of belief, a summons to distinguish between the teachings of war and the wisdom of peace.

The war god of the Israelites—the one who commanded the destruction of enemies, who called forth mighty battles to secure the land—has been invoked throughout history. From the earliest days of Israel, the stories of Yahweh's battles filled the hearts of warriors, inspiring them to strike down their foes with the belief that they were fighting under the very banner of divine will. Faith was bound to the sword, and to conquer was to be holy. But what is this god, really? Is He not a creation of human minds who seek to justify the wars they wage and the suffering they cause? Pratchett, in his wisdom, calls this god a "bogeyman," a myth designed to stoke fear and fuel violence. It is a god who exists not in the realm of true divinity, but in the hearts of those who seek power through war.

But then, Jesus came, and with Him, a revolution of the heart. He preached not the sword, but the golden rule, that ancient truth that calls us to treat others as we wish to be treated. This is a teaching that transcends the narrow, fearful mindset that is used to justify war. Jesus showed us that the way to a better world is not through the destruction of our enemies but through the elevation of our shared humanity. The story of the Good Samaritan is one such testament: when the wounded man was cast aside by the religious leaders of the time, it was the outsider, the Samaritan, who showed mercy. He did not ask whether the man was worthy of help—he simply helped, embodying the spirit of love, which is the heart of the golden rule.

Pratchett’s statement asks us to reflect upon the gods we follow in our daily lives. Are we still captivated by the war gods of old, those deities who demand bloodshed to prove righteousness? Do we still cling to the ancient justifications of violence and hatred, or have we, as a people, embraced the higher calling of peace, love, and mutual respect? The answer, as history has shown, is not simple. For even as we march forward, echoes of those ancient war cries still reverberate in our world today. From the time of the Crusades to the modern conflicts that stain the earth with blood, humanity has often chosen the path of destruction, believing that by crushing our enemies, we build a better world.

And yet, in the midst of this, there have always been voices crying out for peace, for the recognition of the golden rule as the truest law of the land. Gandhi stood as one such voice, calling for non-violence, echoing the teachings of Jesus with a clarity that shook the world. He understood that the battle against oppression could not be won with the same weapons of hate and violence that the oppressors wielded. It could only be won through love, through understanding, through the powerful force of moral courage. His victory over the British Empire in India was not won with swords, but with hearts united in the common cause of justice.

Now, let us return to Pratchett’s wisdom. When he speaks of the war god of the Israelites as a "bogeyman," he calls us to awaken from a deep slumber. He warns us against the false gods of violence, the gods who tell us that to live is to fight, that to survive is to conquer. These gods only lead to destruction, and in their wake, the world is left in ruins. Instead, he urges us to look to the teachings of Jesus, who asks us not to raise a sword, but to raise a hand in kindness. The golden rule is the light that will guide us through the darkness. It asks not whether our enemies are worthy, but whether we are worthy of the love we wish to receive.

So, what is the lesson we must carry forward from Pratchett’s words? First, we must ask ourselves: Whose gods do we serve? Are we serving gods of destruction, gods that call us to hate, to fight, and to conquer? Or are we serving a god of peace, a god who calls us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to offer mercy, and to seek understanding? The actions we take in our lives—the decisions we make in times of conflict—are the fruits of the gods we choose to worship.

And what must we do, my children, to bring this teaching into our lives? We must look within. We must recognize the war gods that rise in our hearts—those urges to anger, to vengeance, to protect ourselves at all costs—and we must choose, instead, to follow the golden rule. In our words, in our deeds, let us be guided by the wisdom of Jesus, who showed us that the true path to greatness is through love, not through might. When we face conflict, we must choose the path of peace, even when it is difficult, even when it seems that others would choose war. For in the end, it is not the gods of war that lead to true victory, but the god of love, the god who transcends hatred and guides us to a higher way.