The Bible should be taught, but emphatically not as reality. It

Richard Dawkins, the challenger of dogma and herald of reason, once proclaimed: “The Bible should be taught, but emphatically not as reality. It is fiction, myth, poetry, anything but reality. As such it needs to be taught because it underlies so much of our literature and our culture.” These words resound not as a denial of beauty, but as a call to clarity. For Dawkins does not cast aside the sacred texts as worthless; rather, he names them for what they are—myth and poetry, vessels of meaning woven by human hands, stories that have shaped civilizations though they are not chronicles of fact.

The origin of this quote is found in Dawkins’ lifelong pursuit of truth through science. As a biologist and defender of reason, he has often stood in opposition to those who wield sacred texts as literal history. Yet his wisdom lies not in scorning the power of these writings, but in recognizing their cultural weight. He understands that the Bible, like the epics of Homer or the tales of Gilgamesh, contains narratives that have molded art, law, and imagination. To deny its study would be to cut ourselves off from the roots of our own culture. But to teach it as reality would be to chain the human mind to illusion.

Consider the story of the Epic of Gilgamesh, one of humanity’s oldest myths. Within its lines is the tale of a great flood, strikingly similar to the flood of Noah. Did the flood happen exactly as told? No. But the myth reveals something far greater than a factual record—it reveals humankind’s fear of mortality, its longing for eternal life, its struggle with grief and loss. It is fiction, yet it is true in another sense, for it unveils the heart of our ancestors. So too with the Bible: when read as myth, it teaches of longing, hope, courage, betrayal, and redemption—the very things that make us human.

Dawkins reminds us that myths hold power not because they are literal, but because they are symbolic. The poetry of Genesis, the psalms of David, the parables of Christ—these are not blueprints of the cosmos, but mirrors of the soul. When taught as myth, they enrich the imagination; when taught as reality, they distort truth and chain the mind to error. Thus the wise approach is not to cast them away, but to honor them in their rightful place, as literature that nourishes culture while leaving the realm of fact to science.

What is the deeper meaning here? It is that humanity thrives when it knows the difference between truth and symbol, between the measurable and the meaningful. Science gives us knowledge of stars and atoms, while myth gives us language for awe, sorrow, and joy. To mistake one for the other is to cripple both. The ancients did not fail us when they gave us myths; they gave us treasures. But it is the task of every new age to see clearly, to know that stories are not reality, and to draw from them wisdom without mistaking them for fact.

The lesson for us is this: do not despise the old stories, but do not be enslaved by them either. Read them with reverence for their poetry, but also with courage to say, “This is not the world as it is, but as men once imagined it.” For in that balance lies wisdom. We must cultivate minds that can hold myth and science side by side without confusion—minds that revere art while pursuing truth.

Practically, let this teaching guide your steps. Read widely—read the Bible, the Qur’an, the Bhagavad Gita, the tales of Norse gods and African griots. Read them as literature, as mirrors of humanity’s longing, and let them enrich your understanding of the world. But when you seek to know the age of the earth, the dance of galaxies, the origins of life—turn to science, for there lies reality. Teach your children the myths, but also teach them how to discern symbol from fact, so that they may inherit both wisdom and truth.

Thus the words of Richard Dawkins become not an act of destruction, but an act of liberation. The Bible is myth, poetry, story—but powerful story. When honored as such, it deepens our culture and enriches our imagination. But when mistaken for reality, it blinds the eyes. Let us, then, walk with open vision: cherishing myth for its beauty, and truth for its power. For only when we honor both do we live as beings fully awake.