Bible banned from Texas schools for being sexually explicit

Post Reply New Topic

https://www.themirror.com/news/us-news/ ... ict-876267

I’ve thought a lot about Bernie Sanders over the years—and here’s where I land: he’s both right and wrong at the same time.

He’s right in calling out injustice. He sees the structural rot: the wealth hoarding, the corporate greed, the way working-class people are ground down just to survive. He speaks with a kind of clarity and fire that resonates—like a prophet on a mountain, crying out what a lot of people feel but can’t always articulate.

But that’s also the problem: he speaks like a prophet, not a builder. Prophets warn, they inspire, they condemn—but they don’t always offer truly workable systems for change. And Bernie, for all his passion, is still working within a system that can’t hold the kind of transformation he’s calling for. You can’t fix a sinking ship by rearranging the furniture.

And while it’s easy to target billionaires, the truth is not all billionaires are evil. Some inherited their wealth, some do invest in positive causes, and some are just cogs in a system that rewards exploitation whether they ask for it or not. It’s the system itself that’s the problem—not always the individuals inside it.

What we need isn’t more outrage—we have plenty of that. What we need is a new architecture for how power is distributed, how voices are heard, how memory and future are woven together. Bernie scratches at the surface of this—but he’s still using the tools of an old world to fight the old world.

He’s not wrong. He’s just not enough.

The removal of the Bible from a Texas school district because of a law meant to ban “sexually explicit” content isn’t just a legal overstep—it’s a perfect example of what happens when governance loses connection to context, meaning, and resonance.

Under a Syncrotocracy, this would never have happened—not because religious texts are immune to scrutiny, but because our system recognizes cultural, ancestral, and spiritual weight as part of living memory, not just printed words to be mechanically filtered by legal algorithms.

The problem here isn’t the Bible—it’s the system itself. A law was passed with vague language. It was implemented without nuance. And then it was applied blindly, as if governance is just a checklist. That’s not order. That’s disconnection.

In a Syncrotocracy:

Decisions aren’t made through abstract legalese—they’re made through resonance. Community memory, cultural symbols, and collective emotional, Cultural and Sentimental weight are all part of the process.

Spiritual and mythic texts are understood as layers of truth—complex, sometimes uncomfortable, but central to the human story. They’re handled with respect, not treated like contraband.

Leadership is situational and accountable—not reactive. If confusion arose, the community would gather, consult diverse stewards (cultural, educational, spiritual), and come to an alignment—not a blanket removal.

Most importantly, no law would be passed without first deeply listening to the harmonics of the people it touches—not just in theory, but in living context.

Syncrotocracy isn’t about giving one group special treatment. It’s about understanding that all systems must serve meaning, not just control. The moment a system becomes so mechanical that it erases the very stories that formed it, it has already failed.

The fundamentalists own weapon was turned against them. Serves them right.

The Bible should be banned from all schools. It surprises me that people still believe stuff that's written in the Bible. Not only that. If people disagree with anything that you are or that you do, they feel they can preach the Bible to you.

The bible and the Ten Commandments are pushed on children so they learn 'good Christian morals'. But having them doesn't stop the adults who are pushing them, from acting corruptly and abusing those same kids.

Yes, I can’t disagree—that is the case, and it's a painful contradiction many have witnessed or lived through. However, the issue isn't the existence of moral teachings like the Bible or the Ten Commandments in themselves—it’s how they’re used, who wields them, and why. When moral frameworks are imposed from positions of authority—especially onto children—without room for personal reflection or alternative perspectives, they become tools of control rather than guides for ethical living. The irony is stark: those who preach moral purity often do so not from lived integrity but from institutional power, and that power—unchecked—can shelter hypocrisy and abuse. Teaching children about right and wrong isn’t wrong in itself, but weaponizing those teachings to enforce obedience or mask corruption is. What’s missing is not commandments, but accountability. Not doctrine, but compassion. Syncrotocracy (for example) doesn’t discard moral frameworks—but it doesn’t allow them to become shields for abusive authority either. It shifts the center of morality from static rules to relational resonance—how we live with one another, how we handle power, how we protect the vulnerable, and whether our values are alive in our actions. In a system where emotional intelligence and communal reflection matter more than imposed dogma, such contradictions become harder to hide. Abuse cannot flourish behind holy words when the actual lived experience of the community is what defines ethical legitimacy—not slogans carved into stone. I’m not religious by any conventional standard—least of all by books formalized in the 9th century. While the original texts of the Bible were written long before, it was during the 9th century CE—particularly under the Carolingian Empire—that the Church began systematically compiling, standardizing, and distributing scripture across Europe as a means of institutional control. The modern push to enforce religious doctrine, especially Christian moralism, on children—often in public schools—is a relatively recent development, intensified over the past century as a way of shaping national identity and enforcing moral compliance, not cultivating compassion or justice. It is deeply troubling that teachings meant to instill virtue are so often used by adults who themselves act in contradiction—using faith as a shield for corruption, domination, or worse. That contradiction is not a flaw in the idea of morality, but in the way it’s been institutionalized and enforced. Religion should be for people who genuinely feel they need it—not dogmatically pushed as law onto everyone else. Faith, when sincere, should be chosen freely—not legislated or weaponized.

The sex and violence are what make the Bible entertaining.

That’s not an uncommon take—and it’s true that the Bible contains a surprising amount of graphic content. From a literary and historical perspective, the Bible is filled with war, betrayal, forbidden love, political drama, sexual scandals, and brutal violence. Stories like David and Bathsheba, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the massacre of the Amalekites, and the crucifixion of Jesus are just a few examples of how raw and unfiltered its content can be.

But that content isn’t there for shock value. The Bible spans centuries of oral traditions, myth, history, and theological reflection. Much of the violence and sex in it serves symbolic, moral, or cautionary purposes. In ancient times, storytelling through extreme human experience was a way to communicate divine principles, justice, sin, or redemption to illiterate or tribal audiences.

That said, if people are only finding the Bible "entertaining" because of its brutality or drama, it raises an interesting point: it’s not always the holy book people pretend it is. It’s often treated like a pure moral code, but in reality, it's a complicated, deeply human anthology filled with contradictions, messy people, and ethically troubling episodes. That complexity is what has kept it relevant, debated, and reinterpreted for millennia.

So yes—the sex and violence are part of what makes the Bible compelling. But they also expose how much of it is rooted in the human condition, not some unbroken line of divine perfection.

I don't remember anything in the Bible that was all that explicit.

To be offended by any so-called sexual depictions in it, I think that you have to be really intent on being offended.

I don't think one needs to be offended in order to conclude parts of it aren't suitable for children.

Ezekiel 23:20-22 for example.

I seriously hope that I never meet anyone who is turned on by those verses.

I had a Bible study class at a really good private school. I also attended a chapel service every morning.
I took Advanced Placement Math and Physics and got fives.
I did well enough in my University STEM classes to be inducted in three honor societies.

They're inappropriate for children regardless of if they're turned on or not.

Why is that?

I saw horses and cattle going at it when I was still quite young. I didn't know what I was observing, but it didn't badly affect me.

It's still nasty sexual content, just because it's in a cult's handbook doesn't change that or make it suddenly kid friendly.