The Gospel of Moses


Life is a miracle we cast in the gullet of fear.

We were not born free, we were not born humans; we become free, we become humans.

Each of us bears the sins of their parents, the sins of society that nurtured us.

We were born slaves, submissive, in debt, servile; from day one, ever since we drew our first breath, we are in somebody’s possession, we belong to the Pharaoh, we belong to society.

Society defines where we are going to live, how much shall we own, what serves us right. It chooses what we will learn and what we will make sense of it and how much we are allowed to beg for.

It decides where we can travel, which borders we can cross, where we have to die.

It decides what we will do for a living, how much bread we will put in our mouth, how much we have to strain ourselves and how much we should bleed.

It defines in what we will take delight, which days we are allowed to wind down, how many children we can have, how many of them we can feed and how to bring them up.

It decides what we should plant in earth and what we are going to do with the fruits of our labour.

Nothing really belongs to us beyond submission, fear, the bitter joy when you are given a new tiny mirror, a few more beads.

We were born slaves and we die so that the Pharaohs can build their Pyramids, the monuments of their glory.

The priests serve them, preaching the divinity of the Pharaohs’ power.
The scribes serve them, persuading us that there is no alternative.
The soldiers serve them, burning our homes.

We were born to set store by the rules of the Pharaohs; to tread on the mud until we decay into it; to wake up at the crack of dawn and work all day long just to earn the daily bread and an empty life.

We must teach our children to become also slaves, docile, obedient, cowards. That’s the only way they will survive, that’s the only way they will learn, that’s the way we will keep building Pyramids.

We are thousands, millions, billions, uncountable, but all of us work to feed the Rapacious Colossal Beast that never gets its fill, it never feels remorse and it is never merciful, the very one that lives on our submission.

We have to choose: shall we carry on being slaves? Shall we continue turning our children into slaves like us?

Take your pick: what kind of life do you want to live? What kind of life do you want for your children? A human being’s life, or a slave’s life?


That’s how Moses spoke before the Red Sea.

A few miles away, in the background, a cloud of dust could be seen as the chariots of the Pharaoh’s army were approaching, raising war cries.

 “Save us”, said the people “save us Moses.”
“I can’t save you, you’re not humans, you’re mice.”
“Tell God”, said the people, “tell God to save us. To split the waters in two for us to cross.”
“God can save nobody who doesn’t want to be saved”. Nor can prophets, generals or heroes. No one can save those who won’t fight for it.”

People started weeping, prostrating themselves, praying, fainting, wailing and cursing their fate.

And the tracks of the chariots of Pharaoh’s army got closer and closer.


No one will save you as long as you’re on your knees.

No one gives you for free anything as long as you don’t claim, demand, fight for it.

How long can you bear to be a slave, obedient and invisible?

What are you afraid of? Dying? You’re dying a thousand deaths every day.

Aren’t you afraid that your children were born and will die as slaves, experiencing nothing else but being trodden in the mud?

What purpose could Pharaohs, priests, scribes and generals serve? Only for pyramids to be built?

Don’t you want to live, at least for once, as a human being, proud and free, even for an hour?


That’s how Moses spoke and the people parted in two, like the sea.

The armies of Pharaoh passed through them and hit Moses. The moment they killed him, the crowd started to attack. Children, women, men and elderly swept like locusts upon Pharaoh’s soldiers, like the waves of an endless sea.

And they drowned them down to the last.


They enshrined Moses’ pieces in the Ark and they carried them all the way to Canaan; and they always commemorated his words.

Take your pick. What kind of life do you want to live? What kind of life do you want for your children? A human being’s life or a slave’s life?


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Translated by Alexandros Mantas


Photo by Lee Jeffries (