Readtime: 4 min. Impact: Lifetime.
Alright, let’s dive into this. I’m taking your question—“Is there really only one god?”—and running with it, expanding it to 1000 words in your style: bold, curious, a bit provocative, and unafraid to poke at assumptions. You’ve got a knack for asking the questions that make people squirm, and I’m here for it. So, let’s unpack this idea that the Bible, despite what many assume, doesn’t strictly push a monotheistic worldview. Buckle up, because the ancient texts paint a picture of a universe teeming with divine beings, and it’s not as simple as “one God, end of story.”
First off, I’ll admit this question feels like stepping on a theological landmine. It’s the kind of thing that could get you side-eyed in a church pew or spark a heated debate at a theology seminar. But that’s why I love it—it forces us to dig deeper than the Sunday school version of faith. The knee-jerk answer to “Is the Bible monotheistic?” is usually a resounding “Yes, obviously!” After all, isn’t the whole point of the Bible to proclaim one God, the Creator, the Alpha and Omega?
Well, hold that thought. When you actually crack open the texts—especially the older ones—what you find is a worldview that’s less monotheistic (only one god exists) and more henotheistic (many gods exist, but one reigns supreme). Let’s walk through the evidence, because the Bible itself drops some serious hints about a crowded divine realm.
Start with Psalm 82:1, 6. Picture this: God, the big G, is standing in what’s called the “Divine Council,” holding court like a cosmic judge. The text says, “God stands in the Divine Council; He renders judgment among the gods… I said, ‘You are gods, and all of you are sons of the Most High.’” Wait, what? Gods, plural? A council? This isn’t a solo act—it’s a scene straight out of an ancient Near Eastern epic, where the head deity presides over a assembly of lesser divine beings. These “gods” aren’t just metaphors; they’re presented as real, powerful entities, subordinate to the Most High but still significant enough to warrant a divine courtroom drama.
Then there’s Deuteronomy 32:8, which gets even wilder. In some of the oldest manuscript traditions, it reads, “When the Most High gave the nations their inheritance, when he divided mankind, he fixed the borders of the peoples according to the number of the sons of God.” Sons of God? This isn’t talking about humans—it’s referring to divine beings, each assigned to oversee different nations. The idea here is that the Most High, the God of Israel, divvied up the world and handed out territories to these “sons of God,” like a cosmic CEO delegating to regional managers. It’s a glimpse into a worldview where the divine realm is bustling with activity, not a lone deity floating in a void.
Psalm 29:1 keeps the party going: “Ascribe to the Lord, sons of the mighty (literally sons of gods), ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.” Again, we’ve got these “sons of gods” being called out, and they’re not just cheering from the sidelines—they’re active participants in the divine hierarchy. Or take Exodus 15:11, where Moses belts out, “Who is like You among the gods, O Lord?” Notice the phrasing: not “there are no other gods,” but “who’s as awesome as you among them?” It’s a flex, not a denial of other divine beings. Deuteronomy 10:17 doubles down, calling the Lord “God of gods and Lord of lords,” which only makes sense if there are other gods and lords to rule over.
Even the famous Ten Commandments kick off with, “You shall have no other gods before Me” (Exodus 20:3). That’s not a statement that other gods don’t exist—it’s a command to prioritize the God of Israel above the rest. It’s like saying, “Don’t cheat on me with other lovers.” The existence of others is implied; the issue is loyalty.
Now, let’s fast-forward to the New Testament, because this henotheistic vibe doesn’t vanish with Jesus. Paul, the guy who practically wrote half the New Testament, leans into this worldview in 1 Corinthians 8:5-6: “For although there are many that are called gods in heaven or on earth (as indeed there are many gods and many lords)—yet for us there is One God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.” Paul’s not shy about it: there are “many gods and many lords” out there. He’s not saying they’re fake; he’s saying they don’t hold a candle to the Father and Jesus. For Paul, a Pharisee steeped in Jewish tradition, this tracks with the Shema (“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one”), which emphasizes exclusive devotion, not the absence of other divine beings.
So, what are these other “gods”? In the ancient world, the term “god” didn’t always mean “omnipotent creator of the universe.” It often referred to powerful heavenly beings—think angels, demons, or what Paul later calls “principalities and powers” (Ephesians 6:12). These entities were understood to have real influence, whether they were benevolent or malevolent. In Biblical times, people didn’t bat an eye at calling them “gods” or “sons of God.” Moses, Jesus, and Paul all operate within this framework. They don’t deny the existence of these beings; they just insist that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—the Most High—is the only one worthy of worship.
This is where it gets juicy. If you reread the Bible with this lens, it’s like watching a movie in color after seeing it in black and white. The Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and New Testament aren’t trying to sell you a sterile, one-God-only universe. They’re describing a vibrant, complex divine realm where the Most High rules over a host of lesser beings. The drama lies in the supremacy of Israel’s God, not in pretending the others don’t exist. This isn’t heresy—it’s just how the ancient world saw things. Other cultures, like the Canaanites or Babylonians, had their own pantheons, and the Bible’s authors didn’t bother denying those deities outright. Instead, they doubled down on loyalty to the one who’s above them all.
Why does this matter? For one, it challenges the tidy monotheism we’ve been spoon-fed in modern times. It forces us to grapple with the Bible on its own terms, not through the filter of later theological debates. The early church fathers, like Augustine, started emphasizing strict monotheism to counter paganism, but the Biblical texts themselves are messier, richer, and frankly more exciting. They invite us into a cosmic story where God isn’t just the only player but the ultimate one, unmatched in power and worthy of exclusive devotion.
So, no, the Bible doesn’t present a purely monotheistic worldview. It’s henotheistic to the core—acknowledging a multiplicity of divine beings while proclaiming the unmatched supremacy of the Most High. Moses, Jesus, and Paul all vibe with this. They’re not sweating the existence of other “gods”; they’re calling us to worship the one who stands above them all. Reread the texts with this in mind, and you’ll see a universe alive with divine drama, where the God of Israel reigns as the unrivaled King. That’s the story the Bible’s been telling all along—you just have to let it speak for itself.
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