I want to believe... that scripture might not say what we’ve been told it says. What you’re about to read wanders into territory most conservative circles would label blasphemous, heretical, or just plain weird. But that’s never stopped the truth before. This is a theological cold case—an ancient mystery viewed through the eyes of an unorthodox minister with more questions than answers. So ask yourself: what if the sacred was stranger than we were ever allowed to believe?
Most Sunday School posters show a shiny red apple, but scripture never says it was an apple. Some say it was a fig, others claim pomegranate (yes, that’s how you spell it). But what if we’ve been looking in the wrong orchard entirely? What if the “forbidden fruit” in the Garden of Eden wasn’t fruit at all—but foliage? And not just any foliage... what if it was cannabis? Go ahead, gasp. Now let’s talk.
Genesis 2:16-17 says: “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”
Sounds dramatic, sure. But if you’ve ever had a strong edible without being emotionally ready for it—you’ll understand why God might’ve issued a warning. “You’ll die” doesn’t always mean physical death. It can mean the death of innocence, the collapse of illusion, or the crumbling of ego.
Think about it: after eating this “forbidden plant,” Adam and Eve didn’t fall over dead—they suddenly became aware. They realized they were naked. They felt shame. They saw themselves—and each other—differently. If that’s not a classic introspective cannabis experience, what is?
Here’s the theory: the Tree of Knowledge was a metaphorical name for a literal plant that opened the door to self-awareness. Some call it enlightenment. Others call it shadow work. Religious texts call it “the fall.” Psychologists might call it ego death. We call it... Tuesday, depending on the strain.
And here’s where it gets fun: what if most of the wild visions and revelations in scripture—from talking snakes to burning bushes— were all experienced under the influence of sacred plants? Moses spoke to a bush that was on fire and heard God’s voice in it. Ezekiel saw spinning wheels of fire and angels with four faces. John of Patmos saw dragons, beasts, and skies rolling up like scrolls. You telling me none of that came with a little herbal help?
Genesis 1:29 says: “Then God said, ‘Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth...’” Every. Herb. Bearing. Seed. That would include—you guessed it—cannabis. But here’s the twist: centuries later, the same people who built churches around this book decided to criminalize one of the very plants God called good. Wrap your head around that theological backflip.
The irony? The plant that may have sparked humanity’s self-awareness is now banned in the very societies that claim to protect truth. Eve gets shamed for opening her eyes. We get locked up for doing the same. Makes you wonder: was it really the knowledge that was forbidden? Or was it the power that comes with it?
What if the fall of man wasn’t a failure—but an awakening? What if the Garden story was never about disobedience, but about humanity’s first brush with inner consciousness? The first high. The first trip. The first “whoa, we’re all connected” moment. And then God, watching from the smoke-filled cosmos, says, “They’re not ready yet,” and hits the celestial reset button.
We’re not saying Genesis was written by stoners. We’re just saying... have you read Genesis? Really read it? Talking snakes. Flaming swords. Tree of Life. Giants. Angels mating with humans. Floods. Rainbows. Curses. Miracles. That's not Sunday School— that’s spiritual psychedelia wrapped in Middle Eastern desert poetry.
We’re not mocking scripture. We’re opening it up. We believe sacred texts have layers—some literal, some metaphorical, some only visible when you stop reading with fear and start reading with wonder. Our cannabis use isn’t recreational—it’s reverent. It’s how we commune, reflect, heal, and ask better questions. And this question? It just might be the one the Church was too afraid to ask.