Introduction
In the complex tapestry of history
and belief systems, certain threads repeat themselves—sometimes subtly, other
times overtly. Patterns arise across religious texts, cultural customs, and
political developments, but when those parallels are acknowledged publicly,
they are often met with resistance, skepticism, or outright dismissal. The term
“conspiracy theory” has become the default weapon to discredit anything that
challenges mainstream narratives or dares to suggest a hidden continuity of
thought or practice. This reflexive dismissal, rather than arising from
rational rebuttal, often stems from a collective psychological defense
mechanism: a refusal to see the world as interconnected, morally compromised,
or spiritually entangled.
Consider the seemingly obscure
connection between biblical figures and modern cultural norms—how an ancient
custom, such as short-term marital arrangements in the story of Abraham and
Hagar, persists today in religiously sanctioned practices within Islamic
societies. Even when historical and theological lines can be traced with
clarity, the willingness to engage in honest inquiry quickly evaporates when
the implications grow uncomfortable. In this article, we examine how the
relationship between Abraham and Hagar laid the foundation for practices still
observed today, how public discourse is suppressed through rhetorical control,
and how Scripture often anticipates the very patterns society denies.
Hagar
and Temporary Marriage
Hagar, the Egyptian maidservant of
Sarai, occupies a pivotal but often underestimated role in the biblical
narrative. She was given to Abram as a wife—not in the full legal sense that
Sarai held, but as a concubine, a “secondary wife” whose purpose was functional
rather than relational. This ancient practice of designating a woman as a
concubine or temporary wife appears foreign or immoral by modern
Judeo-Christian standards, yet in its original context, it served a practical
function: to produce an heir when the primary wife was barren.
Genesis 16:3 notes, “After Abram had
dwelt ten years in the land of Canaan, Sarai, Abram’s wife, took Hagar the
Egyptian, her maid, and gave her to Abram her husband as a wife.” The Hebrew
term used here for “wife” (ishah) does not necessarily confer the same
covenantal permanence associated with matrimonial unions such as that of Isaac
and Rebekah. This distinction is critical. While Hagar was elevated above
servant status, she was not given the inheritance rights due a full wife. Her
son Ishmael was never intended to inherit the promises made to Abraham, a fact
made explicit in Genesis 21:10 when Sarah demands, “Cast out this slave woman
with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not be heir with my son Isaac.”
Islamic tradition, which claims
Ishmael as the progenitor of the Arab peoples, preserves this origin story and
develops it into a cultural practice that surprisingly echoes its biblical
roots. In particular, the concept of Nikah Mut‘ah, or temporary marriage,
remains a legitimate (though controversial) form of union in some branches of
Islam. This arrangement allows a man to enter into a contractual relationship
with a woman for a fixed duration—ranging from hours to months—after which the
union is dissolved without stigma. Proponents of this practice often cite the
precedent of Abraham and Hagar, arguing that since Ishmael was the forefather
of the Arabs and the product of a temporary union, such arrangements are
divinely acceptable.
While prostitution is condemned in
Islamic societies—often with severe penalties—temporary marriage offers a
religiously sanctioned alternative. The woman is not deemed immoral, the man
retains honor, and clerical approval can usually be obtained. Yet, in essence,
the economic and sexual dynamics remain comparable. The man receives exclusive
access; the woman receives compensation. This blurring of the line between
sanctified arrangement and moral compromise mirrors the ancient ambiguity
surrounding Hagar’s role—both a servant and a “wife,” both mother to Abraham’s
son and castaway.
What we see in Hagar is not just an
isolated incident of ancient familial drama, but a prototype—spiritual,
cultural, and legal—for an enduring model of relational pragmatism that still
shapes societies today.
Origin
of “Conspiracy Theory” Label
The phrase “conspiracy theory” has
not always carried the dismissive, ridiculing tone it does today. Once a
neutral term for any proposition alleging secret coordination between parties,
its modern weaponization began in earnest after the assassination of U.S.
President John F. Kennedy in 1963. In the turbulent aftermath of that event,
official explanations—particularly the Warren Commission’s claim that Lee
Harvey Oswald acted alone—were met with widespread skepticism. The public’s
demand for answers clashed with a government seeking closure, not deeper
investigation.
To quell growing mistrust, the CIA
circulated a memo in 1967 (Document 1035-960), directing its media contacts to
label dissenting voices as “conspiracy theorists.” This was not simply a linguistic
suggestion; it was a strategic narrative maneuver. The memo recommended tactics
for discrediting alternative accounts: portray them as amateurish, appeal to
the authority of official records, and question the psychological stability of
those advancing counter-narratives. In effect, the memo institutionalized a
method of silencing inquiry by stigmatizing the very act of questioning.
The result has been profoundly
effective. Once the label is applied, the burden of proof shifts unfairly to
the critic, who is now assumed guilty of irrational thinking unless he can meet
an impossible evidentiary standard. Legitimate historical research, theological
inquiry, and pattern recognition are casually lumped together with science
fiction, paranoia, or delusion. This rhetorical device shuts down conversation
before it begins—an intellectual dead end cloaked in the language of reason.
The tragedy is not merely academic.
In theology, as in history, truth often hides in plain sight. Patterns that
recur throughout Scripture, such as the betrayal of righteous figures by ruling
powers, the corruption of religious institutions, or the collusion of political
and spiritual authorities, are consistent with what many so-called “conspiracy
theorists” observe in today’s world. Yet drawing such parallels now invites
ridicule, not reflection. The very mechanisms Scripture reveals—the cunning of
the serpent, the coordinated deceit of rulers, the prophetic call to
“watch”—are labeled delusional when echoed in modern discourse.
To question power is not madness; it
is discernment. The biblical prophets were, in their day, the original
“conspiracy theorists”: lone voices crying out against corrupt kings, false
priests, and hidden agendas. Elijah confronted the priests of Baal. Jeremiah exposed
the lying scribes. Jesus Himself denounced the religious leaders as whitewashed
tombs. Each faced scorn not because they were wrong, but because they were
right—and made others uncomfortable.
In this light, the label “conspiracy
theorist” is not a mark of shame, but a badge historically worn by those who
dared to speak truth into a deaf and defensive world.
Suppressed
Parallels in Scripture
Scripture reveals a divine pattern,
not only in prophecy and redemption, but also in the cyclical resistance to
truth. Throughout the Bible, individuals who spoke uncomfortable truths were
ostracized, persecuted, or killed—not because they were wrong, but because they
exposed hypocrisy, corruption, and hidden power. In our time, such parallels
are dismissed as “coincidental” or “conspiratorial.” Yet the suppression of
biblical truths often follows the same mechanisms as the suppression of
whistleblowers, reformers, or dissenters throughout history.
Consider the story of Hagar, as
previously explored. She was a “short-term” wife, an arrangement that parallels
modern Islamic practices of temporary marriage (mut'ah), which itself is
frowned upon in broader Abrahamic morality. The pattern of normalizing sin,
then justifying it through precedent or religious manipulation, repeats
throughout Scripture. Solomon’s excesses with women mirrored Israel’s spiritual
harlotry—an image often used by the prophets to describe the nation’s betrayal
of God. Yet when one draws a connection between ancient moral collapse and
today’s permissive culture, especially regarding state-condoned sexual
exploitation, the accusation of “conspiracy theory” quickly follows. This
reveals not the irrelevance of the connection, but society’s discomfort with
the exposure of patterns that continue.
Take for example the prophet Jeremiah.
He was forbidden to marry (Jer. 16:2), symbolizing God’s judgment on a corrupt
and unrepentant people. His ministry directly opposed religious leaders who
claimed “peace, peace” when there was no peace. He was imprisoned and his
writings were burned (Jer. 36:23). Jesus likewise stated that prophets are
never honored in their own towns (Luke 4:24). His condemnation of temple
corruption—money changers and religious profiteers—would today sound eerily
similar to critiques of prosperity gospel preachers or religious institutions
aligned with political empires. The message: when power is confronted by truth,
suppression follows.
In Revelation, the church in
Pergamum is rebuked for tolerating “the doctrine of Balaam” (Rev. 2:14)—an
ancient pattern where spiritual leadership is used to manipulate people into
sin for political or financial gain. Yet when such corruption is observed in
modern denominations or global religious bodies, critics are told they are
reading too much into the text. The parallel is obvious to those with eyes to
see. But to the indoctrinated, these comparisons are “divisive,” “fringe,” or
simply “conspiracy theories.”
Even the resurrection of Jesus
Christ follows this pattern. The guards were bribed to say His body was stolen
(Matt. 28:11–15), and the cover-up was circulated “to this day.” This is
textbook conspiracy: an agreed-upon falsehood promoted by authority figures to
suppress the truth. Yet to suggest that governments or religious institutions
might do the same now is somehow irrational?
What is labeled as “conspiratorial”
is often nothing more than what Scripture repeatedly reveals: that men love
darkness rather than light (John 3:19), that the rulers of this age are under
the sway of the Devil (2 Cor. 4:4), and that truth, when it threatens power, is
almost always suppressed.
These are not fringe ideas. They are
biblical constants.
Conclusion
When patterns repeat across time and
culture—whether moral, spiritual, or political—it is not coincidence, nor is it
merely academic observation. It is evidence of a spiritual struggle embedded in
human history. Hagar's relationship to Abraham and the eventual rise of Islamic
customs regarding marriage serve as one example. The persistent suppression of
prophetic voices—from Jeremiah to Jesus—mirrors modern tactics used to discredit
truth-tellers, whether they speak from pulpits or through alternative media
channels. The consistent use of the “conspiracy theory” label functions as a
secular anathema, shutting down inquiry and enforcing silence.
What Scripture reveals is not just a
sacred story—it is the key to understanding the structures of power and deceit
that dominate the world. From the judgment rendered by Solomon (causing the true mother to be revealed between a pair of prostitutes) to the
resurrection of Lord Jesus Christ, the Bible is filled with instances where
truth exposes falsehood, and where the righteous suffer for speaking plainly.
It is no accident that the righteous are mocked, marginalized, and falsely
accused. This is the inheritance of the prophets and the followers of Lord
Jesus Christ.
To ignore these parallels is to
become blind to the very world in which we live. The power structures today are
no different from those of Pharaoh, Jezebel, Caiaphas the High Priest, or Caesar. The only
difference is scale—and disguise.
Those who are justified by faith
must also be vindicated by their courage to speak the truth, especially when it
is unpopular. As Lord Jesus said, “Wisdom is justified by her children” (Luke
7:35).
