Bible Mysteries That Remain Unsolved

By Kathy Benjamin/May 30, 2019 11:24 am EDT

Considering the Bible is based around some pretty mystical ideas, it's surprisingly grounded in reality in other ways. It
says, for example, exactly how big Noah's ark was, what the Ark of the Covenant looked like, and has endless lists of
who begat whom. Jesus gets four whole books that cover his relatively short ministry, and they include details about
locations, family relationships, even clothing. But despite all the specific information, there is still room for plenty of
mystery.

Sometimes the Bible just leaves out information that seems important and would be really helpful to scholars. Other
times the information is there and made sense to readers at some point, but our understanding has been lost to history.
Perhaps most famously, there are objects mentioned in the Bible that disappeared at some point, and people are still
looking for them today. But despite all the interest, there are still plenty of biblical mysteries that haven't been solved.

Where is the Ark of the Covenant?

The Ark of the Covenant was an extremely fancy box used to hold the original tablets with the Ten Commandments
engraved on them. It was supposed to have incredible powers, and killed anyone who touched it or looked inside (as
seen in the documentary Raiders of the Lost Ark). But this unbelievably important and powerful object went missing
when the Babylonians sacked Jerusalem in 587 B.C., and no one knows what happened to it.

According to History, one theory is that the Ark was moved safely to Egypt before the sacking. From there, it supposedly
made its way to Aksum in Ethiopia. And that's where it is today. Mystery solved, right? Not exactly. While Smithsonian
says a monastery in Aksum does claim to have the Ark (Ethiopians believe the Ark arrived well before the sacking of
Jerusalem, brought back in secret by the illegitimate son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba) no one gets to see it.
Everyone just has to take their word for it. That includes, bizarrely, even the head of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. The
only person allowed to see the Ark is a single, virgin monk. After he is selected for this special position, he enters the
Ark's compound (above) to guard it, then never leaves again. His job is to pray constantly and burn incense. He's there
until he dies, when another guy gets the gig. The rest of the world is apparently never going to get proof one way or the
other.

Where did the Lost Tribes of Israel go?

After Moses died, the Jews divided into a dozen tribes, each led by a different guy. Two of those tribes stuck around, but
according to the Encyclopedia Britannica, the other 10 were conquered by the Assyrians in 721 B.C. Logic says the
members probably just assimilated with the new group over time, and that's why they disappear from history as distinct
entities. But there are modern people in far-flung places claiming to be direct descendants of some of these Lost Tribes.

Bible Odyssey says Richard Brothers wrote in 1794 that England was the home of the Lost Tribes, and he was their
prophet. Despite the fact he was writing this from an insane asylum, a bunch of people got onboard with the idea. PBS
says the Japanese as a whole are also supposed to be a Lost Tribe, as well as groups in China, Afghanistan, the Crimea,
the Caucasus, Kenya, Zimbabwe (pictured), Nigeria, Armenia, Persia, Central Asia, North Siberia, West Africa, Peru,
South America, Australia, and Ireland. The claim of a sect of Ethiopian Jews is taken seriously by Israel, and most of them
live there now. Many people have said Native Americans are descended from the Lost Tribes, most famously Joseph
Smith, who made it a key part of Mormon history.

The people with the most evidence they may be a Lost Tribe are a group of Jews in India. A genetic study in 2016 found
they have some genes unrelated to other Indians, but similar to many Jews.
What year was Jesus born?

Theoretically, Jesus' birth year should be simple to pinpoint. Luke is very clear that Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem
because of a Roman census. He also says Herod was king at the time. According to Handbook for the Study of the
Historical Jesus, there was a census in Judea in (what we now call) 6 A.D.; the only problem is Herod had been dead for
10 years at that point. Since the two events don't overlap, which one should be used to pinpoint when Jesus was born?
Most Bible scholars pick Herod's reign and place Jesus' birth between 7 and 4 B.C.

The other Biblical clue to the time of Jesus' birth is the apparently extremely noticeable star that showed up. But as
Historic Mysteries points out, there is no Greek, Roman, or Babylonian record of any weird astronomical activity during
those years. If Jesus' birth is based on something happening in the sky, there are various other options. 12-11 B.C. is a
possibility because of the appearance of Halley's comet. There was a local census at that time, and the historical record
shows the comet was seen in the right area. Live Science reports there was another visible comet that was very slow
moving 5 B.C. that was noted by Chinese observers. Or the star might not have been a comet at all. One astronomer
argued the "star" was a conjunction of Venus and Jupiter in 2 B.C., while others say it was one between Saturn and
Jupiter in 7 B.C.

What did Jesus do during his "lost years"?

The time between Jesus' birth and when he starts preaching around age 30 is virtually ignored in the four gospels.
Obviously, lots of people throughout history wanted to know what Jesus did in those "lost years." There is absolutely
zero evidence, but that didn't stop some individuals from coming up with outlandish theories.

SBS found despite coming from a working-class family in the Middle East, Jesus sure seemed to like to travel, allegedly
going everywhere. One archaeologist wrote a book promoting the theory that young Jesus made it all the way to the
Western Hemisphere, visiting tribes in "Peru, South and Central America, Mexico and North America." Another legend
has it that at 21, Jesus came to Japan to study with a Buddhist master.

But there are two big theories out there. The first was put forward by Nicolas Notovitch, a Russian who visited a
Buddhist monastery in the Himalayas and claimed he saw proof Jesus traveled to India, Nepal, and Tibet to study with
yogis. Notovitch wrote a book about it in 1894, and people freaked out. But others have claimed they verified it since
then.

English poet William Blake wrote "Jerusalem" in the 1800s, and it was turned into a popular hymn. It recounted the
legend that Jesus came to England with his uncle during his lost years. But not everyone thinks it's a fairy tale. The BBC
reports in 2009 an academic wrote a book saying it was "plausible" and Jesus had "plenty of time" to make the journey.

Where is the Holy Grail?

Even though it doesn't make much sense anyone would think it was important to grab and save a cup used by a random
itinerant preacher at a random Passover meal, people have always been obsessed with the Holy Grail. It became a
common theme in medieval literature, and legend had it the Grail was buried in England by Jesus' uncle or taken from
the Holy Land by the Knights Templar. The stories hardly stop there, however; the BBC reports more than 200 places in
Europe alone claim they are in possession of the one true Grail. (If you're outside Europe, don't worry, you might have
it, too. Other claimants can be found in Nova Scotia and Maryland, for example.) A cup in Valencia, Spain, (pictured) is
usually the one given most legitimacy and got more clout when two recent popes used it in religious ceremonies.

But this is an argument that is still very much ongoing. As recently as 2014, a new cup was declared to maybe, possibly
be the Holy Grail. According to History, two historians argued a different cup in León, Spain, fit the bill. Scientific dating
showed it was the right age, and it resembled the description of the Grail included in medieval Egyptian parchments. It
was allegedly given to the king of Spain and held in the Basilica of San Isidoro from the 11th century. Since the 1950s, it
had been sitting in the basement. So, is this one the real Grail? We will probably never know for sure.

What day did Jesus die?

Everyone knows Jesus died on Good Friday; the problem is the Gospels don't even agree on what day that is. According
to Christianity.com, this was because the authors were more concerned with symbolism than accuracy. That's why, as
the book Jesus, Interrupted points out, in three of the gospels, Jesus dies on Passover, but then John goes rogue and
says he died the day before Passover. Scholars don't even agree if he died on a Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday.

Some geologists aren't letting the Biblical disagreement worry them, and say they have the exact day down. NBC News
reported in 2012 that the researchers based their idea on Matthew's description of Jesus' death, which brings on an
earthquake: "The earth shook, the rocks split, and the tombs broke open." So they analyzed the seismic activity in the
area at the time. They found there was an earthquake sometimes between 26 and 36 A.D. This overlaps with the years
Pontius Pilate was procurator of Judea, so it fits with what the Bible says. Once they added in the rest of the Biblical
clues, the geologists found a few dates that work, and settled on Friday, April 3, 33 A.D. as the most likely, although it's
impossible to know for sure. Three of the gospels also mention it going dark in the afternoon during the crucifixion, so
the researchers also planned on looking into dust storms related to the seismic activity to pinpoint it further, although
it's not clear what they found on that one.

What happened to the lost books of the Bible?

The Bible wasn't codified until about 400 A.D. Before that, there were lots of books considered holy or important by
both Jews and Christians, and some of them didn't make the final cut. We have plenty of these books today, but others
never got a chance because they are completely lost to history. The only reason we know about them is because books
that did make it into the Bible mention these works.

According to Reluctant Skeptic, there are 22 of these lost books (although Bible Review says some may be the same
thing under different names, so there could be as few as half a dozen). Over and over again in the Old Testament, an
author will casually be like, "and of course you can find this information in X book," only we don't have X anymore. From
what the Bible tells us, these lost books include the histories of various kings and prophets, genealogies, and songs
(similar to Psalms). The Book of the Wars of the Lord, as explained by the Jewish Virtual Library, sounds especially fun:
an epic poem all about how God destroyed the various enemies of Israel.

But there may be an even more important lost book not included on the list. Ancient Pages reports many scholars think
two of the gospels were written based on information from a previous work, known as the Q source. While it's an
extremely controversial theory, proof of Q would be one of the most important discoveries ever.

How is God's name pronounced?

Jehovah, Hebrew, YHWH

Judaism has strict rules about the personal name of God. According to the Jewish Virtual Library, while there isn't a rule
about writing God's name down, there is a prohibition against erasing or defacing it in any way. To make sure this
couldn't happen, his name just wasn't written down. A rule also developed that Jews couldn't say God's name outside
the Temple. Then the Temple was destroyed, so that effectively meant no one could say it, ever. Since it couldn't be
written down either, this was a problem. Scholars passed down the correct pronunciation for a while, but eventually,
everyone forgot how to say their god's name.
The Encyclopedia Britannica says when God revealed his personal name to Moses, it was written down as YHWH. This is
called the tetragrammaton. But because of how Hebrew works, that doesn't tell us how to pronounce the name
correctly. Early Christian writers used something similar to Yahweh. Then Latin-speaking scholars came along and had
another problem because "y" doesn't exist in Latin. They replaced it with an "i" (also used for "j," which Latin also
doesn't have), and people started pronouncing the tetragrammaton as Jehovah, which was definitely wrong. It wasn't
until the 1800s that scholars switched back to Yahweh, but again, that's probably not right, although it might be closer.

So according to Jewish tradition, their god (who is also the god of Christians and Muslims) has a personal name that he
totally told humans once, and no one knows it.

Who was the pharaoh in Exodus?

Ramses II, pharaoh

The pharaoh in the Book of Exodus is a real jerk. Moses nicely asks him to let his people (the Jews) leave Egypt, and the
guy refuses and punishes the Jewish slaves. So Moses brings down the wrath of God, there are a bunch of horrible
plagues, and eventually the pharaoh gives in. But even then, he changes his mind and tries to make the Jews come back,
so Moses has to part the Red Sea and the Jews finally escape. But the Bible fails to mention the name of said pharaoh.
Since there are no Egyptian records of this event (which, according to National Geographic, doesn't automatically mean
it didn't happen, since pharaohs were not in the habit of recording their losses) historians and religious scholars don't
know who it was.

There are theories, of course. The name that usually come up, especially in movies about Exodus, is Ramses II. This is
based on very scant clues in the Bible about the Israelites building cities for the pharaoh. Ramses had some building
projects that would fit the bill. Plus, the first mention of "Israel" as a place shows up during the reign of Ramses' son.
That means the Jews must have left by then, possibly quite recently.

But not everyone agrees on Ramses II. In the Jerusalem Post, one scholar uses various bits of evidence from the Bible to
place the Exodus around 1330 B.C., smack in the middle of King Tutankhamun's reign. So the debate rages on.

What does Selah mean?

The Hebrew word "Selah" is all over the Old Testament. According to Ancient Pages, it's used almost 80 times, which
means it's three times as common as "hallelujah" and twice as common as "amen." But while those words, also from
Hebrew originally, are now used and understood around the world, no one says Selah. The writers of the New
Testament didn't use it either, and that's because by the time they were writing, the meaning of the word was long
forgotten. Even when people started translating the Old Testament from Hebrew to Greek way back in 270 B.C., they
had to speculate on its meaning.

No one has figured it out since, either. As Christianity.com puts it, the true meaning of Selah is a mystery. There are
plenty of theories. Since the word is used in Psalms so much, and since the Psalms were originally meant to be sung,
scholars think it might be some kind of musical notation. Possible translations include "silence," "pause," "end," "a
louder strain," "piano" (meaning soft, not the instrument), "intermission," or "a pause in the voices singing, while the
instruments perform alone." A lot of those are a similar idea, but some modern versions of the Bible don't even bother
trying to translate, just keeping "Selah" and assuming the reader will figure it out.

Good luck, because at least one music expert doesn't think the word is a notation but part of the lyrics, possibly meant
to be closer to "amen" than any musical instruction.
Where is Ophir?

Ophir is often referred to as the Biblical El Dorado. According to New Advent, the Old Testament can't get enough of
mentioning this amazing place. It comes up in Genesis, Job, Isaiah, 1 Kings, 2 Chronicles, and the Psalms. Sailors would
go on three-year missions to bring back everything from gold, silver, and precious stones, to ivory and fancy woods, to
apes and peacocks. These shipments were supposedly a large part of the reason King Solomon got so rich. Obviously, it
would be great to know where this luxurious location was, but Ancient Pages says scholars have been wondering for
2,000 years.

Ancient Greek translators of the Old Testament placed Ophir somewhere in India, Sri Lanka, or the Malay Peninsula.
Others have proposed various parts of the Arabian Peninsula. The Jewish historian Eupolemus placed it on an island in
the Red Sea. But there's also evidence it might be in Africa somewhere, even though Africa is sadly lacking in peacocks.
In 1871, a German geologist visited what is now Zimbabwe and announced he'd found ruins that were definitely Ophir,
and his claim was supported by some other scholars at the time. The Roman mathematician Ptolemy and the Arab
traveler Ibn Batuta both wrote about a place just as rich as Ophir in present-day Mozambique, while the Ancient
Egyptians recorded information on the extremely wealthy land of Punt, most likely in modern Somalia. If both places
were real, Punt and Ophir might be the same and might be in East Africa, but who knows?

The Bible is known as the "greatest story ever told," which is not bad considering it doesn't have even a single scene set
in Westeros. People who use this phrase are presumably referring to the sublime beauty of the book or the impact it
had on their lives, as opposed to the Bible's value as a work of fiction. That's because the Bible's multi-millennia
narrative isn't the sort of sweeping, expert piece of storytelling you'd expect from Game of Thrones. It's the sort of
sprawling, convoluted mess you'd expect from the worst seasons of Lost.

Just like J.J. Abrams, God loves nothing more than inserting clues and Easter eggs into his narrative that never lead
anywhere. There are characters who are mentioned once in reverential tones and then never appear again. Events that
are described that seem like they're of major importance, but then get totally forgotten. They say God giveth and taketh
away, but judging by these examples he sometimes giveth and then forgetteth all about it.

Cain lives in the Land of Nod, but good luck finding it!

Early in Genesis, we get one of the Bible's all-time hits: the story of Cain and Abel. It's a simple tale. Cain and Abel both
make offerings to God, God prefers Abel's, so Cain murders his brother in a fit of jealous rage. Genesis 4:16-17 ends with
God sending Cain to live in the Land of Nod, where he takes a wife, has a son, and builds a city. Sounds
straightforward ... until you realize the Bible fails to mention where or what this mysterious place is.

We don't even know if it's metaphorical. "Nod" comes from a word that means wandering or exile, so some scholars
suggest it's just a fancy way of saying Cain had to leave his people. On the other hand, a lot of locations in the Old
Testament are real places, so maybe Nod is, too? Everywhere from the Caucasus to China have been suggested as
possible locations. But it's not like it matters. After that one major name check, the Land of Nod never appears again.

If you want to know what crazy adventures Cain got up to there, you need to turn to Josephus' first-century book
Antiquities of the Jews. In what reads like an excellent early example of fan fiction, Josephus has Cain spend his exile
doing wicked things like raping, murdering, and, um, creating the first system of weights and measures. What a
complicated man.

Melchizedek is basically the immortal son of God, but let's not mention him again

Have you ever watched a series that goes out of its way to introduce an insanely powerful character whose mere
existence changes everything, only for that character to never appear again? Of course you haven't. No one writes the
groundwork for Thanos, ominously introduces him at the end of Avengers, and then pretends he doesn't exist anymore.
The Bible on the other hand loves pulling stuff like that. Just check out Melchizedek, a priest who appears out of
nowhere and is apparently immortal.

The clearest reference to the unkillable priest (easy action movie title) comes in Hebrews 7. There, the author describes
Melchizedek as a guy "without father or mother ... without beginning of days or end of life, resembling the son of God."
This eternal proto-Jesus was once so important that Abraham paid tithes to him. According to Britannica, this has no
parallel in Biblical literature. Melchizedek was a Canaanite, and for a Hebrew as important as Abraham to give respect to
a Canaanite ... let's just say it's unusual.

There's also Psalm 110, which vaguely alludes to Melchizedek being a prototype for a future messiah. That messiah
turned out to be Jesus, so it's entirely possible Melchizedek is God's first attempt at making mankind's savior. Basically,
this guy is a major deal and, after briefly introducing him, the Bible decides we don't need to know any more about him.
Typical.

The Nephilim died in the Flood, or did they?

Of all the merely-hinted-at backstory in the Bible, the history of the Nephilim has to be the most tantalizing. Genesis 6
says they were created by the union of "sons of God" and "daughters of humans," with the King James Version flat-out
calling them giants. But before we can learn much about them, God goes and destroys the entire Earth in an apocalyptic
flood, and everything not on Noah's Ark drowns.

But, like a Doctor Who cliffhanger giving us the merest glimpse of a Dalek to keep us coming back next week, the fourth
book of the Bible then drops in a gasp-inducing passage. Numbers 13:32-33 includes a report on a nearby land some of
the Israelites visit, where the Nephilim still roam and are now so big that the Israelites look like "grasshoppers" to them.
If you're hoping for Attack on Titan: Bible Edition, though, prepare to be disappointed. After that the Nephilim drop out
the tale for good.

We hear about something vaguely Nephilim-like in Deuteronomy 3, where the defeated king Og is said to sleep in a bed
nine cubits (13.5 feet) long. But Og is apparently a Rephaite, a different race of giants the Bible tells us exists then never
bothers to fill us in on. You also have Goliath in 1 Samuel; he was abnormally tall but shorter than Og. But ... whatever.
Giants, sometimes, maybe. No biggie.

So suddenly witches can raise the dead

It's pretty clear God does not want us consulting with witches. Leviticus 19:31 says you will be defiled by them, while
other verses stress they are tools of Satan. So, witches exist and have powers, but stay away from them because it's
really all a load of evil baloney. Oh, except for that time the King of Israel visited a witch and she totally summoned the
dead spirit of a great Hebrew prophet.

In 1 Samuel 28, the judge-prophet Samuel has recently died, and Saul has turned Israel into his personal kingdom. With
the Philistines massing on their borders, Saul prays to God for guidance but gets nothing in reply. So he has his men
track down the last witch in the kingdom and asks her instead. The Witch of Endor summons Samuel's spirit, which
promptly chastises Saul for straying from God and predicts he and his sons will die in battle the very next day. Spoiler
alert: he's right.

This is a major plot twist, up there with discovering the island in Lost can travel through time. Rather than just tricksters,
witches are capable of calling on the spirits of God's most beloved prophets and having them deliver accurate
prophecies. It seems like something that should shake up the Biblical narrative, but no. By the time we get to Galatians
5, witchcraft is morally ranked alongside drunkenness and orgies again.
Is there a talking donkey wandering about?

It's said you can find the answers to everything in the Bible. Apparently that includes the question "what would happen
if Shrek were set in ancient Judea?" In Numbers 22:21-39, a guy called Balaam goes out for a ride on his donkey. Three
times, the donkey notices an angel blocking the way ahead, and is beaten by Balaam for refusing to go on. After the
third time, the Bible says God "opened the donkey's mouth." In plain English, God gives this donkey the power to talk.
The best part? At no point does the Bible specify that this power was taken away again.

Aside from making an awesome jumping-off point for Biblical fan fiction, the story of Balaam and his donkey raises a
galaxy of questions, absolutely none of which are ever answered. Like, was the donkey a truly rational, sentient being
that simply couldn't express itself before? When we hurt animals, are we actually hurting things that can understand
abstract concepts like theology? If not, isn't there a Flowers for Algernon problem here of God giving human-level
intelligence to a donkey and then taking it away again?

Not that Donkey's power is definitely taken away again, since the Bible doesn't specify. It could be there's a chatty
donkey wandering through the background of the rest of Numbers, but everybody's too freaked out to ever mention it.

Watch out for Gog and Magog, whoever they are

As cameos, the fleeting appearances of Gog and Magog in the Bible barely even reach the "blink and you'll miss it" level
of duration. Taken as a pair, they appear a grand total of two times. (Gog has an extra solo appearance.) But both times,
they are hella important. According to Britannica, the first reference, in Ezekiel 38, portrays Gog as the leader of a land
known as Magog, and the guy who will one day attack and nearly destroy Israel. In the Book of Revelation, Gog and
Magog are the two great nations of Earth that Satan will one day rally to his cause, leading to the Day of Judgment.

In pop culture terms, Gog and Magog are basically the final season Big Bad of the Bible, the unknowable threat lurking in
the shadows that's gonna spell trouble for the Superfriends/disciples at the narrative climax. As you've already guessed,
though, that climax never comes. In the same way that a planned film trilogy might flop and fade after its second part,
the Bible ends not with a conclusion, but with the Book of Revelation, effectively an extended trailer for all the
awesomeness that never comes.

"Well, it is a prophecy," you might be thinking. "Surely it might still happen in the future." Yes, although Revelation 1:1
says this will all happen "soon," and plenty of humans have gotten tired of waiting the last couple millennia. Maybe
someday.

Behemoth is so big we never get to see it

The Book of Job is an odd book. It features the heavenly equivalent of a drunken bet between God and Satan, which
leads to God letting Satan absolutely go to town on the innocent Job. But even ignoring the idea that God will do satanic
things just to prove Satan wrong, the Book of Job stands out for the flippant way it introduces major details that still
have scholars scratching their heads. In Job 40:14-24, God trash-talks Job like a professional wrestler by comparing all of
his accomplishments to Job's. But rather than bagging WWE titles and pinning Stone Cold Steve Austin, God's biggest
brag turns out to be creating something called Behemoth.

Behemoth is big. God goes into epic details about its cedar-like tail and iron-like limbs, which are apparently so strong it
can withstand a rushing river. He then follows this up in Job 41 with a similar brag about Leviathan, a gigantic sea
monster that is apparently also a fire-breathing dragon. Some Christians think the two are meant to be dinosaurs.

You'd think a couple of dinosaurs running around the Old Testament might be something that people would mention
from time to time: "Where art Ezekiel? Eaten by velociraptors, my Lord." But, no. Behemoth appears and disappears in a
single monologue.
Biblical Wrestlemania

Everything can be improved with wrestling, even the Bible. In Genesis 32:22-32, Jacob and his two wives are just in the
process of moving camp when a guy appears out of nowhere and starts wrestling Jacob. Like a WWE star whose title
match has just been invaded, Jacob fights back and the two men grapple till dawn, presumably while Jacob's wives get
some sort of chant going and throw steel chairs into the ring. At daybreak, the two wrestlers are at a draw when the
mysterious guy uses magic to dislocate Jacob's hip. It's at this point Jacob realizes he's just survived an all-night wrestling
match with God himself.

The consequences on the narrative are immediate. Jacob changes his name to Israel and spends the rest of his life
walking with a limp. So why include it here? Think about it. Jacob wrestled God to a draw. You know that old paradox
about whether God could create a rock so big that even he himself couldn't lift it? Well, God apparently created a man
so good at wrestling even God couldn't beat him without cheating.

The implications are enormous. God can knock up a universe in six days, but he can't even piledriver a lowly human into
submission? Either Jacob is secretly divine, or the rest of the Bible should just be a how-to manual for acquiring his rad
wrestling skills.

Paul stars in Lazarus II

One of the Bible names everyone knows is Lazarus, a guy who died and was raised from the dead by Jesus. That's a
pretty nifty trick, even by Jesus' standards. While people are rising from the dead all the time in the Old Testament, the
only resurrections in the New Testament come courtesy of Jesus, and St. Peter, who explicitly has Christ working
through him. Bible rule: Raising the dead from 1 A.D. onward is only for the big JC himself.

Oh, except for that time in Acts 20:7-12 when Paul literally bored a guy to death and then brought him back to life like it
was no big deal.

That "bored to death" bit isn't flippancy. Paul goes to Troas to do some preaching. There, "seated in the window was a
young man Eutychus, who was sinking into a deep sleep as Paul talked on and on. When he was sound asleep, he fell to
the ground from the third story and was picked up dead." Paul rushes downstairs and brings him back to life. From that
point on, people are bringing their deceased loved ones to Paul, imploring him to use his power, but no. All that
happens is Eutychus' family are so pleased that they break some bread, and no one else gets resurrected ever again.

Moses's Cushite what now?

Moses' wife, Zipporah, is something of a mystery. She's namechecked in the Bible only four times, and most of those
times are so she can get married to, bear a child for, or be sent away by Moses. We know almost nothing about her,
which is more than we can say for Moses' second wife. In Numbers 12:1, it's briefly mentioned that Moses has taken a
Cushite wife. And, just like that, the Bible throws a gigantic wrench in everything.

Cush was an area encompassing what is now Sudan and Ethiopia. This would imply Moses took a black wife, which is a
great win for racial equality but confusing from a narrative perspective. The Cushite wife is never mentioned again,
seemingly never bears Moses children, and never has any known effect on other events. So it's tempting to suggest that
Zipporah was Cushite all along and the "two" women are one and the same. Some take this view, but we already know
Zipporah was a Midianite.

In the Jewish tradition, it's claimed that Moses' followers used "Cushite" to mean someone who looked different, and
that Zipporah was called Cushite because she was so beautiful. That seems a stretch, which may be why Josephus
effectively said "nah, the woman is totally a hot Ethiopian princess Moses is getting down and dirty with," and created a
backstory from first-century Jewish legends to reinforce his version.

The curse of Ham, a poisonous digression

The Bible is an odd book. There are talking donkeys, incest, and prohibitions on eating shellfish. But the oddest of all has
to be the curse of Ham, which is far less delicious than it initially sounds. In Genesis 9:20-27, Noah gets loaded on wine
and passes out naked in his tent. His son Ham comes in, sees his father, and runs to tell Noah's other sons. The other
sons cover their father without seeing his dongle, Noah wakes up, and then curses Canaan's descendants to forever be
slaves. If you're thinking "back up a moment, why does Noah curse this Canaan guy?" then you're not alone. Canaan is
Ham's son, Noah's grandson, and is entirely blameless, yet still Noah curses him to a life of servitude.

Within the Biblical narrative, this is just another of those things that pops up and then never appears again. But this is,
sadly, one case where the huge moment that disappeared didn't vanish in the strictest sense. Out in real life, a whole
bunch of people looked at this passage, looked at the human beings they were keeping chained up, and said "whelp, I
guess it's God's will we keep slaves."

As the New York Times describes, Islamic, Jewish, and Christian cultures have all used the curse of Ham to justify slavery
over the centuries, contributing to a whole lot of human misery. If only the Bible had featured a follow-up tale where
Ham gets uncursed, maybe some of that suffering could have been averted. (Or maybe people would have just found
other justifications for slavery.)

Everyone forgets Bartholomew's adventures

The Twelve Disciples are like the rock supergroup of the Biblical narrative: super-famous together, and still recognizable
alone. Most people can probably name Peter, John, Matthew, Doubting Thomas, Judas, and maybe a few more off the
tops of their heads. Heck, some can probably make a good stab at relating one of their group adventures, the one where
they all went off to preach following Christ's ascension to Heaven. But Bartholomew? Not so much. According to
Britannica, he's mentioned in all four lists of Apostles in the New Testament. Aside from that, his name appears a grand
total of zero times.

This is a level of obscurity-amid-fame not even the guys from U2 who aren't Bono or the Edge can aspire to. Even the
other apostles who don't have much screentime in the New Testament are traditionally thought to have had legendary
adventures. Bartholomew, on the other hand, has no legends beyond preaching here and there and getting flayed alive
after he annoyed some ancient king (shown above). You might think being one of Jesus Christ's dozen hand-picked
representatives on Earth would ensure your name and deeds went down in history. Not if you're Bartholomew.