When Bodies Don’t Matter: The Gnostic Temptation of Our Age

In recent years, I started to notice a common thread running through several major cultural flashpoints: homosexuality, transgenderism, AI, and Covid. At first glance, these topics seem disconnected. But the more I examined them, the more I saw a hidden connection—a way of thinking that undergirds them all. That underlying theme is an ancient Christian heresy: Gnosticism.

What Is Gnosticism?

Gnosticism teaches that salvation comes through secret knowledge (gnosis) and that the physical world is flawed or even evil. In this view, the true self is immaterial, and our bodies are little more than prisons. Early Christians rejected this heresy forcefully. The Apostle John, for instance, insisted that anyone who denies Jesus came in the flesh is not of God (2 John 7).1For many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not confess the coming of Jesus Christ in the flesh. Such a one is the deceiver and the antichrist.

Today, Gnosticism hasn’t disappeared. It’s just morphed into new forms.

Gnosticism and the Sexual Revolution

Take homosexuality and transgenderism. The underlying belief here is that our bodies don’t matter—or at least, they shouldn’t have the final say in who we are. If someone’s desires conflict with their biology, then biology must yield. In transgenderism especially, the body is treated not just as irrelevant but as an obstacle to overcome. It’s a mindset that says, “What I feel on the inside is who I truly am—my body just hasn’t caught up yet.”

This isn’t a scientific outlook. Ironically, it clashes with Darwinian evolution, which says our physical traits exist for a reason. Our anatomy speaks to our purpose. Even noted biologist-atheist Richard Dawkins has made similar observations, emphasizing that male and female bodies evolved for reproduction, and that denying the biological basis of sex is anti-scientific. He certainly doesn’t frame this as a critique of Gnosticism—but the resonance is striking. 

Gnostic thinking rejects the biological basis entirely. It tells us that truth is found in the internal self, not the external form.

Virtual Reality, AI, and the Disembodied Future

This disembodied way of thinking also shows up in technology. Virtual reality is now marketed not just as entertainment but as an alternative to real life. Marc Andreessen, one of Silicon Valley’s top voices, once argued that those who value the physical world are simply enjoying their “reality privilege.” For most people, he claims, the digital world offers more meaning, more justice, and more joy. In a widely shared 2021 interview, Andreessen framed virtuality as a more equitable frontier than physical reality, arguing that investing in digital life is not only desirable but ethically necessary for those lacking “reality privilege.”

Mary Harrington, a feminist critic of transhumanism, connects this to the rise in trans identities. Kids who grow up immersed in virtual spaces—from Minecraft to Instagram—come to believe that the body is endlessly editable. If you can modify your online avatar, why not your real one?

She labels this phenomenon “Meat Lego Gnosticism”, vividly depicting a mindset where our bodies are deconstructed and reassembled, like LEGO blocks, at our own discretion rather than respected as integral, given wholes.

Artificial intelligence takes this logic even further. Some experts now openly ask whether unplugging an AI that claims to be conscious would be morally equivalent to killing a human. Why? Because if humans are just biological computers, then a silicon-based computer might be a person, too. Once again, embodiment is dismissed as unnecessary—or even oppressive.

Christianity Is Embodied

The problem is that this is profoundly anti-Christian. From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible insists on the goodness of the body. Creation was called “very good.” Adam and Eve were given bodies with sexual differentiation and purpose. The Law regulated food, clothing, and ritual purity—bodily matters. Circumcision, anointing, sacrifices, baptisms—these are not incidental to the faith. They are expressions of it.

And then came the Incarnation. After creating bodies, and calling them good, God took on a body. He didn’t just give us ideas or a philosophy—He lived, suffered, bled, and died. He rose again with a body, and He gave us bodily sacraments: bread and wine, water and oil.

Christianity is not a disembodied information exchange. It is a flesh-and-blood, incarnational way of life. When we start treating livestreams as a sufficient replacement for church, or when we reduce Christian teaching to mere data transfer, we’re slipping into a Gnostic mindset.


Many in the tech world find the very idea that our nature has been given to us—rather than designed by us—to be a kind of offense. Yuval Harari, for example, boldly declares, “Organisms are algorithms,” and envisions a future where human life is no longer shaped by divine design but by human reengineering: “Science is replacing evolution by natural selection with evolution by intelligent design—not the intelligent design of some God above the clouds, but our intelligent design.”

For the modern mind, it’s galling to be told that our identity, limits, and even our flesh have been handed to us. The Christian worldview says we are fearfully and wonderfully made; the new Gnosticism says we are merely constructed—and ought to be reconstructed at will.

Why It Matters Now

Covid accelerated this shift. We were suddenly told that human bodies were dangerous. The ideal became disembodied—stay home, go virtual, avoid touch. What shocked me most was how quickly many Christians accepted this. The body, once central to Christian worship and community, became an afterthought.

But this wasn’t a new temptation. Gnosticism has always haunted the Church. What’s new is how persuasive it’s become in the age of digital technology and identity politics.

When Christians start believing that the body is incidental to the faith—or to being human—we’re not just making a theological mistake. We’re surrendering to the spirit of the age. We’re forgetting that Jesus rose with a body, that the Church is a Body, and that salvation is not just for our souls but for our whole selves.

Embodied Discipleship

What does it mean, then, to resist the Gnostic pull? It means leaning into our createdness. It means honoring our bodies as gifts. It means worshipping in person when we can, serving one another physically, and refusing to reduce faith to a collection of doctrines floating in the cloud.

To be Christian is to be human in the fullest sense—mind, soul, and body. Our world doesn’t need more clever ideas. It needs the witness of embodied lives: people who live out truth in their flesh and bones, who love with their hands and feet, and who follow a Savior who did the same.

Gnosticism says salvation is found in escaping the body. The Gospel says it’s found in the Word made flesh.

And that makes all the difference.

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What Does It Mean to Be Human? Why Our Future Might Depend on That Question

Last week, two things caught my attention—both strange in their own ways, and both pointing to how weird our world is getting when it comes to understanding who we are.

1. A “Queer Lectionary”?

The first was a book that’s about to be released: A Queer Lectionary: (Im)proper Readings from the Margins—Year A. Sounds intense, right? Basically, it’s trying to mix queer theory—a field of thought that pushes back against traditional ideas about gender, identity, and how people “should” be—with Christianity.

Now, I’m all for asking hard questions, but here’s the deal: queer theory is about breaking categories apart. It’s intentionally confusing, often uses complicated academic language, and tries to show that things we think are “normal” are actually just made-up power plays. On the flip side, Christianity is built on the idea of stable truths: things like “men and women are made in God’s image,” and that worship shapes people to live a certain way.

So, trying to jam the two together feels like mixing oil and water. If you’re tearing down categories like male and female, but Christianity depends on those categories to tell its story about God, people, and salvation—how does that even work? It’s like trying to build a house while pulling out its foundation.

2. A Real-Life Dire Wolf (Sort Of)

On the same day I saw the queer lectionary, I read an article about a company claiming they brought back the dire wolf from extinction. You read that right. Think: science fiction meets real life. The reality’s a bit less dramatic than cloning an ancient beast, but the tech behind it—gene editing—is real. And it’s powerful.

This isn’t just about making cool animals. It’s about humans having the ability to change what’s natural. At first, that might sound awesome—like curing diseases or fixing genetic problems. But it also raises a huge question: What does it even mean to be human?

The Big Picture: The Fight Over Human Nature

These two things—queer theory and gene editing—might seem totally unrelated. One’s from the world of ideas, the other from science labs. But they’re both asking the same big question: Can we change what it means to be human? Should we?

That’s where things get even more complicated.

Take the transgender movement. It’s pushed society to rethink gender in heretofore unthinkable ways—sometimes at the cost of things like women’s sports, private spaces, or parental rights. But it’s not just about LGBTQ+ issues. It’s also part of a much bigger idea called transhumanism—the belief that human limits (like biology) are problems to solve instead of realities to live with.

And who’s driving that idea? People like the “Tech Bros”—the ones behind the world’s biggest companies and boldest inventions. They’ve got money, power, and the tools to change what it means to be human. Think Elon Musk and others like him. Sometimes they say the right things (Musk has spoken against parts of the trans movement), but are they doing it for the right reasons—or just because of personal drama in the family (Musk)?

So, What Now?

We’re living in a time where ideas and tech are coming together in ways no generation before us has faced. And while some of these changes might seem exciting or even helpful, others could erase what makes us, well, us.

Trans activists want to rewrite gender. Scientists want to rewrite DNA. And somewhere in the middle, regular people like you and me are trying to figure out where the line is.

That’s why the question, “What does it mean to be human?” isn’t just for philosophy class. It’s for anyone who cares about the future.

Because if we lose the answer to that… we might lose ourselves.

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Stay Human

Brine Shrimp, Queer Theory, and the Collapse of Academic Credibility

Have you ever read something so absurd, so off-the-rails bizarre, that you had to double-check whether it was satire?

Well, welcome to the first episode of the Citation Needed Podcast, where Colin Wright and Brad Polumbo do us all the public service of diving headfirst into the bizarre fringes of modern academia. Their pilot episode focuses on a real, peer-reviewed academic paper—published by a major journal, no less—about a queer feminist cyber-wedding between humans and brine shrimp.

No, I’m not making that up. And yes, it’s every bit as surreal as it sounds.


The Paper That Launched a Thousand Facepalms

The paper is titled Loving the Brine Shrimp: Exploring Queer Feminist Blue Post-Humanities to Reimagine America’s Dead Sea.” Try saying that five times fast. Or once, honestly. It’s the kind of academic Mad Lib that only makes sense in the postmodern humanities world, where ideological signaling has completely replaced intellectual clarity.

Colin calls it “a surrealist love letter to brine shrimp,” which is both hilarious and disturbingly accurate. The author, Ewelina Jarosz (self-described “hydrosexual cyber nymph”—also not satire), writes from within a framework of “blue post-humanities.” If that phrase doesn’t mean anything to you, don’t worry: it was likely invented by the author herself and seems to center on the erotic potential of water.

Yes, really.


What Is This Even About?

As Brad and Colin explain, the paper supposedly critiques ecological damage done to Utah’s Great Salt Lake. But rather than laying out a clear ecological argument, it veers into performance art, eco-sexual activism, and bizarre theoretical jargon.

The central claim? Brine shrimp symbolize queer resilience. Water is a “non-binary, transitional, life-giving substance.” And by marrying shrimp and bathing in the lake, participants in this “cyber wedding” are resisting “settler colonial science” and capitalist commodification.

How is this considered science? That’s the million-dollar question—and the heart of what the podcast is trying to expose.


From Method to Madness

One of the most damning critiques Colin offers is how these papers completely abandon the rigorous structure of scientific research. No hypotheses. No data. No results. Just jargon, performance, and subjective “lived experience.”

This isn’t science. It’s ideological storytelling masquerading as research.

And it’s not harmless. When prestigious journals like Journal of Agriculture and Environmental Ethics—owned by publishing giant Springer Nature—give this stuff a platform, it dilutes the credibility of every legitimate paper they publish.


Why This Matters

We’re living in an age where we’re told to “trust the science.” But when “science” includes cyber weddings to shrimp and eco-sexual manifestos, that trust becomes increasingly fragile. If you want the public to believe in the legitimacy of scientific research, you can’t keep publishing ideological fan-fiction in academic journals.

This paper isn’t just laughable. It’s symptomatic of a broader rot in academia, where political signaling trumps coherence, and where the pretense of progressivism serves as a shield against critique.


The Takeaway

So no, you’re not crazy if you think this is nuts. It is. And thankfully, Colin Wright and Brad Polumbo are calling it out with equal parts humor and clarity.

Their podcast doesn’t just entertain—it shines a much-needed spotlight on how far some corners of academia have drifted from reality. And if we want to restore intellectual seriousness and public trust in research, exposing this madness is the first step.


[Citation needed podcast]

Check it out for yourself.

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Stay Human