It’s no secret. Those of us born as Christians today often appear on a daily basis to be on the whole much less observant in comparison to our ancestors. Yet even if you are a Christian in name only (and rarely to never go inside a church), I’ve found as a writer familiarity with the Bible is nonetheless definitely useful.
It is often sloppily described as “a book,” when it is more accurately characterized as a library compiled from over a millennia of writings. “Bible” is the English translation of the Greek plural “biblía” – “books” – which stems from the name of the ancient Lebanese port of Byblos, which exported papyrus. As a writer, you need not believe a word of the supernatural in it. What is more vital is that it contains the roots of so many of our metaphors and cultural references; and although certainly not academic “history” as we now understand it, the Bible is also, in numerous ways, “historical.”
The Book of Esther is an example. That above is the New Jerusalem Bible’s introduction to it. (That is the version of the Roman Catholic Bible used here in England and Wales.) Indeed whenever I see someone else pop up on social media or in general media declaring that “strong women” were largely absent from literature until only recently, I have thought: “Have you read the Book of Esther?”