The Septuagint (LXX) – When and How Revelation Was Betrayed in the Name of Reason

There is a moment in history when Truth was not lost through violence or censorship, but through consent. Not through defeat, but through agreement. That moment was the Alexandrian production of the Septuagint. And although tradition celebrates it as a “sacred work of translation,” the reality is different: it marked the beginning of the falsification of divine Revelation.

In the 3rd century BCE, in Alexandria, within the intellectual world of the Ptolemaic court and the project associated with Demetrius and the great library, Jewish scholars and cultural custodians were commissioned to bring the sacred material entrusted to Israel into Greek public form. But this was not a translation in the strict sense. It wasn’t just about moving words from one language to another. It was an ideological adaptation, a theological accommodation, and the production of a Greek textual form that would later function as an authoritative edition. For the first time in this public and canonical form, the Law and the Prophets were filtered through the lens of Greek philosophy.

This is not a mere cultural detail. It is the beginning of a fracture. It is the moment when the revealed core preserved through Moses, the prophets, and the historical life of Israel was reinterpreted in the language of abstract concepts, of essences, of Platonic dualism, and of the idea of a cosmic order governed by reason. In other words, it was the moment when the living Truth of God was expressed in the words of another king: philosophy.

Why is this moment so serious?

Because the authority of Revelation did not arise from some “universal perception” or from “logical coherence” in a philosophical sense. It arose from a concrete relationship with God, who spoke and led a people through specifically called individuals. That was revelation: a living, historical transmission, grounded in divine speech and prophetic responsibility.

Truth was tied to a name, to a person, to a covenant—not to a “nature,” an “essence,” or a “universal order.”

But in Alexandria, a compromise occurred: for the sacred text to be acceptable within the intellectual climate of the time, it had to appear compatible with the Greek Logos, with the idea of rational harmony, with the myths of the great civilizations.

Thus, the door to syncretism was opened: the mixture of revelation with human interpretations that, though refined, were foreign to the voice of God.

The betrayal in Alexandria: silent consent

No one imposed this change by force. It wasn’t conquest—it was betrayal. The men who undertook and authorized the Alexandrian operation were not persecuted. On the contrary, they were privileged. They were integrated into the system, consulted, supported. And they accepted. That is the key: they accepted that revelation would be reinterpreted to gain respectability in the eyes of philosophers.

Instead of guarding the revealed Truth carried through Moses, the prophets, and the historical life of Israel, they chose to “translate” it into a form that appeared more “universal,” more “rational,” more “acceptable” to the Greek elite. With that decision, they sold the birthright of revelation for a bowl of intellectual prestige.

Daniel 8 and the prophetic confirmation

This moment is not only historical. It is prophetic. The book of Daniel, chapter 8, describes the rise of a power symbolized by a “little horn” which rises through cunning, manipulation, and intellectual prestige. It is a power that “casts truth to the ground” (Daniel 8:12), that “exalts itself even to the Prince of the Host” (v.11), and causes the “daily” to cease—the continuous flow of Revelation.

The term “daily” (tamid in Hebrew) is essential. It does not refer to physical “sacrifices,” as some translations suggest, but to the ongoing connection between God and humanity through Truth. As seen in other biblical contexts, “the daily” refers to a living process: the fire that never goes out, the light that does not fade, the testimony that does not cease.

In Daniel 8, the little horn attacks precisely this continuity. It does not attack Revelation only through war or physical destruction—it replaces it from within. With a corrupted version. With a forgery.

The Septuagint is not just a translation – it is an ideological edition

The textual forms received through the Alexandrian and later canonical tradition show significant differences. Not just in wording, but in narrative structure. Genesis 2–11, and especially Genesis 2–3, carries theological elements essential to later ideas of the Fall, the Devil, original sin, inherited curse, and the mythological explanation of the human condition. Its Eden story is deeply shaped by the Greek idea of forbidden knowledge and the punishment of man for hybris—overstepping imposed limits.

Who introduced these elements? Who had an interest in turning the revealed foundation preserved in Genesis 1—which was about the Image of God, choice, responsibility, and historical obedience—into a story about destiny, essence, bodily hierarchy, and inherited sin?

The answer is clear: those who believed in the philosophical Logos, not in the living voice of God.

A false beginning for a false theology

The tragedy is not that they translated. It’s that they rewrote. That they dressed the Truth in clothes that did not belong to it. And those clothes eventually became the norm. Today, many Christians and many Jewish interpretations shaped by the same canonical world treat this construction as Scripture. But it is no longer pure revelation—it is a syncretic version, where God appears more like a “universal principle” than a living Being who speaks, commands, and leads.

This is the desecration of the sanctuary. Not of a building made of stone, but of the flow of Revelation. The Truth that once flowed through the Law and the Prophets has been halted, redirected, filtered through another authority.

And yet, something remains pure

The prophecy does not end in defeat. Daniel 8:14 brings hope: “How long? … Until 2300 evenings and mornings; then the sanctuary will be cleansed.” It is the promise that this forgery will be exposed. That Truth will once again come to light. But for that, we need people who love Truth more than tradition. More than prestige. More than the text “canonized” by religious consensus.

This is the work of MEKORAH: the recovery of Revelation from the philosophical, mythological, and canonical layers that cast it to the ground.