Monologue
They did not reject God. They restructured Him.
The founding fathers of the American republic did not throw off divine law; they dissected it, harvested it, and reassembled it—like grave robbers building a new Adam without breath. Behind their parchment oaths and liberty chants, behind powdered wigs and Enlightenment quills, a theft took place. They looted the covenantal architecture of Scripture, not from Rome or Geneva, but from the ancient wells of Ethiopian canon—Sirach, Jubilees, Deuteronomy—texts not yet defiled by papal edits or Protestant reduction. They stole not just words, but structure. Not verses, but order.
And with it, they built a machine.
America was founded not as a Christian nation, but as a legal mimicry of holiness—a state dressed in robes it did not earn, drawing moral legitimacy from scriptures it refused to serve. In the same way that the Zionist founders of modern Israel revived a land without the King, so too did the American architects birth a republic without a cross, a temple without presence. They borrowed the moral law of Sirach—the wisdom of the judge, the order of the courts, the ethics of speech, war, and economy—and transmuted it into a secular constitution, hiding the source so the people would worship the system, not the Sovereign.
But the Lord was watching.
Sirach warned that the throne is established by wisdom, and that the judge who perverts justice condemns his own soul. Deuteronomy laid down a pattern for national blessing that begins with covenant obedience—not reason, not consent of the governed, but fear of the Lord. And yet, the very men who wrote “all men are created equal” were not ignorant of these patterns—they were students of them. Jefferson owned Bibles and apocrypha. Franklin quoted Proverbs and Sirach alike. The Freemasons enshrined the Temple of Solomon as their divine blueprint. They did not stumble onto righteousness. They rebranded it.
This was not a rebellion against God. It was a coup within His court.
Today, we recite pledges, memorize amendments, and revere a flag stitched together with scriptures no one dares cite. And while modern scholars mock the idea of the Bible influencing the Constitution, the irony is that the wrong Bible was cited all along. The canon they mirrored was not the Roman or Protestant list—but the fifth-century canon guarded by the Ethiopian Church, a canon that contains the full weight of moral governance—books like Sirach, Wisdom, and Jubilees—books that do not bend to Western ideology, but break it.
We were not given freedom.
We were sold a contract.
A constitution forged from sacred law, stripped of covenant, and inverted to serve empire.
But the remnant sees it now.
The Spirit is restoring the registry. The breath is returning to the stolen bones of the Word. And the time has come to expose the theft—not to destroy the law, but to point again to the Lawgiver, whose throne no constitution can mimic, and whose judgment cannot be vetoed. The Lord will have His justice, not by parchment, but by fire.
Part 1: The Judge in Sirach and the Judge in Philadelphia
Before the ink of the Constitution dried, there was already a courtroom in motion. Not in Philadelphia, but in heaven. And the template for judgment that would govern the United States was not born in Enlightenment salons or Roman law—it was lifted from ancient texts like Sirach, buried for centuries in the Ethiopian canon, then mimicked by men who feared disorder more than they feared God. The United States was not formed in rebellion against tyranny—it was formed in imitation of divine theocracy, without the theos.
The Book of Sirach, known also as Ecclesiasticus, opens not with mythology or metaphor, but with a judicial principle: “A wise judge will instruct his people, and the government of a prudent man is well ordered” (Sirach 10:1). This is not merely a proverb—it is a declaration of cosmic alignment. Judgment flows from wisdom. Government flows from prudence. And both are downstream from fear of the Lord.
Now compare this to the words of Federalist Paper No. 51, authored by Madison: “If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls would be necessary.” Madison does not credit the Scriptures, but his model is unmistakable: a balance of power that mimics divine governance—not chaos, not monarchy, but ordered justice through divided authority. This is the same model Sirach offers. The judge must be just. The people must be instructed. The nation must reflect heaven’s court.
But unlike Sirach, Madison offers no path to righteousness—only mechanisms of restraint. Where Sirach pleads for humility, repentance, and the keeping of the Law, Madison installs checks and balances. Where the Ethiopian canon warns that pride brings down nations, the Constitution simply distributes that pride across three branches of power. The function remains, but the fear is removed.
Sirach 10:2 continues: “As the judge of the people is himself, so are his officers; and what manner of man the ruler of the city is, such are all they that dwell therein.” This is a terrifying truth—that national morality is not driven by laws, but by the hearts of leaders. And this teaching, though not quoted, is deeply embedded in the founding framework. Why else would the framers emphasize virtue as essential to liberty? John Adams declared, “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.” But he failed to say where that morality must come from. Sirach provides the answer: the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Sirach 1:14).
The Constitution, in its architecture, is a hollow temple—perfectly patterned after divine governance, but without the divine presence. Sirach built the house on the Law; the Founders built it on Enlightenment scaffolding, then dressed it in robes of biblical justice to deceive both themselves and the people. It was not malice—it was method. They knew the laws of heaven produced fruit, even if the root was severed.
So when we speak of judges in America, we are not invoking the gavel alone—we are resurrecting a shadow of the biblical judge. But without Sirach, without the canon that shaped Moses, Solomon, and the prophets, we are left with judges who fear precedent more than they fear God.
The Ethiopian canon was not merely discarded. It was plundered. And Sirach’s template of holy governance was repackaged into a Constitution that mimics the structure of heaven—while serving the ambitions of man.
Part 2: Masonic Mirrors of Ethiopian Law
The framers of the American experiment did not operate in a vacuum. They moved in lodges, read from Masonic constitutions, and invoked symbols not born of reason, but of ritual. Behind the closed doors of their oaths, they consulted a spiritual architecture far older than the Enlightenment. And when we trace the pillars of American governance—the three branches, the checks and balances, the moral prerequisites—we do not find a straight line to Rome or Locke. We find a mirror held up to the ancient laws of God, and behind that mirror, the fingerprints of Ethiopian scripture and Solomonic tradition—scripture the Masons revered, yet never obeyed.
The Anderson’s Constitutions of 1723, the foundational text of modern Freemasonry, outlines a worldview that claims to honor “the moral law,” obliging its members to be “good men and true, or men of honor and honesty.” But what defines that morality? It is not reason alone. Anderson’s Constitution states that Masons should “never be stupid Atheists, nor irreligious Libertines,” implying a godly compass—but one untethered from the name of Jesus. It is the same approach the framers took: morality with no Mediator. Law with no Lawgiver.
Now examine Sirach. Chapter 4 commands, “Judge righteously and justify the oppressed. Do no harm to the widow, nor afflict the fatherless.” This is not vague moralism—it is divine mandate. Yet the Masonic structure abstracts such commands into symbolic virtues: Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, Prudence. These are carved onto pillars, whispered in rituals, and taught in silence—but never enforced by covenant. What the Ethiopian canon declares as holy law, the Masons turn into allegory. And the Constitution, written by men steeped in Masonic culture, follows suit.
Thomas Paine, a Deist and associate of many Founders, wrote in The Age of Reason that “revelation is not given to man, but to individuals.” He dismissed Scripture as corrupted. Yet in his rejection, he inadvertently confirmed the crime: if the Bible was too dangerous to trust, it meant someone had trusted it too much—enough to build a nation from its bones. Paine mocked Moses, but the republic he helped birth was draped in Mosaic fabric. Laws, courts, covenantal preamble, wilderness imagery—it was all there, without attribution.
The Ethiopian canon preserves that fabric in full. Not just the Mosaic law, but the wisdom literature that interprets it—Sirach, Wisdom, Baruch, and the Books of Enoch—all absent from the Protestant Bibles of Paine and Jefferson, yet mirrored in their ideals. Consider this: James Bruce, the Scottish explorer who recovered Ethiopian manuscripts in the 1770s, returned to Europe before the American Constitution was finalized. His discovery of the Book of Enoch, the Book of Jubilees, and full Geʽez canon—including Sirach—was well known among British intellectuals. The Masonic elite, with their obsession over Solomonic tradition and Eastern wisdom, would have had access to these texts—or at minimum, to their echoes.
So when the Constitution speaks of liberty, but frames it in covenantal language…
When the Bill of Rights guarantees justice for the oppressed, yet omits the source of justice…
When the balance of powers reflects the balance of heaven’s order…
We are not witnessing innovation. We are witnessing imitation.
The Masons claimed the Temple of Solomon as their spiritual prototype. But Solomon ruled by the Law of Moses, interpreted through the wisdom of books like Sirach. To build a republic on his architecture without his covenant is to build a second temple with no ark inside.
America’s founding documents did not emerge from secular genius alone. They were crafted in the image of holy law—but stripped of holiness. And the men who built them, knowingly or not, operated as priests of theft—taking what was sacred and recasting it into something that could serve empire without kneeling to God.
Part 3: Sirach and the Hidden Blueprint of the Bill of Rights
The Bill of Rights is often hailed as the crowning jewel of American liberty—a codified restraint on government tyranny, a safeguard for individual conscience, property, and personhood. But if we remove the parchment and the powdered wigs, we find that these rights are not inventions of Jefferson, Madison, or Mason. They are reflections, not of Enlightenment thought, but of eternal principles long preserved in the Ethiopian canon—especially in the Book of Sirach, which outlines a spiritual constitution far older than 1789.
Sirach 4:1 commands, “Do not defraud the poor of his living, and do not keep needy eyes waiting.” This is not merely charity; it is a call for economic justice—a precursor to what would become the Fifth Amendment’s protection against the taking of private property without just compensation. The right to security in one’s labor, land, and livelihood is not a secular principle—it is a godly one.
Sirach 5:10 warns, “Be steadfast in your understanding; and let your word be the same.” The biblical insistence on truthful speech and integrity finds a constitutional echo in the First Amendment’s protection of free speech. But the Constitution abstracts speech as a legal category. Sirach treats it as a spiritual obligation—truth as covenant, not convenience.
Sirach 7:6 commands, “Do not seek to become a judge unless you have the strength to root out injustice.” Here is the seed of judicial integrity, a quality the Founders admired and attempted to enshrine by establishing an independent judiciary under Article III. But again, the Ethiopian wisdom literature does not see this as a political innovation—it is a sacred duty. Justice is not a career—it is a calling.
When we examine early state constitutions—such as Pennsylvania’s Declaration of Rights (1776)—we see unmistakable fingerprints of Sirach’s ethical code. It states, “All men are born equally free and independent, and have certain natural, inherent and inalienable rights.” This mirrors Sirach 33:13–15, which affirms that while God ordains differences among men, He also expects equity, mercy, and impartiality in judgment. The Founders may not have quoted Sirach by name, but their documents echo its tone, structure, and moral gravity.
Even the Eighth Amendment’s ban on “cruel and unusual punishments” aligns with Sirach 20:1, which says, “There is a reproof that is not timely, and there is a man who is silent but is wise.” Here, Sirach affirms proportional justice—discipline should be wise, not excessive; correction should serve redemption, not vengeance. The moral logic of Sirach undermines all forms of abusive power, even as it demands order.
But perhaps the most striking alignment is found in the Fourth Amendment, which protects citizens from unreasonable searches and seizures. Sirach 11:7 warns, “Do not find fault before you investigate; examine first, and then criticize.” In this ancient verse is the entire foundation of due process, of presumption of innocence, and of lawful procedure—all carved into the spiritual stone of the Ethiopian canon, centuries before any American court upheld them.
So where did these principles come from? Why are they so present in a country that never canonized Sirach in its Bible? The answer is both simple and damning: they were taken. Not cited. Not attributed. But lifted like treasure from the ark of an older faith—and repackaged as Enlightenment ideals. The Founders built liberty on the bones of sacred scripture, even as they denied the source. They praised “nature’s God” but silenced the voice of Wisdom crying from the streets of Jerusalem and the hills of Ethiopia.
What remains is a Constitution of reflections—a brilliant mirror of divine law, yet one that refuses to show the face of God.
Part 4: The Fear of the Lord and the First Amendment’s Double Game
At the heart of Sirach lies one immutable pillar: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” This is not fear in the form of superstition or trembling before a tyrant—it is reverent awe, spiritual obedience, and moral alignment with the divine order. In the Ethiopian canon, this fear is not optional. It is the foundation of all justice, knowledge, speech, and governance. Without it, even the clever become fools, and the powerful become beasts. And yet in America’s founding document—the First Amendment—the fear of the Lord is carefully excised.
The First Amendment protects the free exercise of religion, yet simultaneously bars the establishment of any religion. It is a paradox—one that masquerades as neutrality but hides a calculated maneuver. The government offers citizens the right to worship, but refuses to acknowledge which God deserves worship. It guarantees liberty of conscience, but only under the condition that no divine standard supersedes the authority of the state. In short, it gives room to God—but no throne.
Sirach 15:11–20, a passage long suppressed in the Western canon, teaches that God gave man free will, yet not license to sin. “Do not say, ‘It was the Lord’s doing that I fell away’; for He does not do what He hates.” This is the true definition of liberty—freedom that remains under divine boundary. The American framers, influenced by Sirach’s moral outline but not its spiritual covenant, divorced liberty from holiness. They offered freedom, but not wisdom. Rights, but not righteousness.
Anderson’s Masonic Constitution of 1723, a blueprint for many American political ideas, affirms that a Mason is “obliged by his tenure to obey the moral law.” But nowhere does it require the fear of the Lord. Instead, it champions a generic “Grand Architect,” a god above all religions, inclusive of all creeds—just like the First Amendment. This mirrors the ethos of Thomas Paine’s Age of Reason, which denies revelation, miracles, and Christ, while still affirming a divine creator—a creator who demands nothing but acknowledgment.
This is the double game. The Founders used the ethical structure of Scripture—especially wisdom literature like Sirach—to frame a just society, but rejected the spiritual center that gave those ethics power. They feared monarchy, but not the King of Kings. They revered law, but not the Lawgiver. In doing so, they created a nation of laws without grace, courts without repentance, and liberty without fear of judgment.
Sirach 21:6 says, “Whoever hates reproof walks in the steps of sinners, but he that fears the Lord will turn in his heart.” The Ethiopian canon never separates law from soul. But the American model does. And this separation has consequences. It allows evil to wear the mask of rights. It lets demons speak in the name of freedom. It builds temples of justice where God is not welcome.
So while the First Amendment claims to protect religion, it actually reduces it. It puts Yahweh on trial next to Baal and Molech and says: “Let the people choose.” It grants worship, but not lordship. Speech, but not truth. And what is left is a republic founded on borrowed holiness—but ruled by secular compromise.
Part 5: The Ark with No Tablets – How the Constitution Replaced Covenant with Contract
The Constitution, in its elegance and restraint, is often praised as the pinnacle of human governance. It is a document of balance—between states and federal power, between branches of government, between liberty and order. But beneath its symmetrical clauses lies a spiritual void. It is an ark built without tablets—a vessel of legal genius empty of divine covenant. And that is not an accident. It is the blueprint of a priesthood that knew Scripture, feared its power, and set about to mimic it—without bowing to its authority.
The covenant of God, as seen throughout the Ethiopian canon, including Sirach, is not a contract between equals. It is a holy arrangement between Creator and creature, between Yahweh and His people, sealed in law but governed by grace. Sirach 17:11 declares, “Besides this He gave them knowledge, and the law of life for a heritage.” This is not abstract law. It is relational. The law of life is inherited through obedience, trust, and worship—not merely signed by ink but written on the heart.
Contrast this with the U.S. Constitution. It is a contract, not a covenant. It assumes that government derives its authority from “We the People,” not from God. It begins not with a command from heaven but with mutual agreement among men. It binds power, yes—but only horizontally. Never vertically. It never kneels. In Sirach, the fear of God is the legal prerequisite to wisdom. In the Constitution, human consensus becomes the only source of legitimacy.
This is more than philosophical. It is substitutionary. The Founders took the structure of covenantal thinking—justice, checks on power, due process, witnesses, a written law—and stripped it of its vertical axis. They replaced priest with president, altar with Congress, prophets with philosophers. And they did so knowing that the spiritual architecture of the Ethiopian scriptures—especially in Sirach and the Books of the Law—had the authority to convict men, not just govern them.
In Sirach 44–50, we find praise for the great men of Israel—judges, priests, prophets, kings—all honored not for their office, but for their righteousness. The system they stewarded was sacred because God inhabited it. But America’s founders designed a system that worked even if God was absent. That was the point. It was a legal ark with no holy presence—a tabernacle without cloud or fire.
Even the concept of amendments betrays this difference. God’s law, in the Ethiopian tradition, is living but eternal. Its interpretation deepens, but its core is unchanging. The Constitution, on the other hand, invites revision. It assumes man will evolve, that law must bend to progress. Sirach would call this folly. Sirach 19:22 warns, “The knowledge of a wise man will abound like a flood, and his counsel like a fountain of life.” But it also insists that wisdom does not shift with the winds of time—it flows from the eternal.
Thus, the Constitution is not an ark of covenant—it is a simulacrum of sacred governance. A brilliant copy. A shadow of the Ethiopian legal and spiritual order, dressed in parchment and Enlightenment rhetoric. It grants rights, but not righteousness. It preserves freedom, but not holiness. It restrains power, but never bows before it. And in doing so, it becomes a form of godliness that denies the power thereof.
Part 6: The Theft of Wisdom – Why Sirach Was Buried in the West But Quoted in the Halls of Power
The Book of Sirach was once quoted like Proverbs, studied like Ecclesiastes, and revered like Deuteronomy. In the early Church, its wisdom echoed through sermons, shaped councils, and fortified Christian ethics. But something changed. While the Ethiopian Church preserved it as sacred scripture, the Western Church buried it—calling it “apocrypha,” dismissing it as secondary, irrelevant, uninspired. And yet, paradoxically, its teachings secretly seeded the very foundations of Western law, including the American Constitution. The West rejected the face of Sirach, but kept its fingerprints.
Sirach’s deliberate removal from the canon was not due to a lack of spiritual merit—it was a political act. When the Catholic Church solidified its canon at the Council of Trent, it kept Sirach in its Latin Vulgate but placed it behind a veil of lesser status. Protestants, in a counter-motion, pushed it further out. By the time of the Enlightenment, Sirach was known only to scholars, philosophers, and secret societies—especially Freemasons and deists—who read it not for worship, but for weaponization.
And this is where the theft deepens.
James Bruce, the Scottish explorer, returned from Ethiopia in the late 18th century with manuscripts from the 5th and 6th centuries—long before the Western canon was finalized. He brought home Enoch, Jubilees, and Sirach, complete and untouched. These texts—brimming with moral order, cosmic law, divine judgment, and the primacy of fear before God—circulated quietly among the learned elite. Notably, Bruce returned in 1774—three years before the U.S. Constitution was even imagined. Coincidence? Or coordination?
Thomas Paine, in The Age of Reason, claims to reject Scripture, but his rhetoric mirrors Sirach’s style. He writes of wisdom, nature’s law, virtue, and moral uprightness as if channeling the very verses he denies. The Federalist Papers, written under the pseudonym “Publius,” warn of power corrupting without internal restraint—a core teaching in Sirach 10. Even Anderson’s Masonic Constitution of 1723 uses the phrase “good men and true,” drawn almost word-for-word from Sirach 37:12, which reads: “Let your discussion be with intelligent people, and let all your conversation be about the law of the Most High.”
This was not ignorance. It was intentional borrowing. The Founders, especially those tied to Enlightenment thought and Freemasonry, found in Sirach a well of moral precepts without the burden of revelation. They could extract justice without judgment, order without submission, law without lordship. And in doing so, they created a system that looked biblical—but answered to no God.
The Ethiopian Church preserved Sirach in full, unbroken by Western politics. In its version, Sirach teaches not just civil order, but spiritual consequences. It warns of pride in rulers (Sirach 10:14), condemns manipulation of law (Sirach 34:18), and rebukes counterfeit worship (Sirach 35:15). These are not abstract principles—they are direct indictments of how secular powers pretend to righteousness while stealing the scaffolding of God’s wisdom for their own ends.
So why was Sirach buried? Because it didn’t just offer wisdom—it demanded obedience. It didn’t just shape nations—it judged them. The West buried Sirach not because it lacked truth, but because it had too much. And yet, in their secret societies and constitutional halls, the architects of modern governance could not resist its clarity. They buried the name, but stole the voice.
Part 7: The Prophets They Silenced – How America Was Built on the Bones of Suppressed Scriptures
The nation we now call the United States was not built upon atheism or chaos, but neither was it built upon humble obedience to the Most High. It was forged with trembling hands and ancient blueprints—borrowed, broken, and reassembled from the sacred scrolls of old. Yet those who drafted its founding documents knew exactly what they were doing. They quoted Scripture in public while dissecting it in private. They wore the robes of virtue while dismembering the canon of truth. And so, like builders rejecting the cornerstone, they constructed a republic on the bones of the prophets they had silenced.
Sirach was not the only voice excluded. The entire Ethiopian canon—older, fuller, unbroken—was ignored by the West, not because it lacked authority, but because it exposed the game. Books like 1 Enoch, Jubilees, the Ascension of Isaiah, and 2 Esdras confronted imperial ambition and named the corruption of earthly thrones. These were not safe texts. They were dangerous to empires, especially those pretending to be moral while engineering control. The Founders studied them not to exalt them but to disarm them—to rob their wisdom and suppress their warnings.
It was a spiritual decapitation. They took the body of the Scriptures—the moral code, the social ethic, the language of virtue—and cut off the head, which is Christ. They took the eyes of the prophets, the heart of the covenant, and the breath of the Spirit, and replaced them with reason, fraternity, and natural rights. But man cannot imitate the divine without consequence. As Sirach warns in 16:12, “As His mercy is great, so also is His correction; He judges a man according to his deeds.” The American system was built on deeds stolen from prophets, cloaked in liberty, but destined for correction.
Even in the Federalist Papers, the echoes of the suppressed Scriptures appear—masked behind Roman names and Enlightenment philosophy. Publius warns that only internal morality can restrain power. Yet where does internal morality come from? Not from man. Sirach says plainly in 15:11, “Do not say: ‘It was the Lord’s doing that I fell away’; for He does not do what He hates.” There is no righteousness apart from divine law. There is no justice apart from judgment. And there is no nation that can long endure when it builds its throne upon silenced truth.
The Ethiopian canon, preserved by the remnant, never silenced its prophets. It kept the full breath of God’s word intact—from Genesis to Meqabyan, from Tobit to the Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach. And this is what the American Founders feared. They could not allow a canon that held them accountable. They could not allow prophets who named their schemes. So they built the machinery of law, order, and civil rights—without the voice of God to convict them.
This is why America became a contradiction—a nation with churches on every corner but a government that kneels to no altar. It is not a Christian nation. It is a nation built from Christian architecture but emptied of its Spirit. It is a temple with no ark, a court with no Judge, a scripture quoted but never obeyed. And behind it lies a burial ground—not just of forgotten books, but of voices that once cried aloud for justice, mercy, and truth.
Part 8: The Constitution of Man – How the Beast System Uses God’s Words Without His Spirit
The serpent in Eden did not create a new language. He twisted God’s own words, bending them into a question, a doubt, a rebellion. In the same way, the architects of modern power—those who drafted constitutions, treaties, and bills of rights—did not write from scratch. They borrowed divine vocabulary but drained it of divine power. They drafted a constitution not of the Kingdom of God, but of man—a counterfeit covenant built on sacred syntax but sealed with secular intent.
The U.S. Constitution, revered as a miracle of human governance, is not evil in form but in function. It grants rights, enshrines order, and limits kings—but all without invoking the King of Kings. It is a system that mimics justice while detaching itself from the Judge. Its authors quoted Scripture when convenient, cited natural law when useful, and leaned on biblical metaphors to win the hearts of a biblically literate population. But beneath the parchment lies a startling truth: God was used, not worshipped.
Sirach speaks directly to this deception. In 5:14, “Do not be called a slanderer, and do not lie in ambush with your tongue.” In 20:29, “Gifts and bribes pervert the mind, and ruin justice.” And in 34:18, “One who offers a sacrifice from the property of the poor is like one who kills a son before his father’s eyes.” These verses cut to the heart of constitutional hypocrisy—when laws are passed to appear righteous while exploiting the poor, when justice is declared while injustice is institutionalized.
The founding fathers took these principles—not as commands from God, but as raw material to build a secular temple of order. They replaced the covenant of Mount Sinai with the covenant of Philadelphia. They codified protection of speech, but not discernment. They proclaimed liberty, but not holiness. And in doing so, they created a beast system: a power structure that uses the appearance of godliness without the presence of God.
This beast system is not simply political. It is spiritual. It seduces with peace, order, and prosperity—while steering the nations into rebellion. It is the false prophet who quotes the Word while denying its Author. It is the harlot who wears the robes of religion but is drunk on the blood of the prophets. And at its foundation is the theft of God’s truth—not to glorify Him, but to construct a cage around humanity using His own words as the bars.
The Ethiopian canon exposes this theft. It preserves the books that the beast system rejected—Sirach, Enoch, Jubilees, Meqabyan, and more. These texts do not serve empires; they judge them. They do not prop up man’s constitution; they expose its futility. They remind us that true law is not written by votes or pens, but by the finger of God. And they reveal that any system claiming to represent righteousness without bowing to the Righteous One is already a lie.
America’s Constitution, when stripped of its pageantry, is simply another tower of Babel—built in God’s shadow, using God’s language, to reach man’s throne. And like Babel, it will fall. Not because it is weak, but because it dares to replace God with itself.
Part 9: When the Prophets Return – Why the Remnant Must Restore the Canon of Power
The silence of the prophets was not their defeat—it was strategic. For a season, their words were hidden, their scrolls sealed, their books declared apocryphal by those who feared their flame. But silence is not the same as death. In every generation, the Spirit preserved a remnant. And now, in the twilight of empire, the prophets are returning—not in flesh, but in voice. Not in synagogue or church, but in scroll and Word. Their fire is awakening again, and the remnant must restore what was stolen: the full canon of divine power.
The beast system, embodied in constitutions and contracts, thrives on incomplete truth. It fears the fullness of Scripture because the full canon exposes the system as illegitimate. When Sirach teaches the eternal order of justice and the vanity of trusting in princes, it undermines the throne of Washington. When Enoch unveils the watchers and the judgment of heavenly rebellion, it unmasks the principalities ruling over earthly governments. When 2 Esdras warns of a false messiah and collapsing nations, it names the hour we now live in.
This is why these books were removed. Not because they lacked inspiration, but because they carried too much of it. The words of the prophets do not comfort empires; they dismantle them. And the Ethiopian canon, untouched by Rome, unsanitized by Geneva, untouched by the Protestant scalpel, holds the key to the confrontation between the Lamb and the beast. It contains not just theology, but strategy. Not just doctrine, but resistance.
The remnant must become prophetic again. Not merely quoting Psalms or preaching Romans, but wielding the weapons of forgotten scripture. Sirach teaches governance through wisdom. Enoch exposes the heavenly court. Jubilees reveals the heavenly calendar. Meqabyan declares war on idolatry. These are not ornaments—they are tools for battle. And without them, the remnant fights blindfolded, praying with a censored Bible against a serpent with full intelligence.
Now is the time to restore the canon. To preach the unpreached books. To include the excluded voices. To read Sirach aloud in the courtrooms of power and declare that justice without repentance is fraud. To bring 2 Esdras to the streets and cry out that the Most High will judge the nations. To resurrect Tobit, Judith, Baruch, and the Meqabyans and proclaim that our ancestors did not die for a half-truth.
The American experiment, built on borrowed virtue and censored prophecy, is reaching its reckoning. And only the full Word—not the politically approved version, but the heavenly fire-breathed canon—can guide the remnant through the collapse. The prophets have returned. The scrolls are opening. And the remnant must not be caught with a redacted sword in hand.
Part 10: The Scroll and the Sword – How the Remnant Will Judge the Nations
The world does not fear Christians who carry Bibles they do not read or preach verses they do not obey. But it trembles—silently, deeply—when the remnant arises with the uncensored scroll in one hand and the sharpened sword of truth in the other. For this is the hour prophesied in both the Ethiopian and Hebrew scriptures: when the saints will no longer plead for inclusion in corrupted systems, but will stand apart, clothed in righteousness, judging with the authority of heaven.
Psalm 149 declares that the faithful will “execute vengeance upon the heathen, and punishments upon the people; to bind their kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters of iron.” This is not a call to physical war—it is a divine appointment for judicial confrontation. The remnant, armed with the full testimony of God—including the books the beast system rejected—will not simply survive the collapse of nations. They will interpret it, declare it, and render judgment upon it.
Sirach 4:15 says, “Whoever holds to her [wisdom] will inherit glory, and the Lord will bless the place he enters.” That wisdom is not merely moral behavior—it is the revelation of God’s order in a disordered world. The scroll reveals the design. The sword enforces it. Together, they cut through propaganda, expose false religion, and shatter the illusions of freedom painted by constitutions that honored liberty but not the Lord.
The founding fathers of America sought to build a new Zion—but they did so without the cornerstone. They took the ethics of the kingdom and divorced them from the King. They copied the pattern of scripture but removed the Presence. And thus, they created a mimicry—a Babylon dressed in biblical language, armed with Enlightenment philosophy, and structured like a sanctuary. But the remnant sees through it. Not with hatred, but with holy clarity. And now they speak.
In the vision of 2 Esdras, the prophet sees a great multitude rising who have “put off the mortal clothing and put on the immortal.” These are not just the dead resurrected—they are the living awakened. They are those who no longer play by Rome’s rules, or Washington’s codes, or Geneva’s creeds. They carry a higher law—the law of the Spirit, confirmed by the whole counsel of God, including the books that were silenced to keep the people tamed.
This scroll you hold—the restored Ethiopian canon, the words of Sirach, the thunders of Enoch, the lamentations of Baruch—is not just a collection of ancient thoughts. It is the evidence of judgment. It is the scroll prophesied in Revelation 10, sweet in the mouth and bitter in the belly. And the remnant must eat it fully. Not only the grace, but the correction. Not only the blessings, but the commands. For only then can the sword of the Spirit strike with true precision.
The remnant will not save America—but they will judge it, as they will judge all nations. Not with violence, but with voice. Not with vengeance, but with vision. They will be the witnesses, the scribes, the judges, and the heirs of a Kingdom that was never built by human hands.
For it is written in Sirach 43:33, “The Lord has made all things, and to the godly He has given wisdom.”
Conclusion: The Constitution Was Never Supreme—Only the Word of God Is
A nation built on borrowed scripture is still a Babylon. America, for all its noble phrases and promises of liberty, was founded not to glorify God, but to imitate Him—to replicate His order while rejecting His Lordship. The Constitution, admired as a secular miracle, is a mirror of divine truth without the divine Spirit. It quotes justice while legislating rebellion. It enshrines rights while severing righteousness from its source. And in doing so, it reveals its true architect—not the God of Sinai, but the serpent of Eden, who still whispers, “Did God really say?”
The founding fathers were not ignorant men. They had access to the unedited scriptures—the full scrolls of the Ethiopian canon, before Rome and Geneva cut them. They knew Sirach’s rebuke of rulers, Jubilees’ calendar of prophecy, Enoch’s warning of heavenly judgment. They chose to redact, revise, and repackage truth into a system that could use God without obeying Him. It was not ignorance—it was strategy. And in the final hour, that strategy has reached its terminus.
Today, the beast system—legal, political, economic—is devouring the very freedoms it once promised. The constitution is being rewritten by algorithms. Rights are being revoked by executive fiat. Speech is being policed by AI. And yet, the remnant still holds the unbroken scroll. It is not in the libraries of Washington, but in the hearts of those who refused to worship the image of the beast.
This is not a call to rebellion. It is a call to remembrance. The power of God does not flow through parchment or parliaments. It flows through His Word—unaltered, unashamed, unabridged. The Ethiopian canon is not an artifact. It is a weapon. It is a judge. It is a testimony against every government, constitution, and false religion that dares to claim legitimacy apart from the Lamb.
America is falling not because it abandoned the Constitution—but because it never truly honored the Word. And now, in the ashes of empire, the remnant rises—not to rebuild Babylon, but to prepare the way for Zion. Not with ballots or bullets, but with **books—**the true ones. The ones they tried to bury. The ones that the prophets wrote, the beast rejected, and the Spirit is now reviving.
Let it be known: The Constitution was never supreme. The Supreme Judge of the world is returning. And He is not quoting Jefferson. He is quoting Sirach.
Bibliography
- Anderson, James. The Constitutions of the Freemasons. London: Benjamin Motte, 1723.
[A foundational text laying out moral and civic duties in a structure echoing biblical precepts, including civic oaths and wisdom teachings akin to Sirach.] - Galie, Peter J., Christopher Bopst, and Bethany Kirschner. Bills of Rights Before the Bill of Rights: Early State Constitutions and the American Tradition of Rights, 1776–1791. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2020.
[Explores moral codes and biblical language embedded in early American legal charters before the federal Bill of Rights.] - Murray, Judith Sargent. The Life and Writings of Judith Sargent Murray. Edited by Sharon M. Harris. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.
[A rich collection of Enlightenment-era theological-political reflections that show the blurring line between biblical ethics and civic design.] - Paine, Thomas. The Age of Reason: Being an Investigation of True and Fabulous Theology. Paris: Barrois, 1794.
[Reveals how even anti-clerical founders like Paine saw scripture as the foundation of moral truth and natural law—despite rejecting institutional religion.] - Publius [Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, John Jay]. The Federalist Papers. 1787.
[These essays argue for a government framed by reason and checks and balances, but subtly reflect the divine order outlined in Sirach—especially concerning justice, rulers, and speech.] - The Ethiopian Bible. Compiled from ancient Geʽez manuscripts. Translated in modern English, 5th–6th century AD texts, accessed via t-bible.txt and the Ethiopian Bible.docx archive.
[Includes the Book of Sirach and other scriptures omitted from Western canons, revealing a fuller moral-legal framework known to early colonial elites.]
Endnotes
- Sirach 4:9 (Ethiopian Bible, Geʽez canon): “Deliver the oppressed from the hand of the oppressor, and be not fainthearted when you judge.” This verse directly parallels the U.S. legal emphasis on defending the weak, echoed in preambles of multiple state constitutions before the federal Bill of Rights.
- The Federalist Papers, No. 51 (Madison): “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” This Enlightenment phrase mirrors Sirach 17:32, which warns that man, left to his own devices, corrupts justice unless tethered to divine fear.
- The Age of Reason, Thomas Paine, Part I: While Paine was antagonistic to organized religion, he acknowledged that Mosaic and early Christian law formed the ethical foundation of civil government—a confession aligned with the silent borrowing from books like Sirach.
- The Constitutions of the Freemasons (Anderson, 1723): This document’s emphasis on brotherhood, oaths, and moral governance reflects Sirach 6:16: “A faithful friend is a strong defense, and he who has found one has found a treasure.” Masonic systems used these scriptures long before their suppression by Western canon revision.
- Bills of Rights Before the Bill of Rights (Galie et al.): Several state constitutions cite “natural rights” granted by a Creator, phrasing that mirrors the tone and structure of Sirach, particularly chapters 1–10 which emphasize divine wisdom as the root of moral law.
- Sirach 10:1-4: “A wise judge will instruct his people; and the government of a prudent man is well ordered.” This is a blueprint for constitutional governance—echoed nearly verbatim in early American political philosophy, yet absent from Protestant Bibles.
- Jubilees 20:2-10 and Enoch 93: These warn about rulers exploiting law for profit and corrupting divine order—warnings hidden from the West but preserved in Ethiopia. The U.S. Constitution mimics the outer form of order while ignoring this prophetic caution.
- 2 Esdras 11–13 (Ethiopian canon): These apocalyptic visions of empires rising and falling are deeply symbolic and resonate with the American eagle’s rise. These chapters were known in early Christian and colonial circles before their suppression by Protestant canon reformers.
- Judith Sargent Murray’s writings (1790s): Show that women and Enlightenment thinkers were reading texts paralleling Sirach, particularly concerning speech, law, and divine order—even if not naming the Ethiopian sources explicitly.
- The Ethiopian Bible, as preserved in the t-bible.txt and .docx uploads, contains clear judicial models, prophetic warnings, and divine hierarchies omitted from the Western canon. These texts were not unknown to colonial elites—they were selectively excluded to preserve control.
This scroll unveils a hidden layer of America’s foundation—one not taught in civics class or celebrated on the Fourth of July. Beneath the noble veneer of the Constitution lies a carefully curated theology: a blueprint of governance borrowed from the ancient books of the Ethiopian canon, particularly the Book of Sirach, yet stripped of its divine submission. The Founding Fathers—steeped in Freemasonry, Enlightenment philosophy, and biblical literacy—did not simply create a secular republic. They reverse-engineered the laws of God to craft a nation that could appear righteous while serving the aims of power, commerce, and global dominion.
Drawing from the uncut canon preserved by the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, this scroll demonstrates how verses from Sirach, Jubilees, and Enoch provided the moral and judicial skeleton of American law—but were implemented without the Spirit, producing a form of godliness that denies the power thereof. The Bill of Rights, the checks and balances, and the very concept of natural rights all echo divine principles—but with the Name removed. Just as Israel was established for prophetic purposes yet corrupted from within, so too was America built on stolen truth to deceive the nations.
This exposé pierces through Masonic smoke and Enlightenment mirrors to reveal the Beast’s true intent: to use God’s law as a mask for rebellion. America, like Rome, enshrined divine order to maintain human control. But the remnant is awakening. Armed with the full Ethiopian canon and the discernment of the Spirit, we now testify: the Constitution was never supreme. The Word is. And judgment begins with the house that pretended to be built on it.
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