What’s the Difference Between a God and a Monster?

Heather Macumber reviews Brandon Grafius’s “Scared by the Bible: The Roots of Horror in Scripture.”

By Heather MacumberNovember 12, 2025

• SF

• Philosophy & Religion

WHAT DO HORROR and the Bible have to do with one another? According to Brandon Grafius, quite a lot. It’s no coincidence that his opening quotation, “work out your own salvation in fear and trembling” (Philippians 2:12), gestures toward this deep sense of dread. In Scared by the Bible: The Roots of Horror in Scripture, Grafius builds on his previous academic work to present an accessible guide to reading the Bible through the lens of horror.

Be warned—this isn’t your average introduction to the Bible. Instead, one finds stories not often told in Sunday school and that haven’t made it into cultural awareness. Whether tales of revenge, the graphic violence of Israel’s early history, demonic possession, or even the terror of the apocalypse, these moments of cosmic horror alert the reader that something else is afoot. This turn toward the uncanny or the monstrous is part of a developing field of scholarship interested in horror and monster studies. The merging of religion and the monstrous is also having a moment in culture if the proliferation of “biblically accurate angel” memes is any indication.

What sets this book apart is the deeply entangled ways that it presents horror and religion. Horror movies aren’t just used as window dressing to make the Bible more fun, relevant, or hip. They are in fact windows to reading the Bible in ways that are disorienting and yet highly entertaining. Take, for instance, the very serious topic of “the holiness of God”; rather than going to the theologians, Grafius takes the reader to Hollywood—specifically, to Steven Spielberg’s 1981 hit Indiana Jones movie Raiders of the Lost Ark. The climactic scene in which the Nazis boldly open the Ark of the Covenant, only to release terrifying spirits, is decidedly campy, yet even with the melting skin and exploding flesh, the film manages to both repel and fascinate the audience.

Horror movies, according to Grafius, are well positioned to showcase these twin experiences of the divine and the horrific: “Rather than the soft, cuddly image of God that we’re often given in Sunday School, this presents God as a powerful, uncontrollable force that we need to keep our distance from. Get too close, and our eyes might start running down our faces.” This gets to the heart of the problem—what is the difference between a god and a monster? Readers may find themselves wondering if the God of the Bible lands on the side of the monstrous. The short answer is yes.

Equating the God of the Bible with the monstrous is potentially unsettling for some readers. Grafius ably handles these tricky theological waters, acknowledging that the Bible can hold space for both comforting passages and others that are deeply disturbing. Reading the Bible through the lens of horror is especially helpful when encountering texts that showcase the violence of God, especially when it appears capricious or undeserved. Whether it’s demolishing entire cities or taking out a man simply for touching the Ark of the Covenant, the destructive power of the divine is not only terrifying but also repellent. As Grafius writes, “God is both violent monster and tender comforter.” It’s clear that these complexities present opportunity rather than despair for the author, as he reminds readers that comfort and terror are essential to understanding the divine.

Though this is a book that explores horror, it is also asking readers to rethink their categories. The Bible is often called “The Good Book.” But it’s also full of stories of genocide, enslavement, revenge, misogyny, and graphic violence. How does one reconcile the uplifting stories told in church with the other, more problematic passages? Grafius advocates for a “hermeneutics of horror”—a way of reading and interpreting texts focused on their context and what they are trying to tell you. The question “how is this story trying to scare you?” becomes a guiding principle for this type of reading. It’s not so much a “right” reading as it is a helpful one. Instead of discovering the most “original” or “accurate” meaning, Grafius urges the reader to consider their emotional response. He uses popular horror films including Halloween (1978) and Friday the 13th (1980) to help readers identify what he calls the “vocabulary” of horror. These include feelings of fear, dread, and anxiety (I would also add disgust or repulsion to the list) that arise from viewing these movies. Similar reactions frequently surface when one reads Bible stories, and Grafius challenges readers to explore, rather than dismiss, these uncomfortable emotions. As he tells readers, “[D]on’t be afraid to acknowledge that there’s horror in the Bible.”

Though written by an academic, this is not a dry treatise. The tone of the book is conversational, with many snippets of Grafius’s personal experiences drawing the reader into each chapter. Readers get to see how religion and horror movies became thoroughly enmeshed in the author’s life and imagination. Often the Bible is used as a lens to read culture; Grafius, by contrast, uses culture, in the form of horror movies, to help read the Bible. Who knew that the 1973 British folk horror film The Wicker Man could illuminate the story of Samson from the Book of Judges? The perennial hero starts to unravel when read alongside The Wicker Man, as the lines between good and evil are blurred. There are no obvious heroes; instead, both the Book of Judges and The Wicker Man complicate easy readings about whom one should identify with. The Book of Judges ends with horrific violence, and one might even point to the slaughter of the Levite’s secondary wife as evidence of the community’s monstrosity, not dissimilar to the sacrifice of Sergeant Howie by the residents of Summerisle in the film. Grafius demonstrates that part of the horror comes from finding oneself disoriented while reading familiar Bible stories, realizing that monstrosity is embedded even in texts considered sacred.

To help with this task, the biblical text itself is given an update with a fresh retelling at the beginning of each chapter. Purists may recoil in horror that the King James Version isn’t used, details are added, and scenes are expanded upon. It may even take readers a minute to realize that they are reading the Bible. These creative retellings tangibly demonstrate how they can imaginatively read the Bible with horror. For example, the story of the demon-possessed man named Legion is well known, and I guarantee that if Grafius had reproduced a standard biblical translation, this reviewer would have skipped right over it. But upon closer inspection, one realizes that this reading of Legion’s story (likely from the Gospel of Mark) is inflected with moments of horror—particularly, the slow deterioration of a man’s mind as it is taken over by alien hosts, in this case a demonic horde. The biblical text simply says that the demon-possessed man was chained and kept in the tombs. It is easy to skim through this story and miss all the unsettling moments of horror. Like a movie scene, Grafius’s reboot of Legion’s story fills in the gaps of the biblical text, exposing the psychological toll on the man’s family and community as they come to fear his unpredictable violence. While some readers may protest this “tampering” with the biblical text, these vignettes at the beginning of each chapter are subtle reminders that it takes creativity to engage with stories, even those considered sacred.

While this book is engaging and accessible, it also gives the reader many opportunities to nerd out on the Bible, monster theory, and horror. You won’t find footnotes; instead, the author name-drops major scholars along the way. These aren’t just general resources but also major critical scholars, such as Jeffrey Jerome Cohen or Noël Carroll, who have defined monster and horror studies. For those interested in diving even deeper, the narrative bibliography is a must-read that is just as enlightening as the book itself. This is not your standard bibliography with a long list of sources but instead is charmingly designed as a conversation between author and reader. Intended as a series of mini-essays supporting each chapter, they walk readers through the sources the author used to write the book and give additional background helpful for further study. It’s a treasure trove of resources for those who religiously write down book recommendations.

A small but important quibble: The writing here is often directed toward Christians or readers familiar with Christianity. The author frequently situates himself in this milieu, using “we” and “us” when referring to presumably shared experiences such as attending Sunday school. This more limited focus is unfortunate as many people, regardless of their religious affiliation, remain fascinated by the Bible, and even more so its horrific stories. Books on religious subjects can be expansive and made to appeal to a wider readership beyond just believers. In fact, other than the moments of in-group exclusivity, Grafius’s book covers a range of content in such a way that anyone can engage with it, whether one comes for the Bible stories or the horror movies. Often, those with the least knowledge of the Bible can bring out the most interesting readings since they aren’t conditioned by traditional interpretations. Grafius’s attention to difficult Bible passages will draw in those within and outside religious circles who are equally fascinated and disturbed. Whether it’s Leviticus’s discomfort with the female body, the stomach-churning violence of Judges, or the terrors of the apocalypse, Grafius’s unflinching examination of biblical horror forces readers to reckon with the uncanny and unknowable.

Scared by the Bible encourages the reader to think imaginatively with the biblical text in a time when popular interpretations of the Bible regularly reduce it to a mere set of rules. This is a book that takes both the Bible and horror movies seriously. Grafius has done an excellent job balancing a book that is accessible and engaging while still tackling difficult concepts. It is clearly stated that reading the Bible via horror involves using an external lens, but this book proves it is a necessary one. Rather than leaving the troubling (and horrific) biblical stories in the shadows, Grafius insists that understanding horror is an essential skill in tackling these texts. Not only is it normal to be scared by the Bible, but that also may be the best way to read it.