In-Sight Publishing

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/02/23

Dr. Ronald Reese Ruark, an attorney in private practice in Canton, Michigan, has nearly 35 years of legal experience and holds a Master of Theology from Dallas Theological Seminary (1984) and a Juris Doctor from Marquette University Law School (1991). Currently pursuing doctoral studies at the University of Michigan, he focuses on the influence of Enochic Judaism on Paul’s apocalyptic theology. Ruark has written on theology, law, and religious skepticism, including his Free Inquiry article, Three Exorcisms. His theological and legal expertise intersect with his deep interest in First Amendment issues, particularly religious freedom and expression. He left the ministry in 1988 and returned for two years before departing permanently in 2006. Ruark describes his journey as an intellectual evolution shaped by rigorous theological study and his legal career. His perspective highlights the ethical concerns surrounding religious practices like exorcism, the broader societal role of religion, and the interplay between faith and reason.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Today, we’re here with Ronald Reese Ruark. He is an attorney in private practice in Canton, Michigan, with almost thirty-five years of legal experience. He holds a Master of Theology from Dallas Theological Seminary(1984) and a Juris Doctor from Marquette University Law School (1991).

He is a doctoral student at the University of Michigan studying the influence of Enochic Judaism on Paul’s apocalyptic theology. Ruark has written on theology, law, and religious skepticism, including his Free Inquiry article, Free Exorcisms. He has been married to his wife, Nancy, for forty-five years. His extensive background brings a unique perspective on faith, law, and intellectual inquiry.

How do your theological and legal expertise intersect personally?

Dr. Ronald Reese Ruark: Theology, specifically the New Testament, has always been my first love. I was a Greek major in college, taught by a professor with a background in classical Greek, which deepened my interest in studying the New Testament. I strengthened that foundation at Dallas Theological Seminary, where I was a theology major studying under Norman Geisler. Sometimes, I wish I had pursued New Testament studies because, at the time, Dallas had a fine, young New Testament department—some of whom are still teaching today, forty years later, at the peak of their careers.

Jacobsen: How do theology and law blend in your career?

Ruark: Originally, I envisioned becoming a lay minister in a church. Legal issues, particularly First Amendment matters—especially freedom of expression—have always intrigued me. There is significant common ground between theology and law.

Eventually, I left the ministry in 1988, though I briefly returned in 2002–2004. I served as a pastor for twenty-five months before leaving for good in 2006.

Jacobsen: Those two years in the pulpit—this isn’t the main focus of the interview, but it’s insightful—what were the key takeaways, both positive and negative, that you carry with you today?

Ruark: The most positive takeaway was working with wonderful people. Many church members sincerely strive to shape their lives around their faith in Christ. Their sincerity was inspiring. I also enjoyed public speaking—I spoke four times weekly, twice from the pulpit and twice in the classroom. I was extremely busy.

Ruark: For one of those semesters, I took a full course load at Michigan. I also taught in Michigan and managed all my church responsibilities in addition to practicing law. I was barely keeping my head above water, but overall, it was a positive experience.

The negative takeaway was that when I left the church for good, I only returned for things like hearing my granddaughter sing in a Christmas choir. The most challenging realization—based on all my church experiences—was that Christians are neither better nor worse than any other religious group. In my legal work, I have interacted with Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus, and I studied Judaism at the University of Michigan, working side by side with Jewish classmates. It was a difficult realization to accept because, according to Christian belief, Christians are supposed to have the Spirit of God residing within them. Yet, in practice, that did not seem to make them distinct in any meaningful way.

My study of the New Testament gospels led me to believe that most Christians do not follow a fundamental element of Jesus’ teachings—specifically, he was an apocalyptic prophet who instructed his disciples to relinquish their possessions. Luke 12:33 and Luke 14:33 make this clear: No man can be my disciple if he does not give up everything he has. Yet, despite this, the people I encountered were still good, and I enjoyed their company.

Being part of a church community has many benefits. You have to take the good along with some of the bad. I don’t know if that answers your question.

Jacobsen: It does. It also provides insight because that perspective has not always been given equal space or respect over the past two decades as a counterbalance in freethought circles, activism, and speaking engagements. We seem to move toward a more balanced cultural commentary from freethought, humanist, and atheist communities.

That’s a good perspective. So, what inspired you to write Three Exorcisms? And what led you to share these particular experiences?

Ruark: The two exorcism experiences were based on personal experience and deeply impacted my psyche.

I love to write and enjoy it very much. Now that I have finished my work at Michigan, I plan to write more. I am giving free expression to the evolution of my thoughts. I’m relieved that most of my Christian friends will never see it. I tried Googling it myself, and it wouldn’t come up unless I used my full name—but when I did, it appeared immediately.

That has always been a sensitive area for me. I do not attempt to lead anyone out of the church or away from their relationship with Christ. Most of my friends are solid Christian believers, and I would never try to persuade them to abandon their faith.

This is a very autobiographical reflection on how my life has evolved. I do not challenge anyone else to experience the same evolution—some might even consider it a devolution. I don’t know.

Jacobsen: How are exorcisms framed in most churches or denominations? How are they viewed theologically, especially in a hermeneutic or analytical sense? And in terms of lived experience, how do people perceive them?

Ruark: Keep in mind that I have only experienced two exorcisms firsthand. Other than that, my knowledge comes from watching movies.

I suspect that much of it involves the subjugation of evil forces and is apocalyptic. If Christ was an apocalyptic prophet—a Jewish apocalyptic prophet—then he engaged in exorcisms according to the Gospels. I believe that involves the subjugation of evil forces and the apocalyptic conflict between good and evil.

This is fundamentally an Enochic idea. Suppose you read the Epistles, the Epistle of Enoch, the Book of the Watchers, and especially the Book of Parables. In that case, you see more than parallels between that theology and Christian apocalyptic theology—you see structural similarities. Structurally, they are the same.

Some primordial events have thrown the world into chaos. This is attributed to Adam’s sin in Christian theology, particularly Romans 5 and 6. In Enochic theology, it is a primordial cosmic event—a war in heaven that plunged the universe and the world into chaos and disorder.

Modern exorcisms are seen as part of the reordering of the world, alleviating that chaos, particularly with the advent of Christ and the power he is believed to wield in the world today. But suppose you ask fifteen or twenty Christians. In that case, you might get fifteen or twenty answers about how they perceive exorcisms.

Jacobsen: And in terms of the reality of the situation—when an individual is reporting what is essentially a supernatural event, whether it is something they are acting out or experiencing as a physiological event—what is happening when you strip away the theological interpretations and supernatural elements?

Ruark: As I indicated in the article, it was easily explained. What I witnessed was theatre. I saw people who were probably under the influence, either emotionally or psychologically. They may have known what was expected of them, or perhaps they viewed it as a dramatic moment in their lives. Some might have even believed it bolstered their significance—that they were important enough for satanic forces to try to control them.

There are all kinds of psychological explanations at play. The Exorcist—the movie—created much of the hoopla surrounding exorcisms. I would be willing to bet that the number of reported exorcisms increased dramatically after that movie.

Of course, exorcisms appear in other films as well. The Exorcism of Emily Rose comes to mind—it was a well-made film. Ultimately, however, this is all part of the cultural phenomenon.

The two Christians I dealt with directly—I was not directly involved, but I was there—were fully immersed in that belief system.

I witnessed everything, but I wasn’t the one conducting the exorcism—thank God—especially on a 14-year-old girl. You can frame it in various ways without appealing to anything supernatural. I will admit that some aspects of exorcisms can be bizarre. Still, I would attribute almost all of them to some form of psychological disorder.

I am neither a psychologist nor claim to be one, but I see no need to invoke supernatural forces. At least, I saw nothing that compelled me to do so.

Jacobsen: How does the clergy class classify these experiences? And how do they whip up hysteria, building a culture of superstition around their supposed powers through incantations, symbols, crosses, and so on?

Ruark: Religion thrives on superstition, if you ask me. This is how they spin it. It has a certain appeal—it makes the exorcist seem courageous, fighting the battles of Christ on his behalf. That is something that appeals to many ministers.

I am not suggesting that there is no sympathy for the person undergoing the exorcism. Even if it is not supernatural, and even if it is purely psychological, there is still real suffering. Some clergy members sincerely want to help, and I do not doubt that. The exorcist I was working with was an interesting guy. For him, it was not just a sense of adventure but a sense of significance.

He saw himself as doing battle with Satan. It made him feel like a powerful and substantial person. A lot of that was probably happening in the two exorcisms I witnessed.

Jacobsen: Some ethical concerns come to mind.

On the one hand, if these cases involve individuals with mental health issues, they are being treated with incantations and supernatural methods. These are people in a highly vulnerable position. That makes them susceptible to abuse and manipulation.

A second issue—not secondary but related—is that in most industries, a small percentage of people are not sincere believers in what they preach. Instead, they are sincere believers in the gullibility of others. The ability to exploit that gullibility is very real.

So, beyond the abstract ethical concerns about treating mental health issues in a harmful way, there is also the question of bad actors—those who, in cultural terms, would be considered con artists. What about those two concerns?

Ruark: Ethics play a role, but the exorcist does not see it that way—because he has put a theological spin on it. He thinks he is helping, but in reality—especially for the 14-year-old girl—he made it worse.

There are clear ethical implications for any clear-thinking person. However, within the framework of religious belief, those ethical considerations are often ignored or reframed as a spiritual battle rather than a case of psychological distress.

You are correct in using the word vulnerable—these people were vulnerable. Maybe they wanted to feel significant, or perhaps they were genuinely experiencing psychological pain. But they looked to a man to help them, which put them in a vulnerable situation, and that vulnerability was exploited and manipulated. That is what I saw happening. The ethical issues are tremendous.

However, strong First Amendment protections in a church setting shield religious leaders from many of those concerns—for better or worse. As a lawyer, I appreciate the First Amendment, but I still agree with you 100% that there are serious ethical considerations here.

Jacobsen: Do priests—or, more broadly, clergy—have any code of conduct regarding this kind of thing?

Ruark: There are so many churches. How many different denominations are there in America alone? Then, you have synagogues, mosques, and countless other religious communities. There are thousands of groups, each with its own beliefs and practices.

Perspectives can vary widely regarding something as emotionally charged as an exorcism. So, a universal code of conduct? No.

As an attorney, I am bound by a code of professional responsibility. If I fail to uphold it, I face professional discipline before the grievance commission. Doctors and psychologists have similar ethical codes that they must follow.

However, the state does not intervene in matters involving clergy. This is part of the separation of church and state.

For example, it is often difficult to sue a clergy member in lawsuits because First Amendment protections are taken very seriously. If you are involved in a church, a lot can happen to you. While many lawsuits have been filed against clergy members, holding them legally accountable is still difficult because of the First Amendment.

The state tends to stay out of church matters. Judges typically back off when a theological issue is raised in a courtroom because they are jurists, not theologians, and “never the twain shall meet.”

This loophole gives church leaders much freedom to manipulate, exploit, and even harm. That is unfortunate, but it is true.

Jacobsen: To clarify, is the direct implication of your statement that you, as a lawyer, are bound by a code of ethics and guidelines while clergy are not? In other words, does that mean you are held to a higher ethical standard than the clergy?

Ruark: Yes, that is true because clergy have no formal, legally binding ethical standards.

Of course, you could point to biblical texts like Titus or 1 and 2 Timothy, which outline moral expectations for church leaders. But in practice, there is no enforceable, standardized code for clergy behaviour the way there is for lawyers, doctors, or psychologists.

It has been a long time since I studied those texts, but there are standards for elders that would apply to clergy. However, there is nothing that the state enforces. No government produces a standard of conduct for clergy.

There are a few laws that affect clergy. As I recall, clergy cannot take advantage of a counselee and engage in a sexual relationship with them. Michigan has a law against that, though I have not looked at it in decades. But beyond that, there is no clear-cut ethical standard dictates how clergy must act in a given situation.

That kind of standard does not exist except within individual churches or denominations. Some likely have codes of conduct, but we all know those are constantly violated.

Jacobsen: There is well-documented, decades-long evidence of both cover-ups and abuse by clergy across major Christian denominations. I am working with researchers—themselves victims—who have been abused by clergy in Eastern Orthodoxy, the second-largest Christian denomination. The Catholic Church gets the most attention because it is the largest. Hence, media coverage makes sense from that standpoint.

From a professional perspective, does this evidentiary history raise further concerns about ethics and conduct in these settings, especially given the lack of ethical guidelines and the potential for abuse?

Ruark: The Catholic Church is an interesting case. I am a big movie fan, and Calvary is an excellent commentary on this topic, particularly in distinguishing between institutional religion and personal spirituality.

There have been thousands of documented instances of clergy abuse. And there is a certain dynamic at play.

I can speak for Protestant churches and clergy who attended seminaries like Dallas Theological Seminary. The ministry tends to attract a certain mindset. In my opinion, the professional ministry offers an excellent opportunity for neurotic individuals to set up positions of power and abuse people. This dynamic always exists.

Now, going back to the Catholic Church, even though clergy abuse is widespread, I am not entirely sure why it happens so frequently in that setting. Is it because Catholic priests are not married? I have no idea—I have not studied that in depth. I am not a psychologist, and I do not claim to be.

However, abuse is not unique to the Catholic Church. There is plenty of abuse in Baptist churches and in any religious structure where the pastor, minister, or priest is placed in a position of extreme authority over the laity—similar to how Catholic priests function as the vicars of Christ. That hierarchical system attracts the wrong kinds of people to the ministry.

So you see these patterns of abuse in churches where institutional structures emphasize a single leader at the helm. And yet, despite these scandals, churches—especially the Catholic Church—continue to persist. I do not know if I would call it “thriving,” but it continues to exist.

With these churches’ money, power, and institutional backing, that is probably not a huge surprise.

But religion is a strange thing. It can be completely exposed as a vacuous enterprise, yet it thrives. There will always be a place for it because religion meets fundamental human needs.

No matter how much evidence, a person’s psychology makes it incredibly difficult to leave the church. Most people do not react to these issues rationally—they respond viscerally and emotionally. Moving someone out of the church takes a lot, and most people never leave. They do not even question it.

They assume that what they have been taught, what they were born into, must be true. I have no idea if that fullyanswered your question, but you raised some important issues.

Here’s the thing.

I was raised in a Christian home, and my Christian heritage goes back two hundred years. I recently visited the gravestone of my great-great-great-grandmother, who died around 1855. Her headstone includes a Christian inscription about living in Jesus, which was nice.

I was raised in this Christian atmosphere. My grandfather and my parents were good people. My parents were not what I would call faithful churchgoers, but my grandparents certainly were.

I spent much time with my grandparents—a satisfying, meaningful time in Northern Michigan and the Upper Peninsula. We read the Bible, attended church services, and did other things.

I attended Bryan College in Dayton, Tennessee, and had a positive experience there. Next, Nancy and I are leaving for Dallas next week to visit my old college roommate.

Dallas was a positive experience overall. There were many intelligent people there and in college. By the way, I studied with Norman Geisler. He was a fine man. In the 1980s, he was the foremost Christian apologist in the world. He was a brilliant scholar but also a genuinely nice guy.

I graduated from Dallas Theological Seminary in 1984. I was in ministry for three years, from 1985 to 1988. By 1988, I was frustrated with it. I had left the church, and that emotional tie was broken. The financial tie was also broken—I no longer needed the church in my life to survive. I am analytical. I was wrestling with difficult theological questions and wasn’t getting satisfying answers.

No matter how much evidence, a person’s psychology makes it incredibly difficult to leave the church. Most people do not react to these issues rationally—they respond viscerally and emotionally. Moving someone out of the church takes a lot, and most people never leave. They do not even question it.

They assume that what they have been taught, what they were born into, must be true. I have no idea if that fullyanswered your question, but you raised some important issues.

Jacobsen: From your experience, you attended seminary, and seminarians are typically elite intellectuals. They are intelligent people.

Ruark: Yes, that is true. There were many intelligent people when I was in seminary, including the professors.

Jacobsen: A significant benefit of seminary is its sophisticated hermeneutical and textual analysis. It helps scholars better understand which parts of religious texts are historical, which are myths mixed with history, moral teachings, etc. Regardless of one’s motivations, seminaries are quite good at that.

But how did you go from that cultural background to seminary, growing up in the church and living a religious life? I am shifting away from the ethical issues and historical abuses in the church and more toward your lived experience—growing up in the church, living the seminary life, and having that as a backdrop.

Ruark: Here’s the thing.

I was raised in a Christian home, and my Christian heritage goes back two hundred years. I recently visited the gravestone of my great-great-great-grandmother, who died around 1855. Her headstone includes a Christian inscription about living in Jesus, which was nice.

I was raised in this Christian atmosphere. My grandfather and my parents were good people. My parents were not what I would call faithful churchgoers, but my grandparents certainly were.

I spent much time with my grandparents—a satisfying, meaningful time in Northern Michigan and the Upper Peninsula. We read the Bible, attended church services, and did other things.

I attended Bryan College in Dayton, Tennessee, and had a positive experience there. Next, Nancy and I are leaving for Dallas next week to visit my old college roommate.

I was in the pulpit for twenty-five months, from February 2004 to February 2006. I am unsure why I did it, but I spent those two years in ministry. When I left that pulpit, I left the church altogether because the evidence was overwhelming. My experience at the University of Michigan only confirmed what I had already begun to realize. You can easily explain the origins of Christianity from a historical perspective.

The church began as a Jewish apocalyptic movement. I call it an Enochic movement because Enochic theology was behind it all. As Paul and his churches moved into a Hellenistic world, away from Judea and into the Mediterranean, present-day Turkey, and eventually Rome, they absorbed pagan influences. And, as you probably know, dying and rising gods were everywhere in the pagan world—they were all over the Mediterranean Basin. Once Christianity entered that cultural arena, we saw the development of the resurrection narrative and other Hellenistic influences shaping Christian theology.

In other words, I evaluated the evidence more objectively. I cannot claim to be completely objective, but my analysis was certainly more critical. And for me, the evidence became overwhelming. I could not stay in the church. That was my journey, and I view it autobiographically. I do not expect anyone else to think the way I do.

My attitude toward religion is this: if it makes you more gracious, forgiving, compassionate, and kind, then more power to you.

Jacobsen: You mentioned that you are more of a friend of truth than of Jesus. The first thing that came to my mind was Plato’s quote about being a friend of truth. In that sense, you are more of an epistemic Platonist than an epistemic Christian.

Ruark: You know what? I read Epictetus and the Stoics quite a bit. I like Marcus Aurelius especially. I get many ideas from Greek philosophy so that I will take that as a compliment.

Jacobsen: It was intended as such. So, let’s move on—what has been the response to your exorcism article? What have your Christian friends and colleagues said about it?

Ruark: Honestly, very few people I know are aware that I wrote it. I have only received one immediate response, and that was from someone who praised it, saying, “That’s one of the best articles I’ve ever read.” I don’t know if that is true, but it was nice to hear. Beyond that, the only other response I received was when Melissa told me that someone wanted to interview me—which turned out to be you.

Jacobsen: That tends to happen.

Ruark: I have no idea how the broader audience will react. I might get panned in the next issue of Free Inquiry. They might say, “That guy is full of it.”

And yet, I think the future belongs to the atheists. I do. Two hundred years from now, as science continues to explain the universe, the God idea may still exist, but it will be completely redefined. Any Christians still around will be found in small pockets, little conclaves of religious people clinging to their quaint ideas.

Yet, religion may persist because, as I have repeatedly said, it meets certain basic human needs. For that reason, by the way, it deserves some respect. If it is a human enterprise, it should be acknowledged as such. However, I still believe the future belongs to those who are not religious.

Jacobsen: What about employment impacts? If someone lives in a small community with only a few churches and they are known for their criticism of religion, how does that affect them?

Ruark: In that case, you have a real problem. In small-town America, you will be seen as an outcast, an oddball—that weird guy who doesn’t belong. This will likely affect your social standing, your relationships in the community, and possibly even employment. If your job is local, I think you could face serious issues.

However, in larger metropolitan areas, you can get along just fine. Most of the time, at least. I am part of the legal community in Detroit, and the only time we ever know what someone believes is on Ash Wednesday when the Catholics show up with ash crosses on their foreheads. Other than that, no one ever brings it up. No one asks. It is simply not a big issue anymore—which, by the way, tells you something right there.

Jacobsen: What about seminary? What was the gossip around individuals who lost their faith while studying it at the highest levels?

Ruark: Where I was, at Dallas Seminary, I can guarantee that plenty of guys left the ministry and went into law. That is a favourite profession for former seminarians. Others left for different careers, either because their lives evolved unexpectedly or because they became frustrated or disillusioned—which was my experience.

If you were in seminary openly voicing these kinds of concerns, particularly at Dallas, which is a fairly conservative seminary, a fundamentalist evangelical school, you would not have been tolerated. You would have been removed.

At Dallas Seminary, you had to sign a statement of faith, just as ministers do when they enter a church or denomination. You were expected to toe the line.

As a freethinker, that is a major concern. It is one of the reasons I left the ministry—my faith had shifted. I no longer viewed things as I used to, so I left quietly. I did not create a ruckus or cause conflict—I left.

Jacobsen: What are the things in those contracts, statements of faith, or covenant agreements?

Ruark: It depends on what church or denomination you’re in. Sometimes, it could be the Apostles’ Creed or the Fundamentals of the Faith. As I recall, it typically includes a doctrinal framework—a belief in God, Christ as His Son, the idea that Christ died for our sins, substitutionary atonement or some form of atonement theology, that He rose from the dead, and that He is coming back.

This has always been a prominent doctrinal statement among Christians, and these core ideas appear in most faith statements. Some Reformed tradition churches might add doctrines of predestination, for example. It depends on the denomination—churches have different minister and parishioner requirements.

Some churches do not require parishioners to sign anything at all. You can walk into any megachurch and never be asked to sign a statement of faith—it is not a big deal. But if you start voicing concerns or challenging beliefs, you will likely be schooled, disciplined, or expected to leave. I am quite confident of that. The religious mindset does not entertain dissent.

The First Amendment does not apply to the church. Churches have broad protections under the First Amendment. 

Jacobsen: I have heard of cases where someone was asked to leave for violating church doctrine. For example, I heard of a case where a woman working at a Christian school—not a teacher, just regular staff—was asked to leave after she got divorced. This might have even happened in Canada, but I do not believe it was widely reported. I grew up in an evangelical community. I remember someone talking about it while working at a restaurant in town. The school’s biblical framework did not permit divorce, so they politely told her that she had to leave for violating the covenant agreement.

Jacobsen: That kind of thing still happens?

Ruark: It is probably not as common in American churches as it once was, but I know of at least one person publicly disciplined after divorcing his wife. That still happens in conservative churches.

And here’s the thing—that kind of action is protected under the First Amendment. Church leaders cannot say anything they want, but they have extensive protections when dealing with parishioners. If a pastor were to stand in the pulpit and say something about me that was slanderous or defamatory, I could sue them—because I am not a church member. They would not have First Amendment protection in that case. But for their parishioners, they have much legal leeway.

Jacobsen: What are some of your worst stories about church discipline?

Ruark: Divorce plays a major role in these cases. There is a strong stigma against divorce in conservative churches, and that creates problems for people who leave marriages. That is one of the most common reasons for church discipline.

Other people who choose to live differently from traditional church teachings—such as individuals in churches that oppose homosexuality—often face serious consequences if they come out as gay or decide to transition. That can create a major problem within the church community.

Certain churches would not hesitate to expose what they consider immoral behaviour publicly. Other churches, however, may fear taking a strong stance, especially given today’s political and social climate in America. Church leaders always have to make this decision.

I can guarantee you that in any sizable elder board—let’s say in a Baptist church with twelve men on the board—there will be at least a couple of them who do not want to take a public stance due to liability concerns. More legally savvy people tend to be more cautious about making public statements.

On the other hand, some leaders will also say, “I don’t care about liability. We have to do God’s work.” And so, they go ahead and make a public statement anyway. These things still happen in American churches, though not as frequently as they once did.

Jacobsen: Regarding theology and politics, we have seen reactionary political movements emerging from certain evangelical Protestant Christian circles, seeking to align themselves with federal and state power. How common is this among other denominations? Is this a conscious effort among Christians in general, or are mainly select denominations reading biblical texts selectively literalistically?

Ruark: I think all churches read the Bible selectively to some extent. But yes, many conservative churches—especially evangelicals—have been aligned with the Republican Party for a long time, primarily due to the abortion issue.

Many of these churches have also aligned with Donald Trump, whom they consider to be more conservative than, for example, Kamala Harris or Joe Biden. Even though Biden identifies as a Catholic, many evangelicals do not consider him a true Christian leader.

So, in a way, conservative religion—with its moral values—and conservative politics—with its perceived moral stance—tend to walk hand in hand. One reinforces the other.

Donald Trump understood this dynamic very well. He made a big deal out of his faith, though I am not saying his faith is insincere—I have no idea whether it is. But what I do know is that he used religious rhetoric to win votes and get elected—for better or worse.

That kind of political use of religion is nothing new. We use religion to get what we want—that has always been the case.

It is important to note that more liberal churches are also politically involved but in the opposite direction. I do not particularly like the term liberal, though I consider myself liberal in the sense that I have been liberated from certain belief systems. However, progressive churches do exist and are heavily involved in activism—just not in the same way as conservative churches.

It’s like a civil war, where both sides fight each other and claim to be acting for God. Both sides pray to what is the same God, and yet they are shooting each other. 

Jacobsen: To quote George Carlin, ‘Someone’s gonna be fucking disappointed.’

Ruark: Now you’re going old school on me. But Carlin, regarding religion, is about as good as it gets.

Jacobsen: That was his last special, too.

Ruark: What was it?

Jacobsen: 2008, I believe. But let’s get back to the main focus. People are shaking, convulsing, screaming—going through all the theatrics of an exorcism. They go through the motions and receive their so-called “help.” Fine. Great. Whatever. But how do they interpret their performance or experience?

Ruark: Christians—especially the more fundamentalist ones—tend to be paranoid to begin with. And it’s not just about the devil and demons. There is this deep-rooted belief that the world is out to get them, that they are constantly persecuted, and that they are always under attack. So when they experience something as dramatic as an exorcism, they typically interpret it as a battle of good versus evil, a confrontation between God and Satan.

For those who take their spirituality seriously, an exorcism is not just a personal experience but proof that they are on the right side of a cosmic war. They see themselves warriors in a spiritual battle, proud to stand for truth and righteousness. That kind of mindset is deeply ingrained in evangelical and charismatic traditions.

I remember a specific case, but I won’t say exactly where because I don’t want to embarrass the person. But it’s a relevant story. I was working at a place, and a colleague—an extremely devout Christian—was telling me about someone in his family who had lost their faith. The way he spoke about it, you could tell he saw it as a tragedy. There wasn’t any explicit condemnation, but you could hear it in his tone—as if this person had been lost to the dark side.

Later, knowing that I was not religious, I decided to joke with him a little. We were alone, standing near a car door, and he was many yards away when I casually said, “Join us.” I was joking, referencing something else entirely, but his reaction was deadly serious.

He turned to me, looked me straight in the eye, and, in a low, intense voice, said, “I am not one.” It was chilling. His response had no humour, no hint of playfulness—just absolute conviction. That moment stuck with me because it revealed how deeply some Christians internalize this worldview. For them, it is not just about beliefs—it is about identity, loyalty, and an ongoing cosmic struggle.

Jacobsen: So, about 49% Christian in Canada, if you track a line of best fit?

Ruark: I can’t remember the exact statistics in America, but they’re similar. We are becoming increasingly secularized. 

Jacobsen: I was told today that around under two-thirds of the population identifies as Christian. It’s hard to quantify, though; different organizations might give you different numbers. 

Ruark: But the overall trend is clear—we are becoming more secular. Your Bible will be very short-lived at this rate.

Jacobsen: What other social phenomena are tightly linked with Christian religion in the United States? If people want to play that 1990s identity politics game, how does Christian identity factor into social issues?

Ruark: Well, health care is certainly one area—especially when it comes to abortion. That is a prime example, but other aspects of health care are tied up with religion. That would be a big one.

I’m trying to think—it’s a hard question to answer off the top of my head. Certainly, employment is not as much of an issue since we have laws against using religion as a hiring or firing criterion. In theory, it should not be a factor. However, certain companies do not hesitate to advertise their faith.

For a long time, on one of the turnpikes in Ohio or Pennsylvania, I remember seeing a big sign on the roof of a small business that said, “Jesus is the Answer.” That kind of public religious messaging still happens. But legally, in America, you cannot discriminate in employment decisions based on religion.

Jacobsen: What about other social phenomena?

Ruark: Well, there are the arts, but they are becoming less influenced by Christianity. However, sports—especially baseball and the Super Bowl—have seen a rise in public religious expression. It is becoming very prominent in athletics in general.

You’re always seeing athletes thank Jesus for their victories, which—well, we don’t have to get into that—is absurd. 

Jacobsen: To bring up Carlin’s point again, ‘Someone’s gonna be fucking disappointed.’

Ruark: Anyway, that happens all the time. So, sports, especially professional sports, are one of the most prominent examples of religion as a social phenomenon. Whether on the football field, the gridiron, or elsewhere, athletes always thank Jesus for what happens during the game.

That is one of the clearest examples of religion intertwining with a major social institution.

Jacobsen: What are you finding in Enochic Judaism and Paul’s apocalyptic theology? Those are some obscure concepts mashed together.

Ruark: You share the same idea of the origin of evil in Enochic and Pauline theology. Both traditions see the world as chaotic and disorderly and need redemption.

This contrasts with the temple priests of Second Temple Judaism, who viewed the world as perfect. They believed everything would be in order if you obeyed the law. The Enochic authors completely rejected that view. They saw the world as imperfect as possible, beyond redemption in its current state.

This is why Paul refers to “this present evil age” in Galatians 1:4. It is the same theological concept—a corrupt world in desperate need of divine intervention.

Enochic theology calls a messianic figure the Anointed One, the Son of Man, or the Righteous One. This is strikingly similar to the Christ figure in Christianity.

My research focuses on election—who is considered part of the chosen people in Enochic literature. This theme is also found in Romans 9, 10, and 11, where Paul speaks of a righteous remnant, a group of elected individuals. In both Paul’s writings and Enoch’s, election is not based on obedience to the law but on something else.

Enoch’s elect are those who bless the Lord of Spirits, the high God. This trinitarian theology—where there is a high God and a messianic figure—is almost identical to Paul’s view, where he speaks of “God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

So structurally, the theology of Paul’s apocalyptic worldview and Enochic Judaism is incredibly similar. We are now stepping into New Testament criticism, a fascinating topic. Like myself, more freethinking scholars are drawn to these historical connections.

Ruark: There used to be a group called the Dutch Radicals. I don’t know if you’re familiar with them.

Jacobsen: I am Dutch, though I don’t know if I’m a radical.

Ruark: You might like these guys. They were active in the last third of the nineteenth century, mostly in the Netherlands. The Dutch Radicals doubted the existence of Jesus, much like what is happening today in certain academic circles. They fall under what we now call mythicism.

Jacobsen: Right? They would be considered mythicists today, correct?

Ruark: Yes, exactly. 

Jacobsen: There’s a prominent mythicist group in Milwaukee called Mythicist Milwaukee.

Ruark: I lived in Milwaukee for six years—where I was in ministry for the first time and attended law school. Suppose you read someone like Robert M. Price, who wrote Deconstructing Jesus and other books. In that case, you get a good idea of mythicism. Price leans in that direction if he hasn’t said Jesus was a myth.

The Dutch Radicals went further. Many of them doubted Paul’s existence, and some even argued that Paul’s epistles were second-century creations. Based on the Greek text, my study of Galatians has led me to believe that the letter was compiled by a redactor in the second century, after the publication of Acts, which probably didn’t occur until around 130 CE.

If Acts were written in the early second century, that would push Galatians as late as 150 CE or even 160 CE. These were the kinds of critical ideas that the Dutch Radicals were exploring. But today, it’s hard to get a hearing for these theories because of the continued influence of religion in biblical scholarship.

You can’t just express these ideas in journals like the Journal of Biblical Literature (JBL) or Vetus Testamentum. They don’t tolerate these kinds of challenges to traditional scholarship.

Jacobsen: Among the professional class of philosophers of religion, in your professional opinion, do you think there is much self-censorship?

Ruark: I believe there is. Certain ideas are just not entertained. You cannot bring them up.

When I was in seminary, we studied New Testament theology using a textbook by Donald Guthrie, a comprehensive work on the subject. Guthrie made a statement that stuck with me: When an idea is deeply entrenched in scholarship, it requires extraordinary evidence to overturn it.

It’s ridiculous, but that’s how the academic establishment protects its views. They don’t allow competition and don’t tolerate threats to traditional positions. That’s just how it works.

Do you know William Lane Craig, the Christian apologist? 

Jacobsen argues that Christians are more free to analyze and critique their beliefs than atheists or naturalists. What would you say to that?

Ruark: It’s just another way to protect his position.

Jacobsen: He says, “You just don’t know what you’re talking about because you’re not a Christian.” 

Ruark: This is a circular argument. According to Craig’s logic, only Christians are “enlightened,” so only they truly understand the evidence. That’s just a way of shutting down debate.

Jacobsen: That’s similar to his argument about how, even in the face of counterarguments, Christians can rely on the witness of the Holy Spirit as their ultimate justification.

Ruark: My point about Craig is that he always appeals to most New Testament scholars as if that proves anything. But it doesn’t prove anything. That is an observation, not an argument. But that is how religion works.

I was working on an article about how Christian apologists argue and discussed how they have stacked the deck in their favour. They have written their own rules in a way that benefits them, and they take advantage of that at every opportunity.

Jacobsen: What about Alvin Plantinga? Craig admires him.

Ruark: He is a Christian philosopher who converted to Christianity. Is he still alive?

Jacobsen: Born in 1932—no death noted. He is 92 years old.

Ruark: Wow. So he is still around. I don’t know if he is still active.

Jacobsen: He is known for his modal ontological argument and evolutionary argument against naturalism. Have you ever considered that argument—the idea that if naturalism is true, it undermines itself?

Ruark: I would have to review it. I haven’t thought about it in decades. This is the first time I have heard Plantinga’s name since Dr. Geisler mentioned him in the 1980s.

I am not saying he isn’t a prominent figure, but I have been preoccupied with other things—law and my studies at Michigan—so I really couldn’t address anything about Plantinga’s argument off the top of my head.

Jacobsen: What do you make of what I would call inflationary taxation on Anglophones—basically, how has the English language been weighted down by all these academic and theological terms? Angelology, demonology, pneumatology, Christology, hamartiology, patristics, mysticism, eschatology, soteriology, Mariology, ecclesiology… and so on.

Ruark: Yes, I studied almost all of those, except Mariology, during my time in seminary. I also took a course in angelology.

Jacobsen: What did you learn?

Ruark: According to the biblical text, there are angels, which is clear. But I am much more interested now in the Jewish concept of angels, particularly as heavenly beings. There is an argument out there that Christ was originally considered to be an angel before being elevated—that in Philippians 2, he ascended, and then suddenly, he was described as having risen from the dead.

The idea of the resurrection evolved, but it may have begun with Christ being seen as a mediating figure, an angelic or heavenly being. In Judaism, angels were sometimes worshiped as divine or celestial entities.

We have created a science of all these “-ologies” to make theology appear more credible. I don’t know, but I have studied most of them. I took courses in angelology, demonology, eschatology, Christology, and theology as part of the theological curriculum, especially at a conservative seminary.

Jacobsen: Are these topics widely discussed, or are they mainly limited to specialist scholars?

Ruark: It depends. In church settings, some parts of theology are emphasized more than others. Eschatology, for example—especially in conservative Protestant churches in America—is always a major topic. Discussions about the Second Coming of Christ, the end times, and similar topics are common, and plenty of seminars exist.

It was probably even more prominent in the 1950s, but these theological emphases tend to track cultural anxieties. When there is widespread paranoia or fear, churches must persuade believers that hope is coming—that Christ will return soon.

Before I left the church, I heard countless sermons about “Jesus is coming again.” I remember hearing them every summer at the youth camp I attended as a kid; they had a formative influence on my life.

Theology, at its core, is a way of systematizing the Christian faith. I understand the impulse. And the more conservative the church, the more they tend to structure theology systematically.

At the very least, theology requires imagination. You cannot study something like the Nicene Creed without appreciating the creativity of these early theologians. Even if the modern world is moving past these beliefs, they are still part of the history of ideas.

Jacobsen: What about reactions to the bombshell that Darwin dropped in the mid-1800s with On the Origin of Species? How did different Christian groups respond through acceptance, rejection, or half-measures?

Ruark: That’s an interesting topic. I attended William Jennings Bryan College in Dayton, Tennessee, where the Scopes Trial occurred in 1925.

Jacobsen: I went through H. L. Mencken’s reportage on the Scopes Trial, and he was a big inspiration. As a journalist, he was sharp and witty.

Ruark: He was unafraid to call things as he saw them. He had a sharp sense of humour.

Jacobsen: He did, though I think he could be mean sometimes—particularly when that fellow died. But overall, he was making valid points, and his flowery language is still delightful to read. You could remove the mean parts, and his work would still hold up well.

Ruark: He was harsh on Bryan. If you watch the 1960 movie Inherit the Wind—with Fredric March and Spencer Tracy—you see that they also portray Bryan harshly. Spencer Tracy was superb, as always, and the film is excellent, but it doesn’t give Bryan a fair shake.

That said, Bryan College is a fundamentalist school. Today, it’s essentially a training ground for people who will be Christian educators or enter some other religious vocation.

But I have always appreciated Bryan—William Jennings Bryan, that is—because he was essentially the founder of the modern Democratic Party. He was called “The Great Commoner” because he identified with low-income people, the working class, and those on the margins of society. He wanted to expand access to the benefits of American life and bring as many people as possible under its economic and political umbrella.

Yet, Bryan College, a deeply conservative fundamentalist institution, extols Bryan as a champion of the faith—primarily because of his role in Dayton and the Scopes Trial. But in reality, I think he was wrong constitutionally. His position was bigoted, and he refused to entertain the idea of evolution being taught in a science classroom.

That thinking is obsolete in American education today—and I imagine it is also in Canadian education. But we are still fighting battles to keep religion out of public schools. Every generation, a new court case emerges, with someone claiming that Genesis is science—when in reality, Genesis is a myth, as is so much of the Bible.

But that is the tension between religion and culture.

Jacobsen: Have I missed anything?

Ruark: No. It has been an interesting conversation.

Religion has had many positive effects on society but has also created serious problems. My personal view is that as long as half the world believes the other half is going to hell, we are going to struggle to create lasting peace—whether in this country or the world at large.

But that is just the nature of religious thought.

Jacobsen: Well, on that note, Ron, it was lovely to meet you. Thank you for your time today. 

Ruark: Your work is important and deserves attention. I did some Googling, and I appreciate what you’re doing.

Jacobsen: Oh, thanks, man.

Ruark: I know you’re on the humanist side, and I wish you the best. Enjoy Canada. I love it.

Jacobsen: Oh, especially now—it’s great.

Ruark: It is. And when I am in Canada, by the way, it is always for good reasons. I have always felt that Canada is a peaceful place—it feels different from America, where we always fight about something. So yeah, I think Canada is a great place to be. All right, Scott, thank you very much—I appreciate it.

Jacobsen: All right, take care.

Ruark: You too.

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