I take issue with apologetics as it usually risks arguing from a conclusion rather than to one. In other words, it starts with the answer and then works backwards. This tendency is evident in Wes Huff’s video “Was Satan a Talking Snake?” where he argues that the serpent of Genesis 3 is really the Christian figure of Satan.

Wes’s idea relies on connecting disparate texts through a questionable linguistic link that falls apart under scrutiny. Here’s how Wes makes his case: he connects the Hebrew word nāḥāš, one of the Hebrew words for “serpent”, with the “morning star” of Isaiah 14. He argues both share a connotation of “shining.” From there, he claims this must be a hidden reference to Satan.

But if you look closely at the text, that connection is superficial and not supported by a plain reading.

To start, Wes is correct that the Hebrew word nāḥāš can carry a connotation of “shining.” But we need to ask: shining like what? That matters, and Wes doesn’t explain it. The root meaning of nāḥāš is “serpent,” but it’s also linked to bronze (nĕḥōšet). So, the word can suggest glistening like polished bronze or copper, but not radiant like a star.

This makes sense in its cultural context. William Dever points out that the definition of “Iron Age” is somewhat arbitrary, as bronze remained widely used throughout the Iron Age. Bronze was commonly used in tools, weapons, and cultic items, so its shimmering appearance was meaningful.

In Genesis 3, the serpent is not described as divine or supernatural. It’s presented as charismatic, crafty, and deceitful. But it’s important to note the text identifies the serpent as a ḥayyat haśādeh, or a “beast of the field.” In Hebrew, ḥayyat means “living creature,” while śādeh means “field.” In Hebrew, this explicitly denotes a wild animal. Domesticated animals are called bəhēmâ. So, the serpent is explicitly placed among God’s created animals. Wes acknowledges the snake is a creature but then extends it to a spiritual being. Elevating it to this status stretches the text beyond what it says.

Some might counter by pointing to the ḥayyōt (plural of ḥayyat) in Ezekiel 1, but these are explicitly visionary creatures and not described as “beasts of the field.” The categories aren’t the same.

But elsewhere, when reading Genesis 1, he dismisses precisely this kind of ANE comparative evidence. His conclusion here is sound, but the method is inconsistent as he is using ANE parallels when convenient and ignoring them when not.

Wes correctly notes that “eating dust” evokes humiliation and underworld imagery found in Job, Isaiah, and Mesopotamian myth. But it can also be found in the Amarna letters, where vassals humble themselves before Pharaoh by stating “I am the dirt under the feet and sandals of the King” (EA 149) so it’s not just mythic.

The serpent is a recurring motif across the ancient Near East. The serpent appears in Mesopotamian incantation and healing texts, as well as in Egyptian ritual magic. In Innana’s Huluppu Tree, the serpent’s nesting in its roots represents a disruptive force. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, a serpent steals the plant of life. In Enki and Ninhursag, the serpent has healing powers, a role echoed in Moses’ bronze serpent staff. In the Enuma Elish, Tiamat is the twisting serpent that embodies chaos. In the Ugaritic Baal cycle, Lotan takes a form similar to Tiamat.

This matters because biblical Hebrew and Ugaritic are sister languages, both part of the Northwest Semitic family. As a result, serpent traditions in Ugaritic were part of the same cultural bloodstream as the Genesis 3 story.

Before we even get to Isaiah, it’s worth asking: where else does nāḥāš appear in the Hebrew Bible? The answer: in Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, 2 Kings, Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Amos, and Micah.

For instance, Genesis 49:17 compares the tribe of Dan to a serpent on the path. In Exodus 4 and 7, Moses’ staff becomes a serpent, a nāḥāš, but sometimes tannîn (dragon/sea monster), depending on which source is speaking. The Elohist and Yahwist sources use nāḥāš while the Priestly source uses tannîn. Numbers 21 uses nāḥāš again in the story of the bronze serpent raised for healing. Hezekiah later destroys this nāḥāš nĕḥōšet (2 Kgs 18:4). Job 26 describes the pierced and fleeing serpent, ḥālāl nāḥāš bāríaḥ, echoing the chaos-kampf tradition.

What do we learn? That nāḥāš is flexible, but always in reference to:

• an actual serpent
• Moses’s staff that turns into a serpent
• or the mythic chaos serpent

None of these uses supports the identity as Satan.

Now, Isaiah. Here we find three serpent references:

• Isaiah 27: Leviathan, the fleeing serpent (nāḥāš bārīaḥ), echoes chaos-kampf. This is further emphasized as Leviathan is also referred to as a dragon or tannîn in the same verse, indicating a shared motif between nāḥāš and tannin as it did in Exodus.

• Isaiah 30: fiery serpents (śĕrāfîm), an oracle against Philistia.

The Hebrew word hēlěl, usually translated as “shining one” or “bright one,” has a Canaanite origin and is attested in Ugaritic texts where it is used to describe divine beings. An example is ʿAthtar, the god associated with Venus (the morning/evening star), who embodies that same celestial brilliance. However, this does not mean the divine connotation carried over into later Hebrew usage. By the time of Isaiah, the mythic aspect largely fell away, yet the celestial association remains intact: hēlěl ben šāḥar functions as a metaphor for a celestial body (Venus), repurposed in Isaiah 14 to mock the Babylonian king’s downfall.

Even though Isaiah 14:4 explicitly identifies this chapter as a song directed at the king of Babylon, its historical context is complex: the imagery may have originated in response to Assyrian domination, but it was later re-applied to Babylon. Either way, the target is explicitly a human king, not a primordial Christian Satan.

These are different images serving different purposes. Collapsing hēlěl ben šāḥar (the shining one) and nāḥāš/nĕḥōšet (serpent/bronze) into the same being is questionable at best, special pleading at worst. Even Isaiah distinguishes them: Leviathan is not the morning star.

In Job and Zechariah, ha-śāṭān is often translated “Satan” in English, but in Hebrew it is a title or role, not a personal name. It’s due to the definite article, so ha-śāṭān is “the adversary”.

In Numbers 22:22, 1 Samuel 29:4, 1 Kings 5:4, 11:14, 11:23, 11:25, and Psalm 109:6, śāṭān functions as a common noun meaning “adversary” or “accuser.” The sole exception is 1 Chronicles 21:1, where śāṭān, without the article, appears in a way that resembles a proper name. However, building an entire theology of Satan as a personal being from this lone passage is cherry-picking.

In the Septuagint, ha-śāṭān is often (especially in Job and Zechariah) rendered as ὁ διάβολος (“the slanderer”). In the New Testament, the term appears as ὁ σατανᾶς (“the Satan”) or as “the devil.” Examples include Matthew 12:26, Luke 10:18, John 13:27, and Revelation 2:13. In both Hebrew and Greek, the definite article is typically present, but English translations drop the definite article because translators have reinterpreted śāṭān as a proper name rather than a role.

John 13:27 may seem an exception, as 1 Chronicles 21 appears to be, as it states, “the Satan entered into him,” clearly presenting Satan as a personal agent. But a śāṭān is always “someone”, an adversary, so this does not necessarily equate to the later Christian concept of the Devil as a singular cosmic enemy.

Latin, which lacks definite and indefinite articles, reinforced this shift. In Jerome’s Vulgate, ha-śāṭān is usually rendered as diabolus or transliterated as satanas. Later English translations, such as the KJV, inherit this reading and capitalize “Satan” as a personal being. The fully developed figure of Satan as a cosmic, fallen enemy of God is the result of this linguistic shift, combined with later Jewish and Christian theological developments.

This does not mean that beliefs in malicious agents of supernatural origin were absent in post-exilic thought; it would be incorrect to state otherwise. Some may attempt to invoke Jesus being tempted by Satan in Matthew 4:10, noting that there is no definite article preceding ‘Satan.’ However, in Greek, the imperatives often omit the article, so the text does not require the figure to be personified in the way later theology assumes. Interestingly, Wes has been overtly critical of intellectualism, which may help explain the superficial treatment of the text in his exegesis.

So, when apologists like Wes Huff read that idea back into Genesis 3, they stretch the Hebrew and import a later theological construct.

And scholars across traditions agree. To name a few:

• Richard Elliott Friedman in Commentary on the Torah states the serpent is “Just a snake, not the devil or Satan as later Christian interpretation pictured.”

• John Barton and John Muddiman, Anglican Theologians, in The Oxford Bible Commentary, agree: the serpent is “one of God’s creatures, but craftier than the others.”

• The Jewish Study Bible and The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard version have similar conclusions. So does “A Continental Commentary”.

Wes’s exegesis isn’t supported by the Hebrew. It ignores key contextual clues and places later theology onto the text. It’s anachronistic, and by doing so, he flattened the serpent motif of the Ancient Near East into something it was never meant to be. In short, this is an argument built with the conclusion already in hand.

But I want to be clear: even though I am an atheist, my point here isn’t atheist vs. Christian. Some of the best scholarship on this topic comes from theologians I respect. My concern is intellectual honesty. If we force the text into theology rather than letting it speak in its own context, we end up with distortion.

So, in the end, the serpent of Genesis 3 is not “Satan” in the Christian sense. It’s a literary figure rooted in wider ancient motifs of chaos, deception, and seduction. It’s fascinating on its own terms, without the need for apologetics.