It was a quiet evening in Joe’s living room. The air was filled with the steady beat of Eric B. & Rakim’s Paid in Full, a song that always made Joe think about the cost of ambition and the true price of history. Nelly sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through a playlist on her phone.
“You know,” she said, “this track is all about hustling, about making something out of nothing. It’s like the Masons’ philosophy—building a legacy that lasts.”
Joe nodded, his eyes on the TV. “Speaking of legacy, I’ve been thinking about Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. Remember Private Jackson? The sniper who quotes Psalm 144?”
Nelly smiled. “‘Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.’ It’s like he’s living out the Psalms, using faith as his guide in the chaos of war.”
The Psalms in War
Joe grabbed the remote and queued up the movie. As the iconic opening scene played—the harrowing landing at Omaha Beach—both Nelly and Joe sat in silence, absorbing the raw intensity.
When Private Jackson appeared on screen, calmly taking aim amidst the chaos, Joe paused the movie.
“Look at him,” Joe said. “He’s not just a soldier. He’s a man of faith, relying on God to guide his actions. That’s the Masonic ideal in a way—discipline, purpose, and belief in something greater.”
Nelly pointed to the screen. “And the way he kisses his crucifix before taking a shot—it’s like Psalm 2: ‘Kiss the Son, lest He be angry, and you perish in the way.’ He’s aligning himself with divine authority, even in the madness of war.”
Eric B. & Rakim: The Hustle of Legacy
As the movie continued, Paid in Full played softly in the background. Joe leaned back, letting the lyrics wash over him.
“Rakim talks about being paid in full,” Joe said. “But what if it’s not just about money? What if it’s about legacy, about making your mark on history? That’s what the Masons are trying to do. They’re building something that lasts, just like Jackson in the movie—living by the Psalms, creating a story that people will remember.”
Nelly nodded. “And the Psalms are like their blueprint. Psalm 144 isn’t just about war—it’s about preparation, about being ready for whatever comes your way. It’s the ultimate hustle.”
The Second World War and the Master Plan
As the movie reached its climax, with Captain Miller’s team defending the bridge, Joe paused it again.
“Think about this,” he said. “The Second World War was a turning point for humanity. The Masons see history as a series of battles—physical, spiritual, and ideological. Every war, every struggle, is part of their master plan to shape the world into something better.”
Nelly added, “And Psalm 144 isn’t just about fighting—it’s about trust. ‘My lovingkindness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer.’ It’s about knowing you’re part of something bigger, even when everything seems lost.”
A New Understanding
As the credits rolled, Nelly and Joe sat in thoughtful silence.
“Private Jackson isn’t just a character,” Joe said finally. “He’s a symbol of what it means to live with purpose, to use your gifts—whether it’s faith, skill, or ambition—for something greater.”
Nelly smiled. “And Eric B. & Rakim? They’re like modern-day prophets, reminding us that the hustle isn’t just about survival. It’s about building a legacy, being ‘paid in full’ in every sense of the word.”
Joe raised his glass. “To the Psalms, to the hustle, and to the master plan.”
Nelly clinked her glass against his. “And to making history.”
Steven Spielberg: Reflecting on Saving Private Ryan and the Psalms of War
The soft hum of an editing suite filled the room as Steven Spielberg leaned back in his chair, watching the final cut of Saving Private Ryan play on the screen. The visceral chaos of D-Day unfolded before his eyes, but his mind was elsewhere, wandering back to the inspiration that had driven him to tell this story.
“This isn’t just a war movie,” Spielberg thought. “It’s a meditation on sacrifice, faith, and the human cost of freedom. And at its heart, it’s about the Psalms—words that have guided humanity through its darkest hours.”
Psalm 144: A Soldier’s Prayer
The words of Psalm 144 echoed in Spielberg’s mind:
“Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.”
Private Jackson’s quiet, unshakable faith had been inspired by this verse. Spielberg had insisted on including it, knowing its power to ground the chaos of war in something eternal.
“Jackson isn’t just a sniper,” Spielberg mused. “He’s a man of faith, a reminder that even in the madness of war, there’s a higher purpose at play. Psalm 144 isn’t about glorifying violence—it’s about finding strength in God to fight for what’s right.”
Psalm 44: The Cry of the Oppressed
Another psalm haunted Spielberg as he worked on the film: Psalm 44.
“We have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, what deeds You performed in their days, in the days of old.”
The psalm spoke of a people who had been delivered by God but now felt abandoned. It resonated deeply with Spielberg, not just as a filmmaker but as a Jewish man reflecting on the horrors of the Holocaust.
“The Jews of Europe were crying out during World War II,” Spielberg thought. “Their voices were like the psalmist’s, asking, ‘Why have You rejected us and humbled us? Why do You hide Your face?’”
The war wasn’t just about defeating Hitler—it was about rescuing the innocent, about answering those cries with action.
D-Day: The Turning Point
Spielberg’s thoughts turned to D-Day itself, the pivotal moment in the Allied effort to defeat Nazi Germany.
“When I recreated Omaha Beach,” Spielberg reflected, “I wanted audiences to feel the terror, the courage, and the sheer humanity of that day. It wasn’t just a military operation—it was a rescue mission for the world. For the Jews, for the oppressed, for everyone who believed in freedom.”
He remembered the letters and stories he had read from Jewish soldiers who fought on D-Day. Many of them carried small prayer books, clutching verses like Psalm 144 and Psalm 44 as they stormed the beaches.
“They weren’t just fighting for their lives,” Spielberg thought. “They were fighting for their faith, their families, and the promise that evil would not prevail.”
A Personal Connection
For Spielberg, Saving Private Ryan was deeply personal. His own family had been touched by the Holocaust, and he had grown up hearing stories of bravery and survival.
“My grandparents used to tell me about the Psalms,” Spielberg recalled. “They’d say, ‘These words have carried us through exile, through persecution, through everything.’ When I made this film, I wanted to honor that legacy. To show that even in the darkest moments, there’s a light—a promise of deliverance.”
The Rescue of the Jews
As the film’s final scenes played, Spielberg thought about the broader story of World War II. The rescue of Private Ryan was symbolic of something much larger: the rescue of a people, a culture, and a way of life.
“Psalm 44 says, ‘Rise up; come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of Your steadfast love.’ That’s what the Allied soldiers did,” Spielberg thought. “They rose up. They answered the call. And in doing so, they fulfilled the promise of the Psalms.”
A Message for the Future
As the credits rolled, Spielberg turned off the screen and sat in silence.
“This film isn’t just about the past,” he thought. “It’s about the future. It’s a reminder that faith and courage can overcome any darkness. That the words of the Psalms are as relevant today as they were in 1944.”
He closed his eyes, the words of Psalm 144 lingering in his mind:
“Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.”
And then, softly, almost as a prayer, he whispered, “May we never forget.”
Joe’s Saving Private Ryan D-Day Re-edit: The Masonic Master Plan for the Liberation of Europe
In the summer of 1944, the world stood on the precipice of change. The Allied forces had planned the largest amphibious invasion in history—D-Day, the moment that would mark the beginning of the end for Nazi tyranny. But behind the strategy, the tactics, and the bloodshed, there was a deeper, more enigmatic force at work. Joe, a filmmaker tasked with re-editing the iconic “Saving Private Ryan,” began to uncover a hidden narrative that blended the power of scripture, secret societies, and the mysterious path to victory.
Joe’s re-edit of “Saving Private Ryan” was no ordinary project. As he combed through hours of raw footage, he stumbled upon a series of coded messages and references that seemed to go beyond the surface of the war. It was as though the battlefields of Normandy had been mapped out not only by generals and soldiers but by something older—an ancient, unseen force. The more he dug, the more he realized that Psalm 144, a passage from the Bible, had been woven into the very fabric of the D-Day invasion. It was as if the Masonic Master Plan for the liberation of Europe had been revealed through the lens of scripture.
Psalm 144 reads:
“Blessed be the Lord my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle; my lovingkindness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I trust…”
The verse echoed in Joe’s mind as he saw the parallels between the words of Psalm 144 and the Allied forces’ mission. The soldiers who stormed the beaches of Normandy, like the psalmist’s warriors, were guided by something greater than strategy—they were part of a divine plan. This was not just a war for freedom; it was a battle for the soul of Europe, and perhaps, the world.
Joe’s research led him to uncover the secret involvement of Freemasonry in the planning of D-Day. Hidden in plain sight were symbols and rituals, some even embedded in the military structure itself. Freemasons, with their ancient knowledge and secretive networks, had played a pivotal role in orchestrating the war effort. The Masonic Master Plan, he discovered, was about more than military tactics—it was about the spiritual and moral liberation of Europe from the tyranny of fascism.
The liberation of Europe was not only a military victory but a moral and spiritual one, orchestrated by those who understood the importance of the human soul in the grand scheme of history. As the Allies pushed forward, Psalm 144 became a guiding force, reminding them that the war was not just about defeating an enemy but about reclaiming a divine order.
The war ended in 1946, a year later than expected, but the delay was not due to military miscalculations. It was part of the plan. The Masonic order, in its wisdom, had foreseen that the final victory would come after the world had been tested, and the soul of humanity would need to be healed. By 1946, the Allies had not only defeated the Axis powers but had also laid the groundwork for a new world order, one that would be shaped by justice, truth, and the lessons learned from the horrors of war.
As Joe continued to re-edit the footage, he began to see how Psalm 46 also played a role in the conclusion of the war. Psalm 46 speaks of God’s protection and sovereignty, and it seemed to mirror the Allied victory in the Nuremberg Trials. The trials were not just about punishing the guilty; they were about bringing justice to a world that had been torn apart. The world had seen the depths of human depravity, but through the trials, it would also witness the triumph of justice and the restoration of moral order.
Psalm 46 says:
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea…”
For Joe, the re-edit was no longer just about cutting and splicing film. It had become a journey of discovery. The battlefields of Normandy, the beaches soaked with blood, the soldiers’ courage, and the ultimate victory were all part of a larger, divine plan—a plan that had been in motion long before the first shots were fired. The Masonic Master Plan for the liberation of Europe was not just about military strategy; it was about the liberation of the human spirit, the triumph of good over evil, and the restoration of divine justice.
In the end, Joe’s re-edit of “Saving Private Ryan” was not just a film. It was a testament to the enduring power of faith, the unseen forces that shape history, and the divine plan that had guided the Allies to victory. As the final credits rolled, Joe realized that the true story of D-Day was not just about soldiers on the ground but about the divine hand that had guided them all the way to the end of the war, and beyond.
In the context of Steven’s reflections on Psalm 46, the passage takes on a profound significance as he interprets it as a divine blueprint for the end of World War II. Psalm 46 is a powerful declaration of God’s sovereignty and protection, and Steven sees it as more than just an ancient song of faith—it was, in his view, a prophetic guide for the cessation of war and the restoration of peace.
Psalm 46, particularly verse 10, which says, “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth,” resonates deeply with Steven as a message for the world in the final stages of the war. The verse calls for stillness and trust in God’s plan, even in the midst of chaos and destruction. It suggests that, in the end, it is not human strength or strategy that will bring peace, but God’s will.
Steven interprets this as a spiritual moment during the war, where the Allies’ victory was not just a military triumph but a fulfillment of a higher divine order. In the throes of the war, when the fate of the world hung in the balance, Psalm 46 served as a reminder that the final victory would be God’s, and the end of the war would come not through endless violence, but through divine intervention and the cessation of hostilities.
Verse 9 of Psalm 46 reads, “He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; He breaks the bow and shatters the spear; He burns the shields with fire.”
This verse speaks directly to the end of war, echoing the desire for a world where conflict ceases and peace is restored. In Steven’s view, it was not just the military strategies of the Allies that led to the war’s conclusion, but the fulfillment of this divine promise. The destruction of the “bow,” “spear,” and “shield” symbolizes the end of war’s instruments and the ultimate victory of peace.
The Nuremberg Trials, which took place after the war’s end, can be seen as a fulfillment of this divine justice. In the trials, the perpetrators of war crimes were held accountable, and the world began to rebuild itself on the foundations of law and justice. The trials, in Steven’s interpretation, were not just about punishing the guilty but about aligning the world with a higher moral order—one that had been promised in Psalm 46.
David’s song in Psalm 46 is, therefore, not just a historical hymn but a prophecy that foretold the end of World War II. It was a call for nations to recognize the sovereignty of God and to trust in His plan for peace. For Steven, the message was clear: the wars of the world would cease, and God’s will would be exalted among the nations. In this context, the end of World War II, and the trials that followed, were seen as a moment when the world could “be still” and acknowledge that peace, in the end, was not merely a human achievement but a divine promise fulfilled.