Why the Old Our Father Is Untouchable

The Fracture of the Lord's Prayer Our father: Vibration, Tradition, and Invisible War.

Greetings to all Christians who read stories on this site. Today I want to express my opinion on a very delicate concept regarding the most important prayer in the Bible. The one Jesus himself taught to his disciples, and which they passed down to future generations until today. Until a man unworthy of the title of Pope decided to modify a fundamental point in the prayer.

Now I present the prayer in both English and Latin, in the old and new versions. (I hate to pronounce or write the new one, but I do it for you.)

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation (do not let us fall into temptation),
But deliver us from evil.
Amen.

Pater noster, qui es in cælis,
Sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum.
Fiat voluntas tua,
sicut in cælo, et in terra.
Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie.
Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem (ne nos derelinquas tentari),
Sed libera nos a malo.
Amen.

Considering that in the past people prayed in Latin, in this article, instead of saying: “And lead us not into temptation (do not let us fall into temptation),” I will use the Latin version. Inducas means to induce. Derelinquas means to abandon. Because when offering constructive criticism, it is right to rely on the original version (yes, I know the original was in Aramaic, but unlike Latin, I don’t know it). Please, throughout this reflection, keep in mind: to induce (old version) and to abandon (new version). Having done this preamble, let’s begin.

Why did they change the Our Father?

There is something that millions of people repeat every day, forgetting that it was changed (even though only about five years have passed)—a prayer that has crossed centuries, consoled hearts, invoked miracles, and shaken the soul of the world. The Our Father—but today, it is no longer the same. The Church has modified a part of it. Just a few words. But when you touch a sacred formula, you don’t just change the sound—you change the vibration, the meaning, the soul.

The change

The old version used the verb to induce, the new version uses to abandon. An apparent correction, but in reality, it is a spiritual fracture. In the Greek Gospel, the phrase was: “καὶ μὴ εἰσενέγκῃς ἡμᾶς εἰς πειρασμόν (kai mē eisenenkēs hēmas eis peirasmon).” Which literally means: “Do not conduct us into temptation.” (In Latin: Et ne nos introducas/inferas in tentationem)

It was a precise, ancient expression, used for centuries in every language. Why change it?

The deep spiritual meaning

To induce does not mean that God makes us fall—it means He allows the test. As happened to Job, as happened to Jesus in the desert, as happens to each of us every day. Changing to induce to to abandon transforms God from a master who strengthens into a protector who helps us avoid challenges. It is a change of vision—and perhaps of intention.

The original numerical structure

The Our Father is composed of seven main phrases. (Sorry if I rewrite it in Latin, but as I said, it’s important to rely on the original version.)

Sanctificetur nomen tuum.
Adveniat regnum tuum.
Fiat voluntas tua.
Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie.
Et dimitte nobis debita nostra.
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem.
Sed libera nos a malo.

Seven—the number of spiritual completeness. Seven days of creation, seven heavens, seven churches of the Apocalypse… and more. The phrases are divided into 3 + 4: The first three directed to God (spirit), the last four directed to man (matter). A perfect, alchemical, sacred, geometric structure. But if we change even one phrase, the numerical harmony is altered. The balance breaks and with it, the spiritual code.

The power of sacred sound

Every word emits a vibration. In the ancient world, sound was sacred. The name of God was not pronounced. Prayers were sung, not spoken. Monks used Latin, Greek, and Aramaic not for erudition, but because those languages contain spiritual frequencies.

To induce has a solemn, heavy, grave sound. To abandon has a soft, passive, fragile sound. Changing a word is not just changing a concept, it is changing a vibration. And if the Our Father is a spiritual key, every syllable matters.

Words as codes

Kabbalah teaches that every letter has a number, every word an energy. In Hebrew, the name of God is a sacred tetragram: YHWH. It is not read, it is felt. It is pure breath. The Our Father, according to some mystics, is a formula to align with divine will. Changing its structure means breaking the circuit.

The power of ritual repetition

The rosary is based on rhythmic repetition, like Tibetan mantras or Sufi chants. Repetition creates power. It transforms words into waves. Wave after wave, the soul is worked, carved, transformed. But if a word changes, the wave breaks and with it, the inner path is disturbed.

In the visible world, they speak of liturgical updates: A new translation, more "coherent," more gentle. But in the invisible world, the one of spirit, symbol, and sound: nothing is neutral.

Three possibilities, three uncomfortable truths

Here are three reasons why they may have changed the prayer. All three could be true.

1. Psychologizing God

In a world where God must seem only loving and welcoming, saying "Et ne nos inducas in tentationem" becomes uncomfortable. They want to remove the image of a God who educates through trials, to make Him a modern father who never shakes or challenges. But God is not a psychologist. God is transforming fire. He is also cross, silence, waiting. And those who pray know this.

2. Weakening the spiritual code

Changing the central phrase of the human part of the Our Father strikes at the vibrational heart of the message. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem is an active, dramatic, profound request: "Guide me, Lord, but not toward a test I cannot bear."

With the verb to abandon, it becomes a passive, almost victim-like plea: A phrase that lowers the vibration, replacing courage with fragility, action with fear of failure. And when a prayer loses its highest vibration, it no longer rises as before, does not open the same doors, does not resonate in the same realms.

Saying "Et ne nos inducas in tentationem" does not mean accusing God of tempting us. The Bible is clear: "God does not tempt anyone" (James 1:13). But God allows us to be tested. Asking "Et ne nos inducas in tentationem" is a humble plea: "Lord, do not allow us to enter situations where we might fall."

Changing it to to abandon shifts the meaning: It seems we are already in temptation, asking not to be left alone. It is a different concept and less faithful to the original text.

The traditional version places us in a posture of vigilance and responsibility. It is a prayer that recognizes danger before it arrives. It’s like saying: “Help us not even enter the battlefield, because we may not withstand it.”

The new version seems to say: "We are already in the battlefield don’t leave us alone." But Christianity is not fatalism. It is freedom, discernment, choice. And the traditional version expresses this better.

3. Changing the sacred to normalize control

Every time a sacred text is changed, a precedent is set. The untouchability of the divine is broken. And if inducas is changed today, what will be changed tomorrow? Will daily bread become spiritual nourishment? Will debts become mistakes? Will evil be replaced by negativity?

Every small change disconnects the collective mind from the archetypal power of the prayer. It’s a subtle reset, a slow but precise operation like a drop that erodes the stone.

What happens when a sacred code is weakened? When sacred language is altered, the frequency of the prayer changes. And when the frequency changes, it no longer reaches the same spiritual spheres. The Our Father was a Christian mantra, a formula capable of creating a field of protection, connecting with the divine through seven steps, harmonizing spirit and matter.

To modify even a single word means to unbalance the entire structure, like shifting a single stone in an ancient bridge and causing a fracture in the passage.

Who benefits from weakening the word’s power? Who gains if prayers lose their original vibration? Who desires a faith that is more emotional than transformative? Perhaps those who fear awakening. Perhaps those who prefer docile souls over strong ones. Perhaps those who know very well the power of words—and want to silence them.

This is not just theology. It’s not just linguistics. It’s an invisible war, a war made of words, silences, and small changes that break great bridges. Because whoever controls the words, controls the vibration of the soul. And whoever controls the soul, writes the destiny of the world.

And you, what do you do when you still go to church? Do you firmly pronounce the old formula of the Our Father, or have you surrendered to the new one?

Has this article convinced you to understand why the old version is so holy and must not be modified for any reason?

Would you like if I write a new article about Benedict XVI, and the theory that he never truly renounced the papacy?