Fish are everywhere in the Gospels.
Jesus calls fishermen as his first disciples. He tells them they’ll become “fishers of men.” He feeds thousands with a few loaves and two fish. After his resurrection, he cooks fish for breakfast on the shore. And for two millennia, Christians have used the fish symbol—the ichthys—as a marker of their faith.
For Zeitgeist, this is smoking-gun evidence of astrological allegory.
The film argues that Jesus represents the “Age of Pisces”—the astrological age beginning around the first century CE, symbolized by two fish. The abundance of fish imagery in the Gospels isn’t incidental; it’s cosmic code. Jesus arrives at the dawn of Pisces, surrounds himself with fish symbolism, and establishes a religion whose very logo is the zodiac sign of his age.
It’s a tidy theory. It explains the fish. It fits the astrological framework. And it’s almost entirely wrong.
The fish in the Gospels aren’t there because of Babylonian star charts. They’re there because of something far more mundane: Jesus ministered in a fishing village on the shore of a lake.
The Geographical Reality
The single most important fact about fish in the Gospels is one that Zeitgeist never mentions: Jesus conducted his ministry around the Sea of Galilee, and fishing was the primary industry of the region.
The Economy of Galilee
Capernaum, Bethsaida, Magdala—the villages where Jesus spent most of his ministry—were fishing communities. The Sea of Galilee (actually a freshwater lake) supported a substantial fishing industry that fed not only local populations but supplied preserved fish throughout the region.
Archaeological excavations at Magdala have uncovered the remains of fish-processing facilities, including pools for holding live fish and areas for salting and drying catches. The fishing economy was sophisticated enough to include boat owners, hired workers, and fish merchants.
This isn’t speculation. It’s the documented economic reality of first-century Galilee.
Why Fishermen as Disciples?
Given this context, is it surprising that Jesus recruited fishermen as disciples?
The Gospels identify Peter, Andrew, James, and John as fishermen. They worked the lake. They owned boats and nets. When Jesus called them, they were engaged in their trade—mending nets, casting into the water, cleaning their catch.
Maurice Casey, in his critical study of the historical Jesus, notes that the presence of fishermen in the narrative makes “excellent sense” given the setting. Jesus recruited from the local population. In Galilee, that meant fishermen.
John P. Meier, author of the magisterial A Marginal Jew series, observes that the depiction of the inner disciples as fishermen meets standard criteria of historical reliability. Multiple independent sources attest to it, and it fits what we know about Capernaum’s economy. There’s no historical reason to doubt it.
If Jesus had ministered in the hill country of Judea, his disciples might have been shepherds. If he’d worked in Jerusalem, they might have been craftsmen or merchants. But he ministered in Galilee, so his disciples were fishermen.
Geography explains the fish. Astrology doesn’t need to.
”Fishers of Men”: Jewish Theology, Not Pagan Astrology
One of the most memorable phrases in the Gospels is Jesus’ promise to his first disciples: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19).
Zeitgeist presents this as astrological code—a signal that the Age of Pisces has begun. But the phrase has a far older and more obvious source: the Hebrew prophets.
The Jeremiah Connection
In Jeremiah 16:16, God declares: “Behold, I am sending for many fishers, declares the Lord, and they shall catch them. And afterward I will send for many hunters, and they shall hunt them from every mountain and every hill, and out of the clefts of the rocks.”
The context is judgment and restoration. God will gather his scattered people—some willingly, some not. The fishing metaphor represents God’s sovereign action to collect Israel, wherever they’ve been dispersed.
Jesus appropriates this prophetic image but transforms it. Where Jeremiah’s fishers execute judgment, Jesus’ fishers participate in salvation. The disciples will gather people into the kingdom of God.
This isn’t astrological symbolism. It’s Jewish scriptural typology—a standard technique where later figures fulfill or transform earlier prophetic imagery.
No Pagan Parallels
Meier notes something striking: despite the prevalence of fishing throughout the Mediterranean world, there is “no real parallel” to Jesus’ positive, salvific use of the “fishers of men” metaphor in pagan literature or the mystery religions.
If the phrase derived from Greco-Roman astrology, we’d expect similar usage in pagan sources. We don’t find it. The metaphor is distinctly Jewish, rooted in the prophetic tradition, and oriented toward eschatological gathering rather than zodiacal celebration.
The Feeding of the Multitude: Elisha, Not Pisces
The feeding of the five thousand is one of the few miracles recorded in all four Gospels. Jesus takes five loaves and two fish, blesses them, breaks them, and feeds a crowd of thousands with basketfuls left over.
Zeitgeist seizes on the “two fish” as proof of Piscean symbolism. Two fish. Pisces. Case closed.
But the number two has no special significance in the zodiac sign of Pisces—that’s simply how the constellation is depicted. More importantly, the feeding narrative has an obvious source that explains its structure without recourse to astrology.
The Elisha Parallel
In 2 Kings 4:42–44, the prophet Elisha performs a similar miracle:
A man came from Baal-shalishah, bringing the man of God bread of the firstfruits, twenty loaves of barley and fresh ears of grain in his sack. And Elisha said, “Give to the men, that they may eat.” But his servant said, “How can I set this before a hundred men?” So he repeated, “Give them to the men, that they may eat, for thus says the Lord, ‘They shall eat and have some left.’” So he set it before them. And they ate and had some left, according to the word of the Lord.
The structural parallels are obvious:
- Insufficient food for the crowd
- A command to feed them anyway
- Skepticism from those present
- Miraculous multiplication
- Food left over
Critical scholars like E.P. Sanders and Maurice Casey identify this as the primary literary background for the Gospel feeding narratives. The Gospel writers present Jesus as a “greater Elisha” or “greater Moses” (connecting also to the manna in the wilderness). This is standard Jewish typology—showing how Jesus fulfills and surpasses the prophetic tradition.
What Were the Two Fish?
The “two fish” in the narrative aren’t cosmic symbols. They’re lunch.
In first-century Galilee, the standard meal for peasants and workers was bread accompanied by a relish—typically dried or salted fish. Fish was preserved by salting and drying precisely because it could be carried and stored without refrigeration.
When the disciples inventory the available food, they find what you’d expect a crowd to have brought for a day trip: some bread and a bit of preserved fish. The “two fish” reflect the socio-economic reality of Galilean peasant life, not the configuration of a constellation.
Meier concludes that the feeding narrative likely preserves historical memory of a memorable communal meal that Jesus shared with his followers, later interpreted through eucharistic categories (“blessed,” “broke,” “gave”). The details are realistic, not symbolic.
The Ichthys Symbol: Greek Acronym, Not Zodiac Sign
The fish symbol (ichthys) became ubiquitous in early Christianity. For Zeitgeist, this proves the Piscean connection: Christians adopted the zodiac symbol of their age.
The actual history is different.
The Acrostic Explanation
The Greek word for fish is ΙΧΘΥΣ (ichthys). Early Christians recognized that these letters could serve as an acrostic:
- Ι (Iota) = Ἰησοῦς (Iēsous) = Jesus
- Χ (Chi) = Χριστός (Christos) = Christ
- Θ (Theta) = Θεοῦ (Theou) = of God
- Υ (Upsilon) = Υἱός (Huios) = Son
- Σ (Sigma) = Σωτήρ (Sōtēr) = Savior
ΙΧΘΥΣ = “Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior”
This acrostic appears in early Christian sources, including the Sibylline Oracles (a Jewish-Christian text) and the writings of Augustine. The fish symbol encoded a confession of faith in a compact, memorable form—useful in contexts where open Christian identification was dangerous.
When Did Christians Start Using It?
The earliest archaeological evidence for the ichthys symbol dates to the late second or early third century CE—roughly 150-200 years after Jesus. This timing is significant.
If the fish symbol derived from astrological consciousness of the “Age of Pisces,” we’d expect it to appear immediately, as soon as Christians began using visual symbols. Instead, it emerges later, after the acrostic interpretation was developed.
The delay suggests the symbol followed the acronym, not the zodiac.
The Lack of Astrological Awareness
Perhaps most tellingly, early Christian sources that discuss the ichthys never mention astrology. When church fathers explain the fish symbol, they cite the acrostic, the baptismal associations of water, or the feeding miracles—never the constellation Pisces or the “age” it supposedly represents.
If early Christians understood themselves to be living in the “Age of Pisces” and adopted the fish as their zodiacal mascot, someone would have mentioned it. No one did.
The “End of the Age”: Jewish Apocalypticism, Not Astrological Cycles
The third pillar of Zeitgeist’s Pisces argument involves Matthew 28:20, where the risen Jesus promises: “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
The film claims this refers to the end of the Age of Pisces—roughly 2,000 years in the future when the vernal equinox precesses into Aquarius. Under this reading, Jesus isn’t promising to return in glory; he’s simply marking his tenure during one zodiacal age.
This interpretation requires ignoring everything we know about first-century Jewish eschatology.
”This Age” and “The Age to Come”
In Second Temple Judaism, history was divided into two periods: “this age” (ha-olam ha-zeh) and “the age to come” (ha-olam ha-ba).
“This age” was the current era of history, characterized by sin, suffering, and the dominion of evil powers. “The age to come” was the future era when God would intervene decisively, defeat evil, raise the dead, and establish his kingdom in fullness.
This two-age schema had nothing to do with the Precession of the Equinoxes. It was theological, not astronomical. The ages were defined by the quality of existence under God’s purposes, not by the position of the vernal equinox against the stellar background.
Jesus as Apocalyptic Prophet
Scholars across the theological spectrum—from conservative evangelicals to skeptical critics—agree that Jesus operated within an apocalyptic worldview. He expected the imminent intervention of God to judge the world and consummate history.
E.P. Sanders, in Jesus and Judaism, argues this is the most secure conclusion of historical Jesus research. Bart Ehrman, in Jesus: Apocalyptic Prophet of the New Millennium, makes the same case from a skeptical perspective.
When Jesus speaks of “the end of the age,” he’s speaking the language of Jewish apocalypticism. He’s referring to the consummation of history when God establishes his kingdom—not to a zodiacal transition 2,000 years away.
The Timeframe Problem
Here’s a telling detail: early Christians expected the end imminently.
Paul writes to the Thessalonians expecting that some of them will still be alive at Jesus’ return. The letter of James urges patience because “the coming of the Lord is at hand.” Revelation opens with “the time is near.”
If Jesus and his followers understood “the end of the age” as an astrological event 2,000 years away, why the urgency? Why the imminent expectation? The early church lived in constant readiness for the Lord’s return—an attitude inexplicable if they thought the “age” had another two millennia to run.
The astrological interpretation doesn’t fit the evidence. The apocalyptic interpretation does.
Parallelomania Again
The Pisces argument follows the same pattern we’ve seen throughout Zeitgeist:
- Identify a surface similarity (fish in the Gospels, Pisces in the zodiac)
- Ignore context (Galilean geography, Jewish theology)
- Assert causation (fish = Pisces = astrological encoding)
- Dismiss alternative explanations (which are better supported by evidence)
This is parallelomania—the disease of seeing connections everywhere while understanding none of them.
Maurice Casey, a critical scholar with no confessional axe to grind, concludes that the astrological interpretation shows “total lack of understanding” of the primary sources and their Jewish cultural context.
The fish appear because Jesus ministered in Galilee. The fishermen appear because Jesus recruited locally. The “fishers of men” comes from Jeremiah. The feeding miracle echoes Elisha. The ichthys encodes a Greek acrostic. The “end of the age” reflects Jewish apocalypticism.
Every piece of evidence has a better explanation than astrology.
What the Fish Actually Mean
Strip away the astrological speculation, and what remains is actually more interesting.
The fish in the Gospels connect Jesus to the ordinary life of Galilean peasants. His disciples weren’t scholars or aristocrats—they were working-class men with calloused hands and sunburned faces. The feeding miracles show Jesus meeting physical needs, not just spiritual ones. The post-resurrection breakfast on the beach (John 21) depicts the risen Lord cooking fish for his friends—intimate, humble, real.
The “fishers of men” metaphor transforms a mundane occupation into a cosmic vocation. What Peter and Andrew did for a living—casting nets, hauling catches, sorting fish—becomes a paradigm for their new calling. They’ll gather people into the kingdom the way they once gathered fish into boats.
The ichthys symbol confesses Christ in a single image. In contexts of persecution, where openly naming Jesus could mean death, the simple fish communicated everything: Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior. It was theology compressed into a stroke of the stylus.
These meanings are embedded in the texts, attested by the tradition, and available to anyone who reads carefully. They don’t require secret astrological knowledge. They just require attention to what the sources actually say.
Conclusion
The claim that Jesus represents the “Age of Pisces” fails on every count:
Geographically: The fish appear because Jesus ministered around the Sea of Galilee, a fishing region. The imagery reflects economic reality, not cosmic code.
Theologically: The “fishers of men” metaphor derives from Jeremiah’s prophetic imagery of gathering Israel, not from zodiacal symbolism.
Literarily: The feeding miracle follows the pattern of Elisha’s multiplication, part of standard Jewish typology presenting Jesus as the fulfillment of prophetic hopes.
Symbolically: The ichthys emerged as a Greek acrostic confessing Christ, not as a zodiacal emblem marking an astrological age.
Eschatologically: The “end of the age” refers to Jewish apocalyptic expectation of God’s kingdom, not to the Precession of the Equinoxes.
The Pisces theory is a modern invention imposed on ancient texts. It explains nothing that isn’t better explained by geography, economics, Jewish scripture, and early Christian confession.
The fish aren’t zodiacal symbols. They’re just fish—from the Sea of Galilee, caught by fishermen, eaten by peasants, and woven into the story of a Galilean teacher who called working men to change the world.
Author’s Note (2026): This article was originally written in 2013 but was never published at the time. Prior to publication in 2026, it has been carefully reviewed and updated to ensure that historical references, scholarly claims, and source material are accurate, current, and properly represented.