When Text Becomes a Curtain: About the Religion That Justifies Pain Instead of Confronting It

The problem does not lie in religious texts, but in the way we burden them with what they cannot bear. These texts, in their essence, did not come to disrupt moral sensibility but to establish and strengthen it. They came to remind humans of the limits of this world, not to justify the injustices that occur within it or to numb the conscience in the face of tragedy.

However, what happens in many contexts, especially in times of war and defeat, is something completely different. Verses are transformed into ready-made phrases used inappropriately; not to interpret reality, but to escape from it. Not to alleviate pain by confronting it, but to pacify it through denial. This is where the real problem begins.

When the afflicted are told that "this world is fleeting" in a moment of live loss, it is not a consolation as much as it is a reduction of their suffering. And when patience texts are invoked out of context, not to affirm the individual but to silence them, they transform from an ethical discourse into a soft pressure tool that demands the victim to adapt to the pain instead of questioning its causes.

In this sense, the text loses its function, not because it is inadequate, but because its use has become inadequate. The verse that was meant to remind the oppressor of their limits is sometimes used to restrain the oppressed. The discourse that should awaken the conscience turns into a means to lull it.

This manner of religiosity can be described as "lazy religiosity." A religiosity that does not require its bearer to do more than recall a memorized text, without having to take a stance, review an idea, or even acknowledge that what occurs is not a divinely ordained fate outside history, but a result of human decisions, policies, and choices that can be criticized and held accountable.

True religiosity, on the contrary, is not neutral in the face of pain. It sides with the human, not just as a patient being but as a being deserving of justice. It does not solely call for patience but links it to the pursuit of lifting oppression, not adapting to it.

Invoking texts during moments of tragedy should be a responsible act, not a spontaneous reaction. Words, when spoken out of context, can double the pain instead of alleviating it. A text, when stripped of its moral context, loses its ability to guide and becomes merely a cold echo that does not touch reality.

In a time when humanitarian disasters are multiplying, we do not need more discourse that asks victims to be silent, but a discourse that reinstates justice as the essence of religion, not its margin. We need a reading that liberates the text from instrumental use and restores it to its natural position: a source of awareness, not a cover for negligence.

For sanctity lies not in the repetition of the text but in its understanding. And wisdom does not lie in soothing pain, but in confronting it.