Religion was one of the first forms through which humans tried to understand the world and their place in it. In the face of death, suffering, natural disasters, or injustices, people began to look for an explanation and meaning; thus, the idea emerged that there is a superior force, a divine will that binds everything that happens. Religion offered a framework: rules of life, a system of rewards and punishments, but also answers to questions that are impossible to avoid: why do we suffer? what happens after death? how should we live?
Its purpose was not necessarily control, but orientation. By explaining reality, religion brought a kind of tranquillity: everything has a purpose, even if we do not understand it. But this need for meaning can become dangerous when people confuse faith with certainty. When what should be an inner path becomes a list of external obligations, imposed and observed without understanding, religion changes its function. It is no longer a support in thinking, but a substitute for thinking.
In its institutional forms, religion no longer functions as a spiritual experience, but as a set of rules transmitted authoritatively, without the freedom to ask “why?”. It is taught as an absolute truth, which is not to be understood, but accepted. In schools, churches, or religious families, children learn that being faithful means obeying, not asking questions, and following a list of predetermined behaviours. It does not matter what you feel, what you think, or if you are present in that relationship with God; it only matters that you do not make mistakes.
That is why religion ends up being lived with fear, not with love. I have known people who did not even hold hands with their partner until marriage, did not stay alone in the same room with a person of the opposite sex, not because they felt it would be inappropriate, but because they were afraid of sinning.
Religion thus ends up preventing authentic contact, not only with God, but also with others. It is no longer a living revelation, but an ideological system that teaches you to control yourself, not to know yourself. And where there is no knowledge, there can be no real choice, only conformity. And conformity, no matter how moral it may seem, does not give rise to conscience.
Religion, once transformed into an institution, had to become rigid to maintain order. When you try to educate entire masses of people, you can no longer resort to spiritual subtleties or personal nuances; you need clear, simple, firm rules. This is how formulas such as “this is how it must be” and “this is not allowed” appear. Even though many well-intentioned people end up living under the weight of these norms, the system works because it also keeps in check those who would otherwise be completely chaotic, or even dangerous. Unfortunately, this strategy does not cultivate consciousness, but only compliant behaviours. People learn to follow rules out of fear, not out of conviction.
The way sacred texts are interpreted directly influences the way people believe, behave, and treat others. When the Bible, like any book, is taken literally, without any explanation of the context in which it was written, it becomes a weapon. A list of prohibitions and punishments, blindly applied to realities that are no longer related to today’s world.
Very few people are taught that biblical texts belong to different eras, to mentalities completely foreign to ours, and that many of them use symbolic, not descriptive, language. This is how intelligent, well-intentioned people come to believe that a woman is “dirty” during menstruation or that sexual orientation is a choice that must be condemned. Leviticus is treated as a universal law, although it was a ritual code intended for a desert tribe. No one explains that many of those rules had hygiene, protection, or temporary social organization roles.
Instead of being taught to think, believers are taught to obey the text, without knowing who wrote it, why, and for whom. No wonder religion ends up being a source of guilt and fear, not wisdom. A sacred text has value only if it is interpreted with the whole mind, but this is precisely what is missing: spiritual education, not indoctrination. People are not taught that the Bible contains texts written in different historical, cultural, and symbolic contexts, and end up taking everything literally. And then fear, shame, meaningless moral conflicts, and absurd judgment of those who live differently appear.
Rigid faith has turned sexuality into a space of fear and shame. The body is no longer seen as a part of a being, but as a source of temptation. And intimacy becomes a problem, not a form of connection. The texts of Leviticus are frequently invoked to support this view: the prohibition of gay relations, sexual intercourse outside marriage or during menstruation, or any form of “debauchery”, all are treated as serious misconduct, sometimes even punishable by death. But almost no one explains what these texts actually were: an archaic code of laws, intended for a nomadic tribe trying to survive in the desert, without medical science, without psychology, without modern hygiene.
These laws did not express a universal morality, but a set of measures of ritual, hygienic, and social organization in an extremely specific historical context. Sexual intercourse during menstruation was forbidden not because the woman was morally “dirty” but because blood was perceived as a dangerous, sacred, misunderstood fluid. Same-gender relationships were forbidden not as an orientation, but as an act that broke gender roles: a man who did not reproduce was seen as degraded. Sexuality was not about love, but about status, power, reproduction, and survival.
Today, these texts are taken out of that context and applied indiscriminately to a huge mass of people who seek closeness, love, and equality. This is how a man who feels attraction to another man is considered a sinner, without anyone asking: Is this love sincere, responsible? Or that a woman feels inferior to a man. The Bible is written in patriarchal contexts, but that does not mean that God is patriarchal. Some passages lower the woman, others elevate her to the rank of prophet, judge, saviour.
The problem is not the text, but the way it is interpreted: literally, selectively, and used as a means of control. The need for affection, emotional development, or assumption of desire is not discussed. It all comes down to “don’t do this, it’s a shame”. But no one explains why. What is sin? Why would God be offended by a biological reaction or a sincere form of love, even between people of the same gender? In reality, what should be condemned is not the act itself, but the lack of responsibility and respect. But these nuances do not fit in a religion that wants to control behaviours, not to understand souls.
We must begin by recognizing that the Bible is a collection of texts. It is not a text written by a single author, in a single era, with a single voice. It is a history of fear and courage, of falling and understanding, of desperately trying to bring order to the chaos of life. If we want to talk about mature religion, we have to let go of the idea that there is only one right way to believe. We have to be able to say: “I don’t know for sure, but I want to understand”.
The Bible must be treated as a source of meaning, not fear. Love must become the norm, not the exception. A healthy religious discourse does not divide people into good and bad but recognizes that we are all in the process and that the process is holy.
We do not need more rules, but more lucidity, more compassion, and more patience with each other. A living faith does not tell you what to avoid, but what to understand. It is not the shame of the body or of the mind that teaches you, but honesty with yourself. It does not separate you from others, but makes you able to see them, beyond their choices or mistakes.
A living faith does not require perfection, but presence. When you live like this, you no longer need to punish or correct anyone. When someone loves sincerely, they no longer feel the need to prove that they are “righteous before God”. Because they do not live out of fear, but out of trust.
The difference between dogmatic and living faith is simple: one tells you that you are a sinner and you have to control yourself, the other tells you that you are human and you can grow. But only living faith heals, because it does not ask you to change to be loved, but it shows you that you are loved, and therefore, you can change.
Leave a Reply