When My Religion is Questioned?

By Dr. Tekalign  Nega (PhD)

Nowadays, especially on social media, we hear the cry “Don’t mess with my religion!” more often than ever. “Don’t mess with my religion!” is not a gentle suggestion, but a stern warning. It even carries a threat; it’s a matter of “cross the line and face the consequences.” The message is: I can tolerate a lot from you, but if you touch my religion, I won’t tolerate it at all. My response will be merciless, no matter the cost. Religion is indeed a sensitive spot for most of us Ethiopians; it’s not something we can laugh off.

In Ethiopia, religion and piety have been revered for generations. It’s therefore understandable that criticism of our faith can trigger a strong reaction. Religion holds a place of high honor in our society, sometimes bordering on arrogance. It can even be used to look down upon those we deem non-believers, and even those within our own community who don’t adhere to our specific practices may be met with disdain. It is well known that anything that has been showered with praise for ages and treated as untouchable lacks the strength to withstand criticism. Therefore, any criticism directed at our religion quickly triggers us.

But now? Things are gradually changing. The kind of direct criticism and even mockery of religion prevalent in the West is starting to appear here. Within our own religious circles, we’re seeing increasing division, with different factions criticizing and even ridiculing one another. For those of us who instinctively react with “not my religion!”, this critique is a challenge, often leading to further conflict.

How do we, as people of faith, typically respond to these criticisms? It seems many of us instinctively deflect, choosing to attack the critic rather than engage with the criticism itself. Even when our conscience whispers that a criticism might be valid, accepting it can be difficult. Many equate acknowledging flaws with diminishing their own self-worth. There are quite a few of us who consider it demeaning to even consider criticism of our religion in a positive light.

If criticism only fuels more criticism, rather than fostering dialogue, we risk exacerbating the tensions in our already troubled world. And indeed, we are seeing this happen. This article explores how we can approach criticism of our religion with greater openness. We’ll consider the potential benefits of genuinely listening to the concerns raised about religion and religious practice before we rush to defend our positions.

Is Our Religion Beyond Question?

The very idea of welcoming scrutiny of religion makes some believers uneasy. I suspect this stems from a tendency to focus on the outward beauty and rituals of religion, rather than its practical impact on our daily lives. This can lead to a disconnect between faith and action. We may be impressed by the spectacle of religious ceremonies, feeling fortunate simply by association, while looking down on those we perceive as outsiders. But we often fail to examine how our faith truly shapes our behavior and interactions.

Should our religion be judged solely on its aesthetic appeal? Shouldn’t our faith also be measured by the positive changes it inspires in our lives? If religion isn’t evaluated by its impact, how does it differ from other philosophies? Our faith must be assessed not just by our communal gatherings on Fridays or Sundays, but also by its tangible effects on our character and conduct. If religion is truly more profound than the good intentions we claim to hold, then it must be examined through the lens of its transformative power. Otherwise, we risk becoming hypocrites, professing beliefs we don’t live by. And no genuine faith condones hypocrisy.

What grounds do we have to declare our religion beyond reproach? Perhaps this stems from equating religion solely with the sanctity of rituals performed in our places of worship, or with the pronouncements from our pulpits. But what happens when our religion is scrutinized based on its actual impact on our lives? We might find we have less to boast about than we assume. We might even discover that the very flaws we condemn in others are mirrored within our own communities.

Our concern should be less about “how we were insulted” and more about “how we might have caused God’s name to be dishonored.” If we focus on the latter, we open ourselves to repentance and transformation, becoming genuine witnesses to our faith. The real issue isn’t the insults hurled at us, but the actions that may have provoked them. We tend to confine religion to Friday prayers or Sunday services. By judging ourselves by our words rather than our deeds, we create a climate of hypocrisy, blinding ourselves to our own shortcomings.

History itself demonstrates that not only our practices but also the very form of our religion can be problematic. Many things we once condemned are now accepted. Consider the example of Galileo and the condemnation of the heliocentric model of the solar system. And what about some of the outdated customs our religions once embraced? Don’t we look back on them with embarrassment today? Even in a nation like England, often considered a bastion of progress and whose legal system bears the influence of Judeo-Christian tradition, women were denied legal personhood for centuries under the notion that husband and wife were one. Until 1891, a husband’s right to “moderate” wife-beating was legally recognized. ₂

How could our seemingly perfect faith clash with the truth and justice we believe we’ve attained today? The answer is simple: While religion may originate from divine revelation, it is interpreted and implemented by imperfect human beings. Our understanding and application of faith are inevitably flawed. As long as we, the adherents, are human, the inherent sinfulness that all religions acknowledge will inevitably leave its mark on our practice of faith. This is why the scriptures warn us, “Because of you, God’s name is blasphemed among the Gentiles.” The imperfection of believers ensures that neither our religion nor our religiosity will ever be perfect. And this, in turn, makes us both the subjects and the critics of our own faith.

Let Us Question

Those of us who recognize our own imperfection should be more inclined to listen when our religion is evaluated and questioned, rather than immediately becoming defensive. What moral authority do we have to criticize greedy politicians while insisting that our own preachers are beyond reproach? Portraying every critic as an enemy is counterproductive. A more constructive approach would be to ask ourselves, “Have we given cause for such criticism?” Our humility in the face of criticism would have captured the hearts of many more than our boastful pronouncements.

Even our sacred texts are filled with self-critique. The books of the prophets, for example, are replete with admonitions and rebukes. Hasn’t the very God we worship declared, at times, “I despise your worship”? Today, our own idols, hypocrisy, and contradictions need to be exposed. We must treat criticism as valuable feedback, using it to correct our course. Like any form of authority, religious authority must be subject to scrutiny and, when necessary, critique. This is a principle we must embrace.  If we were mindful, we would have seen the criticisms leveled against religion and religiosity, and our appropriate responses, as divine tools that keep our religion from becoming arrogant.

[1] Given that the article was originally written in Amharic and then translated into English using AI, it’s important to be mindful of potential nuances that might have been lost in translation.

[2] Doggett, Maeve E. Marriage, Wife-Beating, and the Law in Victorian England. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1993.