In a world where the contours of faith and politics intertwine with an intensity that sometimes suffocates, we observe, not without a dose of perplexity and dismay, figures who, although wrapped in cloaks of religious fervor, seem devoid of the purest essence of their own beliefs. In Israel, a land of ancient stories and profound meanings, the rise of characters such as Ben Gvir and Smotrich, among other extremists, prompts a bitter reflection on the chasm that separates discourse from action, faith from deed.
Who am I? A Jewish, Israeli, and Latino humanist who, although not treading the paths of religiosity, walks firmly in the search for principles of humanity, justice, and equality. I do not claim sanctity, for my hands are not clean of mistakes, but my soul, thirsty for a more just world, cannot remain silent in the face of the hypocrisy that hides under the cloak of the sacred.
The heart of the issue, you see, is not faith itself but its instrumentalization. How can someone, under the claim of serving God, nurture and spread hatred against another human being? How can they consider themselves chosen, superior, and entitled to more and better based on belief or birth, ignoring the fundamental equality we share as human beings?
The cutting truth is that these gentlemen and ladies, although they loudly claim their creeds, seem to have lost, or perhaps never found, the true meaning of their holy scriptures. They use the words of God not as a guide for compassion and love but as weapons to divide, subjugate, and exclude.
Living in hatred, feeding on prejudices, and rising on the moral ruin of the other is not in any way living according to the precepts of any faith that values kindness and justice. It is an existence marked by a piercing inconsistency, a look in the mirror that reveals not the face of a believer but that of a fraud.
No, there can be no truth in the faith of those who preach violence, racism, and corruption. Those who support such acts also share this absence of true belief. They are among us, spreading not hope but despair, not faith but disbelief, in a religion without God.
True faith, the one I believe in, even without clinging to religious dogmas, is the one that manifests in love for one’s neighbor, empathy, and the recognition of our shared humanity, regardless of differences. It is a faith in the possibility of a world where mutual respect and justice are not just distant ideals but the essence of our coexistence. It is against this distortion of the sacred, against this profanation of faith, that my voice, although just one among millions, rises in the hope that the true light of humanity will prevail over the shadows of intolerance and fanaticism.