Religion is a very personal thing for me. Religion has its good

In the quiet chambers of the soul, where deep questions about life, faith, and the unseen stir, Elie Wiesel shares a profound reflection: "Religion is a very personal thing for me. Religion has its good moments and its poor moments." These words echo the complexity and depth of faith itself—how it can be both a source of great comfort and strength, as well as a shadowed wellspring of doubt and struggle. Religion, in its truest sense, is not a monolithic experience, nor is it a simple act of belief; it is a journey, marked by both the heights of spiritual ecstasy and the valleys of anguish and questioning. To understand these words is to understand the very nature of human existence itself—how we navigate the light and darkness, the certainty and doubt, that come with any deeply held belief.

Wiesel, whose own life was profoundly shaped by the horrors of the Holocaust, does not speak of religion in the abstract, but from a place of raw, lived experience. His faith was tested in unimaginable ways, as he endured the loss of family, the destruction of his community, and the violation of his most sacred beliefs. Religion, for him, could no longer be a source of unquestioned solace, but something deeply personal, marked by both the good and the bad moments. His faith was no longer just a simple comfort or a refuge, but a complex relationship, one that had to face the grief, anger, and confusion that arose from witnessing the depths of human cruelty. In the midst of such suffering, religion had to be reconciled with the reality of human evil, a process that required him to confront not just the existence of God, but the very nature of goodness and justice in the world.

The ancients too understood that faith could not be simply a static belief, but an ongoing struggle. Job, in the ancient texts, faced profound suffering, losing his wealth, health, and family, yet he did not lose his faith. In his words, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him," Job exemplifies the paradox of religion—how faith can survive and even deepen in the face of unimaginable hardship. Job’s story is a testament to the complexity of spiritual life, where the moments of goodness and comfort coexist with moments of desolation and questioning. Like Wiesel, Job’s faith is not easily explained or understood; it is both a source of inner strength and a crucible in which the soul is tested.

Wiesel’s words also remind us of the ambiguity inherent in religion—how it can both inspire and challenge. Faith is not merely a source of comfort, but also a call to action. When we speak of religion, we speak of a force that shapes not just our personal beliefs, but our actions in the world. This is why religion cannot be understood solely in moments of peace and tranquility; it must also be tested in moments of conflict and suffering. The teachings of Christ, for instance, challenge us to love our enemies and forgive those who harm us—principles that are easy to embrace when life is peaceful, but become profoundly difficult in times of injustice and oppression. The good moments of religion—those times of serenity, prayer, and connection—are tempered by the poor moments, when doubt, confusion, and anger take root.

Consider Wiesel’s own story—a man who survived the horrors of Auschwitz and came to question everything he had once believed. In the midst of his suffering, Wiesel wrote of his struggles with God in his famous work, Night. How could a benevolent God allow such evil to exist in the world? His story speaks to the very essence of the poor moments in religion—those times when we wrestle with the silence of the divine and the seeming absence of justice. Yet even in these moments of despair, Wiesel found a path toward reconciliation, a faith that was no longer simplistic, but deeply honest and profoundly human. He learned that religion could not shield him from pain, but it could still offer a way to grieve, to question, and to find meaning amidst the chaos.

Thus, the lesson from Wiesel’s words is that religion is not something to be taken lightly, nor is it something to be feared when the moments of darkness come. The poor moments—those times of doubt, disillusionment, and struggle—are as much a part of the spiritual journey as the good moments of peace and comfort. Faith, when tested, becomes not weaker, but stronger, more grounded in the reality of the human condition. It becomes a living, breathing relationship, one that acknowledges both the light and the darkness within and around us. This is the wisdom passed down by the ancients and echoed by Wiesel—religion must be both a comfort and a challenge, not something that offers easy answers, but something that compels us to live deeply, question boldly, and love fiercely.

In our own lives, let us take Wiesel’s wisdom to heart. Let us embrace faith not as an escape from the challenges of life, but as a means to confront them. When we face moments of doubt and suffering, let us not abandon our faith, but engage with it more fully, allowing it to deepen and grow stronger through the struggle. Let us recognize that religion is not a simple path, but a journey—one that asks us to bring our full selves to the table, including our doubts, our pain, and our questions. It is in embracing the full complexity of faith that we find the strength to endure, the wisdom to question, and the courage to love.