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When we look at the drug use, illicit dealings, wealth, rent-seeking and moral corruption associated with political religious circles, an unavoidable question comes to mind:
What happened to those who once spoke constantly of justice, sacred values and morality while drinking holy water, only to later abandon the very principles they preached?
First, they said they would “take a look” at drugs. Once they became intoxicated by it, they apparently liked what they experienced. Then they began to act as though they had entered paradise.
The holy water was forgotten.
Soon after, they began saying, “These opportunities belong to us.”
Position, wealth, privilege, luxury, status—and more.
Everything became an objective in itself. The limits disappeared. Things they once described as forbidden gradually became part of their lives. What began as compromise eventually turned into habit, and what became habitual was ultimately treated as a way of life.
Most tragically, they forgot the grave.
They live as though death is already upon them, yet they fear death itself. They fear losing the positions, wealth, privilege and comfort they have accumulated because they know that none of it can last forever.
But is this limited to one particular group?
Niyazi Berkes, while describing the confusion experienced by Turkish intellectuals when confronting questions of history and culture, used a striking metaphor: They tried to drink kumiss, their stomachs rebelled, and they went back to rakı.
Is there really no resemblance between that observation and what we see today?
No one can claim innocence regarding a sin until they have been tested by it.
A person’s character is not truly revealed when they have nothing. It emerges when they have power, wealth, position and opportunity—when they are given the chance to choose between principle and personal gain.
That is the real test.
Because character is not measured by what a person says. It is revealed by the choices they make when they are put to the test.
That is also where morality begins.
When someone speaks about sacred values one day and pursues position, wealth and comfort the next, the distance between their words and their lives grows wider.
And as that distance grows, more excuses are needed to justify it.
Yet death ultimately leaves no room for excuses.
Position disappears.
Wealth disappears.
Privilege disappears.
Status disappears.
Comfort disappears.
What remains is the person—and what that person has done.
Perhaps that is where the real reckoning begins.
No one is innocent of a sin they have never been tested by. Character reveals itself when a person is put to the test.