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Table of Contents
Textual References
The story of Moses is openly narrated in the Torah, without any attempt to conceal what happened:
“One day, after Moses had grown up, he went out to where his own people were and watched them at their hard labor. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his own people. Looking this way and that and seeing no one, he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.” (Exodus 2:11–12)
Scripture does not embellish the account. Moses is not presented as a perfect man, but as a real human being. Precisely for this reason, his story speaks to every person.
Within the Jewish tradition, the Sages of the Talmud and the Midrash reflected extensively on this episode. Some interpretations suggest that the Egyptian was committing grave injustices and that Moses intervened to defend an innocent man. Others emphasize the profound sense of justice that already animated the future liberator of Israel. In either case, the focus of the Sages is not primarily on the act itself, but on the spiritual transformation that followed.
The Islamic tradition also addresses this event with remarkable honesty. The Quran recounts that Moses struck a man and caused his death:
“He said: ‘My Lord, I have wronged myself, so forgive me.’ And He forgave him. Indeed, He is the All-Forgiving, the Most Merciful.” (Quran 28:16)
The Hadith literature and Muslim commentators emphasize that Moses immediately recognized the gravity of what had happened, turned to GOD with humility, and received mercy. The central lesson is not the sin itself, but the return to GOD.
Thus, the three great Abrahamic traditions agree on a fundamental truth: divine mercy is greater than human error, and sincere repentance always opens a path toward redemption.
Why Do We Continue to Judge?
Yet thousands of years after Moses, we continue to do precisely what the Scriptures urge us not to do: pass final judgment upon one another.
A man makes a mistake and becomes forever identified with that mistake. A sin becomes an identity. A fall becomes a life sentence.
But who among us truly knows the human heart?
Who can fully understand all the wounds, fears, circumstances, and struggles that led another person to act in a particular way?
Jesus taught:
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” (Matthew 7:1)
The Quran teaches:
“No soul shall bear the burden of another.” (Quran 6:164)
And the Talmud reminds us:
“Do not judge your fellow until you have stood in his place.” (Pirkei Avot 2:4)
Human justice certainly has its role. Societies require laws, accountability, and order. Yet the final judgment of the soul belongs to GOD alone.
We are called to guide, correct, educate, and help. We are not called to replace the Supreme Judge.
The children entrusted to us are not our possessions. They are gifts from GOD and children of life itself. Our brothers and sisters are not labels to be attached, but souls on a journey. Those who have fallen can rise again. Those who have erred can learn. Those who have caused harm can become instruments of good.
A Faith of Unifying Transformation
The most important question is not: “What have you done?”
The most important question is: “What are you becoming?”
Moses fled into the wilderness as a man marked by a tragic event. He returned as the liberator of Israel. David fell and rose again. Paul persecuted and then proclaimed. The sacred history of the Abrahamic religions is filled with imperfect men and women whom GOD transformed into instruments of goodness.
This should teach us an essential truth: no human being is entirely defined by their past. Mistakes can teach. Wounds can mature. Trials can strengthen. What truly matters is not remaining imprisoned by what we once were, but directing who we are toward the good.
Today, the world remains divided by nations, religions, ideologies, and competing memories. Yet the Torah, the Gospel, and the Quran remind us that we all come from the same Creator and all return to Him. True faith does not consist in condemning a brother or sister for what they did yesterday, but in helping them become better tomorrow.
Solomon taught that the duty of humanity is to fear GOD and keep His commandments (Ecclesiastes 12:13). Benedict of Nursia understood that people of different backgrounds, united by a common ideal, could build a civilization founded upon peace, work, and the pursuit of the common good. History demonstrates that when human beings cooperate rather than fight, light prevails over darkness.
For this reason, the faith of the future must be a faith of unifying transformation: a faith capable of recognizing the dignity of every person, overcoming hasty judgment, fostering reconciliation, and building bridges where walls have stood for centuries.
If GOD did not abandon Moses after his fall, who are we to declare another human being beyond hope?
Mercy does not erase responsibility, but it opens the path to redemption. And the redemption of one person can become the beginning of the transformation of many.
Perhaps this is the greatest lesson Moses continues to teach the world: GOD does not look only at what we have been, but above all at what we may yet become.
