It Is Not Hardness That Kills, but Closure

It did not seem special, at least at first glance. It lay on the bed of a river, where the water ran fast and time was never in a hurry. It had broken off from a larger rock, shattered by frost and the weight of the mountain. That gray stone had learned how to endure: every day the water struck it, pushed it, rolled it along. And over time, through adaptation, it became smooth.

In the Qur’an, stones and rocks appear repeatedly—not as useless objects, but as powerful symbols connected to the human heart. One of the strongest references is this verse:

“Then, after that, your hearts became hardened and were like stones, or even harder.”(Qur’an, 2:74)

Here, stone represents a closed, cold heart. Yet the verse continues with a striking detail: not all stones are the same. Some split open and allow water to flow, while certain hearts do not.

“And indeed, there are stones from which rivers gush forth.”

The stone that endures through time is one of these—shaped by water, which in symbolic language represents life, mercy, and knowledge. The river that molds the stone does not destroy it; it educates it.

So a natural question arises: why do we struggle so much to accept criticism, suffering, and pain?

If we are never “broken", our hearts remain gray and sharp-edged. An earthquake, however, cracks them and allows water to flow. In nature, every movement has a precise purpose.

At this point, it is not hardness that condemns, but closure. A stone through which water flows is more alive than a heart that refuses.

This is one of the deepest teachings of the Qur’an, and it carries many layers of meaning.

I leave you with the image of the gray stone this Friday, inviting you to reflect and draw your own conclusions. If you wish, share in the comments what this verse awakens in you.