Sometime ago, an old student of mine visited me. He had taken an undergraduate course on Islamic finance with me. I particularly liked him as he would always ask thought provoking questions. It was a delight to see him. He was working for a big bank in the US. I could see a twitch of guilt in him when he mentioned his occupation, for he knew about my views on conventional banking. Not wanting to be judged, he broached the subject of the prohibition of Riba. He was trying to justify that modern day banking might not be characterized as Riba. His arguments were smart, but he had heard of my counter arguments time and again. The hesitation in his voice was an indication that his conviction was weak regarding the veracity of his claims. Just to be polite, I continued the conversation, offering him rebuttals. But deep down I knew fairly well that I would never be able to convince him. For it was not the rigor of the argument and the obviousness of the truth but the pain of acceptance that was the hurdle. For believing the truth meant either living a life of guilt or bearing the pain of quitting the job, neither of which he seemed prepared for. Both these options seemed less desirable to the alternative of not accepting the obvious. Reason was clouded by desires while judgment was subjected to passion. In that moment, I felt that rationality is over rated—the higher consciousness is enslaved to the lower passions. In the guise of reason, the lower self was subjecting God to its judgment.