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On Tuesday this week, the final report of the inquiry into the mother and baby homes was published and described as a landmark moment for the Irish state. This judicial commission of investigation began in 2015 and has documented harrowing levels of abuse and neglect in institutions which were seen largely as dumping grounds for unmarried mothers and their children. Over eight decades, 56, 000 women and 57,000 children were placed or born into the homes, which doubled both as orphanages and adoption agencies – all to hide the shame of pregnancy and childbirth outside marriage. Following the report’s findings, both the Irish Prime-minister, Michael Martin and Ireland’s Catholic Church have issued apologies for the State and the church enabling a culture of shaming. In fact the prime minister said “We honoured piety, but failed to show even basic kindness to those who needed it most.” But it seems to me that while this has been described as a particularly dark chapter in Irish history and society, many other religious institutions and cultures, including Islamic, continue to create an environment of blaming and shaming. Shame itself can be a good thing, a self-correcting moral compass, encapsulated in the Prophetic tradition, ` if you have no shame, you will do whatever you like.’ And all of us from time to time, feel ashamed at things we have said or done. But shaming others can reduce people’s humanity. When God is invoked at every opportunity to judge others, piety is extolled not with kindness but at the expense of compassion. Sexual morality and oppressive codes of honour and shame still frame how people, especially women and girls are seen, defined and often outcast. Modesty can be a virtue, but shaming others in the name of modesty has far-reaching debilitating consequences because shame derives its power from remaining unspoken. It forces feelings of sin and transgressing norms, often on people who are at their most vulnerable, that the stigma they bear is of their own making, and that all that is left now is to hide who they are. When people need validation and comfort the most, they are often fed guilt. Unable to cope with this anxiety, many simply shut down. Sometimes saying sorry is the easiest thing to do. But it can’t take away from years of pain and grief. For those seeking refuge in religious faith, faith should be generous enough to embrace everyone. For the survivors, hope remains in some form of justice. But justice itself is never simply about words - it always demands action.