Ibrahim Negm
Senior Advisor to the Grand Mufti of Egypt
In a world often polarised by religious strife and cultural clashes, we find ourselves at a crossroads. Too frequently, faith is invoked as a battleground – dogmatic lines are drawn, and “believers” are pitted against “others.” Yet genuine religion was never meant to be a call to arms. It does not need warriors in endless conflict, but devoted hearts attuned to higher ideals. The time has come to reclaim a form of religiosity that emphasises spiritual depth, ethical conduct, and humane understanding over conquest or coercion.
Against this tide of zealotry and hollow formalism, we urgently need a renewed religious ethos – one that revives the spiritual core, embraces pluralism and critical thought, and builds bridges between tradition and modern life.
At its heart, religion is meant to nourish the human spirit and imbue life with meaning. The classical understanding of Islam, Christianity, and other faiths saw piety not as rote dogma or political ideology, but as a “life on the horizon of meaning” that meets our deepest existential needs . Iraqi philosopher of religion Dr. Abdul Jabbar al-Rifai defines religion as a system for producing spiritual, ethical, and aesthetic meaning in life, rooted in humanity’s longing for purpose .
This vision recalls how faith should touch our souls – inspiring compassion, beauty, and moral elevation – rather than merely multiplying rules or fuelling pride in belonging. Unfortunately, much of what passes for religious practice today has lost this spiritual core. When religion is reduced to rigid doctrine or identity politics, it leaves a void: “Old doctrinal sayings do not give the soul its tranquility, nor do they establish compassion and love,” as Al-Rifai observes . A religion obsessed with policing others’ behaviour or winning theological arguments fails to comfort the heart or uplift the soul.
Revivifying the spiritual dimension of faith means refocusing on the personal connection with the Divine and the cultivation of virtue. Devotion should awaken humility, gratitude, and a sense of wonder – a “connection with one’s Lord” in the language of the original argument. This is a far cry from the anger and anxiety that characterise religious zealotry. A truly spiritual religiosity values the inner transformation over outward triumph. It sees God not as a commander of factions, but as the beloved to whom hearts incline. Such an approach naturally emphasises ethics and beauty: caring for one’s neighbour, protecting the dignity of all people, and appreciating the wonder of creation.
Indeed, scholars of renewal argue that we must “awaken the spiritual, moral, and aesthetic meanings” in religion that have been obscured by sterile legalism and politicisation . By reviving this core, faith communities can foster individuals who are compassionate, mindful, and oriented toward goodness – believers whose piety is measured not by how fiercely they argue with others, but by how deeply they embody mercy and integrity.
A renewed religious outlook also requires embracing pluralism – accepting the multiplicity of schools of thought and paths within and across faiths. In practice, this means shedding the mentality that one’s own interpretation is the only truth and that all who differ are foes. We must replace the instinct to fight “the other” with a commitment to understand and respect them. The Qur’an itself acknowledges diversity as part of the divine plan, affirming that if God had willed, all humanity would be one community, but difference is a purpose of creation (cf. Qur’an 5:48).
As one contemporary scholar notes, “the Quran suggests in 5:48 that religious diversity is a product of divine design and advocates for religious pluralism” . This spirit of pluralism isn’t just about different religions, but also diverse interpretations and sects within the same faith. An enlightened religiosity “accepts the multiplicity of schools” and sees disagreement not as a threat but as an opportunity to learn and broaden one’s perspective.
Embracing pluralism goes hand-in-hand with compassion and recognising the shared humanity of all people. A faith that values pluralism will teach its adherents to approach others – whether of another creed or another interpretation – with empathy rather than enmity. Dr. Ali Gomaa the former Grand Mufti of Egypt, for instance, argues that Muslims today need a new theological outlook that liberates them from any “feeling of superiority over those who are different,” and enables them “to accept equality in one society on the basis of human humanity”.
In other words, true piety is incompatible with arrogance or contempt toward others. The Prophet of Islam’s example (as well as the example of sages in other traditions) was to build bridges with people, not walls. When we appreciate that the other – Sunni or Shia, Christian or Buddhist, believer or non-believer – is a fellow human with hopes and fears, we lay the groundwork for coexistence. Pluralism in religion thus becomes a bridge of understanding, aligning with the Qur’anic ethos of “no compulsion in religion” and the prophetic ethos of mercy.
In our globalised yet fragmented world, such pluralistic and compassionate faith is, as one Muslim leader poignantly stated, “the indispensable foundation for human peace and progress” . It allows religious people to coexist peacefully not only with those of other faiths, but also with their own past and future – carrying forward a heritage of tolerance and love.
Crucially, the call for a renewed religiosity includes activating critical thinking and freeing the mind from blind ideologies. For too long, questioning has been discouraged in many religious circles, equated falsely with doubt or impiety. But a faith that refuses to introspect or critique itself can become an ideology – static, rigid, and easily exploited by demagogues.
By contrast, a healthy religious outlook “does not need fighters” policing every boundary; it needs thinkers and seekers, unafraid to ask difficult questions. Indeed, the Islamic intellectual tradition once prized ijtihad, or independent reasoning, as a mechanism to keep jurisprudence and theology responsive to the times. Other religions too have rich histories of scholastic debate and reform. Rekindling this spirit means empowering believers to engage with their scripture and traditions thoughtfully, not just passively accept what they are told. As one commentator put it bluntly, “When people emphasize faith over critical thought, they’re wrong. It’s never good enough to just ‘believe.’ You must also wrestle with the tenets of your tradition and pursue the truth.” In an academic context, this translates to promoting religious education that values inquiry, context, and historical understanding over memorisation or sectarian propaganda.
Freeing religion from ideological captivity also entails recognising and correcting the ways in which religious discourse has been politicised or militarised. In many cases, what is presented as “defending the faith” is actually defending a political agenda or identity that has co-opted religious language. Critical thinking helps believers distinguish core spiritual truths from human interpretations or power plays. It allows a community to say, “This practice or teaching may have served in the past, but does it answer the moral questions of today?” – without feeling that such reflection is a betrayal of the faith. By encouraging open dialogue and self-critique, religious communities become more resilient and less prone to extremist manipulation. As history shows, movements that forbade questions and stifled debate often ended up stunting the intellectual and spiritual growth of their societies.
In contrast, when believers are treated as mature minds – capable of reasoning and engaging with modern knowledge – faith becomes a dynamic force that can illuminate contemporary issues (from social justice to scientific ethics) rather than retreating into denial or fanaticism. In sum, reason and faith must go hand in hand: a religion that values truth should have nothing to fear from questions or new ideas, for truth stands up to scrutiny. This critical, thoughtful approach will help “de-ideologise” faith, returning it to a sincere quest for wisdom and virtue rather than an inflexible dogma.
Finally, the envisaged religiosity calls for bridge-building in every sense – not only between different peoples, but also between our rich religious heritage and the challenges of the present day. We live in a “world without walls,” a global village where cultures and eras intersect freely. In such a world, insular or nostalgic forms of religion that ignore contemporary realities will not suffice. We cannot afford a faith that is cut off from modern knowledge, nor one that is cut off from its own historical wisdom. Thus, the task is twofold: connect with the past to draw out timeless spiritual insights, and connect with the present to ensure those insights speak to current human questions.
Bridging the gap between tradition and modern thought requires creative and courageous engagement. It means re-reading sacred texts and tradition with fresh eyes – not to change eternal principles, but to distinguish those principles from their historical context and to apply them appropriately now. As Dr. Gomaa notes, “renewing the understanding of religion does not begin except by redefining [key concepts] in the context of man’s requirements today for religious meaning, and his need for what enriches his spiritual, moral, and aesthetic life”.
In other words, every generation must translate the essence of its faith into the language of its time. This might involve new interpretations of jurisprudence to answer modern ethical dilemmas, or a re-examination of theological concepts (such as revelation or authority) in light of contemporary knowledge. Crucially, it also involves a frank reckoning with history – acknowledging both the profound contributions of our religious forebears and the mistakes or limitations of the past. By doing so, we build a bridge to our own past, treating it neither as an idol to be mindlessly replicated nor as a relic to be discarded, but as a dialogue partner. We can then carry forward the spirit of the tradition (its justice, compassion, and search for truth) while adapting its letter to today’s context.
At the same time, building bridges means reaching out to those outside our immediate faith tradition. A religion secure in its spiritual and moral mission will not fear engaging with modern secular thought, science, or other faiths. On the contrary, it will seek common ground – the “bridges in a world without walls” that the original argument so eloquently envisions. These bridges might include interfaith initiatives tackling shared humanitarian goals, or intellectual exchanges between religious scholars and secular academics.
Such efforts can enrich both sides: religious heritage offers ethical wisdom and a depth of meaning often lacking in secular discourse, while modern thought and pluralistic engagement keep religion grounded in universal human concerns rather than slipping into insularity. When believers connect with the world in this way, they demonstrate that faith is not a fortress to be defended, but a fountain from which everyone can drink. It is a source of sukoon (spiritual solace) and guidance that flows into the broader currents of human civilisation.
In essence, what is being advocated is a profound shift in the attitude and expression of religiosity – a renewal or “tajdid” that prizes the spiritual and ethical over the militant and dogmatic. Such a shift is not only desirable but necessary. We have seen how extremism, sectarian hatred, and the ossification of religious thought can tear societies apart and alienate younger generations. By contrast, a religion that encourages the “connection of hearts” and the “moral engagement with the universe” (as the original Arabic text phrased it) can be a healing and unifying force.
It can narrow the wide gap that has opened between our venerable religious traditions and the currents of contemporary thought. In practical terms, this means churches, mosques, temples and universities alike fostering dialogue, empathy, and critical inquiry. It means religious leaders speaking less of war and more of mercy, less about defending God and more about finding God in service to others.
The road to this enlightened religiosity will not be without obstacles. Entrenched interests – political, ideological, even economic – often prefer the status quo of “us vs. them” narratives. Yet history teaches that faith traditions are capable of renewal from within. The spiritual revival of religions has happened before in various eras, led by those brave enough to challenge corruption and complacency in the name of higher principles.
Today’s thinkers and believers must show similar courage. They must assert, through word and deed, that faith does not require combatants but companions – people journeying together toward truth. In a time of open-fronted conflict, this vision of religion offers a path out of darkness: a way to transform the energies spent on fighting “differences” into energies spent on uplifting our shared humanity. If we answer this call, we may yet see a blossoming of tadayn (faith practice) that bridges divides rather than deepening them – a religiosity that truly befits a world with fewer walls and greater hopes for mutual understanding. The need for such a transformation is urgent, and the promise it holds is nothing less than a more compassionate, enlightened global society.
