Introduction
Kerk & Leven (“Church & Life”) is the leading weekly Catholic magazine in the Flemish region of Belgium. Since October 2025, on the invitation of the chief editor of the local edition of the parish of Olen, Cis Marinus, I have been writing a reflective article every two weeks from a philosophical and theological perspective, exploring Christianity in a scientific age.
24 June 2026
Not a Tactic, but a Way of Life. Interreligious Dialogue in a Divided World
“Interreligious dialogue is not a tactic, but a way of life.” This remarkable statement by Pope Leo XIV during a commemoration of sixty years of Nostra Aetate (the declaration of the Second Vatican Council on the relationship of the Church to non-Christian religions) may seem simple, but it contains a small intellectual revolution. For anyone who calls dialogue a tactic views the other person as a means to an end. Anyone who calls it a way of life recognizes the other as an indispensable conversation partner in the search for truth.
This is an uncomfortable thought in an age in which convictions increasingly retreat behind certainties and identities. Yet it is precisely here that the philosophical significance of interreligious dialogue begins: not in abandoning one’s own truth, but in recognizing that truth can never become anyone’s possession. The other is not the one who threatens my convictions, but the one who tests, broadens, and deepens them.
At a time when religious differences are often seen as sources of conflict, identity politics, or strategic interests, the idea that dialogue is a way of life sounds almost countercultural. Yet it touches on a profoundly philosophical question: why should people who fundamentally disagree continue to seek one another out at all? Is dialogue merely a means of living together despite our differences? Or does the encounter with the other reveal something of the truth that every human being seeks?
How can people engage in meaningful conversation when both parties hold convictions that contradict one another on crucial points and are regarded as exclusively true? Christians, for example, believe in the Ascension of Jesus (that Jesus ascended into heaven) whereas Muslims do not. Muslims, on the other hand, believe in the ascension of the Prophet Muhammad, while Christians do not. The obvious question is: how can such beliefs be reconciled? The deeper question is: do they need to be reconciled at all?
A first step is to acknowledge that this tension is real and cannot simply be “talked away.” For Christians, the Ascension of Jesus is a central article of faith. For Muslims, the Isra (the Night Journey of the Prophet Muhammad from Mecca to Jerusalem) and the subsequent Mi‘raj (his ascent to heaven accompanied by the Archangel Jibril) occupy a similarly central place. These claims make assertions about what truly happened and what that means for truth and revelation.
One possible position is that only one’s own religious tradition possesses the full truth and that all others are mistaken (exclusivism). Anyone who assumes possession of the sole absolute truth can hardly avoid concluding that everyone else is wrong. The strength of this position is that it respects the logical tension involved and takes religious claims seriously. The risk, however, is that in dialogue the other is seen primarily as someone who is mistaken. The key question then becomes: how do you justify the fact that you happened to be born into the “correct” tradition? It seems difficult to defend the notion that one historical and cultural tradition should enjoy a monopoly on truth.
A second possible position is that other religions contain valuable insights, but these are viewed as incomplete expressions of an ultimate truth that is fully present in one particular religion (inclusivism). A classic example is Karl Rahner’s concept of the “anonymous Christian”: non-Christians can also participate implicitly in the truth of Christ. The strength of this position is that it allows for a partial recognition of truth in the other without abandoning one’s own core beliefs. Yet in dialogue it risks appearing condescending. It effectively says: “You are partly right, but I understand your religion better than you do.” A philosophical tension nevertheless remains: who determines what counts as the “partially true”? In practice, this tends to be one’s own framework.
Yet this does not mean that dialogue is impossible. Religious convictions do not function like ordinary empirical beliefs that are open to confirmation or refutation. Religious certainty belongs to a “form of life” or a comprehensive framework of reference. Religious beliefs constitute a fundamental way of understanding reality. René Magritte’s painting La condition humaine (1933) offers a fitting metaphor: every tradition provides its own “window” onto reality, without any single perspective encompassing the whole.
Instead of arguing solely about whether something literally happened, one can explore what religious beliefs mean within a particular tradition. What does the Ascension of Jesus mean for Christians? What does Muhammad’s Night Journey mean for Muslims? If the goal is to convince the other of one’s own correctness, the conversation is bound to reach an impasse. If the goal is to understand one another better and to live together despite differences, the conversation becomes more open.
Interreligious dialogue is not about consensus but about mutual respect and coexistence. Even when metaphysical truth claims clash, there are often overlapping values, such as justice, compassion, and care for others. Working together on the basis of these shared values fosters trust, and trust makes deeper conversations possible.
This makes interreligious dialogue highly relevant to society. When successful, it demonstrates to the world how people can live together peacefully despite holding mutually incompatible truth claims. In a world increasingly marked by polarization, violence, and mutual distrust, the value of such an example for humanity can hardly be overstated.
Interreligious dialogue is not a sign of religious relativism but of confidence: confidence that truth does not need to be protected by high walls, but can reveal itself in open encounter. Pope Leo XIV regards encounters between religions not as a diplomatic game but as a moral and spiritual necessity. In his view, believers from different traditions can jointly resist hatred, violence, and nationalist exclusion. Where others sow distrust, religions must build trust. Where fear prevails, they must foster understanding.
He has even stated that faith “unites more than it divides” and that cooperation between religions can be a sign of hope for all humanity. In his view, religion is not fundamentally a source of conflict, but a source of healing and reconciliation.
The real challenge of interreligious dialogue is this: can one remain deeply committed to one’s own faith while simultaneously acknowledging that one’s access to truth is limited and mediated? It is precisely within this tension, not resolved but sustained, that fruitful dialogue emerges. The purpose of interreligious dialogue is not to eliminate differences, but to recognize that no tradition fully understands itself without the perspective of the other.
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