When faith listens: A journey of interreligious encounter

When what Maria thought she knew about the faith of some of her classmates and neighbours turned out to be misleading, she didn’t just correct her understanding; she set off on a path of discovery that would lead to knowledge, friendships and joy. She tells Things I Wish I Knew about what she found within and beyond the pages of Islamic texts.

What happens when a Catholic woman raised in a predominantly white, Christian environment sets out to understand Islam – not from a distance, but through deep study, friendship and immersion? In the latest episode of our podcast, Maria, who works with St Beuno’s Jesuit Spirituality Centre, shares how her journey of engaging with Islam has not only reshaped her understanding of another tradition but has also deepened her own Christian faith.

Maria’s story offers a compelling testimony to the power of encounter. Her time in Catholic school presented little exposure to people of other faiths or traditions. Casual racism and misunderstandings about Muslims were simply part of the background noise in her community. Yet rather than reinforcing suspicion or fear, these early limitations stirred something else in her: curiosity.

That curiosity would take root during her time at Queen Mary University of London, where a course on Islamic history became the turning point. Captivated by a professor’s passionate teaching and intellectual rigour, Maria found herself drawn into the richness of Middle Eastern history and the complexity of the Islamic tradition. What began as an academic interest soon grew into something more profound: an encounter with a faith and culture that would reshape her world.

It’s easy to view interreligious dialogue as something best left to scholars or institutional representatives. But Maria’s experience suggests otherwise. Her learning was not limited to lecture halls. At university, and later while living in Jordan, Maria formed friendships with Muslim classmates and local families. She was welcomed into their homes, heard their stories, and shared in their joys and struggles. Often, she was the only non-Muslim in the room, a position that, rather than isolating her, opened up spaces for deeper listening and solidarity.

A striking part of Maria’s story is how these encounters challenged assumptions on both sides. She reflects candidly on the stereotypes she internalised in her youth, and how they have been gradually dismantled through authentic relationships. But she also found that many Muslims she met were surprised by her openness as a Catholic and her interest in their faith. In this shared space of mutual learning, something transformative occurred.

At the heart of her journey is the recognition that Christianity and Islam, while distinct, share many core values: compassion, care for the vulnerable, reverence for God and a commitment to community life. These are not merely abstract ideals – they are lived realities that Maria witnessed firsthand in the generosity of Muslim families in Jordan, in the prayer lives of her friends and in the everyday acts of service that mirror the gospel.

One of the most moving reflections Maria offers is on the importance of seeing people as people: not as representatives of a religion, culture or news headline, but as fellow human beings. In a time when Muslims in the UK and beyond are often subject to misrepresentation or hostility, her witness is a timely and necessary reminder of the Christian call to love our neighbour. Respectful interreligious engagement does not begin with doctrine; it starts with listening.

Maria’s reflections also prompt a question for the Christian community, especially those of us shaped by Ignatian spirituality: how willing are we to be changed by encounter? The Jesuit tradition calls us to find God in all things and to walk with those on the margins. In an increasingly diverse and pluralistic society, walking with others must include walking with those of different faiths – not as a form of diplomacy, but as an expression of love, humility and shared humanity.

Interreligious dialogue is not about diluting our own faith or erasing differences. Instead, it is about stepping into the kind of dialogue Pope Francis called for: one that is rooted in respect, driven by curiosity and open to the possibility that God is already at work in the lives of those we encounter.

Maria’s story is not unique, but it is a story we need to hear more often. It invites us to reflect on the assumptions we carry, the voices we listen to and the relationships we prioritise. And it reminds us that interreligious understanding is not just an academic exercise or a political necessity. It is a spiritual practice and, in many ways, a form of prayer.

Maria’s reflections offer a powerful example of how the Spirit moves through honest dialogue, lived experience and the willingness to step beyond what is familiar. Her story, shared in the latest episode of Things I Wish I Knew, invites us to consider the quiet transformations that take place when we truly encounter one another across religious and cultural lines.

In a world often marked by division, such conversations remind us of the bridges still to be built, faith that deepens through encounter, and the face of God reflected in the lives of others.

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