To understand the depth of their commitment to dialogue, we must first understand the zeitgeist of their formative years. Bergoglio came of age in an Argentina marked by deep social inequalities, while his family carried the memory of fleeing fascist Italy in 1929. He grew up in the working-class neighborhood of Flores, witnessing firsthand the struggles of the marginalized. Later, as a young Jesuit priest, Bergoglio would experience the dark years of Argentina’s military dictatorship and the Dirty War of 1976-1983, when thousands disappeared. This crucible of suffering and social injustice would forge his understanding of the church’s mission to the poor and his belief that faith must be lived in solidarity with those who suffer.

Gülen’s Turkey was equally formative, though different in its challenges. Born in the conservative, Sufi-influenced culture of eastern Anatolia, he grew up under the strict secularism of the Kemalist state, where even his mother’s teaching of the Qur’an in their village was technically illegal. The Turkey of his youth was caught between its Ottoman Islamic heritage and the aggressive modernization project that sought to erase religious influence from public life.

This tension between tradition and modernity, between faith and secular governance, became the backdrop against which Gülen would develop his vision of a renewed Islam capable of engaging constructively with the modern world. Working as a state-appointed imam from 1959 to 1981, he navigated these contradictions with remarkable creativity, ultimately enabling the formation of a movement that would establish hundreds of schools worldwide.

What stands out most profoundly in both men is how their unwavering commitment to their respective faiths became not a barrier to dialogue but its very foundation. For Bergoglio, his Jesuit formation and deep devotion to Christ grounded his openness to others. The more authentically Christian he became, the more he could recognize and honor the divine presence in other traditions. Similarly, Gülen’s profound immersion in Islamic spirituality, deeply influenced by Said Nursi’s writings, enabled him to reach across religious boundaries with confidence and humility. Both exemplified a crucial paradox of authentic dialogue: it is precisely those who are firmly rooted in their own tradition who can engage most generously with others. Their interfaith work was not about diluting their convictions but about living them fully.

Nostra Aetate

The Second Vatican Council’s Declaration Nostra Aetate, promulgated in 1965 when Bergoglio was a young Jesuit in formation, opened revolutionary new pathways for Catholic engagement with other religions. This document, which declared that the Church “rejects nothing that is true and holy” in other religions and called for dialogue and collaboration, provided the theological framework that would guide the future Pope Francis. The Council’s teaching that Muslims “adore the one God” and that the Church looks upon Muslims “with esteem” gave official sanction to what would become Bergoglio’s lifelong practice. He absorbed these teachings during his formative years as a seminarian and priest, and they became integral to his pastoral approach.

For Gülen, the decisive intellectual influence was his encounter with the writings of Said Nursi, the Kurdish Islamic scholar whose Risale-i Nur collection reimagined Islamic thought for the modern age. Nursi’s emphasis on the compatibility of faith and reason, his positive engagement with science, and his call for Muslims to contribute constructively to society rather than retreat into isolation provided Gülen with a theological foundation for dialogue. Through Nursi’s lens, Gülen came to understand that reaching out to people of other faiths was not a betrayal of Islam but an expression of its deepest values of mercy, compassion, and service.

Both men shared a profound connection with Pope John Paul II, though in different ways and to different degrees. Francis’s relationship with John Paul was intimate and transformative.

Appointed auxiliary bishop of Buenos Aires in 1992 and made a cardinal in 2001 by John Paul II, Bergoglio worked closely with the Polish pope and absorbed his vision of the Church as a protagonist in the modern world. John Paul’s example of fearless engagement with cultures, his numerous encounters with leaders of other faiths, and his understanding of the papacy as a ministry of dialogue shaped the future Pope Francis profoundly.

Gülen’s encounter with John Paul II was briefer but no less significant. His meeting with the Pope at the Vatican in February 1998 represented a milestone in Muslim-Catholic relations, coming at a time when such high-level encounters were still relatively rare. This meeting occurred in the spirit of Assisi—that groundbreaking gathering in October 1986 when John Paul II invited religious leaders from around the world to pray for peace. The Assisi gathering, though controversial in some quarters, became a defining moment in interreligious relations, establishing what became known as the “Spirit of Assisi.” It demonstrated that people of different faiths could come together, not to compromise their beliefs, but to witness together to the transcendent dimension of peace.

Both Francis and Gülen were uncompromising in their commitment to nonviolence and in their determination to deconstruct the false association between religion and terrorism. After the September 11 attacks, Gülen was among the first prominent Muslim voices to condemn the violence publicly and to insist that such acts violated the core teachings of Islam. Throughout his life, he emphasized that Islam’s name itself, derived from the root for peace, called Muslims to be peacemakers. Similarly, Francis consistently refused to accept any linkage between authentic religious faith and violence. He repeatedly stressed that using God’s name to justify violence is a form of blasphemy. Both men understood that the integrity of religious traditions depends on their capacity to promote peace and human dignity.

At the heart of both men’s understanding of dialogue lies a profoundly simple yet challenging principle: the centrality of love for every human person as beloved by God. For Francis, this is rooted in the Christian understanding of the imago Dei—every person bears the image of God and therefore deserves respect and love. He has spoken movingly about the need to see Christ in the face of the poor, the migrant, the suffering. For Gülen, the Qur’anic teaching that God loves humanity and has honored human beings with dignity shapes his approach to others. In his understanding, which draws deeply from Sufi spirituality, to love the created is to love the Creator. Both men insist that authentic religious commitment must express itself in love that crosses all boundaries.

Terrorism of “gossip”

One particularly striking parallel in their teachings concerns the corrosive effects of gossip and backbiting. Both Francis and Gülen have been remarkably forthright in condemning these practices, which they see as fundamentally incompatible with both faith and genuine dialogue. Francis has repeatedly warned against the “terrorism of gossip,” describing it as a form of murder because it kills the reputation and dignity of others. He has emphasized that gossip destroys community and makes authentic dialogue impossible. Gülen, drawing on Islamic teachings that compare backbiting to eating the flesh of one’s dead brother, has been equally forceful. He has taught that a community built on trust and mutual respect cannot survive where gossip flourishes. For both men, the prohibition against gossip is not merely a matter of good manners but a religious imperative rooted in respect for human dignity. Healthy dialogue requires an environment where people can trust one another, and gossip poisons that trust at its source.

The warmth of personal encounter

Throughout their lives, both men have welcomed people of different religions and cultures with genuine warmth and friendship. Francis’s papacy has been marked by countless such encounters—from his embrace of Muslim leaders to his meetings with Orthodox patriarchs, from his dialogues with Jewish communities to his outreach to people of no religious faith. His spontaneous gestures of affection and his evident delight in these encounters reveal that, for him, dialogue is not a diplomatic duty but a source of joy. Gülen, despite his later years in exile and declining health, maintained a similar practice of welcoming visitors from diverse backgrounds to his modest quarters in Pennsylvania. He met with Christian leaders, Jewish rabbis, and representatives of various traditions, always with the same message: that we are called to serve humanity together. Both men embodied the truth that genuine dialogue happens not merely in formal conferences but in the warmth of personal encounter.

The importance of prayer in their approach to dialogue and their lives cannot be overstated. A remarkable testament to their mutual respect came in April 2016, when Pope Francis wrote to Gülen asking for his prayers. Though the full text of this correspondence has not been publicly released, its very existence speaks volumes about the spiritual recognition between these two men. Both understood that prayer is not merely a private practice but the foundation of all authentic action for peace. Francis has consistently emphasized that without prayer, efforts for peace become merely political maneuvering. Gülen has taught that prayer transforms the heart and makes genuine service possible. Both have encouraged interfaith prayers—not syncretistic combinations that blur differences, but gatherings where people of different traditions pray according to their own beliefs for common aspirations.

Perhaps most significantly, both men have made education, particularly peace education, central to their vision of sustainable dialogue. Francis has spoken frequently about the need for an “education in fraternity” and has launched initiatives like the Global Compact on Education to promote educational approaches that serve peace and human dignity. His encyclicals, particularly Laudato Si’ and Fratelli Tutti, are essentially educational documents calling for a transformation of consciousness. Gülen’s legacy is perhaps most visible in the hundreds of schools established worldwide by participants in the Hizmet movement. These schools, which welcome students of all backgrounds, embody his conviction that quality education—combining academic excellence with moral formation—is the most effective pathway to peace. For both men, education is not merely about transmitting information but about forming persons capable of dialogue, committed to justice, and ready to serve the common good.

A convergent journey

As we reflect on the lives and legacies of these two extraordinary figures, we see not two separate paths but a convergent journey toward a more humane world. Though coming from different traditions and contexts, Pope Francis and Fethullah Gülen arrived at remarkably similar conclusions about what authentic religious commitment requires in our interconnected age.

Their lives testify that deep faith and generous openness to others are not contradictory but complementary. They show us that prayer and action, contemplation and service, fidelity to one’s tradition and respect for others’ traditions can and must go together.

Their witness challenges us to recognize that dialogue is not an optional extra for people of faith but an essential dimension of authentic religious life in our time. It reminds us that building peace requires not just political agreements but transformed hearts—and that such transformation happens through prayer, education, and the daily practice of love and respect across all human boundaries. In a world still torn by religious violence and mutual suspicion, the convergent witness of Pope Francis and Fethullah Gülen offers hope and a roadmap. They show us what becomes possible when religious leaders have the courage to reach across divides, the wisdom to ground their openness in deep faith, and the persistence to work for peace education that can sustain dialogue for generations to come.

The world has never been more reliant on the fruits of science. Yet the tree of knowledge that produces this fruit is often viewed as suspect. Around the world, it’s often religious people whose condemnations of science are the most vocal.

Religious people in much of the world are actively pushing back against what they call “the worldview of science.” Many question the methods, the practices, the assumptions, and the funding priorities of science. But the same people bring no such skepticism to the fruits of science. People want good cell phones, good cars, state-of-the-art hospitals, safe food, modern cities, stable bridges, and the most modern technology.

Religion versus science. Interpreted in the context of warfare, science exists as a challenge to religion, and the duty of religious persons is to protect their tradition against the dangerous encroachments onto their territory by scientists and their theories. Both sides must be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

This, at any rate, is the dominant view in our day. This is how we’ve been conditioned to behave: we defend the group we feel closest to and attack its enemies. We see science or religion – not science and religion.

But then there are the peacemakers — the ones who seek other solutions to conflict; the ones who prioritize partnership over war. I believe that it’s possible to develop constructive relationships between science and each particular religious tradition. Harmony will be found in the opening of specific religious traditions to the world of science. Until we acknowledge the vastly different challenges faced by the different religions, genuine progress is unlikely.

Before we get to the differences, however, let’s see how much common ground we can find.

Partnerships more urgent than ever

One obvious area of partnership is global climate change. But the environmental crisis is not the only area of common ground: science-religion partnerships are crucial across a wide variety of areas. Medical ethics and assessments of the patient’s quality of life profit from religious input. Moral outrage at the design and use of atomic, biological, and chemical weapons is often fueled by religious intuitions about what is unacceptable for one human being to do to another. The rapid expansion of technology inevitably raises ethical dilemmas. Yet there are relatively few religious thinkers who are well enough versed in the scientific details and nuanced enough in their judgments that they can make useful recommendations for when and how technology should be used.

Cutting-edge scientific research also raises some of the most interesting conceptual questions that humans have ever encountered. Physics raises fundamental questions about the birth of the universe and its distant future. Since the time of Darwin, philosophers and theologians have speculated whether biological evolution is guided in some way, or whether evolution is random.

Finally, the rapid advances in the neurosciences, fueled by greatly enhanced imaging techniques, raise urgent questions about the nature and causes of consciousness and cognition, of rationality and morality. Does the power of neuroscientific explanation prove that we are (as Francis Crick once wrote) “nothing but a pack of neurons”? Does it force us to conclude (as another neurologist put it), “Wires and chemicals, that’s all we are — wires and chemicals.” Many religious (and non-religious) scholars stand opposed to this view. They make the case that we are somehow more, that our conscious experience is unique among the species on this planet. They stand much closer to the response by the secular Jewish scientist Melvin Konner:

I suspect that we are seeing [in this example] the most rudimentary form of the key to being human: a sort of wonderment at the spectacle of the world, and its apprehensibility by the mind; a focusing, of the sheer purpose of elevation; an intelligent waking dream. In that capacity, perhaps, we find our greatest distinction, and it may be our salvation.

The questions I have just summarized are among the fundamental questions about human nature and the cosmos that are posed for us by this age of science. These questions arise naturally, compellingly, at the boundaries between recent scientific developments and the world’s most significant philosophical and religious traditions. Some of them are metaphysical questions. But they are also existential questions — questions about meaning, the construction of meaning, the search for meaning. Because they are about the creation of meaning, social sciences such as psychology, sociology, and anthropology play important roles in researching them.

To aid in a dialogue, scientific scholars should not let their reports delve into highly technical prose, written for a narrow circle of academic specialists. The best scientists express the complex dilemmas and provocative possibilities that emerge at the ever-expanding intersections of science and religion, yet they do so in ways that are broadly accessible. Our audience is every person who seeks to understand the implications of being part of a single web of life that is becoming conscious of itself, its origins, and its ultimate future.

A new dialogue

What would be the signs that we are working constructively together on overlapping topics characterized by common questions and assumptions?

I suggest three.

1. A core set of agreed-upon data and assumptions, however minimal.
2. Clear and honest formulation of disagreements. Can we clearly name the issues that threaten to tear us into warring factions? For example, for one research group all valid explanations must be naturalist explanations, of the sort accessible to contemporary science; for another group, if explanations do not include some reference to God’s supernatural actions, they cannot be valid.
3. Constructive proposals to bridge differences. Scholars must help us to analyze differences, to formulate the underlying assumptions of the other side, and to construct theories that might synthesize opposing positions.

Back to the frontiers

The birth of religion and science as a field is often cited as the 1960s; it’s sometimes connected with the 1966 publication of Ian Barbour’s Issues in Science and Religion. I can remember the early work in the 1980s and ’90s, when there was a clear excitement about sharing these discussions with one’s religious and scientific friends. There was a clear sense that a real partnership was emerging.

I wonder what it would be like to recover some of that open spirit of inquiry that characterized those early years — that sense of exploration and discovery. What would it take?

My list would include some of the following qualities:

1. willingness to compromise
2. a sense of journeying, learning, and exploring together
3. an interest in new data, in new things humans are learning about the world, and about ourselves
4. Everyone, including religious people, would admit they don’t know all the answers in advance.
5. We would see an excitement about differences, with the conviction that pursuing these differences can lead to deeper understanding

Let’s consider this last point for a moment. What does it point to, and what does it reveal?

Irreconcilable differences

When two people file for divorce in the United States, they often cite what they call “irreconcilable differences.”

In certain cultures, and at certain periods in the past, the marriage between science and religion was seen as a healthy and productive one. Today, many commentators are speaking of “irreconcilable differences” and are claiming that a complete divorce is the only solution.

Many of us hold a different view. We believe that declaring a complete divorce between science and religion would be a tragedy. The partnership that they have had could and should be continued. It is essential for the good of humanity. Those of us who identify as Muslim, Jew or Christian, as Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh or Jain, feel that we must speak up when our co-religionists dismiss science as an enemy of our religion. We want them to understand that this divorce is not necessary.

Those of us who are scientists argue the same way with our fellow scientists. Sure, we say, some religious people are fundamentally opposed to science, and some religious beliefs are incompatible with science. Still, religion as such is not our enemy. We can learn to build useful bridges between our science and their religion. Indeed, we argue, we have already found some neutral territory, and even some places of harmony. We are convinced that the actual and potential partnerships between science and religion are valuable enough that it would be a tragedy to declare that the two sides are irreconcilably at war.

Sciences and religions as a new paradigm

Predictions of secularists notwithstanding, religion is not “withering away”; globally, it is expanding faster than ever. And yet religious language is used by some to promote dogmatism, the rejection of science, and even violence.

There is some encouraging data, however. In most cases, extremism in religious communities is inversely correlated with the degree of their engagement with science. To the extent that we can promote a serious and ongoing engagement with the methods and results of the sciences, we decrease the probability that religious communities will turn toward fundamentalism.

Our challenge is, each tradition makes its peace with science in different ways. Until we as scholars in this area learn to understand and acknowledge the vastly different ways that the various traditions engage with science — what each tradition wants, what it needs, and what it fears — we will continue to misunderstand and misrepresent the other as if it shared the same concerns that define our own tradition.

Let’s consider some examples. I begin with two religious traditions that have been able to live in a mostly non-conflictual way with science: Judaism and Buddhism.

The Jewish intellectual tradition has been able to incorporate modern science with relative ease. The reasons lie deep in the Jewish tradition — in midrash, in the Rabbinical tradition, and in the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE. Although all of Tanak, the Hebrew Bible, reveals the nature of the Almighty, the first five books (the Torah) have the highest authority for Jews. Observance of the Mitzvot, the 613 commandments in the Torah, stands at the center of Jewish observance, and hence Jewish identity. Because the actions of observance are most important, the interpretations that one offers about the commandments, and even the beliefs that one holds about God, come second.

Over the centuries, Jewish thinkers were able to draw on a wide variety of philosophical schools to express emerging understandings of Jewish identity and Jewish views of reality. Rabbinical discourse valued multiplicity, difference of opinion, and debate. When modern science arose, the sphere of debate was simply expanded to include the new theories. Jewish communities valued the growth of knowledge, and many observant Jews became leading scientists.

Over the last decades Buddhism has also evolved to become one of the most science-friendly religions in the world. As always, there are personal and political reasons behind this phenomenon. The 14th Dalai Lama has promoted and personally sponsored a wide variety of projects in religion and science. His famous comment is often repeated: “if scientific analysis were conclusively to demonstrate certain claims in Buddhism to be false, then we must accept the findings of science and abandon those claims.”

Still, the reasons for the Dalai Lama’s support of science lie deep within Buddhist thought and practice. He speaks for much of the Buddhist tradition when we writes, “The … dimension … of basic spiritual well-being — by which I mean inner mental and emotional strength and balance — does not depend on religion but comes from our innate human nature as beings with a natural disposition toward compassion, kindness, and caring for others.”

“Buddhism, like Judaism, places the major emphasis on practice. Meditative practices are central, along with certain types of experience and states of consciousness that meditation can produce. In Mahayana Buddhist in particular, achieving the state of compassion, and expressing it in action, is the highest goal; metaphysical concepts are important only to the extent that they promote this outcome. Compassion simply means the desire “to alleviate the suffering of others and to promote their well-being.”

This approach leads to an avid interest in certain areas of science, which Buddhist practitioners, like many Hindu practitioners, view as natural allies to their own spiritual quest. They look to science to support traditional claims about the benefits of meditation and to verify the unusual physiological achievements of advanced meditators. Many practitioners are willing to distance themselves from ancient metaphysical teachings in the belief that what is most important to Buddhism will find scientific support and confirmation over the long term.

While Judaism and Buddhist offer the most unambiguous cases, many other traditions have openings to science that are currently being emphasized and explored.

In my opinion, of these various traditions that we are considering, none is more important globally today than the engagement of Islam with science.

In 2008, the Islamic Forum of Science, Cultures, and the Future of Humanity adopted a declaration which stated, with reference to Islam, that “the so-called ‘warfare between science and religion’ is unnecessary and destructive—to religion, to science, and to the future of our species and our planet,” and that it “is possible in this century to bridge the gap between the cultures of science and religion. Succeeding in this task will require greater openness to contributions from all fields of knowledge…” They also stated that they “encourage an interdisciplinary approach to the discussion of science, culture, and religion. Yet this discussion must be conducted with discipline and intellectual rigor by people with the requisite expertise.”

It is not my place as a non-Muslim to specify how Islam should make peace with science. To find solutions, Muslim scholars and imams are engaging in deep study of the Holy Qur’an, the classic tradition of Islamic philosophy and theology, and of course scientific theories and the history and philosophy of science. We as non-Muslim scholars can offer resources in these fields, and we can share solutions that our traditions have found useful. And of course we can share our confidence that solutions can be found, that Islam does not face an either/or: either reject modern science, or question the words of God’s Prophet.

Many scholars are focusing on the most pressing issues in the Islam-science dialogue: Qur’anic support for the pursuit of knowledge of the natural world; how to connect natural causes with God as the final cause of all beings and all phenomena; natural knowledge and revealed knowledge; the apparent randomness of the evolutionary process versus God’s direction of all creation; the uniqueness of human beings; naturalism versus God’s supernatural acts; and, of particular importance, how to read the Holy Qur’an so that it does not become a direct competitor with science, while still allowing the Holy Book to function as the authoritative record of the teachings of the Prophet, on whom be peace.

When it comes to my own tradition, I am obliged to speak not just of the strengths of Christian engagement with the sciences, but also of where we have fallen short.Some of the most extensive literature comes from Christian authors, and virtually every topic of Christian theology has been brought into dialogue with the sciences. One finds conservative and fundamentalist answers that reject science in toto as incompatible with Christianity, or that argue that Christian beliefs actually constitute better science than the natural sciences. At the other end of the spectrum, one finds Christian doctrines interpreted in purely scientific terms, so that no supernatural elements remain. In between these two extremes Christian authors have explored a vast variety of science-inspired interpretations of their tradition.

This radical pluralism is a strength: Christian scholars propose, for each other and for other traditions, a great number of ways that compatibilities and incompatibilities with science can be expressed and incorporated.

Conclusion: Finding common cause across differences

As scholars study relations at the various intersections of science and religion, we develop a shared body of knowledge.

I hope that we will be able to express differences without being dogmatic. I continue to be inspired by the examples of Muslim, Jewish, and Christian scientists who have accepted the call to productive scholarship, and thus have been able to make progress even in areas where there is real conflict. Deep scholarship involves deep listening. Where will we find that common foundation of respect today, without which we cannot succeed?

We do best when we connect with affection and interest across the two cultures of science and religion — when we find common cause, common interests, common challenges.

I believe that certain common values characterize our work. We value empirical data and seek to apportion our beliefs to the evidence. Because we recognize that specialization can lead to fragmentation, we value interdisciplinary scholarship and the crossing of boundaries. We know that the natural sciences, although crucial for knowledge of the world, do not tell the entire story, for the techniques and conclusions of the social sciences also play an important role. And both are supplemented by the humanities — by philosophy, ethics, and religious studies.

It is with a call to compassion and action that I wish to conclude. For the first time in the history of humanity, humans now face a truly global crisis, one for which we, ultimately, are responsible. We have upset the natural rhythm of the planet. The effects of human-induced climate change are already producing mass migrations, starvation, deaths, and extinctions of species. No one will be able to understand the crisis and take appropriate actions unless they listen carefully to science — to climatologists, environmental theorists, ecologists, and others. Yet science alone will not be sufficient to motivate the necessary response: a global turning toward a sustainable, ecologically based civilization is also necessary.

Fortunately, humanity does have resources that can supplement scientific knowledge and technological ability: we have the call to compassion, and the reminder of the sacredness of all life, that resounds across the world’s great religious traditions. These values, brought to bear on what may be the biggest crisis that humanity has ever faced, can make the crucial difference. If the decision is separation — “science or religion” — then I do not think that humanity will be able to marshal the moral and spiritual resources that it needs to slow the pace of climate change. If the decision is integration — “science and religion” — then we have a chance, a fighting chance.

We live in a time of deep division: will the coming years reveal an increasing number of partnerships between science and religion, or will we see a battle to the death between the two?

The world has never been more reliant on the fruits of science. Yet the tree of knowledge that produces this fruit is often viewed as suspect. Around the world, it’s often religious people whose condemnations of science are the most vocal.

Religious people in much of the world are actively pushing back against what they call “the worldview of science.” Many question the methods, the practices, the assumptions, and the funding priorities of science. But the same people bring no such skepticism to the fruits of science. People want good cell phones, good cars, state-of-the-art hospitals, safe food, modern cities, stable bridges, and the most modern technology.

Religion versus science. Interpreted in the context of warfare, science exists as a challenge to religion, and the duty of religious persons is to protect their tradition against the dangerous encroachments onto their territory by scientists and their theories. Both sides must be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

This, at any rate, is the dominant view in our day. This is how we’ve been conditioned to behave: we defend the group we feel closest to and attack its enemies. We see science or religion – not science and religion.

But then there are the peacemakers — the ones who seek other solutions to conflict; the ones who prioritize partnership over war. I believe that it’s possible to develop constructive relationships between science and each particular religious tradition. Harmony will be found in the opening of specific religious traditions to the world of science. Until we acknowledge the vastly different challenges faced by the different religions, genuine progress is unlikely.

Before we get to the differences, however, let’s see how much common ground we can find.