Having grown up in North Malabar amidst a significant Muslim population, studied in a Jesuit institution, and read the Bible, Quran, and major Hindu texts, I have had the opportunity to observe religion not as theory, but as lived reality. Over time, one conclusion has steadily formed: what we understand today as religion is often far removed from its original ethical and philosophical core.
The central figures of the Abrahamic traditions – Jesus, Moses, and the Prophet Muhammad – spoke of compassion, justice, and peace. Yet history tells a different story. Europe witnessed centuries of religious wars; West Asia saw prolonged sectarian conflict; divisions within Christianity, Islam, and Judaism themselves;orthodox versus reformist, sect versus sect, have often led to strife. The pattern is unmistakable: while the core teachings emphasize peace, the institutions built around them have, at various times, sanctioned conflict, coercion, and expansion; even propagation through the sword.
This divergence does not arise overnight. Over time, methods begin to dominate values. Rituals, procedures, interpretations, and institutional authority gradually overshadow the original ethical intent. What begins as a path to understanding becomes a system to be followed; what begins as introspection becomes prescription. In that shift, the focus moves from values to compliance, from understanding to enforcement. It is in this space that exploitation, division, and conflict take root.
Even within traditions, this is evident. Debates within Christianity on doctrine, within Islam between varying interpretations, and within Judaism between orthodox and unorthodox practices all reflect the same underlying phenomenon: the apparatus of religion expanding beyond its ethical core.
Contrast this with the Indian civilisational experience. Long before the arrival of Abrahamic traditions, the people of the subcontinent engaged with the divine in diverse ways—through nature, ideas, symbols, and philosophical inquiry. What is today called Hinduism was not a “religion” in the structured, doctrinal sense, but a way of life, fluid, plural, and deeply introspective.
The Bhagavad Gita, often misunderstood as a religious text in the conventional sense, is in fact a dialogue, a conversation between teacher and student on duty, ethics, and the nature of existence. It does not impose; it explores. At its philosophical core lies the concept of Brahman – the ultimate reality – and the recognition that the self is connected to, or one with, that universal principle. Whether through Advaita (non-duality) or Dvaita (duality), the journey is inward, not imposed from without.
In such a framework, rituals and deities are not instruments of control but tools for understanding. They assist, but do not compel. The absence of a single, binding doctrine allows for coexistence, adaptation, and evolution.
In modern societies, tolerance is often celebrated as a virtue, but it carries a certain privilege in tone. It can suggest a reluctant acceptance, a quiet endurance rather than genuine respect.What is required is something deeper: mutual acceptance. We may be different, but we recognise each other as equally valid. Acceptance is not a concession yet removes hierarchy. It does not ask one to “put up with” the other, but to acknowledge the legitimacy of multiple paths.
It is also important to recognize that while religions exist and some individuals may have drawn personal strength, discipline, or solace from them, religion is not a prerequisite for spiritual growth or for reaching the divine. Communion with the self, reflection on ethical living, and the pursuit of truth can occur independent of institutional structures. Spirituality, at its core, is experiential, not procedural.
If anything, history suggests that while religion may assist individuals, it has not consistently served society. Institutions, over time, tend to accumulate power, and in doing so, they risk drifting from their original purpose. The challenge, therefore, is not to reject faith, but to distinguish between values and the systems built around them.
Perhaps what is needed is not another reform within religions, but a shift in perspective, a move towards a universal spirituality. One that emphasizes ethical living, compassion, and self-realization without being bound by dogma, ritual, or institutional authority. A framework where the focus is on human dignity and harmony, rather than on doctrinal correctness.
For societies like India, the responsibility for harmony cannot rest solely with governments or political structures. Politics, by its nature, organizes around divisions. It is society – particularly its religious and intellectual leadership – that must rise above these divisions and reinforce shared values.
The call, therefore, is simple, though not easy: to move beyond ritual, beyond dogma, and beyond tolerance – to a space of conscious acceptance, where values take precedence over methods, and where the essence of spirituality is reclaimed from the structures that seek to contain it.
In the end, the only permanence is change. Whether we adapt consciously or are forced to adapt by circumstance will determine the harmony of future societies.
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