In recent decades, Europe has experienced a decline in religious teaching, although we should first ask to what extent this concerned teaching about religion in general terms (e.g. the history and foundations of various religions). In some European countries, religion in education was associated with indoctrination in the Christian religion. Today, we find privately run Christian centres that continue to offer such teaching, along with other private educational centres that offer religious training in a specific denomination. In this way, in Europe today, we find private educational centres for children and adults, which offer education, for example, in Catholic, Evangelical, Muslim or Buddhist traditions. The range of options, formats and quality of content is enormous and plural, from formal and traditional indoctrination to introductory courses. These centres may take cultural, therapeutic, pedagogical or artistic approaches, from the theological explanation of dogma to a psychological approach to meaning making. In this sense, any pedagogical practice in the religious sphere must be considered relevant today when discussing religion in the classroom, although a class on Catholic catechesis naturally differs greatly from one on Buddhist Vipassana meditation.

Today, an officially secular Europe is, at the same time, a multi-religious Europe, where diverse religious experiences coexist and collide. The classroom is one of the places where this difficult and complex management of religious diversity is intensely experienced. The Catalan theologian and anthropologist, Francesc Torradeflot, director of the AUDIR organization for interfaith dialogue, explains that:

in plural democratic societies the social function of religion no longer makes sense, unless by social function we understand the facilitation of spiritual experience. So it does make sense, but not when you want to play a role of power and control. The important thing about religions is that they help you to see and live the reality more fully and be happier, and we have found other forms, more inclusive and plural, of social cohesion thanks to democracies that, I hope, will be increasingly more participatory. That is why I believe that spirituality fits very well in such a society, because it generates more creative, innovative, free people, better able to cooperate and work as a team, to put themselves at the service of others because they are not so dominated by the ego.^[1]

Hans Küng, one of the most important theologians of our time, writes: ‘No religion—neither Judaism nor Christianity nor Islam (nor the religions of Indian and Chinese origin)—can be satisfied with the status quo in this time of upheaval. Everywhere there are amazingly parallel questions about a future renewal.’^[2] It is that search for common questions that makes Küng, in addition to his well-known criticism of Christianity, one of the figures who have most insisted on dialogue between religions in a way that goes beyond mere formality.

Although in recent decades in Europe there has been no direct opposition to interfaith dialogue – except in the most reactionary sectors – there are not so many who have delved into other beliefs with real interest and conviction – the conviction of finding a mirror in the other, of finding a truth in the other. That is why Küng argues that religious truth is impossible without personal truthfulness. Just as Judaism is not a unitary and rigid monolith, but a dynamic and complex entity that is constantly changing, neither are Christianity and Islam fixed and monolithic. Perceiving global responsibility means getting to know one’s own problems better in the mirror of others, and transmitting to others one’s experiences in order to solve conflicts within one’s own religion.

Küng’s stated aim is to develop an understanding of the heritage of religions as part of the human condition: ‘[…] religion is ambivalent. .In any religion, essence and form, the abiding and the changing, the good and the bad, saving and damning, essence and perversion are interwoven and can never clearly be separated by human beings, who are themselves deeply ambivalent.’^[3]

Küng’s pedagogical proposal is that one’s own religious heritage should be open to the rest of the world’s religions. Fidelity to one’s own religious belief (inward perspective) is not, he argues, incompatible with openness to other religious traditions (outward perspective). Only in this sense can we obtain necessary reciprocal information, engage in mutual discussion and, finally, realise mutual transformation. The ultimate goal of all our efforts cannot, then, be some kind of unified religion, but a true peace between religions.

Additionally, he states:

Faced with a deadly threat to all humankind, shouldn’t we demolish the walls of prejudice stone by stone and build bridges of dialogue, including bridges to Islam,rather than erect new barriers of hatred,vengeance and hostility? I am pleading neither for opposition to be swept under the carpet nor for a syncretistic mixing of religions. I am pleading for an honest approach and an attempt at understanding, based on mutual self-awareness, on objectivity and fairness, and on the knowledge of what separates and what unites.Is such an effort naïve, as pessimists and cynics in politics, business, science and journalism think? On the contrary, it is the only realistic alternative, if we are not to give up hope for a better world order altogether.^[4]

In the debate about how to teach religion or what type of pedagogy we should apply, we are faced with a trend that wants to appropriate heritage and petrify it, that is, make it exclusive and distinguished over and against another perspective that interprets and uses it in an inclusive way.

One example is French author Marie Balmary, psychoanalyst and exegete of the Bible, who has published numerous works. From Genesis to the story of Abraham, from the origins of the people of Israel to Jesus, her comments enrich and open us to new readings in an unexpected, liberating way. As she confesses, the invariability of the Scriptures is answered by the multiplicity of voices that, from generation to generation, narrate and converse thanks to these Scriptures:

I claim here Jewish freedom: as many interpretations for each verse as there were Hebrews on Sinai (600,000) […] If these texts constitute our memory, each itinerary, each human experience can visit them again. If they are truly our memory, they must contain what is necessary so that they can be read again until the end of time.^[5]

Nevertheless, she is aware that the Bible and its heritage ‘can become a liberator that enslaves, if we consider it so sacred that there is only room for repetition or pious worship. Repeated incessantly, or not even open, the Bible is reduced to silence, without interpretation’.^[6] Here, an extreme respect for the Book of Books ‘leaves the spirit unable to create a living reading, to find any new access, to personally appropriate its content’.^[7]

Balmary’s opinions on how to approach heritage and what elements have been silenced or ignored are very relevant to the religious question. She concludes that:

Psychoanalysis has taught me that the human spirit does not silence a memory for no reason. Have we repressed the Bible? Why? What was so dangerous about it? I thought, then, that after the experience of psychoanalysis, and with it, it would be interesting to read from this new awareness those Scriptures on which our civilization has been founded; and it would also be interesting to try to understand why our culture, which preserved them, seemed as if at the same time it wanted to hide them. […]

And further:

That the Bible is the most commented upon book also allows, in my opinion, that new things can always be found: where two, three or a hundred … have already spoken to say different things, the space is open to any word that does not receive the previous comments like an order to be silent, but as an invitation to speak as well.^[8]

As the Franco-Moroccan professor and author Rachid Benzine points out:

Analysing your beliefs is like scrutinising a reality that flows through your veins. Abandoning what you learnt during your childhood is an assault on your body, heart and mind. […] To talk about God is to reveal a part of oneself, a deeply intimate dimension. One can feel a sense of shame. This is one of the reasons why it is so difficult for the believer to accept criticism. For the latter risks destabilising what is most personal, most secret and most precious to them, in their understanding of themselves, but also of their relationship with the world and with others.

^[9]

Benzine believes that entering such a delicate field is an essential task and, as a professor at various French universities, it is one of his main missions. In his book, Le Coran expliqué aux jeunes, he collects numerous questions that his students ask about Islam and answers them from a perspective that implies knowing how to be critical of one’s own belief and heritage without having to deny them. Benzine argues that: ‘Criticism is not an act of disloyalty towards those who are religious. Nor is it a crime of lèse-majesté against the institutions, and even less an act of atheism.’ He adds:

Criticism does not prevent anyone from participating and adhering. One could even argue the opposite: it is precisely because there is room for criticism that participation can become real. True appropriation of a faith cannot consist of regurgitation or repetition of official discourse. Adherence to a faith requires personal reappropriation, which inevitably involves questioning, by looking back at the construction of the belief, and by discovering those centuries when the belief was still in its infancy before it became established.^[10]

As this Islamicist and political scientist assures us: ‘I have not sought to impose any ‘truths’ on my readers that are in opposition to or in competition with other ‘truths’. I have simply attempted to provide them with elements of knowledge that will enable them to explore and delve deeper into a Qur’anic Reality that will never cease to amaze us.’^[11] Benzine quotes the philosopher Jacques Derrida in claiming that it is necessary to remember that heritage does not solely consist in maintaining dead objects or archives, but that every heir to heritage has the responsibility to act with ‘unfaithful fidelity’ (infidèle fidélité), conscious of his own beliefs, without this implying the total rejection of that which is inherited.^[12]