2024 in Review: A year about Perspectives in Dialogue // 2024 - Ein Jahresrückblick: Dialog der Perspektiven
When I look back on my year 2024, I see a year filled with travel and encounters. A new aspect of my life stands out in particular: my participation in a program focused on interreligious and worldview dialogue—DialoguePerspectives.
DialoguePerspectives (DP) was launched in 2015 and is aimed at students and PhD and doctoral candidates from across Europe. While the program was initially established by the Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich Studienwerk, it now operates as an independent association and is funded by the German Federal Foreign Office. DP serves as a platform for young people from diverse religious, cultural, and ideological backgrounds to work together on shaping an inclusive society.
But what does that mean in practice? I asked myself the same question when I applied for the program in late summer of last year. Sometimes, though, you have to experience things firsthand to truly understand them. But what drove me? Certainly my general fascination with the phenomenon of cultures and religions. But also my daily work in the field of migration and asylum in the public service. There, I encounter people from the most diverse parts of the world every day, all of whom see the world through a different lens. The big question that repeatedly arises for me is: how can we successfully live together in this new, unprecedented plurality? This was certainly one of the reasons why the DP program resonated so deeply with me. In this year-in-review, I would like to share some of these experiences. (These are my personal impressions and do not necessarily reflect the views of DialoguePerspectives.)
Getting to know the other participants in Bonn was a continuation of this warmth, characterized by incredible sincerity. These were fascinating people from a variety of fields, each bringing an almost overwhelming wealth of experience. While they came from all over Europe, everyone shared the understanding that this DP program space was a unique opportunity—one they were eager to shape actively. Given the rapid political developments in the Middle East, navigating the five-day seminar was no easy task. We were all quickly faced with the question of what interreligious dialogue actually means in a setting marked by personal involvement, differing opinions, evidence-based discussions in workshops (I had chosen the workshop ‘Religion “in” Crisis: Challenges, Ambivalences and Perspectives of Religion in Times of Polycrisis’), and the institutional and political context of the DP program.
For example, I shared a room with a very kind participant who had family in Palestine. He was often glued to his phone in our room, with the updates flickering on his screen pushing him to existential limits. He hardly slept but still tried, as best he could, to participate in the program. "This here is important, more than ever!" he said. Another participant from the Jewish community later shared how friends had decided during those days to go to Israel and join the military. When I think back to that time, everything feels muffled. Despite the pain, there was something unifying and consoling among us, even though we had just met. It was about nurturing this difficult-to-describe shared space. For me, this happened through listening, asking questions, and sometimes simply being present.
The most profound moments were the shared rituals, such as Friday Jumu'ah prayer, Shabbat, and an ecumenical service. Luckily, I had brought my guitar, as there were some wonderful singers among the participants. Playing music from different parts of the world during the service offered solace. For me, one of music's core qualities is the tangible experience of connection—resonating together through sound.
Onboard, I sat toward the back, gazing out the window in thought, when a young woman with an oversized backpack squeezed into the seat beside me. After much effort, she managed to shove the bag under the seat in front. It was then I realized: she was another DP participant I had briefly met in Bonn. We were both surprised and delighted by the coincidence. We talked about what had happened in our lives since the last seminar. During the final stretch of the flight, she shared some of her poems with me. In that moment, her words touched me profoundly.
Once we arrived in Rome, we shared our first Italian espresso together. It felt good to have arrived. The springtime in the Lazio region was a balm for the soul, weary from the German winter. Our accommodation was slightly outside Rome, where the scent of asphalt mingled with the delicate aroma of acacia flowers. Reuniting with the group was heartwarming, and the seminar started immediately in medias res.
By this time, we had all learned to better navigate the tensions between subjective perspectives and the social and political frameworks surrounding us. Still, it was far from easy. The program was packed, but the content was so compelling that no one wanted to miss a single session. Alongside seminars and workshops, we visited the Museo Storico della Liberazione, the Vatican, and the Moschea di Roma—the third-largest mosque in Europe.
Though there was less time for informal exchange, the connections between us were so strong that even the shortest interactions felt incredibly profound. Our discussions often revolved around hybrid identities, spirituality, religious beliefs, and making visible the challenges we faced. Yet, there was also room for laughter—like one evening at a bowling alley that felt like a time capsule from decades past.
In November, a special anniversary conference marked the 10th anniversary of the DialoguePerspectives program. Alongside panels and workshops, this gathering was an opportunity to connect participants across different DP cohorts. Fascinating, for instance, were the background conversations with political actors at Café Einstein Unter den Linden. However, one of the most memorable moments occurred late at night, well after the official program had concluded.
In search of food, about 15 DP participants found themselves at a small kebab shop near Kottbusser Tor — a hidden gem recommended by one of the attendees. The journey there was nothing short of an odyssey. What should have been a simple 20-minute walk turned into a chaotic hour-long adventure due to divided subgroups, dead phone batteries, and miscommunications. Yet, somehow, we all made it.
Once there, the atmosphere was joyful as we placed our orders. Standing next to me was a dear friend from Turkey who lives in France and speaks no German. Suddenly, a staff member of the kebab shop tapped him on the shoulder and said something in Turkish. My friend turned around, his eyes wide with disbelief, and, after a brief moment of astonishment, embraced the staff member with overwhelming joy.
Later, we learned that the two had lost contact shortly after my friend left Greece. In the meantime, the host had moved to Berlin and, by sheer coincidence, was now working at this very kebab shop we had chosen to visit. It was an extraordinary encounter.
Reflecting on the question...
...of how people from different religious, cultural, and ideological backgrounds can come together to work toward an inclusive society, I believe the answer lies in these everyday moments. We all are receiving invitations for these moments in our daily lifes. It’s about the effort to step outside one’s comfort zone and embrace these moments of shared experiences—whether through the resonance of music, food, gestures, or conversations. It’s in these small and informal moments: acts of listening, showing compassion, connection, and care. Or like the moment five years ago, when a devout Muslim offered in Greece a politically persecuted foreigner shelter, food, and dignity—despite not knowing him. These moments of connectedness, empathy and humanity.
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