Course:Meetings for teaching/Life of Prophets/Muhammad/Dialogue
Setting: The living room of a quiet suburban home. Soft light filters in over comfortable armchairs, a low coffee table with tea and cookies, and open notebooks. The informal study portion of the fireside has just wound down, and the other guests have stepped into the dining room for refreshments.
David (Christian): Thanks again for inviting me tonight, Sam. And honestly, thank you for being so open to talking through all this. Not everyone is willing to sit down and really dig into differences in belief like this.
Sam (Bahá'í): I’m really glad you came, David. Truly. A fireside is meant to be a welcoming space for genuine questions, not just nodding along. What were your thoughts on the reading from Some Answered Questions?
David: Well, to be candid, I’ve spent some time studying Islam over the years, and listening to ’Abdu’l-Bahá’s chapter on Muhammad… I still have a hard time with quite a few points he makes.
My first real concern is this idea that Christ would have acted the same way regarding the use of force or warfare if He had been in that situation. When you read the Qur’án, you run into verses that sound so jarring to Christian ears. Take this one, for instance:
"And when the sacred months are passed, kill those who join other gods with God wherever ye shall find them; and seize them, besiege them, and lay wait for them with every kind of ambush: but if they shall convert, and observe prayer, and pay the obligatory alms, then let them go their way, for God is Gracious, Merciful." (Suráh 9:5)
It’s hard to imagine Jesus speaking or acting like that.
Sam: That’s a verse people often bring up, and on the surface, it sounds startling. But I’m sure, as someone who defends the Bible, you recognize how vital historical and textual context is before pulling a single passage out. If you keep reading just a few verses down in that exact same chapter, the Qur’án clarifies:
"What! will ye not fight against those Meccans who have broken their oaths and aimed to expel your Apostle, and attacked you first? Will ye dread them? God is more worthy of your fear, if ye are believers!" (Suráh 9:13)
It wasn’t an open-ended mandate against non-believers everywhere; it was addressing specific, hostile tribes that repeatedly violated peace treaties and launched unprovoked attacks against the fledgling community.
David: Okay, I hear that about self-defense in that immediate setting. But even so, Christ explicitly taught the need to turn the other cheek. When violence broke out at His own arrest, He told Peter: "Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword." (Matt. 26:52). That radical non-resistance feels fundamentally different.
Sam: It is a profound teaching. But many Christian thinkers and theologians over the centuries—Augustine, Aquinas, and others—have pointed out that the Sermon on the Mount primarily governs personal relations, individual forgiveness, and private retaliation. It wasn’t necessarily teaching that an entire community or government should abandon the duty to protect the vulnerable or defend its people from destruction. When Jesus told Peter to put away his sword, Peter was taking up arms against lawful civil authorities carrying out an arrest, not acting as a magistrate protecting an endangered town.
David: Fair enough on civil authority, but looking at the history ’Abdu’l-Bahá references, he claims Muhammad did not fight against Christians. Historically, though, didn't early Muslims clash with Byzantine Christians?
Sam: Yes, there were clashes, but they were rare, exceptional circumstances and not driven by a campaign to eradicate Christianity. Take the Battle of Mu’tah—that was triggered because a Byzantine vassal executed an emissary sent by Muhammad, which was a grave breach of diplomatic immunity at the time. And the expedition to Tabuk was assembled because of reports that Byzantine and allied Christian Arab forces were mobilizing on the border; in the end, no actual fighting took place. The core point ’Abdu’l-Bahá is making is that Muhammad didn’t wage aggressive, instigative holy wars against Christians simply because of their faith.
David: Let me push on the history from another angle, then. Many Muslim writers—and ’Abdu’l-Bahá seems to echo this—paint pre-Islamic Arabia as utterly barbaric and lawless to highlight the dramatic transformation Muhammad brought. But historians point out that pre-Islamic Arabs already possessed sophisticated customary law, intricate poetic traditions, and thriving trade networks. They weren't just savages waiting to be civilized.
Sam: That's a valid historical clarification. ’Abdu’l-Bahá often used vivid, hyperbolic expressions typical of Middle Eastern rhetoric to underscore a sharp contrast—he didn’t mean they were literally devoid of every single moral standard or cultural achievement. But we can’t overlook the grim realities that genuinely plagued the region: rampant female infanticide, unchecked tribal blood feuds that lasted generations, and systemic abuse of women and captives.
"And Muhammad’s success wasn't merely a triumph of superior military force. Western historians have noted this as well. For example, in History of the Intellectual Development of Europe, John William Draper writes:
"It is altogether a misconception that the Arabian progress was due to the sword alone. The sword may change an acknowledged national creed, but it cannot effect the consciences of men. Profound though its argument is, something far more profound was demanded before Mohammedanism pervaded the domestic life of Asia and Africa, before Arabic became the language of so many different nations."
He elsewhere asserts:
"Four years after the death of Justinian, A.D. 569, was born at Mecca, in Arabia, the man who, of all men, has exercised the greatest influence upon the human race—Mohammed, by Europeans surnamed 'the Impostor.' He raised his own nation from Fetichism, the adoration of a meteoric stone, and from the basest idol-worship; he preached a monotheism which quickly scattered to the winds the empty disputes of the Arians and Catholics..."
David: Still, speaking of historical records, some of the specific documents ’Abdu’l-Bahá mentions in that chapter—like the famous Edict of ’Umar granting protections—are considered dubious or backdated by modern critical historians.
Sam: We can certainly debate the precise dating or transmission of specific textual edicts. But the larger historical reality remains: the civilization Muhammad inspired was renowned across centuries—even acknowledged by its medieval Christian contemporaries and rivals—for being remarkably tolerant compared to the standards of that era. Minority religious communities were granted protected status, legal autonomy, and freedom of worship.
David: Even if we grant that, though—even if we recognize social good, ethical reform, or military restraint by Muhammad or some early Muslims—as Christians, we simply don’t view socio-political uplift as evidence of divine revelation. Leaders like Genghis Khan unified fractured, warring tribes and built an astonishingly cohesive empire with its own legal code, but that doesn’t make him a prophet sent by God.
Sam: I agree with you there. I don't think ’Abdu’l-Bahá was implying that merely unifying people through political will or conquest is a divine credential. Plenty of conquerors have temporarily glued empires together by sheer might, and those empires quickly unraveled. What ’Abdu’l-Bahá is pointing to is the enduring spiritual transformation—the creation of an abiding moral and spiritual civilization that outlasts empires, transforms hearts, and elevates millions to worship the one true God for centuries. For Bahá’ís, that kind of deep, generational renewal requires the power of the Holy Spirit.
David: But Sam, for us, God's revelation reached its definitive, complete climax in Jesus Christ. Hebrews 1:1–2 lays this out so clearly:
"In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe."
Because of Christ’s unique identity, we don't believe any subsequent revelation is needed. And on top of that, while Muhammad may have encouraged the Arabs to respect Moses and Jesus, the Qur’án explicitly rejects foundational Christian truths: the divine Sonship of Christ, the Trinity, and the historical reality of the Crucifixion itself. How can we view that as coming from the same God?
Sam: I completely understand why those differences feel insurmountable from a traditional viewpoint.
From the Bahá’í perspective, we fully affirm the divine Sonship of Christ. However, we understand "Son of God" in a spiritual and symbolic sense rather than a physical or literal one. When the Qur’án strongly denies that God has taken a "son," Bahá’ís see it as refuting the anthropomorphic, literal concept held by some contemporary groups who conceived of God in physical terms.
As for the Crucifixion, the Qur’án’s verse stating that "they killed him not, nor crucified him" is understood in Bahá’í thought spiritually: His persecutors were able to put His physical body on the cross, but they utterly failed to extinguish His reality, His Spirit, or His divine Cause. In that sense, Christ triumphed over death completely—something I think Christians and Bahá’ís can actually find common ground on.
David: (smiling gently) It’s certainly a different lens on the text than I'm used to. I still have questions, but I appreciate you walking me through how Bahá’ís connect those dots.
Sam: And I really appreciate how thoughtfully and honestly you're engaging with it. How about we grab some more tea and see what treats are left in the kitchen?
David: Sounds great to me.