From the inception of creation to its final reckoning, there has been but one truth: Islam - and the myriad ways in which it has been veiled, fractured, or betrayed. Islam, as the ultimate and singular path of submission to the Creator, was revealed to all prophets from Adam to Muhammad-peace and blessings be upon them all.
Yet as earlier revelations were corrupted-sometimes forgotten, sometimes deliberately manipulated especially by elites unwilling to relinquish their socio-political dominion-quasi-religions began to proliferate. These distortions compounded the burden of subsequent prophets, who now faced not only the void of disbelief but the entrenchment of spurious creeds and counterfeit paths masquerading as divine.
The Qur'an is unequivocal: Islam is the only legitimate mode of worship not merely for humanity, but for all creation, animate and inanimate, celestial and terrestrial.
In his role as the final messenger, designated by the Qur'an as the Seal of the Prophets, Prophet Muhammad was entrusted with a dual mandate: to rectify the historical record by distinguishing truth from falsehood-sometimes even naming its architects-and to establish a lasting framework whereby the supremacy of Islam and the futility of its antitheses would remain manifest until the Day of Judgement.
As part of this divine engagement, they were designated as Ahl al-Kitab (People of the Book), which is a title that both acknowledges their scriptural inheritance and invites them into dialogue. The invitation was not polemical but principled: a call to converse in the most productive and amicable manner, grounded in truth and mutual recognition.
Moreover, under the Islamic order, they were guaranteed peace, protection, and civil safety, not as a concession, but as a covenantal responsibility founded upon justice and divine instruction.
This way, Christians were not only accorded their rights, but were likewise entrusted with a responsibility. No matter the consequences, the truth had to be declared: Christianity-like Judaism-was, in the final analysis, a historical deviation.
Both emerged as distorted echoes of Islam. Their scriptures, once ingrained in divine guidance, were altered by human hands and diverted by political ambition. What remained was not revelation, but Islam refracted and obscured.
As for Jesus-peace be upon him-he was not the founder of a new religion, nor the object of worship. He was, unequivocally, a prophet of Allah, sent to reaffirm the monotheistic path of Islam, to call his people back to tawhid, and to prepare the way for the final messenger, Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him and his family).
Precisely because of their proximity to revelation and their profound entanglement with its legacy, Christians were granted protection and respect, but their doctrinal deviation remained unpardoned.
Indeed, forced conversion is an anomaly in Islam, an aberration. It has never been a sanctioned model at any point in Islam's historical presence. Such coercion stands in direct contradiction to the foundational tenets of justice, moral integrity, and divine guidance. The Qur'anic philosophy is unequivocal: "There is no compulsion in religion. Truth stands clear from falsehood" (al-Baqarah 256).
Human beings are endowed with the freedom to choose their religious convictions, and with that freedom comes full moral accountability. Islam does not seek coerced allegiance but conscious submission embedded in sincerity, reason, and revelation. Islam's sole concern is to cultivate free and just environments where individuals may live with dignity, choose their convictions freely, and bear full responsibility for those choices.
A similar ethos was exemplified by Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab upon the peaceful opening (fath) of Jerusalem. In what became a blueprint for Muslim-Christian relations across future territories, he issued a solemn assurance to the local Christian population: "They shall have safety for themselves, their property, their churches, their crosses, the sick and the healthy of the city, and for all the rituals of their religion. Their churches shall not be inhabited by Muslims nor destroyed. Neither they, nor the land on which they stand, nor their crosses, nor their property shall be harmed. They shall not be forcibly converted."
This principled approach to religious plurality was not confined to the early caliphate. The Ottoman Devlet (State), inheriting this prophetic legacy, was likewise known for its tolerant and constructive engagement with its vast Christian population. Far from being an abnormality, this ethos was institutionalized. A notable example is the Ahdnama of Sultan Mehmed al-Fatih to the Bosnian Franciscans-a Roman Catholic religious order-wherein they were guaranteed freedom of religion, protection of life and property, and the inviolability of their churches.
This treaty served as a precursor to the Ottoman millet system, a sophisticated framework that allowed non-Muslim communities-primarily Christians and Jews-to govern their internal affairs under the aegis of the Islamic state. Within this system, Christians were permitted to maintain their places of worship and religious schools, administer personal status laws (marriage, divorce, inheritance), collect communal taxes, and represent themselves before the Ottoman authorities through their own religious leaders.
Only in cases of necessity-sometimes extreme-were Christians permitted to construct new churches, and even then, such permissions were granted exclusively in the name of justice, freedom of religious practice, and moral integrity. Such was not regarded as a binding duty. The Islamic state was not to provide funding, institutional support, or symbolic endorsement. Despite the fact that new churches were allowed, they nonetheless were often required to remain architecturally modest, so as not to assert a dominant visual or cultural presence.
It is worth noting, parenthetically, that this culture began to shift from the late 18th century onward, in tandem with the gradual decline of Islamic civilizational authority and the diminishing stature of the Muslim world on the global stage. The relaxation of restrictions, however, reflected not a theological reorientation, but rather a series of socio-political and diplomatic accommodations that were compromises born of necessity, not convictions rooted in revelation.
The Qur'an affirms, in line with this: "And were it not that Allah checks the people, some by means of others, there would have been demolished monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques in which the name of Allah is much mentioned. And Allah will surely support those who support Him. Indeed, Allah is Powerful and Exalted in Might" (al-Hajj 40).
This verse underscores, among other things, that the defense of religious freedom is a foremost cause, yet one truly appreciated only by those who are genuinely religious. The further one strays from religious truth, and thus from the primordial self and innate disposition (fitrah), the less inclined one becomes to honor such freedom.
Nevertheless, since Islam was revealed to the Prophet Muhammad as the final chapter of prophethood, and hence the last hope for humankind, it had to be uncompromising in espousing truth and blocking all deviant paths that might obstruct it. In the dynamics of truth versus falsehood, Islam permits no compromise. While people may be treated favorably on the basis of shared humanity and common moral ground, entry into the edifice of Islam is governed by one set of standards only: those of Islam itself.
Even within Christian circles, it is tacitly acknowledged that Jesus was a Jew, sent to Jews, who preached exclusively to Jews and died within that context. He neither founded a new religion nor introduced a novel path of salvation, nor did he redefine the conception of God. He categorically never claimed divinity, nor did he assert himself as one of three coeternal and coequal entities within a theological trinity. At its core, the issue stems from the deliberate reengineering of scriptural texts and meanings to serve external agendas.
In short, Jesus had nothing to do with Christianity as it later emerged. To claim otherwise is a grave misrepresentation of a mighty prophet of Allah and a distortion of the divine will and providential plan. Jesus was sent as a purifier of besmirched Judaism and a herald of the final Messenger, Muhammad.
Christianity, as a formalized religion, was a fourth-century innovation, largely a Roman construction. One may argue that this was the Roman Empire's greatest crime against humanity. It triggered a civilizational chain reaction: the onset of the Dark Ages, existential estrangement, self-alienation, the rise of religiophobia, and eventually the emergence of Islamophobia. Islam, being the only force to challenge the globalized iniquity, became the primary target of both medieval and modern hostility. Islamophobia now ranks as the defining scourge of modern barbarism-or barbaric modernity-the illusion of civilization veiling the architecture of tyranny.
The imperial endorsement of Christianity marked the final rupture with the authentic teachings of Jesus. The final vestige of preservation, however faint, was irretrievably lost, and the last glimmer of doctrinal purity was forever buried beneath layers of fabrication. From that point onward, the trajectory spiraled downward into the abyss of a paradigm that anthropomorphized God and deified man. This misrepresentation sought to collapse the transcendent realm into the immanent smallness of human capacity. Aberrations generated thereby later fueled humanism: the full-fledged worship of man at the expense of his Creator.
In this manner, Christianity falsified the Creator-creation and heaven-earth axes, severing the metaphysical bonds that once anchored revelation to reality. This rupture paved the way for Renaissance and Enlightenment thinkers who, having rekindled the embers of Classical Antiquity, seized the moment not to reject God outright, but to repudiate the distorted image of God fabricated by a failing Christianity. Their revolt was not against divinity itself, but against its anthropized caricature, one shaped by theological compromise and imperial ambition.
Consequently, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, and their ideological heirs-modernism and postmodernism-emerged as both violent reactions to Christianity and indirect products of its theological collapse. What began as a rejection of ecclesiastical distortion evolved into a broader (un)civilizational drift: from revelation to reason, from transcendence to immanence, from worship to self-deification.
And though the phenomenon of mosques was as ancient as the Islamic truth itself-its essence obscured, like that truth, by deposits of corruption-Jesus, as a Muslim prophet, must have yearned to revive that primordial form of worship as part of his mission to purify Judaism and restore the intrinsic Islamic faith. However, this aspiration was thwarted by the prevailing conditions and the hostile disposition of those who shaped them.
As history unfolded toward the fateful Roman construction and eventual embrace of Christianity, synagogues continued to serve the Jews, while the dwindling true followers of Jesus must have been gathering in makeshift, rudimentary, and often clandestine spaces of worship. These were not necessarily buildings, but plain and unadorned places-essentially mosques in spirit-where the vertical axis of tawhid was quietly preserved.
Alongside them, it is assumed, emerged other crude and fragmented spaces of devotion-nameless, minimalist, and architectureless-associated with sects that had deviated from Jesus's original mission yet still bore faint traces of its prophetic root. Their curve led not toward restoration, but toward the uncharted abyss of the compassless unknown: a departure from revelation into rupture, from sacred orientation into theological disarray.
But one thing remained indisputable: there were no churches, and logically so, for Christianity had not yet come into being. It was only later, under Roman auspices, that the culture of church-building was conceived and implemented to cement and facilitate - impose - the spread of the new religion. Once Christianity was doctrinally concocted and systematized as a comprehensive way of life, it required a physical framework to enclose, nurture, and expedite its flourishing. That framework, designed to streamline, standardize, and consolidate Christian worship and public religious gatherings, was the church institution.
So prominent did this institution become that the term Church, often capitalized, came to signify not merely a building, but the organized and total body of Christian believers. It referred to the Christian religion as an institution, the clerical hierarchy, and the officialdom that governed it. Put differently, Church became synonymous with Christianity itself and everything affiliated with its theological, ritual, and imperial apparatus.
Christianity was Church, and Church was Christianity, performing as an inseparable fusion of theology and imperial machinery. The Church came to embody the very definition of the Christian faith, institutionalizing it as a system of ritual, hierarchy, and architectural presence. Yet all this unfolded despite the self-evident testimony of the Bible itself to the effect that Jesus neither prescribed formalized ritual worship at fixed times nor mandated communal gatherings in designated buildings or even consecrated spaces.
Worship, as per his prophetic code, was understood as a way of life discernible through sincerity, humility, and moral rectitude. The emphasis lay not on structure, but on spirit; not on ritual, but on righteousness. His call was toward personal piety and inner transformation, not toward the construction of ecclesiastical edifices or the codification of liturgical systems. The sacred was not confined to stone, but inscribed upon the soul.
For instance, it is constantly emphasized that Constantine the Great-Roman emperor from 306 to 337 CE and the first to embrace Christianity-maintained close ties with bishops and was notably generous in constructing churches. "He gave from his own private resources costly benefactions to the Churches of God, both enlarging and heightening the sacred edifices, and embellishing the august sanctuaries of the Church with abundant offerings" (Eusebius Pamphilus, The Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine).
The same emperor is furthermore said to have "adorned the world with holy temples (churches) and consecrated houses of prayer; in every city and village, nay, throughout all countries, and even in barbaric wilds, ordaining the erection of churches and sacred buildings to the honor of the Supreme God and Lord of all" (Eusebius Pamphilus, The Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine).
The earliest churches in Rome and Jerusalem were built by none other than Emperor Constantine himself. "He had a vision to make Rome a spiritual center for all of Christianity, and this was accomplished by building churches throughout the city. The Romans used their architectural skills to create beautiful cathedrals that were built on the highest hills of Rome, providing spectacular views of the city below. This enabled worshipers to look up and see God's presence in heaven" (Somapika Dutta, Eight Oldest Churches in Rome).
Accordingly, a great many personalities have played decisive roles in the creation, consolidation, and perpetuation of Christianity. Over time, they have come to appear more resourceful-and at times more authoritative-than Jesus himself, rendering themselves both conceptually and functionally as sanctified figures: quasi-divine agents without whom Christianity, as it stands, would scarcely exist.
In consequence, Christianity has evolved into the most subtly sophisticated form of polytheism, one in which, alongside Jesus, a host of religious and political elites have attached to themselves supreme spiritual legitimacy. These figures, canonized by history and institution alike, have become indispensable pillars of the Christian edifice, blurring the line between theological origins with institutional fabrication, between monotheistic claim and polytheistic structure as well as reality.
It is this subtle form of polytheism that the Qur'an-revealed soon after the crystallization of the major aspects of the Christian canon-referred to when it said: "They (Jews and Christians) have taken their scholars and monks as lords besides Allah, and (also) the Messiah, the son of Mary. And they were not commanded except to worship one God; there is no deity except Him. Exalted is He above whatever they associate with Him" (al-Tawbah 31).
"Say: 'O People of the Scripture, come to a word that is equitable between us and you - that we will not worship except Allah and not associate anything with Him and not take one another as lords instead of Allah.' But if they turn away, then say: 'Bear witness that we are Muslims (submitting to Him)'" (Alu 'Imran 64).
Not to be mistaken for an act of indifference, it functioned as a strategic gesture, directed toward the Christian community with layered messaging. At its core lay an appeal for theological repositioning and creedal reconfiguration in the vein of a summons to revisit the very foundations of their faith.
Christians were reminded that the scriptural universe of Jesus ('Isa) was devoid of churches, institutional worship, or sanctified architecture. These constructs were alien to his ethos, just as the rites, norms, and values affiliated with church culture remain estranged from the normative spiritual grammar of Jesus. The invitation was not to enmity, but to introspection, to critically examine their doctrines through the lens of pure logic, common sense, and the uncorrupted intuition of fitrah.
They were urged to reclaim authorship over their spiritual destinies, to navigate their theological trajectory with clarity and autonomy free from epistemological indoctrination and spiritual coercion. Narrow-mindedness was to be replaced with open inquiry; prejudice with impartiality; inherited dogma with awakened conscience.
Muslims feared that allowing unchecked church construction would amount to complicity in perpetuating theological blindness and spiritual estrangement. From their perspective, Christians resembled those trapped in quicksand, gradually sinking, unable to rescue themselves. To stand idly by would be a betrayal both to God and to Christians themselves.
Instead, Muslims sought to help, not as adversaries, but as bearers of a divine mandate, entrusted with the final revelation and the final prophet. Though it may appear unjust on the surface, obstructing the proliferation of churches was, in truth, a way of clearing the noise and removing the clatter that obstructs vision, understanding, and spiritual clarity.
With fewer icons of scriptural infidelity in their midst, and surrounded instead by the echoes of Islamic truth resonating through the architecture and character of Islamic civilization, Christians could begin to ask, reflect, and think freely, unburdened by institutional pressures and inherited distortions.
In this light, the refusal to support church-building was not an act of antagonism, but of goodwill, respect, and compassion. It was a decisive step in the path of da'wah, which is an invitation to Islam rooted in wisdom (hikmah), beautiful counsel (maw'izah hasanah), and the opening of windows for constructive, unbiased, and eye-opening dialogue. After all, within the realm of Islamdom, Christians have never been deprived of their churches or their ecclesiastical hierarchy.
Muslims were well-wishing friends, behaving accordingly. They wanted Christians to reconnect with the original Jesus untainted by Romanization or priestly inventions. And in doing so, they would be brought closer to the truth. Closer to Islam. Closer to Prophet Muhammad. For to return to the authentic Jesus is, inevitably, to arrive at Muhammad. And in that arrival, the soul returns to its innate self-its fitrah-as it was always meant to be.