Religious symbols should be visible in public space, in a

Host: The square was alive with winter’s quiet breath — snowflakes falling gently, catching the orange glow of street lamps, each flake a whisper of coexistence. The city around it pulsed with evening life: the scent of roasted chestnuts, the murmur of footsteps on cobblestone, and the laughter of strangers wrapped in scarves and good will.

In the center of the square stood a Christmas tree, tall and proud, its lights shimmering like captured stars. A few meters away, a menorah burned steadily — its flames small but resolute against the cold. And farther still, rising beyond the rooftops, the silhouette of a minaret reached into the pale December sky.

It was a map of humanity drawn in light.

On a nearby bench, Jack sat with his gloved hands folded, watching the people pass — children chasing snow, couples taking pictures, tourists craning necks toward symbols they half understood but still admired. Jeeny sat beside him, a thermos of tea steaming between them.

Jeeny: smiling softly “Tariq Ramadan once said, ‘Religious symbols should be visible in public space, in a dignified and non-provocative manner. Christmas trees here, Jewish menorahs there and, further along, a minaret — these symbols represent human life in all its diversity.’”
She nodded toward the lights. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? All these symbols standing together — not competing, just existing.”

Jack: with a half-smile “Yeah. It’s rare these days — difference without division.”

Host: The wind moved through the trees, gentle, full of the quiet music of coexistence — branches shaking, bells in the distance, the rhythm of breath meeting cold air.

Jeeny: “I think that’s what he meant — dignity in visibility. Let every faith breathe without demanding silence from the others.”

Jack: “You know, it’s strange. People fight so hard over symbols — but they’re all trying to express the same hunger: meaning, belonging, wonder.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. These symbols are the vocabulary of the soul.”

Jack: “And yet we treat them like weapons.”

Jeeny: nodding sadly “Because we confuse identity with dominance. We forget that faith, like love, grows weaker when it’s afraid.”

Host: The snow began to fall heavier now, clinging to their coats, softening the edges of the world. A child ran past holding a tiny paper lantern, her laughter echoing briefly in the air before fading into distance.

Jack: “You think it’s possible — real peace between religions?”

Jeeny: “If peace means silence, no. But if it means listening — maybe.”

Jack: “Listening to what?”

Jeeny: “To the human longing underneath all of it. Every prayer, every ritual, every candle — it’s all just a way of saying, ‘I’m searching.’”

Jack: smiling faintly “And we’ve been searching since the first sunrise.”

Host: The lights of the tree flickered — gold, green, red — reflections dancing in the puddles forming on the ground as the snow turned to light rain.

Jeeny: “I love what Ramadan says about dignity. It’s not just about allowing symbols — it’s about how they’re presented. Not as monuments to pride, but as invitations to understanding.”

Jack: “So a Christmas tree isn’t just decoration. It’s an outstretched hand.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Same for the menorah, the crescent, the cross, the Om. Each one says, ‘We’re here, and we wish you well.’”

Host: The air filled with the mingled scents of street food and incense from a nearby stall. The sounds of multiple worlds overlapped — the call of a distant muezzin from a nearby mosque, faint church bells tolling the hour, and a violinist playing carols under a lamppost.

Jack: “It’s strange how harmony doesn’t erase difference. It deepens it. You hear one melody better when another plays beside it.”

Jeeny: “That’s the essence of diversity. It’s not everyone singing the same song — it’s learning to listen to a whole choir without losing your own voice.”

Jack: “And yet people are scared of that. They think visibility means competition.”

Jeeny: “Because fear thrives in the unseen. The more visible something becomes, the less it needs to be feared. That’s why hiding symbols doesn’t bring peace — it just deepens ignorance.”

Host: The rain eased. The square glistened — lights doubled in reflection, a mirror of unity in wet stone.

Jack: after a pause “You think Washington — or Voltaire, or any of the old thinkers — would have understood this?”

Jeeny: “Maybe not entirely. They lived in an age of walls. We live in an age of windows. The difference is what we choose to see through them.”

Jack: quietly “And what we refuse to.”

Jeeny: smiling “That’s why visibility matters. To be seen without demanding sameness — that’s civilization.”

Host: She poured them both tea, the steam rising between their faces like a fragile bridge. Around them, the city moved on — people crossing paths, pausing, admiring, wondering.

Jack: “You know,” he said softly, “maybe the world isn’t divided by belief, but by how much love people put behind what they believe.”

Jeeny: “And how much fear they don’t.”

Host: The camera would pull back slowly — the square widening, symbols glowing in the winter dark. The Christmas tree’s lights flickered softly beside the menorah’s steady flame, while the minaret stood tall in the distance — three emblems of faith, harmony, and endurance.

Snow continued to fall — soft, endless, impartial.

And as the scene faded into the silver night, Tariq Ramadan’s words would echo like a gentle hymn for the modern world:

“Religious symbols should be visible in public space, in a dignified and non-provocative manner. Christmas trees here, Jewish menorahs there and, further along, a minaret — these symbols represent human life in all its diversity.”

Because faith, when humble,
is not a claim of superiority —
but a gesture of coexistence.

The beauty of belief
is not in isolation,
but in its ability to stand beside another’s light
and still glow just as warm.

The world’s harmony
is not found in one symbol outshining the rest —
but in the quiet dignity of many lights,
each burning for the same longing —
to belong, to bless, to be seen.