In moments of profound crisis, we look instinctively for leaders who can help us see clearly, act courageously, and respond compassionately.
Around the world, humanitarian emergencies are mounting: the devastation in Gaza, where the vast majority of buildings have been damaged or destroyed, entire neighborhoods erased, families buried beneath rubble, and civilians—especially children—face staggering daily suffering; the grinding war in Ukraine, uprooting millions; the renewed violence and hunger in Darfur, a crisis largely flying under the global radar; and, closer to home, the dehumanizing conditions in which many immigrants and asylum seekers—and even U.S. citizens held without due process—are detained across the United States.
Each of these contexts reveals deep human suffering—lives interrupted, futures shattered, and basic needs unmet—and increases our longing to find strong moral leaders who will speak out and help us to find our voice and our feet to join them.
Our religious traditions call us not to retreat into silence or despair, but to step toward one another with moral clarity and shared responsibility.
Across Jewish, Christian, and Muslim communities, the call to respond to human suffering is not peripheral—it is central. Yet moral leadership today is difficult, precisely because it requires holding grief, outrage, compassion, and responsibility together. It calls us to move beyond slogans or ideological certainty and instead ask: What do we owe to one another as human beings created in the image of God?
Lessons from Pope Francis: A Relational Moral Vision
Pope Francis offered one model of leadership rooted not in theological doctrine, but in a deeply relational theology. At the heart of his teaching was a simple but demanding conviction: we are all children of God, bound to one another in dignity. This conviction pushes us to look upon others not as abstractions or adversaries but as siblings. When Francis spoke about war and suffering, he rarely began with geopolitics. Instead, he focused on the faces of families, the cries of children, the fragility of life. He asked leaders, and all of us, to see first the human being in front of us, and to let that recognition guide our public posture.*
This kind of leadership does not require a perfect solution to global conflicts. It requires a deep moral presence, the willingness to stand close to harm and to insist on the value of every human life.
A Hunger for Muslim Moral Leadership
The need for moral leadership is also felt within Muslim communities. In her recent ICJS minicourse on Muslim virtues, Zeyneb Sayilgan, Ph.D., underscored that the Qur’an is above all a moral and spiritual guide—calling believers toward mercy, justice, humility, and God-consciousness. These virtues point to a real hunger for leadership that can meet today’s crises with spiritual depth and compassion, not just political critique.
Yet, as Dr. Sayilgan emphasized, Muslim moral voices remain underrepresented in U.S. public life, often because leaders are exhausted or wary of speaking in a climate where Muslim perspectives are frequently misunderstood. Her teaching reminded participants that Islam’s prophetic tradition offers a powerful model: the Prophet Muhammad as a figure of gentleness, moral clarity, and universal compassion. His example calls Muslims to let inner virtue shape public action—to feed the hungry, protect the vulnerable, and act with kindness even in times of fear and uncertainty. In the face of humanitarian crisis, this prophetic ethic remains both a resource and a summons to shared moral responsibility.
Jewish Wisdom on Steady, Shared Responsibility
Judaism also offers guidance for moments when suffering feels overwhelming. Rabbi Tarfon, in Pirkei Avot, teaches: “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.” These words remind us that despair is not an option. The scale of the crisis in Gaza—or anywhere human beings are suffering—may exceed our individual capacities. But the moral responsibility to respond remains. The Jewish tradition calls for hesed (loving-kindness) and tzedek (justice): to bring food, shelter, compassion, and solidarity where we can.
We are not asked to solve everything. We are asked to do something.
Answering the Call
Strong moral leadership today will not look like certainty or power. It will look like courage grounded in compassion. It will look like Christian leaders calling us to see one another as brothers and sisters in God’s family. It will look like Muslim leaders reminding us that mercy is the heart of justice. It will look like Jewish leaders urging us not to give up on the work of repair.
And it will look like communities, including ours at ICJS, choosing to act—even when the way forward feels incomplete.
In this moment of profound global pain, ICJS chooses action grounded in our mission. We will continue building a multireligious democracy. We will remain vigilant in confronting bias and bigotry. We will create spaces where Christians, Muslims, Jews, and people of all faiths and no faith, can learn together, listen across difference, and build the moral vocabulary needed to confront suffering with courage. And we will form leaders who can speak and act from the best of our religious traditions.
The work is larger than any one of us. But the suffering is urgent, and our traditions are clear: We must not turn away.
*Pope Francis, Fratelli Tutti: On Fraternity and Social Friendship, Encyclical Letter (2020).
September 20, 2025