Hans Ucko

My perspective is shaped by a complex personal and cultural background. I am Swedish, came to Christian faith from a Jewish cultural and historical context, worked professionally in interreligious dialogue within the World Council of Churches, and have lived in France for many years. Growing up in Sweden meant experiencing the steady decline of the church and the rise of secularism as a dominant interpretive framework. Yet the silence of unspoiled nature—forests, lakes, mountains—still evokes reverence, and rites of passage remain essential for social cohesion, especially in moments of catastrophe when pastoral presence offers a symbolic haven.

Jewish identity today is increasingly contested. For many Jews, identity is defined less by religion than by ancestry, culture, and the memory of the Holocaust, which has in many ways replaced the Exodus as the central narrative. When victimhood becomes foundational to identity, the question of who “the other” is becomes acute.

In France, laïcité weighs heavily on public discourse. Intended as a republican ideal, it has evolved into a strict exclusion of religion from public life, even as French society simultaneously experiences a “recomposition du fait religieux” in diverse and often unexpected forms. Interreligious dialogue, in this context, opens possibilities for friendship, cooperation, and common action for peace, justice, climate responsibility, and human rights, yet the theological affirmation of religious plurality remains unfinished.

Central to my reflection is the notion of awe. As Tomas Tranströmer writes, “Inside you vault opens behind vault endlessly.” Awe is an intrinsic human capacity—a response of reverence and wonder that precedes doctrine and resists definition. Religious traditions attempt to give language to awe through creeds and rituals, yet institutions today often seem out of sync, struggling to communicate meaning and authority.

Awe transcends established religious boundaries. It can be encountered in nature, art, youth culture’s “wow,” or the asymmetrical beauty of Japanese aesthetics, such as the rock garden at Ryōan-ji. Awe deepens our sense of interconnectedness and accountability, reminding us that we participate in something beyond ourselves. Because awe cannot be confined to any single theology, it is inherently interreligious, challenging all traditions to affirm plurality without reducing it to harmony or sentimentality.