Because of this exceptionalism, a Middle Eastern replay of the Western model—Reformation followed by an Enlightenment in which religion is gradually pushed into the private realm—is unlikely. That Islam—a completely different religion with a completely different founding and evolution—should follow a course similar to that of Christianity is itself an odd presumption. We aren’t all the same, but, more importantly, why should we be?

* * *

That the Christian tradition seems ambivalent about law, governance, and power is no accident. Islam and Christianity are, after all, meant to do different things. Law, at least in part, is about exposing and punishing sin. Yet, when Jesus died on the cross, he in effect released man from the burdens of sin, and therefore from the burdens of the law.

Christianity’s salvation story, then, is one of progression, with humanity passing though different stages of spiritual development. Jewish or Mosaic law was provisional, meant for a particular place and time, and for a chosen people, where Christianity was universal and everlasting. As the theologian Joshua Ralston notes, reflecting on the writing of the early Christian theologian Justin Martyr: “Christ is the new and final law, and thus the Law of Moses is abrogated. ... Justin argues that the God of Israel had promised the Israelites a new and everlasting covenant. The Mosaic Law was never intended to be either universal or eternally binding.”

If salvation is through Christ and Christ alone, then there is little need for the state to regulate private and public behavior beyond providing a conducive environment for individuals to cultivate virtue and become more faithful to Christ. The punishment of sins is no longer a priority, since Jesus died for them. In stark contrast, where theologians like Martin Luther famously fashioned a dialectic between faith and good works, these two things are inextricably tied together in Islam. Faith is often expressed through the observance of the law. The failure to follow Islamic law is a reflection of the believer’s lack of faith and unwillingness to submit to God. Salvation is impossible without law. This has implications for the nature of the Islamic state. If following the sharia—for example, refraining from alcohol and adultery, observing the fast, and praying five times a day—is a precondition for salvation, then political leaders and clerics alike have a role in encouraging the good and forbidding evil, a role they played, to various degrees, for the entirety of the pre-modern period.

But could events that took place 14 centuries ago really matter all that much to a modern predicament? At a recent Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, I was struck by how much they still did. There were eight of us, all Muslims, from assorted backgrounds and levels of religious commitment. Over generous helpings of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and stufﬁng, we found ourselves talking about the scourge of terrorism and the responsibility of Muslims to say and do something about it. Soon enough, we were talking about Yazid, the second caliph of the Umayyad Empire, killing and beheading the prophet Muhammad’s grandson, Hussein, at the Battle of Karbala in the seventh century. It was like an open wound, and here we were once again, as so many had before us, trying to make sense of how and why something so unspeakable could have happened. This was the prophet’s family, his ﬂesh and blood. And yet Hussein and all of his men were slaughtered, their bodies left to rot for 40 days.