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Yet Benedict’s address brought more light than heat. He acknowledged that jihadi terrorists were making a theological claim: that somehow the violence they visited on their targets — Muslims first, but also Christians, Jews and often victims chosen indiscriminately — was pleasing to God and in accord with the divine will. Jihadist violence, Benedict recognized, was not an exclusively religious phenomenon, or even a principally religious phenomenon. But it was, at least in part, a religious phenomenon and therefore it required, in part, a religious response.

Benedict asked whether religious violence had its origin in our understanding of God. If God is pure power, a sovereign will to which we must submit, then it is possible that he could command anything, even violence in the name of faith. Contrariwise, if God is not only will, but also truth, then what he commands must be in accord with reason. Therefore, it would be contrary to God’s will to spread the faith by violence, as faith must always be a free act. In his Regensburg address, Benedict traced how this had been worked out over centuries in Christianity, with both successes and setbacks, and suggested that the Muslim world had a similar task before it.

After the easily inflamed had moved on to other supposed provocations, the response to Regensburg was gratifying from many leading Muslim scholars, more than 100 of whom took up the conversation with Benedict by means of an open letter. Even more remarkable was the fact that king Abdullah of Saudi Arabia made an unprecedented visit to Benedict at the Vatican the following year and, in 2008, hosted an inter-religious meeting that included Christians and Jews. Given that such a remarkable meeting would be illegal in Saudi Arabia, the king arranged for it to be hosted by the Spanish crown at the royal palace in Madrid.