All Religions Are Equal to Me: God Is One, Though We Call Him by Different Names

All Religions Deserve Equal Respect: God Is One, Though We Call Him by Different Names

​By John Aguiar

​How many times have we fought in the name of religion? How many lives have been lost, how many families have suffered, and how much hatred have we spread simply because we belong to different faiths? After all, we are born into a religion, but we often forget that humanity comes before religious identity.

​After death, will we find a separate heaven and hell for every religion? Will God ask us which religion we belonged to before deciding our fate? Or will we all ultimately arrive at the same destination?

​These are questions worth pondering.

​A Personal Reflection on Faith and Family

​I was born into a Christian family. My father was Christian, while my mother belonged to the Gaud Saraswat Brahmin (GSB) community. My wife, Savita, is Hindu, and our children are Hindu too. Yet, I have never considered my religion superior to theirs, nor have I ever felt that their religious beliefs make them different from me.

​I am a Christian because I was born into a Christian family. Had I been born into a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, or any other religious family, I might have followed that faith instead. My family, upbringing, surroundings, and circumstances shaped my religious identity. I did not choose the religion into which I was born.

​So, why should I look down upon another person because that person follows a different faith?

​I respect Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Sikhism, and every religion that inspires people to live with love, compassion, truth, and kindness. For me, every religion deserves equal respect, and no human being should be judged merely by the faith they practise.

​Our religious identity may tell the story of our upbringing, but it does not determine the worth of our character. A person's humanity cannot be measured by the religion they follow.

​Recognizing Differences While Embracing Unity

​Let us distinguish between two entirely different concepts: respecting all religions and claiming that all religions are identical.

​Each faith has its own unique theological foundations, scriptures, and doctrines:

• ​Christianity speaks of the Holy Trinity and instructs believers through commandments that define its relationship with the Divine.

• ​Islam upholds the principle of Tawhid, emphasizing the oneness and uniqueness of God.

• ​Hinduism recognizes Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesh, representing different functional aspects of the divine.

​Theological meanings, scriptures, and understandings of God vary significantly across traditions. Intellectual honesty demands that we acknowledge these fundamental theological differences rather than brush them aside. To say that all religions are doctrines-wise identical would be a misleading generalization.

​However, acknowledging these distinct theological frameworks does not mean we cannot uphold equality before the law, mutual respect, and peaceful coexistence.

​From a personal spiritual perspective, despite these distinct pathways, I see in them humanity's collective effort to understand the divine power that sustains life and the universe. We use different names, symbols, prayers, and rituals to express our relationship with that power. Our ways of worship differ, but our longing for peace, protection, hope, and love is universal.

​A name does not divide the divine. It is often human beings who create divisions in the name of God.

​Lessons from Nature and Faith

​The sun shines on everyone, regardless of religion, caste, or community. The rain falls on the homes of people of every faith. Air, water, and the earth do not discriminate between Christians, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, or anyone else.

​If nature treats us without discrimination, why should we discriminate against one another in the name of the Creator?

​Consider the painful narratives found across different traditions:

• ​Hindu Tradition: King Kansa feared the prophecy that Krishna would cause his downfall, leading to terrible acts against innocent children before Krishna survived.
• ​Christian Gospel: King Herod ordered the harm of young children in Bethlehem out of fear and insecurity regarding his power before Jesus survived.

​While details belong to distinct religious narratives, both highlight a profound truth: fear, insecurity, and the hunger for power can lead human beings to commit terrible acts.

​Religion should teach us to protect life, not destroy it; to overcome fear, not spread it; and to practise compassion, not hatred. When religion becomes an excuse for violence, we must ask ourselves whether we are following the values of our faith or merely using its name to justify our prejudices.

​Shared Connections Across Traditions

​There are beautiful historical and spiritual connections between traditions that remind us of our common ties:

• ​Mother Mary, venerated in Christianity, is honored in Islam as Maryam, the mother of Prophet Isa (Jesus), held in high esteem within the Quran.
• ​Bread and Shared Sustenance hold deep sacred meaning—from the Eucharist in Christianity to the shared meals, charity, and breaking of the fast (Iftar) in Islam during Ramadan.

​Such shared touchpoints offer opportunities for mutual understanding rather than reasons for conflict.

​The Role of Self-Love and Moral Purpose

​There is another truth that guides my life: I love myself, and this gives me direction; I love humanity, and this gives my life its purpose.

​Loving oneself is not about arrogance or feeling superior to others. It means recognizing one's worth, respecting one's existence, and taking responsibility for making life meaningful.

​When you respect yourself:

1. ​You become conscious of your words, actions, and moral responsibilities.
2. ​You realize that your life has value, and consequently, so does the life of every other human being.
3. ​You gain the courage to stand by your principles without needing to belittle anyone else's belief system.

​We enter the stage of life at different times, play our roles—as teachers, doctors, soldiers, journalists, social workers, or parents—and eventually leave. What matters most at the end of our journey is not the religious label attached to our name, but the goodness we brought into the lives of others.

​A Message for Peaceful Coexistence

​Death is the ultimate truth of human existence. None of our accumulated wealth, power, or pride in religious labels can make us immortal. Knowing this, why waste precious years fighting over identity?

• ​Faith vs. Fanaticism: True devotion should make us more compassionate, humble, and willing to serve. Fanaticism turns belief into a weapon.
• ​Mutual Respect: We do not need to abandon or dilute our own convictions to respect another person's faith. Respect does not demand conversion, nor does understanding require surrendering our beliefs.

​Let Christians be good Christians, Hindus be good Hindus, Muslims be good Muslims, and Sikhs be good Sikhs—practising their faith with compassion, integrity, and humility.

​When the curtain eventually falls for each of us, may we be remembered not for the divisions we created, but for the hearts we touched; not for the hatred we spread, but for the love we shared; and not merely for the faith we professed, but for the humanity we practised.

​After all, before we belong to any religion, we belong to humanity. 

 

My Third Attempt to Wear the Olive Green

By John Aguiar

It was my third attempt to enter the olive green uniform through the Territorial Army. By then, I knew that the journey to the armed forces was not merely about clearing examinations. It was a test of one's personality, confidence, leadership, teamwork and, above all, one's ability to remain composed under pressure.

I had first cleared the written examination and subsequently appeared for an interview before a senior officer of the rank of Major General, along with a psychologist. I qualified the Preliminary Interview Board (PIB) and was recommended to 34 SSB, Allahabad, for further assessment.

I still remember my journey to Allahabad.

I travelled by train and reached early in the morning. At the appointed time, an Army bus arrived to pick us up and took us to the Selection Centre. Once there, we were asked to produce our documents and certificates and complete the Personal Information Questionnaire (PIQ) form. We were then allotted our chest numbers and given accommodation in the barracks.

The real test was about to begin.

The First Test

The following morning, we reported early to the testing hall. We were required to write a series of psychological tests and questionnaires, including BST-1 and BST-2.

Then came the picture test.

We were shown a picture and asked to observe it carefully, identify the actions of the person or persons shown—whether positive or negative—and then write a story based on the picture.

While we were still writing our stories, our papers were suddenly collected. We were then divided into groups for a discussion.

The Group Testing Officer (GTO) asked us to discuss the picture.

What followed was complete confusion.

Everyone began speaking at the same time. There was no order, no discipline and hardly any opportunity for anyone to listen to another person's point of view. I was not quite sure what was happening.

Suddenly, almost instinctively, I stood up and shouted:

"This is not the way. Have some discipline. Let one person speak at a time!"

There was pin-drop silence.

I could hear the GTO asking me whether I wanted to complete the story.

I replied, "Yes."

I completed my story.

After the group discussion, some of my fellow candidates came up to congratulate me. I simply told them:

"Let's see."

I did not want to celebrate too early. The SSB process had taught us that every stage mattered.

From 150 to 30

There were around 150 candidates in our batch.

The instructors subsequently divided us into two groups. One group was asked to leave and return to their respective destinations.

Only around 30 of us remained for further assessment.

We were given new chest numbers.

For those of us who stayed back, the atmosphere changed. We were provided better facilities in the barracks and continued with the remaining stages of the selection process.

For the next four days, we underwent various assessments and interviews. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, those four days also gave us an opportunity to interact with one another. We shared meals, conversations, experiences and dreams.

We had all come with the same aspiration—to wear the olive green.

Finally came the President's Interview and the Conference.

By then, we had spent several days being tested, observed and assessed from different angles. We had given everything we could.

Then came the final decision.

Only One

Of the 30 candidates who had remained, only one was recommended.

The remaining 29 candidates, including me, were conference out.

Just like that, the dream came to an end.

There was no argument, no explanation and no bitterness. That is the nature of selection. The Services Selection Board has its own system of assessing candidates, and one has to accept the outcome.

But acceptance does not mean that disappointment does not hurt.

I boarded the train back from Allahabad with a very heavy heart.

I had travelled there carrying the hope of earning the right to wear the olive green. I was returning without that recommendation.

Yet, somewhere within me, I also knew that the experience had changed me.

The SSB was not merely a selection process. It was an education in leadership, discipline, teamwork, self-confidence and handling pressure. It taught me that sometimes you can give your best and still not be selected.

And sometimes, life has another uniform waiting for you.

I did not wear the olive green through the Territorial Army.

But the dream of serving the nation never really left me.

The journey from Allahabad stayed with me—not as a story of failure, but as a story of an attempt, a dream, a lesson and a chapter of my life that I will always remember.

The recommendation may not have come, but the spirit of service continued.