Dr. Thea Gomelauri founded the Oxford Interfaith Forum with a clear intention: to make “interfaith cooperation a vital part of education and ultimately a positive force in our society”. Yet for many people, the word ‘academia’ still carries a certain intimidation. It can feel distant from ordinary life, as if these conversations belong only to scholars in wood-panelled rooms rather than the communities that stand to benefit the most from them.
The value found in interfaith dialogue is widely misrepresented. One misconception, often held, is that it requires strong religious conviction, or that it exists mainly for people of different faiths to unite against the so-called ‘otherness’ of secularism. In reality, though, meaningful dialogue doesn’t demand grounded convictions. It demands curiosity, a willingness to listen and to learn, aimed at the end of understanding, even if you don’t share the practices being discussed.
I don’t come from a religious background myself, yet the need to understand rather than judge feels essential if we want to be part of a cohesive society. This article could easily focus on the extraordinary academic feats that the forum has achieved, and in some sense, it does. But I intend to look past the intellectual brilliance and show that, at its core, the forum is driven by a “commitment to the common good” that any local community can take inspiration from.
There has long been a supposed gulf between the worlds of theological academia and the real-world impact of religion at the community level. Having had the privilege of speaking to Dr. Gomelauri and being invited to one of the forum’s many events, designed to celebrate communication in all its forms, any assumptions I carried about the exclusivity of interfaith dialogue were quickly undone.
If you’ve ever been to a potluck, you already understand interfaith dialogue better than you think. The metaphor of a meal where everyone brings something intrinsic to their identity is fitting, because without the willingness to try new flavours or without enough people arriving with warm trays in hand, the idea falls apart. You’re left with the same repetitive meal you had the week before. It isn’t about tossing a few extra spices into your own dish. The potluck keeps your identity intact, but simply invites others to appreciate the authenticity of your recipe while you show the same willingness towards theirs.
In today’s social climate, national conversations about religion often have good intentions but don’t always translate into the lived experiences of local communities. Without transparent, grassroots dialogue between people of different perspectives, misunderstandings flourish.
Many assume interfaith communication pressures participants to dilute their identity. In truth, much like a potluck table, it isn’t a competition or a negotiation. It’s a shared experience.
The potluck metaphor makes the interfaith dialogue accessible, but it is limited to the fact that it is an analogy, still needing to be applied to the real world. How do you take the simple act of sharing a meal and scale it into something that links academics, communities, and people of all different belief perspectives? That question is what led me to speak with Dr Thea Gomelauri, founder of the Oxford Interfaith Forum.
Dr Gomelauri carries a list of accolades long enough to intimidate anyone, yet she greeted me with warmth, humour, and an undeniable urgency about her work. Her enthusiasm made it immediately clear that interfaith dialogue is not, for her, an abstract concept. It is lived, and necessary.
I began by asking whether there had been a specific moment in which she realised a space like the Oxford Interfaith Forum was needed. She replied without hesitation. People were ready. The demand for genuine cross-faith engagement was far greater than anticipated.
There was a thirst, but “people were waiting for the invitation”.
It echoed a point that I had already sensed from the forum’s work. When dialogue feels open and accessible, communities are not only willing but eager to take part.
I then asked how she balances the Forum’s academic collaborations – working with fellows, researchers, and international scholars – whilst upholding a commitment to real-world community impact. She pushed gently back against the idea that there was a necessary separation to begin with.
“We have to overcome the stereotypes of this divide”, she said. Everyone questions their validity in these conversations. “But all of our everyday lives have interfaith elements”, and “many people are engaging in interfaith academia without realising it”. If such a gap does exist, it became clear to me that Dr Gomelauri sees it as the forum’s purpose to bridge it.
I also wanted to get Dr Gomelauri’s take on the question of impact. She has received international awards for promoting peace and religious education, so I asked her what, in her view, are the most effective ways to move from academic dialogue to tangible and social impact within different communities. Her response featured the recurring motif of “respect”.
She stressed that respect must be the foundation of everything that the forum does, but also that “respect is both taught and also has to be learnt”.
The respect that is so central to the forum’s goal was equally evident on attending the forum’s intercultural multilingual poetry event. It was less about being able to speak every language that the Rustaveli poem was recited in, but more so, the value was found in being able to transcend arbitrary boundaries and find exciting commonalities. Regardless of your own beliefs, the Oxford interfaith forum signifies something much bigger than any one perspective.
As the Forum continues to host public events across Oxford, from musical evenings like Sacred Sounds to arts-based workshops such as Sacred Scripts, its work remains rooted in something profoundly local. Every gathering carries an open invitation for people simply to show up as themselves.
Whether you bring something to the table or arrive with only a willingness to listen, these spaces remind us that understanding rarely begins with agreement. In a city as diverse and curious as Oxford, the act of showing up may be enough to keep widening the table.
