By the end of this article, I hope to demonstrate that, historically, Islam has provided some of the most enduring periods of peace, dignity, and prosperity for Jewish communities.
Let us begin with a compelling moment from history — one that exemplifies Islamic values of justice, humility, and respect for religious diversity.
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The Conquest Without Bloodshed
In the year 637 CE, Caliph ʿUmar ibn al-Khattab entered the holy city of Jerusalem. But this was no ordinary conquest. There was no massacre, no looting, no forced conversions.
The Christian Patriarch Sophronius, who had agreed to surrender the city, insisted on handing over the keys personally to the Muslim caliph, trusting in his fairness.
When ʿUmar arrived, he came not as a conqueror, but as a humble servant of God — walking alongside his attendant, even switching places with him during the journey so as not to privilege himself.
When prayer time came during a tour of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, ʿUmar chose not to pray inside the church — not because he was unwelcome, but because he feared that future generations of Muslims might convert the church into a mosque on the grounds that the Caliph once prayed there. He prayed instead on the steps outside, leaving the church protected for Christian worshippers.
This act of restraint and reverence became a hallmark of how Islam, at its best, treated the People of the Book — Jews and Christians alike — with respect, justice, and a sense of shared belonging in the broader ummah of human civilization.
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The Return of a Forgotten People
As ʿUmar walked through the sacred city, another troubling truth struck him: the Jews were missing.
They had been banished from Jerusalem for centuries — first by the Romans following the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, and later by the Christian Byzantine rulers who continued to enforce the ban. A people who once built their spiritual and cultural life in this city were now absent from its streets, synagogues, and sacred grounds.
ʿUmar was shocked.
This went against the very grain of the Islamic vision — a vision that honored the followers of previous prophets and upheld their right to live, worship, and thrive.
So he acted.
ʿUmar climbed the Temple Mount, known to Muslims as Al-Haram al-Sharif, and found it buried under centuries of garbage and ruin. The sacred space had been defiled, abandoned, and desecrated — a bitter symbol of centuries of humiliation.
Rather than issuing orders from afar, ʿUmar rolled up his sleeves and began cleaning the site himself. With his own hands, he helped clear the filth, initiating the restoration of a place deeply tied to the Abrahamic tradition. It was an act of both humility and solidarity.
But ʿUmar didn’t stop there. He took the bold and unprecedented step of inviting the Jews back to Jerusalem.
Under his leadership, they were allowed to return and rebuild their lives in the very city from which they had been expelled for over 500 years. He appointed Kaʿb al-Ahbar, a respected Jewish scholar who had embraced Islam, to help identify the exact site of the ancient Temple so that it could be properly honored.
Jewish families returned, synagogues reopened, and the Jewish presence in Jerusalem was reborn — not in opposition to Islam, but under its protection.
This was not mere tolerance. It was a moral correction, a redemptive gesture aligned with the Qur’anic call to justice and dignity for all communities of faith.
The Qur’anic Compass: Justice, Pluralism, and Sacred Space
ʿUmar ibn al-Khattab’s actions in Jerusalem were not simply political maneuvers or diplomatic gestures. They reflected the moral and spiritual framework laid down by the Qur’an — a scripture that calls believers to justice, compassion, and the protection of all who worship God.
At the heart of Islamic governance is the principle of ʿadl (justice). The Qur’an commands:
“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due and when you judge between people to judge with justice…”
(Qur’an 4:58)
ʿUmar lived by this principle. His insistence on fairness, his refusal to pray in the church, and his invitation for Jews to return to Jerusalem all reflect the Qur’anic ethos that justice must be universal and impartial, regardless of one’s faith or tribe.
Even more powerful is the Qur'an’s affirmation of religious pluralism and the protection of sacred places of worship. In Surah Al-Hajj, God speaks of the necessity of defending not only mosques but also synagogues, churches, and monasteries — because in all of them, His name is remembered:
"...Had Allah not repelled some people by means of others, monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques — where Allah’s Name is often mentioned — would have been destroyed. Surely Allah supports those who support Him..."
(Qur’an 22:40, Sahih International)
This verse is profoundly inclusive. It recognizes the holiness of all places where God is worshipped, not just Islamic ones. It commands Muslims to stand up not only for their own religious rights but also for the freedom and sanctity of others.
ʿUmar’s decision to protect Christian churches and restore Jewish presence in Jerusalem was therefore not a political anomaly — it was an embodiment of Qur’anic values. He understood that justice is not about favoring one's own group, but about upholding truth, dignity, and the shared human pursuit of the Divine.
Islam, at its roots, is a faith that honors diversity as part of God’s design. As the Qur’an declares:
“To each among you We have prescribed a law and a clear way. If Allah had willed, He could have made you one community. But He willed to test you in what He has given you; so compete with one another in doing good.”
(Qur’an 5:48)
These verses reflect the spiritual source from which ʿUmar drew his leadership — a Qur’anic worldview that sees religious difference not as a threat, but as a divine invitation to mutual respect, cooperation, and moral excellence.
The Covenant of Madinah: The Qur’an in Action
If ʿUmar’s actions in Jerusalem reflected Qur’anic principles in practice, then the Covenant of Madinah was their foundational blueprint — the first real-world constitution built upon the moral and legal vision of the Qur’an.
Drafted by Prophet Muhammad ﷺ shortly after his migration to Madinah, the Covenant (or Constitution) of Madinah was a groundbreaking document. It brought together Muslims, Jews, and pagan Arab tribes under a single political entity — not through conquest, but through a mutual agreement that honored each community’s identity, rights, and responsibilities.
What made the Covenant remarkable was that it did not impose religious uniformity. Instead, it affirmed religious freedom and pluralism as a basis for political unity.
One clause stated:
“The Jews of Banu Awf are one community with the believers. To the Jews their religion, and to the Muslims their religion.”
Each Jewish tribe mentioned in the covenant was given similar recognition. This wasn’t just tolerance — it was constitutional inclusion.
The Covenant outlined shared responsibilities: mutual defense, the pursuit of justice, and peaceful coexistence. It also introduced economic cooperation, recognizing private property, trade rights, and dispute resolution mechanisms that reflected both Qur’anic ethics and local tribal customs.
A Constitution Rooted in Revelation
The Covenant of Madinah was not a secular contract. It was rooted in the Qur’an — a living expression of verses like:
• “Do not let the hatred of a people prevent you from being just. Be just: that is nearer to righteousness...”
(Qur’an 5:8)
• “There is no compulsion in religion...”
(Qur’an 2:256)
• “Help one another in righteousness and piety, and do not help one another in sin and aggression...”
(Qur’an 5:2)
The Prophet ﷺ translated these values into a civic structure — proving that Islam is not merely a private faith, but a complete way of life that includes social, political, and economic justice.
The Link to Our Topic
The Covenant of Madinah offers direct insight into how Islam historically treated Jewish communities. At Islam’s very foundation, Jews were recognized not as outsiders, but as partners in a shared society. They were guaranteed safety, freedom of religion, and autonomy — so long as they honored the mutual covenant of peace and responsibility.
The respect shown to Jews in Jerusalem by ʿUmar, a student of the Prophet ﷺ, was not an exception but a continuation of this constitutional ethic. Both the Covenant of Madinah and ʿUmar’s leadership reflect a deeply Qur’anic worldview: one that sees Jews and Christians not as threats, but as fellow People of the Book — part of a divine family of faith.
The Golden Age in Al-Andalus: When Jews Called Muslims Their Protectors
Following the initial wave of Islamic expansion into the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century, Muslim Spain — Al-Andalus — became a center of science, philosophy, and interfaith cooperation. For nearly 700 years, it stood as a beacon of tolerance and intellectual flourishing, particularly for the Jewish community.
It was here that Jewish culture experienced a renaissance. Hebrew poetry thrived. Rabbinic scholarship deepened. Jews held high government positions, founded schools, and contributed to medicine, astronomy, and philosophy — all under Muslim rule.
One remarkable figure was Hasdai ibn Shaprut, a Jewish physician and diplomat who served as foreign minister and court physician to Caliph ʿAbd al-Rahman III in Córdoba. Under Muslim patronage, he negotiated treaties with Christian kings and even corresponded with Jewish communities in Central Asia.
Later, the towering philosopher Maimonides (Rabbi Moses ben Maimon), born in Córdoba, studied Muslim thinkers like Ibn Rushd (Averroes), wrote in Arabic, and was deeply shaped by the Islamic intellectual climate. He later served as court physician to Saladin’s royal family in Egypt — the very sultan who reclaimed Jerusalem from the Crusaders.
But this golden age wasn’t just for elite scholars and officials.
Ordinary Jews in Al-Andalus were allowed to freely practice their religion, build synagogues, and manage their own communal affairs. They could own property, run businesses, engage in trade, and participate in the bustling marketplaces of Granada, Seville, and Córdoba. Jewish communities had educational institutions, religious courts, and social welfare systems, operating with considerable autonomy.
They lived side by side with Muslims and Christians — sometimes even in mixed neighborhoods — sharing languages, architecture, and cuisine. Though Jews paid the jizyah (a tax on non-Muslims), it came with the guarantee of protection, legal rights, and religious freedom — far from the violent persecution they often faced in the north.
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The Ottoman Empire: A Refuge in the Storm
In 1492, the Catholic monarchs of Spain issued the Alhambra Decree, expelling all Jews from Spain under threat of death. Their homes, synagogues, and properties were confiscated. Tens of thousands were forced to flee.
Where did they go?
Many found refuge in the Ottoman Empire, where Sultan Bayezid II welcomed them with open arms. He reportedly mocked the Spanish king for “impoverishing his kingdom and enriching mine.”
The Jewish refugees brought with them skills in printing, medicine, trade, and diplomacy — and they quickly became valued members of Ottoman society.
Cities like Salonika (modern Thessaloniki) became major centers of Jewish life under Ottoman protection. There, Jewish printing presses flourished, yeshivot (religious schools) were established, and Jews lived with a degree of autonomy under their own religious courts (bet din).
And what about ordinary Jews?
They were permitted to rebuild vibrant communities throughout the empire — in Istanbul, Sarajevo, Izmir, Damascus, and beyond. Jews lived openly and practiced their religion freely. Synagogues were built without fear, Sabbath was observed without restriction, and kosher dietary laws were practiced publicly.
Economically, Jews engaged in textile production, metalwork, banking, and international trade. Some worked as artisans, others as merchants or translators. Jewish communities had their own internal leadership, regulated communal taxes, and provided education for their children. The Ottomans even allowed Jewish communities to publish books and newspapers in Ladino (Judeo-Spanish) and Hebrew.
While not equal in status to Muslims under Islamic law, Jews in the Ottoman realm lived with a remarkable level of peace, stability, and cultural autonomy — especially compared to the ghettos and forced conversions of Europe.
Jews in the Modern Middle East: Echoes of Coexistence
Before the colonial fragmentation and the wars of the mid-20th century, the Middle East was home to vibrant Jewish communities that had existed for centuries — in Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Yemen, Syria, Morocco, and Tunisia. These communities spoke Arabic, Persian, Kurdish, and Berber; they ate the same food, wore the same clothes, and celebrated festivals alongside their Muslim neighbors.
Iran: Jews as Protected Citizens
Iran is still home to the largest Jewish population in the Middle East outside of Israel, numbering between 8,000 to 15,000 today. Before the 1979 revolution, the community was even larger and more visible. Despite political tensions between Iran and Israel, Iranian Jews are allowed to worship freely, run their own schools, and elect a representative to parliament.
Jewish shops in Tehran and Shiraz are part of the urban landscape. Synagogues are open. Hebrew is taught. While there are limitations, particularly due to the strained international context, Iranian Jews have not been forced to hide their identity. They are not Zionists — they are Iranian Jews, and they are recognized as such.
Notably, Dr. Siamak Moreh Sedgh, an Iranian Jew, serves as a member of the Iranian Parliament, representing the Jewish community. Before him, Maurice Motamed, another Jewish Iranian MP, held the same post and publicly defended the rights of Jews within the Islamic Republic. They’ve participated in national debate, visited Holocaust memorials abroad, and criticized Israel’s policies — all while being treated as legitimate voices within Iran’s political system.
Morocco: A Jewish-Muslim Cultural Memory
In Morocco, Jews lived peacefully for centuries under Muslim rule. At their peak, they made up over 10% of the population. Moroccan Jews were artisans, musicians, traders, scholars — fully integrated into society. They had their own quarters (mellahs) not as ghettos, but as protected districts within the city, often adjacent to royal palaces for added security.
Even after large emigration waves post-1948, King Mohammed V refused to hand Moroccan Jews over to the Nazis during World War II, famously declaring:
“There are no Jews in Morocco. There are only subjects.”
Today, Morocco has preserved its Jewish cemeteries, restored synagogues, and teaches Jewish history in schools — a rare gesture of reconciliation and remembrance.
Morocco has also appointed Jews to senior advisory roles. One prominent figure is André Azoulay, a Jewish Moroccan who served as senior adviser to two Moroccan kings: King Hassan II and King Mohammed VI. Azoulay has long been a symbol of Moroccan pluralism, promoting interfaith dialogue, supporting Palestinian rights, and preserving Jewish heritage.
Iraq: A Broken Legacy, But Once a Jewel
Before the American invasion and decades of instability, Baghdad was once a center of Jewish life in the Arab world. Jews in Iraq were so central to the country’s economy, education, and government that by the early 20th century, a third of Baghdad’s population was Jewish.
They ran hospitals, schools, and newspapers. Jewish writers, poets, and judges shaped Iraq’s cultural identity. The community lived in harmony with its Muslim neighbors for centuries.
Notably, Sassoon Eskell, an Iraqi Jew, served as the first Finance Minister of modern Iraq in the early 20th century and was a founding figure of the Iraqi state. He was known as “The Father of Parliament” and drafted much of the country’s legal and fiscal framework under King Faisal I. Faisal is famously quoted as saying:
“Sassoon Eskell is worth his weight in gold for Iraq.”
Sadly, political shifts, war, and external pressure led to the community’s exodus — but the memory of that coexistence still lives in the oral histories of both Jews and Muslims from Iraq.
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This inclusion demonstrates that even in the modern era, Jews held positions of authority, influence, and respect within Muslim-majority states — not in spite of Islam, but within its broader civilizational ethic of coexistence.
What About the Future?
Learning from the Past
What have we seen so far?
We have revisited a long chapter of human history that tells a different story from today’s headlines — one in which Jews and Muslims lived together in peace, dignity, and cooperation. From the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ Covenant of Madinah, to ʿUmar ibn al-Khattab’s restoration of Jewish presence in Jerusalem, to the flourishing of Jewish life in Al-Andalus and the Ottoman Empire, the pattern is unmistakable:
When Muslims live by the Qur’an, Jews live in security.
Whether in the courts of Cordoba or the parliaments of Iran and Morocco, Jews not only practiced their religion freely but participated in governance, law, trade, science, and cultural life — often with honor and influence.
Yes, there were exceptions — moments when Muslim rulers betrayed their own teachings and harmed the communities under their care. But these were deviations, not the default. The overall arc of history is clear.
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If History Is a Guide…
Then Jewish welfare has consistently been strongest when Muslims are united, confident, and guided by the Qur’an.
It was not when Muslims were vengeful or militaristic, but when they were just, principled, and self-possessed — acting on the Qur’an, the Prophet’s ﷺ example, and the path of the rightly guided Caliphs — that Jewish communities prospered.
And so we ask: what about the future?
As we look ahead, I hold this conviction firmly:
Even after decades of Zionist cruelty and occupation, Muslims will return to the Qur’an.
We are not allowed to act out of vengeance. To do so would be to make the wrongful Zionists our teachers, and Benjamin Netanyahu our role model.
But our role models are not found in Tel Aviv or in retaliatory hatred.
Our teachers are the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali. Our compass is the Qur’an.
We must not let injustice make us unjust. And we must not answer cruelty with cruelty — for that would only deepen the wounds of history and betray the very ethics we claim to uphold.
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A Call to Righteous Partnership
To our Jewish brothers and sisters who oppose the Zionist regime and its inhumanity:
Re-connect. Re-build. Re-join hands with Muslims and with all communities of conscience — those who are just, trustworthy, and morally grounded.
The current madness of Zionism is not just short-sighted, it is self-destructive. History shows that when empires and ideologies rise on injustice, they do not last. But their collapse often drags down the innocent with the guilty.
The more Zionists act with brutality, the more they risk repeating a pattern where the world turns not just against injustice, but against the entire Jewish people — a tragedy that has played out too many times in history.
True allies of the Jewish people today must reject Zionist extremism, and work for a future rooted in justice, coexistence, and humility.
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The Qur’an Has the Final Word
"O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm for Allah, witnesses in justice, and do not let the hatred of a people prevent you from being just. Be just: that is nearer to righteousness."
(Qur’an 5:8)
"Indeed, this Qur’an guides to that which is most upright and gives good news to the believers who do righteous deeds that they will have a great reward."
(Qur’an 17:9)
"And cooperate in righteousness and piety, but do not cooperate in sin and aggression. And fear Allah; indeed, Allah is severe in penalty."
(Qur’an 5:2)
"Good and evil are not equal. Repel evil with what is better; then the one you were in conflict with may become as close as a devoted friend."
(Qur’an 41:34)
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Islam has been — and still can be — the best friend Judaism ever had.
The question is whether the Jewish people will have the wisdom to build better relationships with Muslims — and whether we, the Muslims, will have the courage and discipline to return to what our faith actually teaches us: to unite, be strong, and be successful, and to use the power we have not for dominance or revenge, but to manage justice in the world.
Peace,
Anas Zubedy
Penang
