On March 28, 2025, the ground in central Myanmar shook with violence unseen in more than a century. The 7.7-magnitude earthquake flattened homes, temples, mosques, and churches across Sagaing Region, leaving families scrambling amid rubble and grief. Amid this chaos, something remarkable unfolded: Buddhist monks, Christian youth, and Muslim laypeople converged to rebuild the collapsed Myo Ma Mosque in downtown Sagaing. Side by side, they cleared debris, shared food, and prayed together.

This sight was extraordinary for those familiar with Myanmar’s history of interreligious tension, which is shaped by episodes of anti-Muslim violence, nationalist rhetoric that frames Buddhism as under threat, and deep-seated mistrust between communities. It was not a coincidence; it was the fruit of years of quiet bridge-building by leaders like Sheikh Soe Nay Oo, the mosque’s long-time imam, who had tirelessly cultivated dialogue in his mosque, welcoming neighbours of all faiths. His efforts, often invisible, had sown the trust that would later blossom into solidarity when disaster struck.

This article tells the story of how communities fractured by politics and prejudice found unity in crisis and what their experience teaches us about reimagining a new generation of peace.

Threads of Trust in a Fractured Land

Myanmar is a land of deep religious devotion, but also deep fault lines. The Buddhist majority coexists with Christians, Muslims and other minorities who have often faced discrimination, violence, and exclusion. The 2012–2014 anti-Muslim riots and the Rohingya crisis of 2017 revealed the destructive potential of weaponised religion. When the military seized power in 2021, it tried again to manipulate Buddhism as a shield for authoritarianism, portraying itself as the defender of the faith (Ford, 2021).

Yet a counter-narrative was also emerging. In the years before the earthquake, grassroots interfaith initiatives gained momentum. Campaigns like the 2019 White Rose movement, where Buddhist youth offered roses to Muslim neighbours during Ramadan as symbols of friendship, signalled a quiet resistance to extremism (Global Voices, 2019). Trust was fragile but growing.

Sheikh Soe Nay Oo embodied this work. Known in Sagaing for his humility, he organised open dialogues, invited monks and priests to visit his mosque, and urged youth to see their differences as opportunities for learning rather than barriers. Though he was forced into exile after the military coup in 2021 for his safety, his legacy lived on in the community he nurtured.

Holding Hands in the Rubble

When the earthquake struck, trust became the most valuable infrastructure. Survivors did not wait for institutional aid, which was slow and uneven. Instead, they turned to each other.

In Sagaing city, monks carried injured Muslims to safety. Christian nurses set up makeshift clinics under tarpaulins. Muslim elders opened their courtyards for food distribution. Sometimes, survivors gathered for shared prayers: Buddhist chants of mettā (loving-kindness), Qur’anic recitations of Al-Fatiha, and Christian prayers for healing.

A monk and imam embrace near the ruins of the Myo Ma Mosque.

Photo credit: Harry Myo Lin