The Pope's decision to set up a permanent Catholic-Muslim Forum, the first of its kind, is a welcome and imaginative response to last year's call by 138 Muslim scholars for a permanent dialogue with Christendom. It paves the way for an unprecedented Vatican summit in November. The move follows hard on the heels of Benedict XVI's two other momentous initiatives that will have lasting repercussions: his attempt to re-evaluate Martin Luther by emphasising the German priest's intentions to purge the Church of corrupt practices, rather than the schism that he engendered; and the Vatican's overdue admission that Galileo was no heretic but a pioneering scientist.

The three moves come as the former Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger marks three years since his elevation to the papacy and a month before he makes a high-profile visit to New York, where his pontificate, theology and distinctive style of leadership will come under intense media scrutiny. The initiatives could set a new framework for Catholic debate in three areas of political and spiritual importance, and where the Pope's own position in the recent past has been much misunderstood: relations with Islam, ecumenism and the renewed clash between science and religion.

For the Vatican, the decision to erect a statue of Galileo close to the apartment where he was incarcerated 400 years ago awaiting trial for heresy is the most straightforward. The Pope clearly wants to close a controversy that was wholly unnecessary, has taken a toll on relations between science and faith and forced the pontiff himself to call off a visit to a university in Rome last month because of protests at suspicions that he had earlier defended the astronomer's trial as fair. But the timing is intended to show, at a time of renewed attacks on religion in general by celebrated scientists, that the two are not incompatible and that faith poses no challenge to rationality.

The response to Islam is of greater political significance. There is lingering bitterness in the Muslim world at the Pope's citing, during a lecture to German academics, of a Byzantine emperor's dismissal of Islam as a creed of violence. The Pope discovered to his cost that any statement on this most sensitive topic can be willfully misinterpreted by those looking for offence. It was imperative, therefore, to respond to the Muslim scholars' initiative underlining the common links and beliefs of these two monotheistic religions. And although the proposed dialogue will not forestall clashes with political Islamism, the creation of a standing forum is of huge significance in moderating the historical and theological rivalry between the two faiths.

Perhaps the most intriguing move, however, is the reassessment of Luther. To historians, the Pope's view is hardly controversial: they have long said that Luther was not alone in denouncing the sale of indulgences, nor did he want a break with papal authority. But to accept Luther, after 500 years of theological strife, as an honest Catholic trying to cleanse and restore the Church is extraordinary. If it repairs some of the hurt caused by the Pope's careless dismissal last year of Protestants and the Orthodox as “not proper Churches”, so much the better. Benedict XVI could turn what is a perhaps harsh reputation based on his role as the “enforcer” to his predecessor if he makes bold and unexpected moves in a different direction. If his fresh analysis on Luther, in particular, marks a papacy intent on fostering Christian harmony and unity, it is magnanimous and historic.