A priest, a rabbi and an imam walked into a room, but it was no joke.
Invited into dialogue to study a sacred story, they soon discovered they had very different understandings. The patriarch Abraham who they imagined would bring them together had somehow pushed them into opposing camps. Experts in scriptural interpretation, each found validation for his position in his own tradition. Temperature and volume rose as they sparred, three men of God straining the bounds of civility and battling to outmaneuver the other – to “win.”
It’s a scene I witnessed countless times in my 33 years facilitating deep spiritual conversations between Christian, Jewish and Muslim leaders as founding director at the Institute for Islamic, Christian and Jewish Studies in Baltimore. We convened devoted faith leaders who had inherited centuries-old beliefs and biases, aiming to create a space for productive interfaith encounters that overcome a legacy of distrust and hostility. Over three decades, I became expert at spotting arguments that were doomed to hit the wall, watching how easily disputes escalated and spun out of control, even among clergy whose teachings centered on peace.
Stymied time and again by the ferocity with which so many held to their faith traditions, I finished my career at the institute acutely aware that the work of healing an anguished history is never complete. Anguish there will be, yet there is one truth I continue to hold when it comes to human conflict: There are things worth fighting for, but recourse to violence opens wounds that never heal.
I didn’t anticipate the lessons of my career following me into retirement, but I’m pondering them anew as we witness a push toward extremism in the U.S. that mirrors the worst religious conflicts I observed. I’m alarmed to hear brutally divisive rhetoric used on the national stage and at the highest levels of power. Having had a front-row seat to the modern impact of centuries-old schisms, I know how dangerous this is.
Healthy religious identities are built on the affirmation that we are all created in God’s image and are therefore deserving of respect and protection. This conviction of our equality also undergirds a stable democracy. For better or worse, we share a common destiny and must honor that even in the midst of disagreement.
To those wishing to mend the fractures that separate neighbors and threaten this country, I offer some insights gleaned from my decades brokering understanding among seemingly intractable religious groups:
People who have gravitated to the extremes – a radical sect or political party far to one side – are unlikely to relinquish their tribal attachments; they cannot tolerate uncertainty, resist any encounters that engender confusion, and scoff at calls for mutual understanding and respect that can heal wounds.
People who are fixated on anger get an actual adrenaline rush from it. It’s addictive, and resentment and grievance can deliver a sweet intoxication. People with apocalyptic worldviews transform political opponents into enemies. In the cosmic battle they perceive between the forces of light and darkness, the “true believers” see themselves as warriors in a sacred crusade. Their sacrifices – no matter how costly – confer nobility and promise heavenly rewards.
People with no threshold for ambiguity and no tolerance for doubt find security and affirmation among the like-minded. Fear binds them to their familiar enclave, and unwavering loyalty is championed as the saving virtue of the righteous.
Sometimes we make progress in hard conversations, and sometimes we don’t. Some people fall into the above categories, but many others will listen, learn, and maybe even develop some humility, empathy, and a greater comprehension of themselves and others. They make the effort worthwhile; they are where hope lies.
To save our democracy today, we must be more like them: We must learn to disagree better.
It’s demanding, deliberate work. Trying to truly understand “the other” brings us face to face with our own limitations, which is often disorienting and painful. We may realize the world is much bigger and more complex than we imagined. There is no way around the embarrassment that comes when we discover our judgments have been hasty, or our presumptions misguided.
Narrowing the gaps between us will require patience, vulnerability and a willingness to take risks in service to a country confounded by its diversity. But we must try: Like the world’s major religions, our democracy is healthiest when we recognize our destinies are interwoven. When our greatest passion becomes compassion, we can begin the hard work of making peace.
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