This Man is Not My Friend

This man is not my friend.

Sure, I know him. He’s a colleague of mine. But he’s never invited me over to his house for dinner. I’ve never asked him to hang out with me on the weekend. I suspect we disagree on many issues. We’ve never spoken about our politics or theological stances but clearly we’re very different. We’re from two sides of the spectrum of life.

However in the wake of the many divisive conversations happening around the world, I think its appropriate to point out what we have in common. We’re both human. We both have families we love. We both are concerned about the future our children must grow up in. And we both pray and believe in G-d.

We both deserve a platform to express our most fervent opinions. We deserve the right to defend our beliefs with rational non-violent arguments. We deserve agency in shared spaces that allows room for the way we look, our brand of ethics, dietary code and lifestyle.

But what we owe is far more important than what we deserve. We owe service; first to God and then to human beings. Many religiously committed people forget that God has commanded each of us to be at the beckon call of others.

We owe understanding; of those not like us and of the larger narrative that shapes what we think about them. A kneejerk, by-the-book opinion is not an opinion at all. It’s an indoctrinated response.

We owe fellowship; first for our children’s sake and then in honor of our respective faiths. We have to model what co-existence looks like in the 21st century. No more hiding behind ancient stories of the Muslim and the Jew who met on a dirt road while riding donkeys and became friends in the desert. Our children don’t buy that. The internet has evoked too much skepticism in them to expect folklore to change religious and racial divide. They’re only impressed by what they witness with their own eyes when it comes to the subject of co-existence.

A year ago, after giving a small talk on behalf of Kids 4Peace at Temple B’nai Brith in Somerville Massachusetts, one of my young sons who attended said to me after we got in the car, “Dad, in the lecture you said you loved kosher food and ate it all the time while you were a chaplain in prison, but if you love it so much how come we don’t have it at home? Were you telling the truth?”

He called me out.

I explained to him that yes, I did eat kosher meals while working in the prison system but more importantly it was humor that I was aiming for. I was making a light-hearted joke to pander to the audience and their laughter signaled that they understood my exaggeration.

Sheesh...

I mention all of this because I’m afraid. Not for my personal well-being, but for our children. What are we leaving for them to inherit? Incomplete ideas? Over-reaching idealism? Visceral political strife?

The national pride, the empty rhetoric, the evoking baseless fears, the shaming of others; all of it needs to stop. As poor, powerless believers in God our job is to share space. Graciously.

We need a quadrupologue. Conversations between many diverse groups that are ongoing, continuous and authentic.

We don’t have to ever be friends, but we must be human. And if at any time simply being human is not enough, and being a friend to a stranger is the only way to guarantee him safe passage, then yes this man is my friend. Because whatever my faith informs my heart to believe does not affect him, but how that faith manifests on my tongue and hand does.