Working together when beliefs differ

I can’t pray in Jesus’ name, but I say “peace be upon him” when I hear it. Though he is one of Islam’s greatest prophets, referenced throughout the Quran and praised, to pray in his name would be a violation to my faith’s tenets.

In a recent conversation with two friends, a rabbi and a Baptist minister, the rabbi jokingly asked me, “Do you also hold your breath at times while a Christian minister prays, wondering if you’re going to be able to say ‘Amen’ at the end?”

Considerations such as this come with the territory when you do interfaith work. The occasional interfaith vigil after a national tragedy doesn’t normally warrant concern, though some conservative ministers may face discipline for praying with other clergy and some traditional faith leaders prefer to abstain from such events.

But when interfaith understanding is not only necessary to connect with your wider community but part of the dissolving of differences you believe faith can achieve, the question becomes, at what point is making adjustments to accommodate the other still fruitful? As an orthodox Sunni imam from Louisiana who now lives in Texas, I have struggled with this question.

There are two basic ways to encounter a person of another faith seriously. One, which is engaging with another’s scripture, will inevitably reveal expected differences, as well as some surprising similarities. In an effort to harmonize, it can be tempting to depart from one’s own understanding of scripture to demonstrate an added layer of sameness that just isn’t there. But that would remove the richness of the study and potentially compromise the authenticity of it as well.

There is also multifaith community work — when we form coalitions with other faiths to make a meaningful difference in society. This shouldn’t be a problem: You don’t have to shred your faith identity or scripture; just champion its elements of service.

Inevitably there are common prayers said over our common efforts, or introductory remarks that suddenly turn into prayer. Some faith traditions see the divine as more abstract, and an invocation — a prayer that calls upon God for relief or change — can be grasped by members of those faiths even if the prayer is calling upon a different deity.

To others, the divine is personal and fixed, and can only be invoked in specific ways. It should never be an expectation that a faith leader pray or say amen to anything that would violate that leader’s creed or traditions, but the onus should probably be on those who can adjust without violating to accommodate everyone in the room.

Often the obstacle to interfaith communication is not between faiths but within them. I often joke about my relationship in New Orleans with a Reform rabbi and Orthodox rabbi who seemed to view me as a safe mediator regarding some of their core disagreements. While their disagreements were friendly, sometimes our internal disagreements as faith communities are more intense than our larger disagreements with different faith communities.

But it’s a mistake to think that the divisions in our faith give us implicit insights into those of other faiths. Each faith’s factions have their own unique political and scriptural considerations in their internal debates. The basis of our broader cooperation is not what we share as believers but our shared community goals.

As our country becomes further polarized, it is imperative that as religious people we don’t merely dress political slogans with religious scripture. We must instead model for the broader society what it looks like to work on shared goals despite our different beliefs.

We can talk openly and honestly with one another without shying away from our disagreements. And we can work, proudly anchored in our different faith traditions, with similar goals through recognition of our full shared humanity.