We all remember where we were August first, when the I-35 bridge collapse became news. We each have our own narrative – where we were, who we were with. Some were at a baseball game, others at the Guthrie. We were here at Temple in meetings; some of you were at home. We all have our narratives. And each of us was called by out of town friends and relatives to make sure that we were all right and to ask our own narratives about where we were.

As time and moments went on, we began to hear the narratives of the people who were on the bridge. None of us will ever forget the yellow bus tilting on concrete. It had dropped thirty feet - an amazing thing to witness. We will never forget the stories of those 50 children who were taken off one by one by a young youth director, and the bus driver who was injured making a safe stop. She said it was like the bus was given wings by God.

We heard about the young, Jewish man who, thinking it was the end, recited the words traditionally said: the Shema. We heard the story of the Somali woman with her young child, the Greek dancer who had so much ahead of her, a new love, a wonderful life. And we heard about the father of four who successfully got out of his own car, but died trying to help others. He died as he had lived his life – helping others.

This is such a poignant story for us. It is because it is in our community. It is right here. We all have driven on that bridge. We all could have been there – it could have been any one of us. We understand the randomness of life in this experience.

We also heard the incredible stories – many stories from this congregation: the story of someone stopping at McDonald’s, putting their car five minutes behind the bridge collapse; the person who was in such a hurry, they decided to not stop at a planned destination, and so they continued on their journey and put themselves five minutes ahead of the bridge collapse.

It’s amazing to think of the appropriate response to such a tragic reality. In this congregation, we responded the way we’ve responded to many other tragedies – to 9/11, to the Tsunami, to Katrina, to all the things that happen in the world. What did we do? We extended ourselves out to our interfaith community and prayed together.

Within 24 hours of the bridge collapse, we were here, praying together. There was a reading from the Koran that was beautifully chanted, there was a reading from the New Testament, there was Protestant liturgy and the recitation of a song heard in many churches, “On Eagles’ Wings.” And yes, we sang the Misheberach in Hebrew. Imam Hamdi El-Saraf, a close friend, said at that service: “When a concrete and steel bridge goes down, we must build a human bridge.” And that night, we built a human bridge. It was healing and amazing. A man came up to me immediately following the service - in a gray shirt, and I’m not sure why I remember his shirt, but I do - and he said to me, “Rabbi, thank you. I was riding my bicycle and was a first unofficial responder and I cannot get the sights and the sound, and the deafening silence out of my head. Thank you. Thank you for helping me through it. I needed these words and I didn’t even know it.” It was a powerful experience.

A few weeks later I was invited to speak at the dedication of the new mosque on the north side. You should know that the Minneapolis landscape is very different today than it was yesterday. Mosque Masjid An-nur, which means “mosque of light,” has been built in the traditional architecture, a mosque that resembles mosques that we have seen throughout the world: a dome and a minaret, and it is beautiful in its simplicity. We gathered in the sanctuary – Jews, Christians, Muslims, and we celebrated a new beginning for this community. And there, the bridge became even more poignant for me. When I got up to speak, I said, “The bridge knew no distinctions. There were Muslims, there were Jews, there were Christians on that bridge. And so, we as a community must gather together to create that human bridge that Imam Hamdi spoke about in order to make this world a better place.”

We, people of several faiths, joined with one voice in response to that accident, that tragedy. But in today’s reality, interfaith dialogue is getting more difficult and there isn’t one voice any longer. And so I want to spend this Rosh Hashanah speaking with you and talking about the commitment our congregation has made to interfaith dialogue.

Rabbi Minda made the choice to place the entrance to this sanctuary on Hennepin Avenue to inform the community that Jews and Judaism were here to stay. We, as a congregation, are going to be present in our world, are going to be involved in interfaith dialogue. We face Hennepin Avenue so that the churches down the street will look up and know that we are a presence.

And let me tell you, when we come together, it is wonderful, but it can also be a struggle. I see both optimism and pessimism as I look out from 2007, from this new year of Rosh Hashanah, to what interfaith dialogue will look like in the future. Forty plus years after the Vatican II, there is a great deal of optimism. We as a Jewish community feel blessed that Vatican II opened doors to dialogue that had not ever been opened before. It has allowed us to be in communication with the Catholic community.

We are lucky to have a close relationship with the Basilica of St. Mary. Father O’Connell has spoken from this pulpit many, many times. He has spoken about Judaism, and his love for our people. He taught us about Catholicism. I have been invited to the Basilica on Good Friday, one of the holiest days in the Catholic calendar, to tell the story of the Jewish people, as was Rabbi Edelheit, when he was the Senior Rabbi here. On that night, the church collection is gathered and given to the Holocaust museum. I have spoken at the Basilica on many Sunday mornings. I was invited to be a presence, to be a friend. Father O’Connell is a trustworthy friend, and I know that John Bauer, the person who is succeeding Father O’Connell, will continue in that tradition. The Oratorio, for all of us who heard that magnificent piece, “To be Certain of the Dawn” was a culmination of the years of relationship with the Basilica. Together, we addressed the horror of the Holocaust and opened ourselves to the hope of the future. It was truly a time of healing and understanding between our two communities.

Pope John Paul II was a powerful leader in interfaith dialogue and loved the Jewish community. It’s interesting to note that the Latin word for “pope,” pontiff, means “bridge builder.” That’s exactly what a leader should be. I have concerns about the Catholic community which are shared by some Catholics, as well. Under Benedict XVI, there’s a movement towards a more conservative tradition. This manifests religiously, but may be seen politically as well. We’ve seen him bring Latin mass back, and make statements about Jews and the history of Jews which seem to be moving us backward, not forward. Pope Benedict XVI has presented a supersessonist experience and perspective: a belief that the one way to God is through Catholicism. I’m concerned about an uncertain future.

Our relationship with the Protestant community also holds hopes and concerns. Reform Jews have a deep history with mainline Liberal Protestant congregations. We have a long mutual history of work for social justice, ending poverty and homelessness, and making the world around us a better place. We hold common the belief in an evolution of liturgy and of scripture, understanding that interpretation continues with time. There’s a long history here between Temple Israel and the Protestant churches on Hennepin Avenue. It is something to be proud of.

But of course, my concerns center around Israel. I believe there’s been a breach in our relationship, for many mainline Liberal Protestant congregations articulate a concern and a critique, of Israel as an aggressor, seemingly not understanding how we as Jews, feel a connection and love for the Jewish state. I am concerned by the attitude that I have experienced in those congregations from many of the people in the pews - that they believe they have an answer, that they are part of finding a solution. There’s a great deal of complexity in the Protestant community today between mainline Liberal Protestant congregations and the Evangelical community. I think sometimes we are caught in the middle when there is a conversation about Israel.

The Evangelical community’s stance on Israel is an interesting one as we emerge into the future. I do appreciate and applaud their support for Israel. It means a lot to me, especially in this growing unfriendly environment towards the Jewish state. They seem to be changing a perspective on the Jews, our place when the Messiah comes, but we don’t have a history with this community, so I don’t know exactly whether to believe the words that they say when they have such a long history of belief that Jews will be left out when the Messiah comes. I have a concern about their literal reading of scripture, as Reform Jews that‘s problematic for us. We understand scripture in the context of history, not in the literal words that are there. And I am ultimately concerned about their assertion that it is the Jewish-Christian coalition, and only that coalition, that is necessary for the future. In today’s world, I believe we have to include the Muslim world and community. In my mind, we will not find any solution if we isolate ourselves from the Islamic community.

The Muslim community is an interesting place to be. There are a lot of positive experiences we’ve had, and interestingly enough, they couldn’t have happened without 9/11. When 9/11 happened, the Muslim community realized that they needed to bridge the gap that was happening between themselves and the rest of the religious communities. Imam Makram El-Amin and I have served on more panels since that time than I ever experienced prior to 9/11. And Imam Hamdy El-Saraf also made his way in our community. Our friendships are deep and wonderful.

I’m not sure if any of you know, but at Blake School this past year, there was a Jordanian exchange student who wrote a vitriolic column in the student newspaper about Israel. The school called me, and so, I asked Imam Hamdy El-Saraf, who is from Egypt originally, to come into a 9th grade classroom to speak about Israel. It was an amazing class, not only for the students who were there, but the Jordanian young woman came up to us afterwards and was in awe to see the two of us discuss Israel, to really listen to our strong feelings and beliefs about the Middle East, and to be able to disagree, but to continue to believe that the utmost goal is peace. She couldn’t believe the experience that these children had in Minneapolis. I, too, was moved. It was an amazing experience for me to hear an Egyptian-born Imam validate my love for Israel. And I know it was a powerful moment for him when I assured him that I believe in a two-state solution, that the Palestinian people will have a state of their own. We walked out closer than ever.

As you can see in our program today, there’s an opportunity to go to the Mosque on Saturday evening, September 22nd, to break the fast together. Ramadan begins today, just as Rosh Hashanah does, and they will be on their 10th day of Ramadan. Our communities will break the fast together. I invite you to join us. I know there are strong traditions about breaking the fast, but please, make an exception for this year. It is crucial that we be together. We’ll break bread together, we will pray together in the new Mosque.

It’s a wonderful thing to look at both the positive and the negative of our communities. It is a complex world, but it is interesting to note that it is the Muslim and Jewish communities that often have a problematic source. When I went to Israel with twelve colleagues of mine, it was really my relationship with Imam Makram that came under the most political fire. We got caught in the political atmosphere of the place. We arrived in Israel. It was fifteen hours of travel, as many of you know who have been there before. He was not allowed to enter into Israel, but was taken in for questioning. Now, I understand the security issues, and I absolutely support Israel and those security concerns, but I have to say that seeing my friend being taken away was hurtful, and was very problematic for us as we went forward.

I, on the other hand, was not able to go into Bethlehem with the rest of the group because I was told that at 11:30 at night prior to our journey into Bethlehem that there was the possibility, according to the IDF, that a Jewish civilian would be kidnapped there at that time. I decided it would not be a good idea, and the IDF agreed with me. But again, my friend was very disappointed that I wasn’t able to see the Palestinian side and hear from the Palestinians who live in Bethlehem. It created a tension. But I promise you we continue to work towards understanding one another. Neither of us is willing to leave the table.

There are amazing things that we do in our interfaith community. We have the interfaith forums every year, and it is a wonderful opportunity for dialogue. But I have to say, the demographic of people who come are people who are thoughtful, are great, and are usually 60 years and plus. That represents a problem. Not that we don’t love to have them – they are very aware of the issues, but what I am concerned about are the 20 and 30 year olds, who assume diversity is a part of their world, but have never really gotten into the complicated conversations that you have to get into when you really want to be in relationship with someone who is different than yourself.

And so, my hope is to create a program - and we’ve just begun talking about it - where we take people from each community, the same number, in their 20’s and 30’s, and we take a year to study. First studying about their own traditions, and then being in dialogue with leaders such as the downtown colleagues of mine. And that then we will take that trip to Jerusalem, to the Galilee, and to Bethlehem together. So that we can encourage our young people to understand the complexity and the dynamic of interfaith dialogue.

It is a difficult world out there. There are moments of hope, and there are moments of frustration. I know that this congregation will remain a part of this dialogue, even when it gets difficult.

Peter Hausmann, who’s the man who died helping others, was a wonderful person. And when his daughter came back from doing social justice work at a youth group event in Louisiana, she came back feeling very let down. The poverty there was so invasive and evasive, was so complicated, and she did so little while she was there. And when she returned, he said to her, “You didn’t save the world, but I know you saved somebody’s world.” That is what our relationships are all about. We as a congregation might not be able to save the world, but one by one by one by one, we will be the Jewish voice at the table, we will be the Jewish voice with pride and care, and we will listen to the other voices so that we can all come together and perhaps make this world better. There’s a wonderful quote from Reb Nachman of Bratslav, and it says: Kol haolam kulo gesher tzar me’od. “All the world is a very narrow bridge, and the most important thing is not to be afraid.” And so, when a bridge of concrete and steel goes down, you and I together will build a human bridge. Happy New Year.