I was deeply honored to receive an invitation last year to the Newton Muslim Community’s iftar, held at the American Legion Hall in Newton. Their vision was to extend a welcome to members of the non-Muslim community as a way of educating us while exemplifying openness and hospitality. The gathering included Newton’s mayor, the superintendent of schools, public school teachers, representatives from Newton Police and Fire, city councilors, and other city employees. And of course, there were Muslims from Newton, many first-generation Americans from an expansive tapestry of nations: Indonesia, Pakistan, Syria, Jordan, the West Bank, Iran, and many more lands.
Last year, amidst the Gaza War and the accompanying pain, anger, loss, and antisemitism, I was incredulous that such an event could even happen. But I was assured by the event’s founder and primary organizer, Amira Elamri, that it would be fine. Amira (whose son spent a couple of years in our temple preschool!) is an extraordinary human—empathic, kind, and utterly determined. She promised this iftar would succeed because the event would not be about politics but rather a sincere sharing of holy time.
We non-Muslims were there to join fellow Newtonians of the Muslim faith in their break-fast, to feast with them, and to give thanks together for the things we all yearn for: peace, faith, and hope. What could possibly go wrong? Well, everything could.
But as Amira promised, the first Newton Muslim Community’s iftar was a magnificent event with no sharp edges. The prevailing atmosphere was one of mutual respect. I know there were Muslims there who had lost family in the Gaza war. I know there were Jewish guests still grieving the horrors of October 7th. Many guests had strong opinions and thoughts. Others couldn’t point out Gaza or Sderot on a map. The point is that all of us, to varying degrees, set aside our differences to break bread together and see the humanity in everyone present.
When I received an invitation to this year’s iftar, I did not hesitate to say yes. Though it meant missing a temple board meeting—the first I’ve missed except for health issues—I believed that representing our temple and, more broadly, the Jews of Newton was that important. But that was before Israel voided the ceasefire after Hamas refused to accept Israel’s modified terms. Two days before this year’s iftar, the IDF bombed parts of Gaza, resulting in many casualties, including innocent lives. As I returned to the American Legion Hall, I wondered if I would still be welcomed without reservation.
The emphatic answer was, of course. The participants once again implicitly accepted a covenant of understanding when we RSVPed. We all acknowledged why we were there: to learn, to feast, to respect. There were many returnees and some new guests as well. The food was, again, plentiful and delicious. The program again included music and teaching.
This year, Amira asked me to bring a high school student from TBA to share their Yom Kippur fasting experience at the iftar alongside Muslim and Christian students who would share their traditions and fasting practices. I invited Matthew Welch, son of Robin and brother of Sam, to share his thoughts. He was a tremendous success! With humor and sincerity, Matt provided insights that honored his family and the Jewish people. The Boston imam and his wife, who sat at our table, were very impressed; so was I.
The key is twofold. The first step is to gather discerning, caring people who acknowledge that there are differences between us—fundamental differences. These differences highlight the historical and cultural divides that separate us. The second step is to find foundational principles, ideas, and ideals that we share and readily agree on. We don’t claim to represent all the people of our communities. We don’t seek to make global statements. We start with the humans in the room. We connect. We feast. We hear the sounds of prayer. We respect. We live together—with differing ideologies, but with mutual respect.
It happened. I was there. I was blessed.
Before Shabbat 