A few years ago, a seven-year-old boy waving a Pop Tart and saying “bang bang” was suspended from school in Maryland. The school had a “zero-tolerance” policy regarding guns, and the Pop Tart crossed the line.
Religion is tough to talk about. It’s true. And instead of welcoming the chance to learn something new, we tend to shy away from the whole thing, perhaps because it seems like too tricky a road to travel.
While training as an Army officer, I was taught not to discuss politics and religion. This seemed eminently practical advice at the time. However, I have come to realize the flaw in this thinking. Communication is the universal solvent.
Attacks on religion begin with bashing minority groups—and spread from there. It is our duty and obligation to protect and respect all belief, because in so doing, we’re protecting our own.
“Buy me a drink?” That is what the policeman said to my relative after stopping him for speeding on a highway in a Caribbean country. My relative had the tact to be polite, to admit to speeding and to treat the officer with respect.
A shining example just occurred in New Zealand. A week after the insane murder of fifty Muslims and the injury of dozens more—in the name of some twisted “identity”—New Zealanders of all faiths and walks of life mourned the deaths together.
I was raised Roman Catholic and my husband was raised Jewish. I had my First Communion at the age of 6 and my husband had his bar mitzvah at age 13, so we’re both legit in our respective faiths.