A Hard-Won Coexistence

In new experiment, Muslims and Jews at NYU live together, travel together and struggle to bridge faiths.

By Carolyn Slutsky

In the kosher cafeteria at New York University, a Jewish student holds up a piece of pepper steak from his lunch, displaying it to his friends.

“What does this look like?” he asks.

The friends stop chatting for a moment to train their eyes on his fork. They are dressed for a warm spring day, some in sweatpants, others in jeans, a few wearing yarmulkes and one young woman in a hijab, a traditional Muslim head covering.

They laugh. “Israel,” someone shouts, and it is true, the piece of steak looks just like the Jewish state.

“I’m going to eat Israel!” says Jonathan Einalhori, holding the steak aloft.

“No, wait,” someone else says. “Have one of the Muslims eat Israel.”

They laugh again, and Einalhori eats his lunch.

Two weeks earlier, these students had barely met, before a spring break trip to New Orleans, to volunteer after the devastating Hurricane Katrina, brought the 15 Jewish and 15 Muslim students together to work on building new homes and new friendships.

Gutting houses and helping to build new ones in the Chalmette neighborhood of New Orleans, far from the frenzied, academic environment of NYU, the students were taken out of their usual roles and free to explore each others’ cultures and traditions. Though they expected to find many places of divergence in their beliefs, experiences and lifestyles, they were surprised to find as well how much they have in common.

“It wasn’t like we came to some brilliant conclusion that will bring world peace,” said Kate Gribetz, a freshman from Manhattan. “But we found we had so many commonalities, it’s not worth it to dwell on one difference.”

In New Orleans, when their work on the houses was complete, the students attended a Jumu’ah service, Islam’s Friday afternoon prayers, and a Shabbat service on Friday night. Each group learned about the others’ prayers and traditions, while at the same time, they say, deepening their own faith.

“Seeing the passion Muslims had toward their religion inspired me to have more toward mine,” says Gribetz, who was raised Modern Orthodox.

Amreen Quadir, a senior, agrees.

“It was cool to learn about Orthodox Jews,” says Quadir, who was raised on Long Island in a mostly secular Muslim family. “But the most interesting was to learn about Islam ... some other girls re-taught me to pray.”

The trip was not without its moments of conflict: the long bus rides and hours of work proved perfect venues for one-on-one dialogue and debate, and one night, a group of boys with Palestinian, Lebanese and Israeli backgrounds stayed up late debating last summer’s war between Israel and Lebanon.

“My opinion of Israel still stands; I’m as strong a supporter as I’ll ever be,” says Einalhori, whose mother is Israeli, of his feelings after that late-night conversation. “But there’s a way to agree that we’re two religions that are so similar and have so much in common as people, nations, cultures. There has to be a way to bridge the gap.”

Mohammad Rustom, a junior from New Jersey whose parents are Lebanese, had the same experience.

“I still feel strongly about what happened in Lebanon,” says Rustom. “It didn’t change my opinion, but I did see the other viewpoint and was able to appreciate it.”

The trip comes at a time of growing positive Jewish-Muslim relations at NYU, which has approximately 8,000 Jewish students and 1,500 Muslim ones. Several years ago, during the second intifada, tensions ran higher and university officials were called in to quell protests from both sides.

Today, the climate is calmer, in contrast with other area schools where the Jewish-Muslim relationship is more strained. At Pace University, the Hillel recently was banned from showing the film “Obsession: Radical Islam’s War Against the West” and last fall a swastika was scribbled on a Hillel event poster following the discovery of copies of the Koran that had been flushed down the toilet. Similarly, Columbia University has faced well-documented tensions in its Mideast studies department that have metastasized in other areas of the university.

At NYU, the Middle East Sustained Dialogue Group, a student organization, takes a secular look at issues affecting Jews and Arabs and brings lecturers, films and conversations to religious and non-religious Jews and Muslims interested in learning.

“NYU is so large and diverse, people tend to be segregated into their communities because they’re robust communities,” says Jordan Dunn, the group’s president. “We try to have social relations and also talk about challenging topics.”

Another factor in NYU’s growing dialogue is the Middle East Explorations Floor, a floor in an NYU residence hall on Union Square that houses some 45 undergraduates with backgrounds or interest in the Middle East.

The floor’s adviser, Rachel Fertel, plans events centered on food, drink and socializing, all aspects of what she sees as a shared Middle Eastern culture, and says having people live communally can help break down barriers. An early conflict arose when a Muslim student displayed a sign on his door with a message about Palestinian liberation, as reported in NYU’s Washington Square News, but overall the floor has been an opportunity for exploration and will be renewed next year.

“We’re not just coexisting for the sake of coexisting, but to help each other,” says Fertel. “Dessert or a study session breaks down tension and allows them to talk on a social level without thinking about what separates them.”

The students who traveled to New Orleans, and many in the community, attribute the warm feelings between Muslims and Jews to the sincere friendship that has developed between two men who, not long ago, were students themselves: Rabbi Yehuda Sarna and Brother Khalid Latif, the rabbi and imam at NYU.

Rabbi Sarna, 28, and Brother Latif, 24, began as coworkers but soon became friends. When the controversy over the anti-Muslim Danish cartoons arose in 2005, Rabbi Sarna supported sit-ins and protests by Muslim student groups. When former Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu came to speak at NYU last fall, Brother Latif helped lead a post-speech discussion on relations between Israel and Lebanon. When the war broke out last summer, both men called each other, not only to plan how to deal with the fallout on campus, but simply to check in.

“We are able to model the kind of relationship which people should have,” says Rabbi Sarna. “We’re not just politically correct, but friends with mutual respect about each others’ religion.”

Rabbi Sarna concedes that because both men are traditional on their respective religious spectrums, the students in New Orleans felt comfortable taking part in unfamiliar worship services, flirting with each others’ stereotypes and becoming genuinely close.

“It wasn’t a hippie, ‘Kumbaya’ feeling that people should lay down their guns,” says Rabbi Sarna. “By the end of the trip the Jewish students [saw the Muslims] as cousins, people worshipping the same God in a different way.”

“My hope is that ... somewhere down the road if a ... crisis erupted that they’d be able to bank on their relationships,” says Rabbi Sarna. “Two people in New Orleans together might end up in the UN together, you never know.”

The next step for the group is applying their new friendship toward locating a new home for NYU’s Islamic Center. The center’s current building is being sold and the Muslim students, as well as their Jewish friends, most of whom had never set foot in the building before, helped with a comedy fundraiser last week featuring one Jewish and one Muslim comedian that brought in more than $4,000 toward rent for a new space.

They are also hoping to secure Brother Latif’s position at NYU — he currently works mainly on a volunteer basis and is being courted by other universities to serve as their Muslim chaplain.

Gritty conversations that ended in frustration along with hope were a feature of New Orleans trip, and will likely be staples of the continuing relationships between these students. Brother Latif hopes the students take their enthusiasm and friendship to their friends and family, many of whom have been stunned by their transformations, and the wider community to expand the scope of the Jewish-Muslim dialogue.

“This has the potential to exist anywhere,” he says.

Back in the kosher cafeteria, after joking about one friend who, at 1 p.m. had just rolled out of bed to join the group, Mohammad Rustom mentions that Kate Gribetz’s mother has invited him for Shabbat dinner.

“I’ll wear a tallit,” says Rustom, and Ari Grazi, a religious Jew, explains that a tallit would not be appropriate dinner wear.

“You don’t always need grown-ups to help you find your faith,” says Unum Muneer, a sophomore from Pakistan deciding between a major in politics or journalism with a minor in Jewish history and culture. “If and when relationships open up between Pakistan and Israel,” she adds, “I’d be at the forefront. I believe in dialogue above all else.”

Rustom admits that he recently looked up a friend online and came upon “Only Simchas,” a Web site where religious Jews post news of engagements, weddings and births.

“You Googled ‘Only Simchas,’ said Einalhori to his friend. “You’re officially a Jewish girl from Long Island.”

Rustom smiled and the group moved toward their next stop, a visit to Brother Latif’s office in the Islamic Center, leaving Rustom to finish his meal alone.

“Wait, who’s going to stay with Mohammad?” someone asked. “We can’t leave him here.”

“Leave him,” said someone else, “he’ll meet some Jews, he’ll be fine.”

“No,” said Einalhori, “Someone should stay with him. I’ll stay.”

Reprinted with permission from The Jewish Week. Visit www.thejewishweek.com.