This past Sunday night, about 55 Jews and 45 Muslims gathered at the Dallas Islamic Center to break bread together at the conclusion of the Jewish Fast of Gedalya, to learn about each other’s religion and to build bridges of understanding.

I have had a long career as an educator in Israel and in America, but I can safely say that this was certainly one of the more important educational programs that I have orchestrated during my years in Jewish education. The evening left me transformed, uplifted and cleansed. If the fast is about Teshuva, repentance – as are all the Ten Days of Repentance between Rosh haShana and Yom Kipur – there could hardly have been a better way to break the fast. Subtle prejudices of decades that had taken root unawares within my soul were banished, and I took a step towards freedom from bigotry and ignorance. It felt as if shackles that had weighed me down had just melted away.

No one entered the room that evening with an eye towards showing the similarities between our two religions. The short power point explanation of Islam is the same one that had been presented to many denominations of Christians – it was not designed with Jews in mind. And my presentation on the Jewish High Holidays, emphasized the particularism of the Jewish historical experience and our unique way in the world. Yet I was blown away, as clearly many if not most in the audience were, by the pervading affinity between Islam and Judaism that became clear as the evening progressed. Again and again, I was astounded as I saw so many more points of contact and agreement between the two faiths than I saw areas of divergence. And apparently the other side felt the same way: A few minutes after a Jewish woman told me that my presentation on Judaism would have made an extremely moving Yom Kipur sermon, a Muslim man came up to me on the other side of the room and commented that my words could almost have been mistaken for a Friday afternoon sermon in a mosque, so similar are the Muslim and Jewish concepts of repentance!

The personal discussions between members of the different faiths that took place around the tables – as they ate their food as prepared according to the dictates of Islam and we consumed our catered kosher meal – were perhaps even more enlightening than the public presentations. I had never in my life exchanged pleasantries with a Muslim woman completely covered by a head scarf … and here I was having an intellectual conversation with one! I saw such faith and yet such depth of thought, and such humanity and humility.

Near the end of my presentation to the Muslim and Jewish guests I explained that one of the most elusive steps in the process of teshuva is the very awareness that one has sinned and needs to do teshuva at all. And now I realize that I did not even know how bigoted I had been. But now I know. A portal to my inner soul has been opened; a new level of self-awareness has been granted me.

Guilt, remorse, shame – they are integral elements of the teshuva process that I highlighted during my words to the group. I now understand that the evening was part of an act of teshuva on my own part that has been too long in coming. I feel deep shame for my ignorance of Islam and for all the unarticulated prejudices that had been lurking in my psyche and sullying my soul. A process of release, of growth and of self expansion has now taken root within me, a paradigm shift has begun that has already had an indelible positive effect upon me.

As we stand at the midpoint between Rosh haShana and Yom Kipur, immersed in the Ten Days of Repentance, another avenue of teshuva has been opened up to me, one that I had no idea that I had a need to embark upon. And I am so thankful.

My morning prayers the day after, recited with the rising of the sun, felt so much deeper and profound, as I realized that a billion human beings created in God’s image are indeed fellow travelers with me as I thirst for God, Creator of the universe. And my religious experience became that much richer.

Rabbi Schlesinger