To believe as a child again.
I grew up in Queens, NY. Jew, Arabs, Iranians, Arab Jews, Iranian Jews (it’s where I bought my comics from), Italians (but not Jews), Muslims, Hindus, even the occasional “All-American,” blonde-haired, blue-eyed WASP. We knew we were different, but it didn’t matter, in the way our hair color didn’t matter, but we knew about it. We all came to together and agreed I would be picked last for kickball (far more damaging than being called Saddam lover later in life). Not to sound utopian, but really, why does religion only seem to divide adults? Are children incapable of faith? Or as adults, do we forget faith, and try too much for pop theology?