Interfaith Speech on Compassion and Bridge-Building
Shalom. Salaam. Sat Sri Akal. Namaste. Peace be upon you.
It is a profound honour to speak with you today—not only as a Jew, but as someone whose journey to faith has been shaped by compassion, love, and the transformative power of human connection. In a world often divided by difference, I stand before you as a witness to the healing that comes when we choose to build bridges instead of walls.
As a young boy, I was raised in the Catholic tradition, serving as an altar boy and learning the rhythms of reverence and ritual. Yet, as life unfolded, I found myself wandering through a spiritual wilderness—without formal beliefs, yet yearning for something deeper, something that could anchor me in meaning and purpose. I didn’t know then that my path would lead me to Judaism, but I always felt a quiet longing for a faith rooted in kindness, justice, and care.
That longing became a living reality when I met and married my wife—a proud Jewish woman whose family embodies compassion in every gesture. Her Zadie, Isaac—Izzy—Abramson, and her Bubby, Rosalie, welcomed me not as an outsider, but as one of their own. Their embrace was never conditional, but generous, gentle, and deeply human. In fact, I chose my Jewish name—David Isaac—in honour of Izzy, whose spirit of kindness continues to guide me.
My wife’s family—her aunts, uncles, cousins, her mother and father—never asked me to change. They simply loved me. Through their compassion, I came to understand one of Judaism’s most profound teachings: “You shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
This commandment appears 36 times in the Torah. It is not merely a call to hospitality—it is a sacred invitation to recognize the divine spark in every soul. It is a call to radical empathy, to see others not as “them,” but as “us.” It is the blueprint for building bridges across the divides that separate us.
Nearly twenty years after marrying my wife, I formally converted to Judaism. It wasn’t a conversion of convenience, but a return to the values that had always lived in my heart: compassion, justice, humility, and the pursuit of peace. And in that journey, I discovered that these values are not confined to one tradition—they are the shared heartbeat of many faiths.
Compassion is the bridge that connects us. It is the language of the soul that transcends doctrine and dogma. In Islam, compassion is one of the most beautiful names of God—Ar-Rahman, the Most Merciful. In Christianity, love and mercy are the heart of Christ’s teachings. In Sikhism, the principle of seva, selfless service, is a living expression of compassion in action. In Buddhism, compassion is the path to enlightenment. And in Judaism, chesed—loving-kindness—is a cornerstone of our covenant with God and with each other.
In Hinduism, compassion—daya—is considered a divine quality, essential for spiritual growth. The sacred texts teach that all beings are manifestations of the divine, and thus, to harm another is to harm oneself. The Bhagavad Gita speaks of the enlightened soul as one who sees the Self in all beings and all beings in the Self. This vision of unity calls us to transcend ego and embrace others with love and understanding. The practice of ahimsa, or non-violence, is rooted in compassion and is a guiding principle in Hindu ethics.
As it is written in Pirkei Avot:
“The world stands upon three things: upon Torah, upon worship, and upon acts of loving-kindness.”
— Pirkei Avot 1:2
This ancient wisdom reminds us that compassion is not just a virtue—it is the foundation of the world itself. It is the strength to see pain and not turn away. The wisdom to listen before we speak, to understand before we judge, and to heal rather than to harm.
In a world that often feels fractured by fear, suspicion, and division, compassion becomes our bridge. It allows us to reach across lines of difference—faith, race, culture, language—and say, “I see you. I care about you. You matter.” It is in these moments of connection that we begin to mend the brokenness around us.
This is why interfaith dialogue is so vital. It is not merely about tolerance—it is about transformation. When we come together, not to debate but to understand, not to convert but to connect, we create sacred space. We build trust. We plant seeds of peace. We become bridge-builders in a world that desperately needs healing.
I stand before you today not just as a Jew, but as someone who has been transformed by the compassion of others. My journey is a testament to what happens when we choose love over fear, welcome over exclusion, and empathy over indifference.
Let us continue to be people of compassion. Let us listen deeply, speak kindly, and act justly. Let us honour the divine in one another—not despite our differences, but because of them. Let us be architects of understanding, builders of bridges, and keepers of peace.
May our shared humanity be our greatest strength. And may compassion guide us—always.
Shalom. Salaam. Sat Sri Akal. Namaste. Peace be upon you.
NorthStar Perspectives 
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