In the tumultuous aftermath of September 11, a number of religious and political leaders gathered in Yankee Stadium to offer a Prayer for America, an event in which Muslim, Jewish, Sikh, Hindu, and Christian clerics gave voice to their grief. Among the participants was the Reverend Dr. David Benke, the New York district president of the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod. His prayer for healing was delivered in the only lan-guage that he knew and therefore the only language he could speak. He prayed "in Jesus' precious name." The fact that Reverend Benke shared the stage with people of other faiths ignited an explosive uproar within the tenth largest Christian denomination in America. "Instead of keeping God's name sacred and separate from every other name, it was made common as it was dragged to the level of Allah," wrote the Reverend Joel Basely in an official complaint. In July Reverend Benke was suspended for violating the theologically conser-vative strictures against "syncretism" and ecumenical mingling.

The Yankee Stadium imbroglio may appear needlessly over-wrought and may once again demonstrate that the most common affliction of the pious is the avoidance of self-criticism, which is another way of stating that we who take our religious traditions seriously are all too often blind to our own spiritual pretensions. The disparity between our lofty theological ideals and our bumbling performances might serve as the occasion for great comedy, and yet time and again the attempts at public devotion yield theatrics that are tawdry melodrama. Benke's critics understand that interfaith prayer services are customarily governed by the imperative not to offend, and so are occasions for the exchange of predictable platitudes. The choreography is often formulaic, and the ges-tures of the Buddhist, the Muslim, the Jew, and the Christian are nearly interchangeable. American civil religion amalgamates our differences and folds us into a common mass.

On the other hand, Benke's detractors neglected a deeper spiritual intuition and a more fundamental ethical imperative. A city and a nation in the throes of an unprecedented trauma needed to come together and search for words that would bind diverse peoples in a shared hope and a mutual moral resolve. If the Missouri Synod's requirements of theological purity were universalized, then there could be no occasion when we Americans could stand side by side in spiritual solidarity. Are there no exceptional occasions when we are called upon to name the evil that afflicts us and to uphold the common good? Must the distinctions between "us" and "them" be maintained at all costs? When we split the world in two and line up "the true believers" on one side and "the pagans" on the other, we slide toward an ideology that demonizes "the stranger" and militarizes opposition to every unknown. We run the risk of slipping into a worldview shaped by theological dichotomies and apocalyptic struggles. In the process, we unwittingly take on the face of our enemies.

There are rumors of war in circulation. The time may soon come when Americans are called upon to mount another "cru-sade" against the elusive evil known as terrorism. The traditional theories of just war and the conventional con-straints of combat are strained by the tactics of "homicide" bombers. Jews and Christians alike face daunting challenges to redefine and reassess the moral contours of this new reality. It is precisely within this polarized landscape that our religious language is sorely tested. Prayer is an indispensable discipline that Christians and Jews use to probe the depths of our traditions and to discern our sacred duties. Can we Christians and Jews search our souls together, affirming the divine imprint on all humanity and simultaneously honoring the dis-tinctive and often precarious integrity of our separate commitments? Can we broaden the circle to include others -- Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, etc.? Beneath the controversy at Yankee Stadium lies a profoundly serious question: What does it mean for Americans of divergent religious convictions to stand together before one another and before God in prayer?

For the better part of my life, I have assumed that public prayer is not only possible but a necessary leap of faith. Without recourse to forms of prayer that pull us beyond our particularities, I suspect that we could not affirm the sacred roots that sustain a democracy. How can we insist on our inalienable rights and the sacred character of our responsi-bilities to others if we are unwilling to declare publicly the belief that we are each created in the image of the divine?

Now I am not so sure that what is necessary is possible, or that what is possible is even desirable. But this I know: We can no longer presume a shared religious sensibility within our nation. There are no prayers to which we can uniformly say "Amen!" When and if we affirm the sanctity of life and our obligations to live in accord with God's covenantal demands, we do so in the particular religious languages of our distinct traditions. The liturgical language that I speak may be unin-telligible, even register as mistaken, to my neighbor -- and vice versa; but we cannot check our individual religious allegiances at the stadium's entrance, next to the metal detector.

Perhaps the challenge is to reconsider the goal of formulating prayers that will win universal assent. Perhaps it is enough to share the podium with others; to listen to our compatriots and to trust that others will listen to us; to acknowledge the inadequacy of every language and to cling to the knowledge that God's power can transform mediocre material. Does our willingness to be present to one another and to attend care-fully to the other's yearnings constitute, in and of itself, a kind of prayer?

During the course of the coming year, the ICJS will conduct programs that explore these and other related questions in greater detail. The challenge of prayer within Judaism and Christianity will serve as the focus for the ICJS Congregational Project and our Clergy Forum. We will also explore overlapping issues in our high school initiative. The ICJS will collaborate with Maggi Gaines (executive director of spark: Partnership for Service) and students who will engage individuals in nursing homes and retirement communities. We will then reflect on the students' experiences by studying sacred texts from the Jew-ish, Christian, and Muslim perspectives. At issue is an inquiry into the nature of our obligation to the stranger. At issue is our willingness and ability to provide hospitality for others and receive it.

In these and other educational ventures for the coming year, we will ponder what binds us together and what sets us apart. In the shadows of these uncertain times, the need for study and learning that dispel ignorance and disarm hate has great urgency. The demands on the ICJS continue to escalate as rapidly as our financial pressures. I therefore want to express, on behalf of our entire staff and board, our gratitude for your ongoing support. Each of us at the ICJS, in his own peculiar way, boldly prays that you will remain faithful to our educa-tional vision.