Ten years ago, a coalition of community leaders decided to launch an inquiry that would explore the place of religion in a democratic society. To ground their investigation, they con-centrated on one of the most vexing and enduring chapters in western history: the story of the Jewish-Christian encounter. Conceived with theological daring and sustained by a commit-ment to translate innovative scholarship into congregational life, the ICJS emerged in the wake of a National Workshop that brought scholars and religious leaders to Baltimore from around the country. The ICJS continues to build on this inheritance through a rich variety of educational programs that are chang-ing the landscape of interfaith relations in this city. While firmly rooted in local soil, the reach of our projects increasingly extends beyond regional and even national borders. So it is with considerable gratitude that I acknowledge the uncom-monly diverse membership that has bolstered our organization with its keen interest and financial support. Together we have carried an educational vision further than anyone once dreamed possible.

As the ICJS bounces out of infancy, it is vitally important to look back and ponder what binds people to the ICJS. To be sure, the task of confronting the legacy of contempt and disarming the suspicions and hostilities that have accumulated over the centuries is recognized as an ethical imperative. The commitment to replace misunderstanding with learning, to plumb the depths of our scriptures, and to unravel our tangled history presents us with an intellectually and spiritually compelling opportunity to step outside of our familiar sanc-tuaries and to develop the capacity to see ourselves through the eyes of another. As important as each of these elements may be, I am convinced that a growing number of people are bound to the ICJS by more than duty, guilt, curiosity, or excitement. At its best the ICJS provides a context in which Christians and Jews can explore the possibilities of friendship that span religious and ethnic divides, and here, too, we can discover our limits, and the limits of our traditions.

Aristotle distinguishes three types of friendship: those based on pleasure, on utility, and on virtue. The fragility of the first two kinds of friendship is readily apparent, for the conditions that produce pleasure and render the other useful are suscep-tible to disruption. A crippling disease or unfortunate change in circumstances can quickly dissolve such a relationship, and so Aristotle maintains that the highest form of friendship is based on virtue -- a quality that is enduring. In contrast to our romantic notions, Aristotle understands friendship as inherently triadic. If you and I develop a lasting friendship, it is only because we are oriented to an overarching good in which we both participate. We do not lock our gaze on one another, but direct our attention to a reality that pulls each of us beyond our parochial interests.

Can Christians and Jews forge friendships when the good that they seek is God? In other words, can Christians and Jews pursue a relationship that is freighted with theological con-tent? The question is layered with complexities that are not easily resolved. The better we come to know one another, the better we come to see that we are not transparent to one another. Despite all that we have in common, our histories, our experiences, and our core affirmations render us, Christians and Jews, mysteries to one another. We find the other wrapped in an enigma, and we are bound together by ques-tions that we are just beginning to formulate.

For those who were taught to build consensus and to take aim at unanimity, as I was, the religious and ethnic chasms in this country induce disappointment, denial, and even dread. If we travel on parallel tracks, if there is no prospect for con-vergence, if our differences are irreconcilable, how can we ever come to know, trust, and be enriched by the other? Can we really share what matters most to us? Does friendship, to refashion the maxim by E. M. Cioran, amount to "an agreement on the part of two people to overestimate each other?" Does interfaith understanding require a gift for self-deception?

Heaven forbid, for we are saddled with enough delusions already! Indeed, it is precisely with the hope of seeing ourselves, our world, and our God more clearly that we plunge into this conversation with our neighbors. In enmity we freeze, from the inside out; in friendship we open ourselves to the unexpected and risk the disorienting claims of respect and affection. We hold onto the hope that there is a path that leads through the wilderness. No one can go this adventure alone. Indeed, we cannot find the way without the insights and experiences that emanate from distant corners of the larger community. So, as the ICJS launches conversations that use Genesis as a touchstone -- in congregations, schools, colleges and universities, and, most recently, in prisons and in nursing homes -- we will no doubt learn a great deal about the formative power of sacred story and its ability to bind together people from every stripe. We may then discover that we are linked to each other far more profoundly than we ever imagined.