The story is told of a renowned rebbe who gathers his adoring students together to bid them farewell. In a barely audible gasp, he inquires: "Do you love me?" Aghast that their revered teacher could think otherwise at the end of his distinguished career, they unanimously nod their heads and proclaim their devotion. "Do you know what hurts me?" the rebbe queries. "Well, no. Not really," the students reply. "Unless you know what hurts me, you cannot love me," the rebbe concludes.

This familiar story is often recited to exhort Christians and Jews to dig among the ruins and to excavate the fears, the distortions, and the hostilities that are buried within our troubled history. However painful, the legacy of hate must be known before it can be neutralized.

Yet Bishop Krister Stendahl, the former dean of the Harvard Divinity School, challenges us not only to learn each other's vulnerabilities, he admonishes Christians and Jews to discover what gives each of us joy. To forge new understandings we need occasions in which the beauty of the other's tradition can also claim our attention.

I have spent the last several months examining Jewish and Christian religious art. From this study, I am reminded of the distinctive ways of seeing within our traditions. The arts ob-jectify "feelings" that cannot be hung on the logical scaffolding of words. The arts give shape to our emotional lives as individuals and as cultures, and they reveal the ways in which we discern meaning, wonder, and obligation. At the ICJS we want to mine the riches of our respective traditions and bring the insights of our respective traditions to bear on the society at large. Perhaps one of our greatest contributions will emerge as we discover more about the ways in which Jews and Christians, each in their way, create beauty -- hallowing time and sanctifying space.