_ TLC’s All American Muslim attracts undeniable interest and relevance in post 9/11 America.  The show illustrates how easy it is for one family made up of different individuals and couples to vary among each other in religious views, practice, and daily life while they come together at the end of the day like any family.  This is solid programming. 

However, while All American Muslim is an improvement to current national dialogue over American Muslims, the show still offers up a smorgasbord of predictable and familiar themes when attempting to understand Islam.   For example, there is apparently still confusion over whether there’s a difference between an Arab and a Muslim. (There is.)

In an effort to debunk stereotypes, All American confirms the old one that has Muslims across the board being represented by people of Arab origin.  The choice to follow families of one particular origin in the single location of Dearborne, Michigan, a city with the highest concentration, not population, of Arabs in America, neglects the culturally and ethnically diverse community that makes up the American Muslim population, and by extension the eclectic melting pot that is indeed America.

The result of this choice provides yet another example, albeit a more positive one, of America’s modern day fixation on Islam being a byproduct of an age-old political relationship with the Middle East.  Had the early 1900s seen the discovery of an endless supply of oil beneath Tibet, and its surrounding region, history would have taken a different course, and this would be a piece about TLC’s show on Buddhist Americans who also love Kenny Chesney.  But there wasn’t, and here we are trying our very best to understand Arabs.  I mean Muslims.  Whichever.

The habit of confusing all Arabs with Muslims, and vice versa, overlooks Arabs who are of other faith-backgrounds including Christianity and Judaism.  Still, the show is not about Arabs, but about Muslims.  In reality, African Americans along with South and East Asians make up the largest percentage of Muslims in America.  Not a single one of which are represented on the show. 

The families of the Amen’s, Aoude’s, Jaafar’s, Zaban’s, and Nina Bazzy, whose dream is to open a night club, do provide a glimpse into some issues Muslims may face, and might be a nice welcome wagon particularly for that percentage of Americans who claim never to have met a Muslim in their life.  But TLC is the learning channel. So if a budget exists to follow five different families, perhaps they can actually be different families. 

Consideration could have been made to include a Pakistani-, Bosnian-, Indonesian- or African-American family that identify as Muslim across various cities in the U.S.  The largest American Muslim population exists in California, a location in which one would think the camera feels at home.  How about New York? It would have made for some entertaining irony to film in the city that became the hub of last year’s Park 51 brouhaha, the same city with a Halal (Muslim Kosher) food cart every second block of Manhattan.

Admittedly, it's easier to be the critic rather than show creator, but lack of criticism has only ever produced a beggars can’t be choosers attitude when it comes to Muslims, Arabs, or really any other minority group in media and entertainment. Fair or equal representation has always been a hurdle for TV show creators who, once called out on their foibles, I like to think are fairly responsive (give or take a few decades.) 

A show is after all is dependent on ratings, which require an audience that can identify with some familiar imagery.  What’s nice about All American Muslim is its effort to redefine that imagery from negative or misinformed into a positive one.  

The show has also provoked a larger and long overdue discussion within Muslim communities on acceptance, and people who are loyal to the faith without necessarily practicing in a way that fears cultural taboos.  That this conversation is taking place should be celebrated, proving that “American Muslim” is indeed an identity that can be viewed independent from international politics.

The families of Dearborn, Michigan include some endearing characters that deserve to be represented as part of the fabric of Americans and American Muslims.  However it’s a misnomer to call the show All American when it is hardly all-inclusive.  After all, Islam is a monotheistic religion, not a monolithic one.  The diverse cultures and environments in which Muslim families are born, or convert into make for varying degrees of practice and interpretation, a picture that should help us as Americans get closer to the realization that one group of people can’t be pegged or profiled into one box.
Lana Daoud is a freelance writer for FEN magazine, and a 2010 Fellow of "NewGround: A Muslim-Jewish Partnership for

Change. 

Eliana Kaya and Sarah Bassin

On Thursday, September 15th, a delegation of 12 imams and academics from Al Azhar University in Cairo, Egypt met at Los Angeles City Hall with NewGround staff and alumni. The exchange was organized by Imam Bashar Arafat of the Civilizations Exchange and Cooperation Foundation which works in conjunction with the U.S. State Department to bring delegations of religious leaders from the Muslim world to the United States to study effective models of interfaith engagement. NewGround launched the Egyptian delegation’s Los Angeles itinerary on their multi-city tour.

NewGround partners and supporters also joined the meeting. Joumana Silyan-Saba of the Los Angeles Commission on Human Relations, and Sherif Morsi of the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department attended in order to demonstrate the importance of collaboration from governmental and law enforcement perspectives.

To introduce themselves, members of the delegation were asked to define and share the five most central aspects of their identity (i.e., father, Muslim, sister, scholar, Egyptian, etc.). As the introductions progressed, people were encouraged to shorten the list from five aspects to three, and eventually to only keep one aspect of their identity that was impossible to eliminate.

“It’s so hard to pick just one, but if I have to choose, I choose to keep ‘Muslim’ because it encompasses everything,” said one professor. “I choose to keep “peace-maker” because that is what I do not only at work but also in my personal life,” said a law enforcement officer.

The activity, used often in the NewGround fellowship, helps participants to see both the complexity and the simplicity in what shapes identity.  Although the participants represented multiple faiths, national and ethnic backgrounds and professional fields, the conversation focused on tools for listening, rather than on labels that trigger emotion and debate.

Silyan-Saba, of the Human Relations Commission, emphasized the importance of religious pluralism, especially in a city like Los Angeles. "We are the most diverse city in the world; we have over 270 languages spoken within our city."

Executive Director Rabbi Sarah Bassin presented the purpose and a brief history of NewGround, discussing the structure of the program and its capacity at building a wide range of community leaders skilled in conflict-resolution and interfaith engagement. "We are interested in creating and fostering relationships that will hold up locally regardless of what happens on the other side of the world."

Egyptian delegates were particularly interested in hearing what those who go through the program learn and if it makes a difference in their respective communities.

Alumna of the NewGround Fellowship, Eliana Kaya, an Israeli-American and veteran of the Israeli Army said, "We came into the group as Jews and Muslims, with all of our ideas, judging with our eyes. NewGround trains us to listen with both ears and creates a space where we begin to care about one another. I have used what I learned every single day – in the store, at my synagogue and with my family. My language has changed. My understanding has changed. My vision has changed."

Through the friendships that the fellowship inspired, she has learned how "to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. There can be a space for differences of opinion and I am no longer afraid that it will threaten my own identity - in fact, my faith has been strengthened.” The topic of faith as a motivating factor for being a good and righteous citizen resonated with both Egyptian faculty and local law enforcement.

The delegates in turn, were eager to share their own aspirations and views on interfaith cooperation. Their remarks on Islam in relation to Judaism, included making distinctions between religious values and political ideologies, as well as citation of Quranic Scriptures in an effort to demonstrate multiple precedents for religious pluralism within an Islamic context.

Beyond expressing mutual commitment towards interfaith engagement, the delegation was most interested in learning about the concrete tools that an enterprise such as NewGround can deliver, both in an Egyptian context as well as within the United States.

Rabbi Bassin cited several of NewGround's previous and ongoing projects, while emphasizing that the purpose of the program is to foster a place to develop relationships, rather than to solve political problems.

Professor of Islamic and Arabic Studies and a PhD in Islamic Jurisprudence, Dr. Mona Mostafa asked if NewGround had any plans to expand internationally.    "If we can get a NewGround in Cairo, that would really be a wonderful thing," she remarked.

Kaya responded by sharing with the delegation how NewGround lays the foundation for effective cooperation. “The Fellowship is in some ways like a classroom," she said to the group. “It's a safe place to try out new ideas; but it is up to the students to remember the lessons when they leave and turn them into solutions in the real world. While we learn how to listen and see one another as full human beings, the choice to act on the skills we learn – that comes on our own, just like in life."

After the roundtable conversation, the delegates were taken on a brief tour that concluded with a 360 degree view from the top floor of City Hall. After only two short hours, these religious leaders and academics were deeply moved by their experience and inspired by what they had heard as a model of positive Muslim-Jewish collaboration.

As Dr. Nabil Darwish, Professor in the department of Islamic Culture at Al-Azhar University stated, “I do not find words to express my gratitude for the work that you do.”

To see the biographies of the delegates, please click here.

Ha-Meiri of Rothenberg was centuries ahead of his time in his understanding of other faith traditions.  During his lifetime in the 13th century, Jewish tradition legislated stark distinctions for how Jews ought to relate to their fellow Jews versus non-Jews.  At best, tradition instructed Jews to get along with their non-Jewish neighbors for the sake preserving the physical security of the Jewish community.  Yet in contrast to the legal tradition he inherited, Ha-Meiri refused to place people of other faith traditions on a lesser plain.  In an innovative legal twist, he created an entirely new category that maintained distinction between Jews and non-Jews but still afforded others the same dignity Jews that expect of one another. 

Jews of the medieval period certainly experienced horrific episodes of violence and persecution at the hands of their non-Jewish neighbors and could not imagine a different reality.  Our natural human tendency to understand an issue through a lens of the past unintentionally blocks us from seeing the full range of tools in our hands to address the problem.  But Ha-Meiri had the foresight to envision a reality not characterized by a past of mistrust and harm. 

I look to Ha-Meiri as one of the most inspirational rabbis in history for his ability to break the mold.  Having chosen to become a rabbi to pursue interfaith relations, I have always believed that my relationships with non-Jews have made me into a better Jew and that interfaith encounters offer as much to gain in self-understanding as in understanding of the other.  Early in my rabbinic training, it became clear that the greatest misunderstanding existed in the relationship between the Muslim and Jewish communities and I chose to focus my energies here to help form a new reality.   

I was drawn to NewGround because the organization embodies Ha-Meiri’s foresight.  The founders of NewGround looked at the existing landscape of interfaith relations and envisioned the possibility for a different reality- one in which the pairing of “Muslim” and “Jew” does not conjure up images of conflict, tension, suspicion, violence, and hatred.  Instead, they choose to put forth a new vision in which Jewish-Muslim relations are normalized and our communities join together on the issues we share in common. 

But NewGround has more than just a vision; it has a model for successful impact to transform relationships between Muslims, Jews and our communal institutions.  To learn more about NewGround’s unique approach, read  about “Fellowship and Alumni” and contact us with your questions: muslimjewishnewground@gmail.com.   
To read Sarah Bassin’s biography, see "Who We Are". 

by Maya Barron
Jewish NewGround Alumnus, 2010

During the first NewGround retreat, we completed a “conflict styles” worksheet and I was somewhat surprised and very confused by my results. According to its rubric, I was categorized as equal parts “collaborator” and “avoider” during times of “calm” conflict. My initial reaction was total confusion at what seemed to be an essentially self-contradictory result. This actually brewed within me for quite some time because I completed the worksheet on Friday night and we didn’t examine and discuss them as a group until Saturday afternoon. When I finally voiced my confusing situation, expecting others to agree with me that my results made no sense, Aziza actually said that my particular combination meant I was a very thoughtful person. This was quite possibly the most validating and reassuring thing that anyone could have said to me.

by Maya Barron
Jewish NewGround Alumnus

Oddly enough, I leave NewGround with some fascinating factual knowledge and new ways of thinking about Judaism (my own religion) and its history. First, that Judaism grew out of a tribal historical context and all/most tribes saw their tribe as “chosen” based on their close, symbiotic relationship with their God. Judaism is simply the only tribal religion that has survived the Greco-Roman period. While this does not reconcile all of my issues with chosenness, I found this really interesting. Second (and fast-forwarding a bit), that under Christian imperial rule Jews couldn’t own land and Christians couldn’t charge interest on each other. So, Jews became bankers. Then, when Jews lent money to local leaders and the leaders didn’t want to pay them back, they opted to kick the Jews out instead. While this is clearly an oversimplified narrative, there is enough truth there to add another layer to my understanding of the historical origins of anti-semitism. Neither of these two facts are earth shattering, but I found both interesting enough to write down in my notebook.

by Rashi Jackman

Last month during our retreat in Palos Verdes we participated in two listening exercises about which I have thought a great deal.  I wanted to share a few of my reflections in the hope that they will echo your own thoughts and experiences.  The two exercises were simple enough.  The first consisted of an activity where, sitting back to back with a partner, we followed their description of a shape they were making.  We then attempted to rebuild that same shape without either seeing the original or being able to ask questions of the person creating the design. The second exercise involved sitting face to face with a partner and actively listening to what they had to share.  In this exercise, we asked questions to see if we understood the speaker correctly and did so without judgment or adding our own personal experiences to what was said.  Although deceptively straightforward, the two activities were actually far more significant than I first appreciated.  The greatest struggle I had was in accepting the possibility that what I wanted to say might not be that urgent after all, and might even be a hindrance to my understanding what the person next to me was trying to communicate.

What we were doing, in essence, was what I would like to call "attending to the Other". By this I mean, that we intentionally stilled that voice within each of us that wants to project our own selves out into the world.  For just a few moments, we gave the words of the one speaking all the weight of the world; something our egos generally resist.  :
It is hard to be fully present with someone, because it requires deliberately breaking "the solitude" of our lives, in order to reach into someone else's world
 
In so far as listening to those around us demands that we give as much weight to their concerns as we do our own, simply lending an ear to another pulls us into the world of moral relations.  The process of intentional listening, of being with and for someone else, is a profoundly ethical act.  In opening ourselves to another through language, we transform their words from mere instruments of meaning into signs and testaments of their humanity and distinct individuality.  In listening deeply to each other, we do not simply recognize and affirm the value of civility, although we are certainly doing that as well. We are also shifting the focus of our consciousness; first, from “me” to “you,” and then from “you” to a larger "us" or a collective consciousness. 
 
These two simple exercises were powerful tools for illuminating the ways that we are connected to and transformed by those around us.  Rather than approaching the self directly, when we turned out attention to those around us, we eventually did return to ourselves but to selves that were quieter, more reflective, calmer.  I developed a greater appreciation of just how much we ourselves disrupt the clear communication with those around us we so eagerly seek.  It was the first time I consciously used listening as a gateway to self-discovery and the insight that comes from the careful examination of our thought processes and behaviors.  It was a strong reminder for me that attending to the Other openly, honestly, and without pushing my own agenda is the surest way for me not only to understand who they are but who I am as well. 

by Rebecca Saliman
Jewish NewGround Fellow, 2010

Forty-seven eighth graders gathered at a hotel in Jerusalem to listen to a presenter from The David Project, an organization devoted to educating and inspiring strong voices for Israel. After an interactive Powerpoint presentation, discussions, analyzing video clips and news articles, the presenter’s message was unambiguous: Israel is your home. You must fight back. You must defend Israel.

As I sat there listening to this presentation, I felt extremely conflicted. On the one hand, I want my students to love Israel, to feel connected to Israel, and to care about Israel’s vitality and future. On the other hand, I want them to be critical. I want them to understand that Israel has violated human rights and that Israel is far from perfect. And I want them to understand the suffering that Israel has caused to Palestinians. I pictured my Muslim friends from NewGround listening to this presentation and I was horrified imagining their responses.  While the goal of NewGround is to forge relationships between Muslims and Jews and facilitate learning about the “other,” the goal of this presentation was for students to learn to defend themselves against the “other.” NewGround advocates partnership; the David Project advocates opposition and defense.

The presenter showed a Palestinian children’s television show in which Palestinian kids were taught that the reason they got bad grades on a test was because of Israelis. The David Project presenter asked us, “what are the chances of peace when a Palestinian child grows up like this?”

But I would ask my Jewish students the same thing. I teach at a Jewish day school where five parents of seventh-grade students wouldn’t let their children go on the class field trip to the Islamic center because they were too scared for their children’s safety.

Jewish day schools teach kids to love Israel from the time they are in preschool. But now that my students are in eighth grade, they have not yet learned to criticize Israel, nor have they learned to empathize with the “other” side. Instead, we (and their parents) have taught them--albeit unintentionally--to fear and even hate.

I’m scared that we’ve gone too far; by focusing so much on teaching kids to love Israel, we have neglected to teach tolerance, respect, and empathy for Palestinians.

We may not be showing propaganda videos claiming that Palestinians are responsible for our students’ bad grades, but…are we really educating for peace?

by Emma Pettit
Jewish NewGround Fellow, 2010

When I first started NewGround, I didn’t know what to think.  I’m not your typical Jew, and I wasn’t sure what reception I would be getting from anyone – the Muslim fellows, the Jewish fellows, the facilitators.  I’ve been taught that interfaith engagement is important, and that as a Jew, it is my responsibility to help others who are oppressed, the way my people have been throughout history.  NewGround was a logical choice for me.

I’m an atheist, and a practicing Jew.  Confusing, I know.  It’s called being a Secular Jew, with a capitol S for intentionality and purpose.  When I told people I was applying to be in a “Muslim-Jewish dialogue group,” most people’s reactions were: “Oh cool. [pause] Do they know you’re secular?” Like it’s some kind of dirty secret.  In the first sentence of my application, I said I was an atheist.  Everyone who read it said: “Great application…but do you think it’s smart to tell them you’re an atheist?  Do you think they’ll accept you with that in there?”  Being a Secular Jew in a Secular community is great.  Being a Secular Jew actively participating in a religious environment is something I had never done before.  It’s scary!

I was scared I was going to be rejected by the other Jews for not being Jewish enough.  I was scared I would be rejected by everyone, Muslim and Jewish, for being an atheist.  I was scared the facilitators wouldn’t want to go there with me, and would shut me down when I tried to bring it up.  I was scared I would not be a part of the group.  I was scared of what everyone would think and say and feel about the way I choose to practice Judaism and my own lack of spirituality.  SPOILER ALERT: I was wrong.

In our second meeting, I said the word “secular” when describing my Jewish practice, and the other Jews responded with curiosity and interest, not scorn or derision or defensive anger, as I had feared they might.  That was good.  It wasn’t until the last day of our first retreat, however, that things boiled over for me.

The fear, the anxiety, the apprehension I’d been holding in about being atheist, about being Secular, about all of my Jewish practices came out.  I ending up crying outside, desperately trying to control my feelings.  But in our first meeting, the Community Agreement we created said that we had to be truthful with each other, and check in about how we were feeling.  For the first time since childhood, I wanted people to know that I was upset.  Even though I was still crying, even though I hadn’t been able to reign in my emotions, I went back in the room.  It was the first time I’d cried in front of other people since middle school.  But I told them how I was feeling, about my frustrations when I wasn’t included in the national Jewish community, about the intentionality of my Jewish practice and the anxiety I had been feeling.  The Muslim man next to me put his arm around me and rubbed my back while I was crying.  When I finished, the first thing anyone said to me was “Thank you.”  Everyone came up to me and hugged me – Jew, Muslim, super observant and super reform.  They said “thank you” and “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that.”   I realized, that for the first time, I had been completely honest about how I felt about Judaism and religion in a religious space, and I had been taken care of.  The beauty of NewGround is that, in a few short weeks, we came together as a community that supported and trusted each other enough for something that dramatic and out of left field (for everyone else) to be taken in stride.

Last week, I was at a film screening about religions in Los Angeles with several fellows.  The Jewish lady on the video said the very familiar (and very annoying): “There are three types of Jews: Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform.”  Before I could say or do anything, the Jewish fellow sitting next to me took my hand and squeezed it, and the Muslim girl on my other side rolled her eyes at me.  They were telling me that they understood, they know that this lady was wrong, and they were validating me and my Judaism.  It was awesome.

by Jewish NewGround Fellow, 2010

My New Ground experience has helped me to grow in my conscientiousness regarding the conflicts in the Middle East and in my recent choice to pursue a career in the rabbinate. Id like to share one of my Rabbinical School application essays with you as it explores many of the tensions that came to light in my New Ground experience. While this essay is not an account of any explicit New Ground experience, my essay strongly reflects the understanding that New Ground fosters. I have also added translations to some terms that may be unknown:

Prompt:
Over the centuries, the Jewish destiny has been defined by the integration of religious faith and national identity. What role does choseness, peoplehood, and community play in your personal quest for spiritual meaning and how is Israel a part of your journey?

Perhaps the most difficult command of God in Torah is the divine instruction to occupy the land of Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel,) then inhabited by Canaanites, Hittites, Emorites, Perizzites, Jebusites, and Girgashites. A pshat (simple or plain) reading of the Ki Tissa text (Exodus 34:11-14) indicates a command for the chosen people to commit genocide, aided by our Jealous God against these peoples and to tear down their religious sites and structures. Textual apologists interpret away this claim, suggesting that these nations practiced depraved rituals and deserved to suffer or suggesting that the command was merely to convert or displace these clans such that the Israelite nation could thrive in the Promised Land. None of these explanations, however, address the apparent contradiction between the One God being the primary moral force in the universe and Gods most unjust instruction.

The reality of the modern state of Israel is far from just. We (the Jewish people) now fulfill Gods instruction to occupy and thrive in the Land, but do so at the cost of exiling and subjugating many Palestinian people, who too were created betzelem elokim, in the image of God.

In my search for ultimate reality and spiritual understanding, choseness, peoplehood and community manifest:

Choseness - Choseness is Jewish burden. From among the nations, God chose the Israelite people to become enslaved in Mitzrayim (Egypt), to receive the yoke of Torah (Gods commandments), and to occupy the Land. Being an adherent of process theology, I do not believe that God chose the Jewish people to suffer the destructions of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Pogroms, and the Holocaust. However, God chose the Jewish people to choose God, and in light of the great despair and suffering witnessed by the Jewish people, too often I confess that it has been difficult for Jews to choose God.

Peoplehood - Peoplehood is Jewish love. I love all Jews, those that I know and those that I do not know. I care for them without bound or reason, pray for their success, long for their teshuva (repentance), hope for their relief, sympathize with their circumstance, and disagree with them, as only one who loves them can.

Community Community is Jewish observance. We require a minyan, a community of ten Jews to engage fully in prayer. We feast in community, rest in community, and mourn in community. The cycles of Jewish life, Jewish holiday, and Jewish week retain meaning precisely because they are infused with community. Even for those rituals practiced in solitude, the knowledge of others performing the same ritual upon the same circumstance creates the recognition of community in observance.

In light of choseness, I recognize the burdens of the state and people of Israel: the burdens of terrorism, marginalization of non-Orthodox religious voices, water, hunger, poverty, and occupation. In light of peoplehood, I love with all its weaknesses, the modern democratic Jewish state: the cradle of innovation responsible for my cell phone and instant messaging, the Holy Land of the sites holiest to my religion and to many others, and the home of a military inclusive of women and open homosexuals. In light of community, I observe with the State of Israel from the Diaspora: reflection and gratitude on Yom HaZikaron (Israeli Memorial Day), shofar blasts and joyous celebration on Yom HaAtzmaut (Israeli Independence Day), and further praise on Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Reunification Day).

Ive traveled to the Land of Israel three times. On USY Israel Pilgrimage, I spent six weeks exploring holy sites, tourist traps, and teenage melodrama. Then, on Hillels Pluralism Leadership Mission, I enjoyed ten days of interdenominational discussion, community service, and collegiate melodrama. At Ohr Someyach, I experienced kiruv (Orthodox Jewish outreach work designed to encourage less observant Jews to take on greater degrees of observance), Orthodox anti-Zionism, and Arab taxi drivers. Upon my return from each trip, I recognized that this Israel is far from our messianic vision and that I vastly prefer Diaspora Judaism to the religious extremes of Israels Jews. For this reason I recite the word Shetehei (It should be) before Reishit Tzmichat Geulateinu (The flowering of the dawn of our Redemption) when referring to the State of Israel, as Im far from convinced. Lshana habaa byerushalayim, habenuya. (Next year in Jerusalem, Mended/Rebuilt)

by Muslim NewGround Fellow, 2010

I went into the first NewGround Retreat with an open heart and mind and a lot of excitement. I never had any personal expectations except for the fact that I wanted to learn something new.

The weekend was intense and filled with intriguing exercises. The various events and components of the weekend naturally impacted upon each individual in a different way. I enjoyed and appreciated each component for what they were and tried take on board the various skills imparted, for example the listening and the conflict styles exercises.

However, what resonated with me the most were the talks given by the guest speakers on the introduction to Islam and the introduction to Judaism.   Not only did I learn about the history of Judaism and how this one particular faith based identity has transcended over time to fit changing societies and cultural landscapes, I also learned a great deal about Islam; my own faith-based community. What struck me the most was the fact that I feel that I do not know enough about the historical context of my own religion. I have a renewed realization of the importance of understanding the historical context of various aspects of religion in order to understand the broader picture.

I am also questioning not merely the religious knowledge that was passed down to me, but acknowledging that there is always a cultural context behind the way knowledge is passed own. This context should be known and understood. I feel that an equal importance should be placed on the search and study of alternative opinions to be able to come to a more informed conclusion. Not accepting (but at the same time not disrespecting) all of what our parents say as Gospel can be a tall task at times. However, it is necessary for one's own individual spiritual growth and journey.