I leave the Madrid Conference for Global Religious Dialogue this morning with many things, including a mysterious gift, many questions, and genuine hope for the future. But the gift comes with the best story, so let’s start there.
The phone in my room rang last night at 12:56 in the morning. I know exactly what time it was because I was sound asleep when it woke me. The first thing I did, even before answering, was to look at the clock. By the way, why do we do that? Was I not going to answer the phone because of the time? Would I have been more or less concerned about why I was getting a call in the middle of the night if it had been 12:20 or 1:15?
Anyway, I picked up the phone and was asked in a thick Arabian accent, if this was Mr. Hirschfield’s room. When I answered that it was, the voice on the other end of the line explained that he was from the protocol section of the Saudi embassy and that he wanted to deliver a gift from King Abdullah. My first response was, “now”? “Yes, please”, the man responded, and three minutes latter there was a knock at my door.
I opened the door to a young man in a dark suit, holding a large green box bearing the crossed swords and palm fronds which symbolize the kingdom. He asked if I would sign an Arabic receipt, which I did even though I could not read it. Sitting on the bed, I opened the box, which contained yet another green box, this one of embossed leather. Inside were a large chrome watch, a silver pen, and a medallion with the king’s face on one side and the logo of the Madrid dialogue on the other.
This gift, delivered in the middle of the night with such urgency and much graciousness, came with no note and no further explanation. Was it really a personal gift from the King? If so, was it connected to my blessing of him about which I wrote the other day? How did they know that I was “that guy”? Why was there no note, or even any indication of how I might respond to the gift? And if it was not a gift made especially to me, why did they need to verify that I was Brad Hirschfield and insist on getting it to me despite the late hour?
Like many aspects of the conference in general and many of the experiences which I had there in particular, this generous act leaves many unanswered questions. But that’s okay. I suspect that in time, answers will emerge. Rushing to find them now will distract from the beauty of both the late night gift and the conference itself.
Participating in this conference has been like witnessing the first step taken by a beloved child. The witnesses can see that first step and quickly assume an entire glorious future in which the little one becomes an Olympic sprinter, or they can see “just a tiny step” which “proves nothing”. Or, they can appreciate the miracle of a human being exercising a vital new capacity which changes everything but guarantees nothing. They can celebrate the moment, even as it brings more questions than it answers. They can enjoy this developmental triumph and challenge themselves to nurture this new capacity and help the little one to grow strong and use it well.
First steps are moments of hope and that is what I feel as I board the plane back to New York – hope and commitment to helping those first steps which I have been blessed to witness, grow into a powerful stride toward a better world for all of us and all of the traditions that we love.