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Jewish writer and radio talk-show host Dennis Prager likes to say that the most important revelation of his life was the day he realized that members of other faiths are as concerned with moral values as Jews are.

As simple as it sounds, this is often a hard lesson for both Jews and non-Jews to learn.

Interfaith dialogue was once a rarity. Earlier in this century, it was also usually not too pleasant. I am reminded of the 1904 exchange between Theodor Herzl, the founder of Zionism, and Pope Pius X. When Herzl asked the pope for Vatican support for a Jewish homeland in what was then Palestine, the pope replied, "The Hebrews have not recognized our Lord, therefore we cannot recognize the Hebrew people."

Some dialogue.

Yet in recalling that awkward moment, while remembering the other far more tragic exchanges between Jews and Christians in the intervening century, it is just as instructive to see how far we have come.

Who would have believed that nearly a century later, the Vatican would have full diplomatic relations with a state of Israel, or that there would be a pope (from Poland, of all places) who consistently condemned all forms of anti-Semitism and even visited a synagogue?

Today interfaith dialogue is a standard, if not obligatory, aspect of religious life in this country. Our communal schedules are filled with interfaith conferences, seminars, and celebrations such as interfaith Passover seders. And while these sessions were once limited to Catholics, Protestants and Jews, they have expanded to accommodate the increasingly diverse religions in this country, with Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and Bahai'is as well.

Reaching out to other religions is nothing new in Jewish communal life. It was only natural for a discriminated-against minority to seek allies wherever we could find them.

But there was always some skeptical resistance among rank-and-file Jews to early interfaith efforts. They were usually undertaken by largely secular Jewish organizations and relied heavily on the false premise that there were no real differences between Jews and non-Jews.

The problem with many past interfaith efforts was the natural imbalance between Jews and our partners. Toleration is fine when the alternative is persecution. But it is not a dialogue of equals.

Yet despite gains, there continue to be some disappointments. The willingness of many Christian groups to bash Israel, especially on the question of the status of Jerusalem, is troublesome. And some groups, even today, seem to be all for dialogue and friendship with Jews, but they have a problem with Jews with power. Dialogue is important, but we needn't sacrifice an inch of Jerusalem to achieve it.

While we need to acknowledge such differences, we also need to recognize our commonalities. Building bridges to other faiths is no longer a question of survival. Today, Jews and non-Jews are pursuing common agendas in the name of faith.

One example is the Washington-based Center for Jewish and Christian Values, which was founded by Sen. Daniel Coats (R-Ind.), a conservative Christian, and Sen. Joseph Lieberman (D-Conn.), who is an Orthodox Jew. The center has been campaigning for respect for religious values in policy making.

Many Jews are also increasingly taking up a religious-based rationale for environmental activism and working with other religious believers with the same goal.

Another hopeful sign was the coming together of two educational institutions, the Greenberg Center for Judaic Studies at the University of Hartford and the Hartford Seminary, once considered a stronghold of hostility to Judaism. Together, they have created a forum for the study of "Abrahamic religions" — Christianity, Judaism and Islam. The first visiting professor is a remarkable man, Sulayman Nyang, a Muslim from Ghana who teaches at Howard University.

For Nyang, the goals of interfaith dialogue are not to further political agendas but rather to create respect through teaching about the differences between peoples.

"Respecting the authenticity of others," he told me, is the key to overcoming stereotypes.

"Why should Jews dialogue with Louis Farrakhan?" Nyang asked when discussing the Nation of Islam sect whose hatred he condemns. "He has already damned Jews, so what is the point of such dialogue?"

According to Nyang, "We must learn to appreciate the mental furniture of each other."

The point is, this doesn't require either side to "disarm unilaterally," as the Rev. William Sloan Coffin once wanted the United States to do during the Cold War. We can still be different and assertively live those differences without fearing or being intolerant of other faiths.

For Jews of previous generations, that was a lesson that might have seemed better taught to others rather than ourselves. But today, we need not only look to the exceptional "righteous gentiles" who saved Jewish lives during the Holocaust to find common ground with non-Jews.

We can look to Coates and Lieberman, to Nyang and to non-Jewish religious believers all around us to build these bridges. Faith need not differentiate us. It can unite us as well.