Earlier this year, I wrote about an existential feeling of loneliness as a Jew in America.

I ruffled a lot of feathers. Many believed that my message was anti-everyone-else, especially the non-Jews who love and support their Jewish neighbors and family members.

There was hate mail, seriously hurt feelings, and people who knew what I meant but believed I said it badly. I, feeling misunderstood and attacked, doubled down and pissed off more people.

A casual acquaintance, who I don’t know well but like a lot, brought it up the other day. After we talked, he said kindly, “I understand; it just bothered me and I wanted to say something.” Privately, his wife told me that he wouldn’t have said anything about it if he didn’t like me.

And I realized that much of what drives people apart is that we don’t know each other well enough. We make assumptions.

The result is that we leap to conclusions. We’re unwilling or afraid or simply too angry to give someone the benefit of the doubt. We’re certainly not able to do what my acquaintance did, which was broach the subject with warmth and curiosity.

Years ago a wise person told me that we humans almost never understand what others say. We assume, or we simply pretend that we understand.

We are even worse when it comes to texts and emails (and blogs). We can neither see nor hear the other person, and so we impugn inflections where there may be none.

But if we ask a question and express curiosity, we can deepen our understanding of the other. I’ve learned to ask:

“Can you tell me more about that?”

“What does that mean to you?”

“I’m not sure I understand; can you explain?”

Or even simply,“Please say more.”

I have been surprised by the answers. Often, their meaning was not what I thought. Or their opinion was much more nuanced than I’d thought.

It seems to me that we are all a little more skittish than ever before. Thinking back, I think that we began to be estranged from each other nearly a decade ago, when the 2016 elections led to fist fights during Thanksgiving dinners, and family members not speaking to each other.

I don’t want to give up my family over politics. I don’t want to quit my synagogue because too many people support a different political party. And I don’t want to lose friends because I said something they didn’t like.

I am 67 years old and I’m here to say that life is just too short for that kind of nonsense.

If I upset you, I apologize. If you upset me, I forgive you. If that’s not enough, let’s talk.

In a few days Jews around the world will sit together and retell the story of the exodus from Egypt. It is the same story, told year after year.

But old stories are worth retelling and reliving. We will travel with a group of slaves who were rescued from a life that was narrow and hopeless to a world that was wide open and full of possibilities. Theirs was a spiritual journey as well as physical.

May we be blessed to learn from their stories and from our own, always deepening in love and understanding.