Yesterday evening I was in an Uber, traveling from the airport to a friend’s house. My driver was originally from Pakistan, grew up in Dubai, and has lived in Baltimore since his teen years. I had a water bottle with me, but he was observing Ramadan, so I left it in my bag rather than drink in front of him.

We fell into an easy conversation about religion, the war, and the human capacity to care for one another. During our hour-long drive, something unexpected happened: by the end we had decided that, given the chance, we could easily become lifelong friends.

What occurred to us felt like a universal truth: people who care about people are the best of us.

They are the curious ones — the ones who know their own understanding is limited, who recognize that others see and know things they do not.

If we want to meet people outside our everyday circles, we have to be willing to encounter ideas and ways of thinking that are unfamiliar, even uncomfortable.

This week’s Torah portion describes God commanding Moses to build the Mishkan, a sanctuary to be carried through the desert. Moses did not know how to do some of the work that was required.

What does a person do when faced with something they do not understand?

In the Torah, God gave Moses help — skilled artisans.

“See, I have called by name Bezalel… and I have endowed him with a divine spirit — with skill, ability, and knowledge in every kind of craft… I have given with him Aholiab… and in the hearts of all who are wise-hearted I have placed wisdom, that they may make all that I have commanded you.” (Exodus 31:2–6)

No one person can do everything. We need each other. And we need the humility to recognize when someone else’s skills are needed.

In Hebrew, Bezalel and Aholiab are described as ḥakhmei lev — “wise-hearted.” Not only wise. And not only open-hearted. Both.

So must we be.

Wise enough to listen.

Open-hearted enough to learn.

Secure enough to let someone else lead.

My driver and I did not solve the world’s problems. That wasn’t the point.

For an hour, two strangers allowed curiosity to be stronger than fear.

And that, perhaps, is where peace begins.