While training as an Army officer, I was taught not to discuss politics and religion. This seemed eminently practical advice at the time. However, I have come to realize the flaw in this thinking. Communication is the universal solvent.
“Buy me a drink?” That is what the policeman said to my relative after stopping him for speeding on a highway in a Caribbean country. My relative had the tact to be polite, to admit to speeding and to treat the officer with respect.
A shining example just occurred in New Zealand. A week after the insane murder of fifty Muslims and the injury of dozens more—in the name of some twisted “identity”—New Zealanders of all faiths and walks of life mourned the deaths together.
Hysterical cheers swept through the flock like gusts of wind across a wheat field. Krak stood silent, smiling, soaking in the sounds as if each was a cry of adoration for him personally. In the frenzy, three innocent gulls were pecked to death.