8. Three Mohammeds

“We do not meet identities.
We meet people doing their work.”

As this series of reflections about Israel comes to an end, I keep thinking about something that happened far away from Israel. Or rather, several things.

Over the past few months, three different men named Mohammed crossed my path. Each time, the encounter had nothing to do with identity, politics, or religion. It had everything to do with professionalism.

The first Mohammed was a surgeon who treated my father. When someone you love is on an operating table, the world becomes very simple. You do not care about the surgeon’s nationality, religion, or background. You care about one thing: whether the person holding the scalpel knows exactly what he is doing. This Mohammed did. His work was precise, calm, and deeply professional. And because of that, my father fully recovered.

The second Mohammed worked at Heathrow Airport for British Airways. Our El Al flight from Israel to Boston had lost an engine shortly after takeoff and had to make an emergency landing in London. By the time we arrived at Heathrow, the airport was full of confused and anxious passengers trying to rearrange complicated itineraries. Somehow, this Mohammed calmly worked through the chaos and managed to place my husband and me on the same flight home. What seemed so complicated to us looked like just another solvable problem to him.

The third Mohammed I met was just a few days ago at a BMW dealership. Without bargaining, without pressure, he simply listened carefully to what we were looking for and what we could realistically afford. Within minutes, he proposed a deal that felt fair, respectful, and surprisingly generous.

• Three different men.
• Three different professions.
• Three different moments in life.
  • A surgeon.
  • An airport employee.
  • A car salesman.

In none of those moments did I think about their religion or nationality. What mattered was their professionalism. And that realization unexpectedly brought me back to some of the questions that followed me throughout the fellowship trip to Israel.

During the trip, we talked often about identity—Jewish, Muslim, Israeli, Arab. We talked about coexistence, belonging, and the complicated ways people understand themselves and each other. Those questions are real. They matter. But sometimes I wonder what would happen if we began our encounters somewhere else.

• Not with identity.
• But with professionalism.

With the recognition that each person standing in front of us has a role in the world: a doctor who heals, a pilot who flies a plane, a teacher who guides students, and an engineer who builds bridges.

When we meet people through the work they do well, something subtle changes. Trust appears. Respect grows. The categories that usually divide us begin to matter a little less.

In Jewish tradition, there is a concept called Tikkun Olam—repairing the world. We often imagine this repair happening through grand actions: political breakthroughs, historic agreements, dramatic changes in society. But perhaps the repair of the world begins somewhere quieter.

• In a hospital operating room, a surgeon focuses on saving a life.
• At an airport counter, a clerk calmly solves a traveler’s impossible problem.
• In a car dealership, a professional listens carefully and treats a customer with fairness and respect.

Three Mohammeds reminded me of something simple. When people meet each other first as professionals—doctors, engineers, teachers, mechanics—rather than as representatives of identities, something important happens. We begin to see each other not as categories, but as human beings who know how to do something well.

And maybe that is one small way the world gets repaired. Sometimes the first step toward repairing the world is simply recognizing the dignity of the person standing next to us.