Breaking bread and boundaries

CASTLE ROCK, COLO. -- The four couples were just settling into small talk over appetizers when Kenneth Holloman cleared his throat.

"Would the group permit me to ask an impertinent question?" he said. "How many here believe there's a hell?"

It was not your typical icebreaker.

But then, this was not your typical dinner party.

The couples, strangers to one another, had been brought together by Common Tables, a nonprofit that aims to nurture interfaith friendships. Holloman is an atheist; his wife, a Methodist. Their group included a Jewish couple; a Baptist minister and his wife; and a couple who left the Mormon Church and now belong to a New Age movement called Religious Science.

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FOR THE RECORD:
Common Tables: A March 18 article in Section A about interfaith dialogue characterized the Church of Religious Science as a New Age movement. The church's core beliefs were laid out in 1926, well before the New Age movement. —

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Common Tables puts together group rosters and asks members to meet for dinner at least four times. Participants can talk about theology or the weather. They can share prayers or photos of their children. Nothing's required. And nothing is off-limits, except proselytizing. The point is simply to reach out, to shake hands with a Buddhist, enjoy a glass of wine with a Wiccan, share laughs with a Sikh or an agnostic or a Jain.

"We're not trying to solve academic or theological problems," said Randy Harris, who co-founded Common Tables last spring in Denver's suburbs.

"We just want to help people realize they can honor and respect each other. They can get along."

Traditionally, interfaith work has been left mostly to religious leaders, who gathered a few times a year for a unity breakfast or panel discussion. Where grass-roots groups existed, they often focused on drawing together diverse congregations for service projects, such as cleaning up a neighborhood park.

Since Sept. 11, however, veteran interfaith activists have noticed a hunger among Americans for more personal, one-on-one connections across religious lines. For many, it began with a desire to meet Muslims, to work past the fear and anger raised by the terrorist attacks. Since then, the movement has broadened. In some cities, parents are even organizing interfaith Sunday schools to teach their children Bahai, Zoroastrian or Greek Orthodox values.

"People know they have to develop the capacity to get out of their comfort zone," said Jill Carroll, executive director of Rice University's Boniuk Center for the Study and Advancement of Religious Tolerance.

Harris and his co-founders believe in the concept so passionately, they all quit their jobs to devote themselves to Common Tables. They hope to build a national movement; for now, they're working on calling every house of worship in the greater Denver phone book. So far, they've signed up more than 300 participants and set 20 groups in motion.

A few days before his first dinner, retired pediatrician Jordan Klein, 59, scanned the roster with anticipation. He was most intrigued by the Baptist couple, the Rev. Gordon Kieft and his wife, Beth; he wondered if they might feel compelled to pray for his salvation. "I may be wrong to assume, but from what I understand, [Baptists] are the most rigid" of Christian denominations, he said. "Will he be able to become more accepting?"

When the couples gathered in the elegant home of Wayne Gardner and Gloria Stephens, in this suburb south of Denver, Kieft seemed to anticipate that very question.

"You're probably wondering what a Baptist is doing here," he said. "We're American Baptist, as opposed to Southern Baptist. We're 180 degrees different."

Cathy Klein looked uncertain. "You're more on the liberal side?" she ventured.

"More progressive," Kieft said. "Theologically and in other ways."

The relief in the room was clear. "I had no idea!" Stephens said.