It was in the early 1960s that my late revered teacher

The Jewish philosopher David Novak spoke with reverence of his mentor when he said: “It was in the early 1960s that my late revered teacher, Professor Abraham Joshua Heschel, became the first major Jewish theologian in America to enter into dialogue with Christian theologians on a high theological level.” These words recall a moment of courage and vision, when ancient barriers of suspicion between Jew and Christian began to bend, and scholars dared to speak not as enemies or strangers, but as seekers of the divine. In honoring Heschel, Novak honors a man who carried the weight of history and yet chose dialogue over silence, bridge-building over isolation.

The meaning of this quote rests upon the figure of Abraham Joshua Heschel, a theologian of prophetic fire, a survivor of Europe’s tragedy, and a voice of spiritual depth in America. In the early 1960s, centuries of mistrust still haunted the relationship between Christians and Jews. The shadow of the Holocaust loomed heavy, and dialogue seemed fragile, even dangerous. Yet Heschel entered this conversation not with timidity, but with the confidence of one who believed that truth could withstand honest exchange. For him, theology was not a fortress to defend, but a bridge to cross.

To say he was the first major Jewish theologian in America to engage at such a level is no small claim. Before Heschel, Jewish thinkers often avoided theological conversation with Christian leaders, fearing assimilation, misunderstanding, or hostility. Yet Heschel believed that silence was the greater danger. By entering dialogue, he sought not compromise of faith, but clarity of faith. He sought to show the world that two ancient traditions, though divided by history, could converse in dignity, learning from one another while remaining true to themselves.

One shining example of this spirit was Heschel’s relationship with leaders of the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), where he became a Jewish voice in shaping the Catholic Church’s historic rethinking of its relationship with Judaism. He argued passionately against attempts to convert Jews, urging instead a recognition of Judaism’s ongoing covenant with God. His presence at those dialogues was a turning point, leading to Nostra Aetate, a document that rejected anti-Semitism and affirmed the shared spiritual heritage of Jews and Christians. This moment was not only theological but historic, altering the course of interfaith relations in the modern world.

The lesson here is that dialogue requires both courage and humility. It is easy to remain silent behind the walls of one’s tradition, harder to step into the space of the other and speak with honesty and reverence. Heschel risked misunderstanding and criticism from his own community, yet his example proved that dialogue can be an act of faith, not betrayal. He showed that when communities face one another in truth, they do not lose themselves—they find deeper roots and greater clarity.

For us today, Novak’s words remind us that we too are called to dialogue: between faiths, between cultures, between differing visions of the world. We live in an age where suspicion and division again rise like storm clouds. To honor Heschel’s legacy is to practice listening with dignity, to seek understanding without surrendering truth, to walk toward the other not with fear but with hope.

Practically, this means creating spaces where honest conversation can flourish, where differences are not hidden but respected, where common ground is discovered not through force but through patience. It means resisting the temptation of cynicism, and instead believing that even ancient rifts may one day give way to reconciliation.

Thus Novak’s remembrance is more than a tribute—it is a teaching. The act of dialogue, as embodied by Heschel, is a path both spiritual and heroic. It does not erase divisions, but it transforms them into opportunities for growth. And if we, like Heschel, dare to enter such dialogue, we may find that in speaking across boundaries, we discover not less of God, but more.