Riding On The F

The world sure is a strange place. One can be friend or foe, hero or demon, depending on where one happens to be at the moment. I was thinking about that yesterday as I was sitting on the F train riding into Manhattan. With nothing else to do than to observe my fellow riders, I had to marvel, as I do so often, at the fact that there are more religions, cultures and ethnicities (peacefully) represented in a New York City subway car at any given time than anywhere in the world. Yet, if some of these riders were to go back to their native lands, they would be mortal enemies.
Most of the world's conflicts seem to be non-issues here in my hometown. Christians, Muslims and Jews ride side by side as the train rattles along. Indian and Pakistani, Sunni and Shi'ite, Serbian and Croatian, Hutu and Tutsi, all are thrown together here. In this big city, they all seem to put their differences aside to merge peacefully, even if, back in the old country, their relatives are killing each other.
Which brings me to today's arrival of Pope Benedict the XVI's to Istanbul, Turkey. A man revered by about 1.2 billion Roman Catholics is going to set foot into a country where most of the predominantly Muslim population hates his guts. I can't decide if this trip is super courageous or if it will inflame Arab tempers more. Back in September, the Pope made a rather indelicate speech quoting a Byzantine emperor, who said that Islam was violent and irrational. Bad move. The Pope unleashed days of protest in the Islamic world. In the style of Hollywood film stars and Washington politicians who shoot off their mouth, he apologized, saying that his speech was misunderstood. That he is truly, truly sorry.
So today, despite all the protests against his visit, he is landing in Istanbul. I guess I admire his guts. If anything, he is opening the way for dialogue. Dialogue is always good. And if the visit does not go well, I invite him and the other leaders of the world's major religions to come to New York. Catch a show, visit a few museums and ride the subway. All these seemingly insurmountable differences will disappear instantly. Because as every New Yorker knows, in the subway at least, we are all the same.