on May 29th, 2015 I received a call from a colleague asking me to go with him to a potential protest at a mosque in Phoenix. With a mix of curiosity and responsibility, I gathered my gear and headed in that direction. Upon arrival, I found the scene supercharged with emotion. The mosque was surrounded by a heavy police presence in riot gear, and groups of passionate individuals were expressing their viewpoints—some with anger, others with fervent belief.
As a photographer, I approached the event with a commitment to neutrality. My objective was not to influence the narrative or to assert my opinion, but simply to document what unfolded before me. The diversity of voices was striking: revolutionaries clad in military garb stood alongside religious zealots, from street preachers to hippies singing hymns. Among them was a determined group of Muslims; their presence was measured and conscientious, fostering dialogue rather than discord.
Let me clarify my stance unequivocally: I stand firmly against any form of terrorism or ideologies that promote violence. As a proud American, I uphold our constitutional values, but as a Jewish individual, I also carry a unique understanding of the implications of bias and misunderstanding. The lessons of our history remind me daily of the importance of compassion and dialogue. Yet, as a father, a husband, and a believer in Yeshua, I recognize a common humanity that transcends divides.
After capturing approximately 1300 images, it wasn’t until I returned to my studio and began processing them that one particular photograph profoundly resonated with me. It was an image of a child, wide-eyed and innocent amidst the chaos. At that moment, I was reminded of the enduring truth encapsulated in Matthew 18:3: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” This child’s perspective, unmarred yet being shaped by the anger and prejudice that so often severely divides us, served as a poignant reminder of what we truly ought to value—compassion and understanding.
Struck by the image’s ability to convey innocence amidst division, I made a decision: I would print the photograph and visit the mosque in person. Though hesitance deeply surrounded my intentions—would delivering this image be seen as a display of support or a provocation?—I felt a deep need to acknowledge the humanity expressed in that child’s gaze.
Upon arriving, I requested to speak with the mosque leader, which met with scrutiny. It just so happened that the Imam was nearby and came forward to listen. With humility in my heart, I shared that I was a photographer present at the protest, and while I am Jewish, the photo of the little girl profoundly affected me. It illustrated a stark contrast to the anger and division swirling around us; it truly encapsulated the depth of what was going on that day.
When I handed him the print, his response was, well, unexpected yet deeply moving. Without words, he enveloped me in a heartfelt hug—a tangible expression of gratitude that transcended the barriers of our backgrounds and beliefs. We parted ways with smiles, a shared understanding, and a sense of camaraderie that is far too rare in our increasingly polarized world.
This experience prompted a profound reflection on the principles of sound logic that often accompany my faith. In a world filled with noise and division, how do we find common ground? The answer may lie in the simple, childlike perspective that allows us to see beyond the surface—to navigate with compassion and understanding.









When we approach others—especially those who seem different from us—through a lens of understanding and love, we cultivate an environment where dialogue can flourish, and hearts can soften. This is how we earnestly show our faith to others.
As you reflect on this particular event, I urge you to consider how you might embrace compassion in your own life. Seek to understand rather than judge, to listen rather than react. In an age of division, let us cultivate unity by valuing the humanity in one another—much like that innocent child whose image crossed boundaries to bring us together.
In closing, take a moment to ponder: How can you apply a child’s perspective to your interactions with others? Remember, this is not about compromising your beliefs; more so, it entails a real way to build relationships that allow one to weigh your actions and your presence under what you claim to be held fast to.
How might your life, your community, and the world transform if we chose compassion over conflict? How does this approach reflect the Gospel?
Let us walk forward with open hearts, ready to encounter the richness of humanity, and inspired to act in ways that reflect love and understanding in our everyday lives.