There’s a tendency we have as humans to make our groups exclusive. Sociologists have long observed our inclination to use stricter and stricter criteria to create fewer and fewer insiders. You need only look at social media or partisan politics to confirm the phenomenon is alive and well.

Indeed, in our hyper-polarized world, it’s tempting to put the line between “us” and “them” in bold, especially when it feels like our individual and collective identities are on the line. It’s certainly easier and more comfortable to write people off than engage with them.

But shutting people out has never led to progress. In fact, insisting on lines of division is often the first step toward violence and hate. We don’t yet know the motive behind the assassination of Charlie Kirk, but we know for certain someone chose murder over conversation.

Given an increasingly tense social dynamic, I find myself once again rooting for our community to take a countercultural path. Rather than narrow our boundaries, we can do the unlikely thing and uphold an open tent.

Don’t get me wrong—a tent needs a perimeter. The question of who is “in” and who is “out” is an important one and part of our community’s ongoing discussions. But if we are to achieve our goals and build the vibrant future we seek, then the defining feature of our communal tent must be its open flaps, tied back to welcome people in.

I wrote last week about how there are people in our community who are wrestling with where they stand on Israel and Gaza. There is another layer to this. Because in addition to feeling conflicted, there are also many who feel excluded and that their viewpoints are unwelcome. I have heard this both from people who hold conservative views and from people who hold liberal views. I have heard this from people whose Jewish values lead them to focus primarily if not exclusively on the care and wellbeing of the Jewish people and those whose Jewish values lead them to focus primarily on the broader society. We may differ in our perspectives, but we share a desire to feel like we belong.

Of course, an open tent may be a simple image but maintaining one is complex work. To be a welcoming community is to invite friction. We might accidentally bump into each other, perhaps spill a drink, misunderstand one another because of all the noise. But the messiness is worth it. Because it’s also the path to connection, understanding, imagination, and growth. To borrow a line from Franklin Foer, “American Jews are really good imagineers.” We don’t accept the dynamics of the day. We forge our own path and can serve as a model to the rest of the country of how to resist the urge to exclude and instead recognize one another’s worth.

I know that beliefs in our community run deep—I love this about us. I hope everyone feels comfortable sharing their thoughts, questions, and quandaries. I also hope that as we look to 5786, we take that extra step and make space for someone who thinks differently about what it means to be Jewish today. After all, the future is not built from consensus. It’s built from belonging and the creativity it inspires.