A Priest Walks Into Qatar and . . .

That's a tall order for American higher education. A few years ago, I had an enjoyable conversation over dinner with a friend, an accomplished diplomat with experience in difficult negotiations all over the world. It was the fall of 2004, and our conversation quickly turned to the presidential campaign. My friend argued that Sen. John F. Kerry's reluctance to talk about his own faith was a good thing, showing that the candidate understood that faith has no place in politics or public policy.

Out of the blue, a question occurred to me: "Other than me, do you have any friends or professional colleagues of any religion who attend services every week?" He was quiet for a long, thoughtful minute. "Not that I know of," he replied.

I have thought about that conversation for a long time. It has helped me understand what hobbles American higher education when it comes to educating people for careers in international affairs. It's not that we don't know about religion; it's that we don't understand faith and its life-shaping power.

The majority of people I know in higher education would argue that there is nothing wrong with religion for people who feel they need it. Their sentiments come down to something like this: "You have your religious convictions, I have mine. Let's acknowledge our differences and agree to disagree with one another within the confines of polite debate." That makes sense, of course, but it is not enough to prepare a new generation of diplomats who will be asked to engage the Muslim world in the decades to come.

This template for discussing religion and faith is fundamentally flawed. It presumes that different groups of faithful people approach their religions in the same way football fans approach their favorite teams: I cheer passionately for mine, you cheer passionately for yours, and we all agree to play by the rules and exhibit good sportsmanship. For people of faith, religion isn't like that. A person of Muslim faith and a person of Christian faith engaged in honest conversation about religion are not like two fans pulling for their respective teams. They are more like two men in love with the same woman, each trying to express, safeguard and be faithful to his relationship with his beloved. Love brings with it complexities that football does not.

Recently, I had a conversation with a young woman who is about to begin her sophomore year at Georgetown. She has a passion for art history and American democracy and is serious about her Jewish faith. She hopes to work in international affairs one day. We were discussing the courses she might take this fall.

She reported that people had been telling her she really should take more economics. "What if instead of that," she said, "I took only four courses this semester and used the extra time to go with my Christian and Muslim friends to their churches and mosques? I just think that if I had a better sense of how they prayed and what they mean when they use the word 'God,' I'd be able to have much better conversations with them about the situation in the Middle East."

What do you say to that, except "Amen"? And, "Have you thought of taking the foreign service exam after you graduate?"

Father Ryan J. Maher is an assistant dean at Georgetown University.