CHICAGO — In one of our kitchens, we just approached the end of Ramadan and the celebration of Eid al-Fitr. In another, we are scouring for wayward crumbs and grains ahead of the start of Passover. Our Christian neighbors, meanwhile, are observing Lent in the lead-up to Holy Week and Easter.

There is a lot we could be connecting about during this shared season of reflection and ritual, starting with fasting and food-based rituals to themes of liberation, gratitude and the importance of family traditions. We could swap stories about our shared love of Chicago’s renowned Romanian salami (both kosher and halal) or the beauty and challenges of engaging our kids in our respective religious rituals.

But this spring, America’s Jewish and Muslim communities are navigating the holidays with a sense of fear and trepidation, especially after recent attacks on a Michigan synagogue and an Arizona mosque. Those fears are all too real for us as moms who routinely ferry our children to our houses of worship. Will they be safe in what should be the safest of safe spaces?

‘Unprecedented’ rise in antisemitism and Islamophobia

For Jews and Muslims especially, there is the temptation to view each other with fear or suspicion, or to blame entire populations for the actions of a few. Yet when we give in to fear, we miss the chance for beautiful opportunities for connection and ways to strengthen our collective safety in America.

The international atmosphere isn’t helping. The Anti-Defamation League reported a 361% increase in antisemitic incidents three months after Hamas struck Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, and Israel attacked Gaza, compared with the same period one year prior. And the Council on American-Islamic Relations has described an “unprecedented” rise in Islamophobia.

Some of the vitriol can be traced to the new war with Iran, where Jews are held responsible for Israeli attacks and Muslims are blamed for the response of fundamentalists in Tehran and here in the United States.

Opinion: Iran war isn’t a war with Islam. Saying so feeds extremism.

Some of our U.S. lawmakers are making a bad situation worse. Rep. Andy Ogles of Tennessee says that “Muslims don’t belong in American society,” while Rep. Randy Fine of Florida insists that the United States needs “more Islamophobia, not less.”

Meanwhile, social media algorithms inflame the tensions. After the U.S. and Israeli war on Iran began Feb. 28, the Secure Community Network tallied more than 4,300 posts targeting Jews and synagogues with violent rhetoric – almost double compared with the prior four days.

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What we need from our non-Jewish and non-Muslim friends

This need not be a zero-sum game where one group thrives at the expense of the other. We’re all in this together, and during moments of hostility, the only way forward is through solidarity and strengthened relationships.

We need our non-Jewish and non-Muslim friends and allies to avoid choosing one community over the other when both are clearly impacted. Antisemitism and Islamophobia are not competing prejudices to be pitted against each other – both are threats to our religiously diverse democracy as we approach our nation’s 250th anniversary. Violent and exclusionary rhetoric and actions toward any one group threatens the health of our broader civic fabric.

It doesn’t have to be this way – and, in daily life, it often isn’t.

Opinion: Threat of imposing religious law in America isn’t from Muslims

HBO’s “The Pitt” shows the beauty of real-life interfaith interaction. A recent episode features Perlah, a Muslim nurse, caring for Yana, a Jewish patient who is a survivor of the Tree of Life synagogue shooting. When Yana notices Perlah’s hijab, she recalls how, in the aftermath of the 2018 attack, Pittsburgh’s Muslim community “came together for us in support and walked with us,” even raising money to help cover the victims’ funerals.

Their exchange isn’t framed as a grand political statement; instead, it’s a deeply human interaction that shows the importance of empathy in bridging divides. It is especially poignant because the divides between Muslims and Jews grew deeper – and the chasm harder to bridge – in the wake of the Oct. 7 attacks and the war in Gaza. And yet, here are two women, two faiths, reminding us that real solidarity begins with the ability to hold real differences while encountering each other as humans.

We do not have to ignore the real disagreements that exist, nor do we have to let those differences define the entirety of our relationships. Yet we can also come together around a vision of American civic pluralism, where we refuse to surrender our relationships with our neighbors, classmates and colleagues to the forces that would pull us further apart.

As Rep. Sarah McBride from Delaware has pointed out, “We don’t have to believe that someone is right for what they are facing to be wrong.”

By building space for deep differences and mutual care and avoiding the traps of stereotyping, we create a space that is stronger, more principled and far more hopeful than the zero-sum narratives that try to divide us. To hold those differences while caring for each other as neighbors is what it means to uphold the highest ideals of the American project.

Jenan Mohajir is vice president of external affairs and Rebecca Russo is vice president of higher education strategy at Interfaith America, a Chicago-based nonprofit dedicated to equipping leaders to build institutions dedicated to the ideals of pluralism.

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This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Pitting antisemitism against Islamophobia helps no one | Opinion