I love living in Washington!

I love the mild winters, the southern hospitality and the free museums. I love the "in crowd" feeling of referring to monolithic governmental agencies with oneword shorthand largely understood only inside the beltway--"I'm having dinner with my friends from `Justice.'"

I know that living here can make one jaded. When I have out-of-town guests, they often point out a member of Congress or a news anchor with great enthusiasm. I react to seeing CNN correspondents and Supreme Court justices in much the same way I assume Los Angeles locals behave when standing in the Starbucks line behind Julia Roberts or George Clooney. To many Washingtonians, a motorcade is not a thrill, it's the reason they're late for work.

The same principle applies to synagogue life. If an ambassador or a Cabinet member shows up at services, I just assume that he or she is the next door neighbor--and invited guest--of one of our congregants. So many Temple Micah members have dot-gov e-mail addresses that if people who work in government show up, one assumes that they are there to drop off snacks for Sunday school or their contribution for our most recent tzedakah project.

I'm not completely inured to the lure of the political process. As a former Chicagoan, I vote every chance I get and encourage--perhaps browbeat--others to exercise their rights in this way as well. I still get chills when, driving to or from the airport, I get a close-up view of the monuments.

This is why a few weeks ago, if not star-struck, I was, at the very least, energized by the prospect of participating in a day-long meeting of the Democratic National Committee's Faith Advisory Council. The council falls under the umbrella of the DNC's Faith in Action Initiative, which was formed about two years ago. (It's important for me to note, at this point, that if the Republican National Committee had such a council and invited me to participate, I'd be happy to share my thoughts in that venue as well.)

You may not have heard of the Faith Advisory Council. Unlike the seemingly endless spectacle of politicians shaking hands with farmers and reading to school children as primary season heads into high gear, the council is a private affair. Here, 40 to 50 leaders of faith-based organizations and clergy members sit quietly around banquet tables sharing ideas with each other and with those in a position to influence the political process.

Sometimes, living in D.C., my vote seems small. Sure, I have a part in deciding who represents my ward and who sits on the school board, but those who speak for me in both the House and Senate have the word shadow appended to their title. When it comes to the issues that I care most about, sometimes I feel as though I have little recourse. So, being a representative of the Jewish people, getting my voice heard in such an intimate setting on issues important to my community, was gratifying.

Perhaps more gratifying was the opportunity to hear the concerns and desires of the leaders of so many other faith groups. In addition to rabbis, those in attendance represented Muslims, Catholics, mainline Protestants, evangelical Christians, and members of African- American churches.

What did I learn? That most of us are concerned about the same things. We want better education and health care. We worry about the environment and poverty and civil rights. It's true that we use different words to describe our aspirations. It's clear that, in many cases, our motivations and approaches are different. Of course, there were some disagreements. But when we stretched our hands across the table, we almost always met a willing partner.

In the course of daily life, it's easy to get caught up in one's own immediate needs, among them laundry, groceries, permission slips and oil checks. It's natural to see the world through the lens of the group or community with which you spend the most time.

I spend most of my time in the Jewish community. When not at Micah, I write curriculum for Jewish teenagers and young adults. I met the majority of my friends at another local synagogue and spend my volunteer hours on the boards of two Jewish agencies. Of course, the lens I see through is a Jewish lens.

Our eighth grade students have spent time this year learning about other faiths and visiting other houses of worship. By doing so, they have not only become participants in the wider world, but have deepened their understanding of their own faith.

My experience reminded me, once again, to stretch beyond my usual bounds.

To reach my hand across the table to see what I can learn.