She didn’t have know many details then. We couldn’t find many online. And even though several us were from New York City and knew Central Synagogue well, there wasn’t much we could do from thousands of miles away. We prayed together, we sang together, and then we broke bread together.

I felt especially touched because I recently spent quite a bit of time at Central Synagogue with their leader, Senior Rabbi Angela Buchdahl. We had interviewed her for our Undivided episode on Jewish Americans. Angela and I have been long time friends, and we had a longer conversation than was possible to include in the episode. Today, we’re releasing that conversation here. Please feel free to watch if you’d like to get a sense of who she is, what she’s about, and what makes that synagogue and congregation so special.

There are a couple of other amazing and exciting updates to share with you. The first is that we’ve had multiple screenings of Undivided so far, and we have many more lined up for this upcoming Fall. We screened the LDS episode at Interfaith America’s summit last weekend and had the most lovely conversation with attendees. A handful of LDS members in the audience talked about how special it was to have their story told in a way that was respectful yet also probing. I appreciated that immensely.

Their comments reminded me of this stunning review we received in an LDS magazine called Meridian. I’m really touched that the author, my friend John Dye, captured the spirit of the docuseries so beautifully.

Lots to be excited about. If nothing else, I hope you’ll watch this interview with Rabbi Buchdahl. She’s a great human being who has had a unique experience, and she’s quite good at sharing her perspectives.

Happy watching!

Here's a link to the full interview if you're interested. Sojourners published some excerpts of our conversation, which I am sharing below.

Simran Jeet Singh: What sets your core? What drives you every day?

Abdul El-Sayed: I’m a person of deep faith and when I think about my faith, I think about it in terms of the faith of my grandmother. She was born and raised in Alexandria, Egypt in the 1920s. She was the fifth of nine. She never got to go to school. She was illiterate, but she was the wisest and smartest person I’ve ever met. She had this, like, incredible temperament about her and this belief that was rooted in her bones. She didn’t need any fancy proofs or any jurisprudence or any of that. It was just something that she believed. When I’d come to Egypt and I’d be hanging out with my cousins and aunts and uncles, she’d always bring me down to earth because I’d be coming in as a hot shot American kid to what was a very working-class family. She’d always remind me that the only difference between me and my cousins was the opportunity that I had. At my best, I operate because of the opportunities that I have and because of that kind of faith that my grandmother had that I’d like to reach if I can.

Singh: Tell us about your spiritual formation and your sort of religious background. How did that play into the person that you are today?

El-Sayed: I grew up in a devoutly Muslim household, but I rebelled quite a bit against religion, not necessarily against faith. I think I always had a firm faith, but I rebelled against religion. I’ve always been a bit of an iconoclast, and I’m a bit curious. So, I was the kid who was always asking the hard question, and my Arabic teachers didn’t quite like that. So, I found myself just pushed away. And then, in terms of sort of living the classic, Muslim boy life, I also pushed against that. At the same time, I was a junior in high school when 9/11 happened, and for people who look like us, 9/11 changed everything.

In college, moving out of my family’s home gave me the space to sort of come back to my faith on my own terms in the context where my faith was very much being singled out and was a place of conversation. With that distance, I got to sort of explore my faith on my own terms. I got to learn about prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, and found this man who just had this impeccable character, the kind of character that I admired so much in grandmother — the kind of temperament that always sought to be kind, to be compassionate, to be softhearted with those who are oppressed, and to be courageous. That’s when I found my faith again. That’s when I started to really practice my faith again on my own terms, and that’s how I try to live my faith today. I think I fail more often than I succeed, but it’s the aspiration I have.

Singh: How did you get into public health work?

El-Sayed: Well, I got the opportunity to do a Ph.D. in the middle of medical school, and my Ph.D. explored the social disparities in obesity, and more broadly really focused in on these social determinants of health throughout my Ph.D. years and going back to medical school. I had full intentions to continue my training but just patient after patient who I had the opportunity to help care for as medical student showed me just how limited a tool clinical medicine was.

And it’s not to take away from how important medicine is and how amazing it is that we have it. But just to say that if I wanted to leverage my career to try and address some of these more systematic injustices that exist that manifest themselves in health, that working at the end of the line was just not going to be the way to do it.

Singh: And politics?

El-Sayed: The first time anybody who knew anything about running for office told me I should run for office, it was at my college graduation at the University of Michigan. I was lucky enough to be named the senior speaker and the top student in my college. The main speaker that day was Bill Clinton. I gave my speech and Clinton gave his speech and in the middle of his speech, he said some really nice things about my speech. Afterwards, he pulls me aside and he looks at me in the eye — and if you’ve ever met Bill Clinton, he’s got this ability to look through your soul. So, he starts looking through my soul and he asked me, “Son, why are you going to medical school?” And I looked at him for a second, and like the first idea that came to mind — and Simran, you’ll appreciate this — I was like, well I’m brown. That’s just what we do. I didn’t say that, but I said, “I love people, and I love science, and this is how I want to serve.” He said, “You’ve got a natural gift for communicating it and maybe someday you’ll run for office.”

I told you about my trips to Egypt and the 12 hours it would take me to get to Egypt. I travel about 10 years difference in life expectancy. The crazy thing is from my suburban home in Metro Detroit, driving due south for 25 minutes, I could travel the same 10-year life expectancy gap. And that for me became a bit of a calling. What do you do about that and how do you fix that in your own community? That north start led me out of clinical medicine to public health and eventually pursue elected office. I didn’t win, but the work doesn’t change. It just takes different forms.

Singh: Did you experience any of this sort Islamophobia that you alluded to in your campaign for governor?

El-Sayed: I mean certainly. There was this actually just a report that was released by a group of researchers about the Islamophobia that we face just online. It got so bad and we got so many death threats that at some point we just hired a full-time bodyguard. The interesting thing is that it’s still floating around now. There’s this sort of chain post Facebook … it’s funny cause it’s like, it’s like perverse comments on my attributes, but in this sort of sinister way — they’re like, he’s handsome and charismatic and smart. And I was like, well that’s lovely. If I could get my wife to say those things about me, that’d be great. But they’re like “he may be being groomed to be the next Obama.”

But yes, it was all there. There’s a way to just perseverate on it that makes it the full experience of your experience. And I just chose not to do that. It happened but I don’t think about it. It wasn’t the thing that like really drove my experience of the campaign and I’m grateful for that.

Singh: What’s your vision for the future? What are you hoping to see going forward?

El-Sayed: I’m really optimistic. I think it’s, it’s easy to look at this moment, and be less than optimistic, but I’ll tell you why I’m optimistic. I get the privilege of spending a lot of time with people and particularly young people who are agitating for the future they want to live in. And what I’m seeing is young people standing up and saying, we can do this better if we’re willing to rely on each other and to embrace each other in that work. Whether it’s agitating for things like Medicare for All or a Green New Deal or a jobs guarantee or universal housing. These things are going to happen. What folks don’t appreciate is that it feels slow at the time. Every day ticks by, and we haven’t changed. But think about what can happen in 10, 20 years. I put my faith in God — certainly in those young people who realized that we can do this better and are putting their lives and their time and their energy on the line to make that happen. So, I’m grateful for the sacrifices that are being made for that. I’m thankful to do my small part in the work.

This workbook follows my dad’s book of the same name, co-authored with AP Singh. That book was a deeper dive into and interpretation of the same composition, Salok Mahala Nauva. It engages the full set of couplets in that bani and offers a resource for learners of all backgrounds and at all levels. You could be encountering Sikhi for the first time, or you may have been on this journey for years and years. Wherever you come from, if you’re looking to explore the Guru’s teachings, this book is for you.

It’s been amazing to watch my parents embark on this journey over the past couple of years. It’s been a labor of love, and it’s translated in various ways. They’ve done classes on Salok Mahala 9, they’ve led workshops, and it seems to me that they’ve fallen in love with this bani. On multiple occasions, when we’ve chatted over the phone or in person, they’ll refer to something they’ve learned from it as a way of navigating the ups and downs of life.

I’m going to paste a PDF of one of the pages here so that you can get a sense of their approach and how practical it is. I also used my privilege as their son to get permission to post their introduction to the book. I’m pasting that below as well for anyone who wants to see what they're up to and why.

Thank you for ordering their book, reading it, and leaving a positive review. They’ll be really encouraged by any love that they get for it!

Salok 50 - Salok Mahala Nauva

107KB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

An excerpt from the introduction to Understanding Sikhi: A Workbook

There is a moment—perhaps you’ve felt it—when you’re sitting in the Gurdwara, or in the quiet corner of your home, and the Gurmukhi flows past you like a river. The words are familiar. You may know the translation. You’ve read the literal meaning in books or on the internet.

But something stirs beneath the surface. A feeling. An intuition. A quiet whisper that says: there is more here than what the translation alone can capture.

That sacred intuition became the starting point of our journey. The spark was a simple two-minute katha video by AP Singh—brief, yet powerful enough to open a deeper way of seeing. From that moment, the path began unfolding, eventually becoming our first book, Understanding Sikhi: A Journey to Inner Peace & Happiness.

Gurbani is beyond literal translation, how do we access it? How do we move from reading words to receiving wisdom? How do we transform scripture from something we study into something we “live”?

The answer, we realized, was already given to us by Guru Nanak Sahib Ji himself.

Naam Japna. Kirat Karna. Vand Chhakna.

These three pillars aren’t just principles for living a good Sikh life—they’re a complete methodology for spiritual transformation. And if they apply to every aspect of our existence, why shouldn’t they apply to how we engage with Gurbani itself?

This realization became the architecture of our book…

This workbook operates on a radical premise: “You already have everything you need to understand Gurbani. You simply need the right questions to unlock it.” We’re not here to give you more information. We’re here to activate the wisdom that’s already dormant within you. The saloks aren’t teaching you something foreign—they’re reminding you of what you’ve forgotten, revealing what you’ve overlooked, awakening what’s been asleep.

An Invitation to Honesty

This workbook demands something rare and precious: “your complete honesty.”

There’s no value in performing spirituality here. No benefit in writing spiritual interpretation what sounds good or what you think you “should” believe. The discussion questions, the personal interpretations, the self-inquiry—all of it only works if you’re willing to be ruthlessly truthful with yourself.

This is for those who want real change, not comfortable concepts.
This is for those who are tired of knowing and ready for becoming.
This is for those who sense that Gurbani isn’t meant to be studied but “lived.”

The Promise

If you engage with this workbook fully—not as a student completing an assignment, but as a seeker hungry for truth—something will shift.

You won’t just understand Salok Mehla 9.
You’ll begin to see through Guru Tegh Bahadur Ji’s eyes.
You’ll start to recognize the divine play in ordinary moments.
You’ll find that peace isn’t something to achieve but something to remember.
This is your journey from understanding to awareness.
From knowledge to wisdom.
From reading about inner peace to being in inner peace.
The saloks are waiting.
But more importantly, are you ready?

Click here to order my parents’ new book, Understanding Sikhi: A Workbook.

Over the past few years, I’ve been developing UNDIVIDED with my friend and filmmaker Jack Gordon. Together we’ve been traveling across the country, sitting with communities, and exploring stories about religion in America that often get left out of the larger American story. It’s exciting to see it come to a festival like AAIFF and I’d love for you to be there.

After screening two episodes, Jack and I will be joining for a panel conversation afterward. Here are the details:

Sunday, August 2nd at 1:15PM
Asia Society, New York City

Tickets here: http://bit.ly/3TaIDRs

If you’re in the city, come join us. #AAIFF #AAIFF49 #ACV #AsianCineVision

Also, we just released our second episode on YouTube. This one is about Jewish American stories. I'd love for you to watch and share it with someone who might connect with it. Follow us on Instagram and TikTok to learn more about future collaborations and upcoming episodes!

The first episode was a special experience for me. I went to Utah and learned about a community that I didn't know much about - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, (or as they're known more colloquially, Mormons).

I met with LDS members who challenged my assumptions about their community. Some were queer, some were Black, some were liberal, and some were conservative. All of them invited me in with open arms, and all of them welcomed my questions—even though many of my questions got into the hard, uncomfortable stuff.

I think this is precisely what we need more of. To understand the people behind our assumptions. To ask questions of one another with curiosity and kindness. To push ourselves past discomfort so that we can all learn and grow. I've learned and grown so much throughout this whole journey, and I hope anyone who watches Undivided will have a similar experience.

So please, check out the episode. Subscribe to the show. Share it with your friends. It's been a long labor of love, and I hope it helps to make our world a kinder, more loving place for everyone.

Today, nearly five years later, I’m writing again with incredible news. On April 21, Jo’s years of effort came to fruition. Riaan, now 6 years old, is the first child in history to be treated with the gene therapy that their organization (Riaan Research Initiative) fundraised for and helped develop. This included raising millions of dollars, assembling scientists and clinicians from UMass Chan Medical School and Weill Cornell Medical Center, supporting preclinical research and a toxicology study, manufacturing the gene therapy and navigating regulatory processes.

Two months ago, neurosurgeons delivered the experimental AAV9 gene therapy directly into Riaan’s brain while he was under anesthesia. It’s an unbelievable outcome that has caused me to reflect on perseverance, sacrifice and the power of a mother’s love.

I asked Jo then about the role that her Sikh faith had played in navigating her son’s heartbreaking diagnosis. I asked her again now, wondering if her faith had been shaken, or if it had been something she leaned on along the way.

Jo’s first response was to talk about finding the balance between accepting God’s will and trying to find a remedy for Riaan.

“For Sikhs, all of life falls within hukam (divine will or command),” she said. “However, that doesn’t mean we are passive. In my experience, it is through seva (selfless service to humanity) that hukam reveals itself.”

When I asked her what this balance might look like in practice, Jo shared a parable with me:

There’s a story about a man trapped in a flood. As the waters rise, he prays to God to save him. A boat comes by, but he waves it away: “No, God will save me.” Later, a helicopter appears and lowers a ladder. Again he refuses: “No, God will save me.” The floodwaters continue to rise, and he drowns. After he dies, he asks God why his prayers went unanswered. God replies, “I sent you a boat. I sent you a helicopter. What more were you waiting for?”

For Jo, this short story captures a profound truth: Accepting God’s will does not mean we are passive bystanders to our own lives. According to Sikh teachings, we can also have agency to shape our own lives within hukam.

I love that Jo frames her own response not just as agency but as seva. This, too, is a central Sikh teaching, and her story sounds to me like a beautiful application of this concept.

“When Riaan was diagnosed with Cockayne syndrome and we were told he was going to die at a young age, the waters of grief could have easily consumed us,” Jo shared. “But I never felt we had all the pieces of the puzzle. We were grasping to decipher the meaning of the diagnosis for our family, for our shared destiny. We yearned to transform our tragedy into seva, to create the tools that could potentially help us all.”

According to Sikh wisdom, seva is about reducing other people’s suffering, and it’s about reducing our own suffering too. By undergoing the practice of serving others, we are growing as well. I heard that in Jo’s reflection, of how through this tireless work to potentially extend her son’s life, she herself found more humility, peace and a new perspective on what it means to accept God’s will.

“Perhaps that is how I have come to understand hukam,” Jo continued. “It is not waiting passively for the boat or the helicopter while insisting that faith alone will save us. It is recognizing those opportunities, answering the call to seva, and doing everything within our power while accepting that the final outcome is not ours to command. The journey matters as much as the end result, and through this journey, we have tried to do right by Riaan and practice the unconditional, pure, divinely inspired love that he so easily expresses for all.”

While Riaan remains clinically stable two months after treatment, it is too early to know the ultimate impact of the therapy. Nonetheless, Jo’s story demonstrates the power of seva. It was a way to help her child, to benefit other children who suffer from the same rare disease and also to help transform herself. May Jo’s story inspire all of us to live into seva, for ourselves and for all of humanity.

This essay was originally published by RNS in my column, Articles of Faith. Jo also shared the sweetest announcement video with me, which I’m sharing with her permission below!

A few years later, I received another call, asking about my interest in joining the team. I was astonished and also humbled. I ended up pursuing the opportunity and leading the program.

One of my main goals upon joining was to help bring the brilliant work of the program out into the world. We had an amazing and innovative team who helped us achieve this goal. We also had a project in the works to share our work as a publication. I had a bit of experience in publishing by this point. I wondered if a major academic press would be interested in a book on building religious pluralism that could be used by practitioners, scholars, and students alike.

It turns out that many publishers were interested in the project, and we ultimately signed a contract to produce the book with Oxford University Press.

It seemed like a simple proposition, but it turned into a massive project. We prepared a proposal for academic publishers, and we assembled a dream team of leaders to help write essays for the book. About four years later—and after many, many rounds of drafting and revising—our vision has finally coming into reality.

Our new book is officially out! It’s called Modeling Religious Pluralism: Cultivating Religious Equity in Today’s World.

Modeling Religious Pluralism makes a case for why religious pluralism matters and how we can build it to last. The volume is animated by a long-standing question and a critical issue of our time: How might we live alongside people who live and believe differently? The contributors are leaders in the field and represent a diversity of traditions, approaches, and issue areas. They offer a rich tapestry of interlocking perspectives—grounded in deep expertise and experience—to provide analysis, insight, and practical guidance for building religious pluralism. This book is for anyone and everyone interested in understanding the intricacies of interfaith, pluralism, justice, and equity.

It’s available wherever books are sold, and unlike most academic books, it’s available at an affordable price point. This was an important consideration for me, because the last thing I want is to create another inaccessible or unaffordable resource that has minimal impact on the world.

It’s been a lovely experience editing my first anthology, especially because I had the fortune of doing it with people I respect and admire. I’m going to paste a brief excerpt from the opening pages below. I hope you enjoy and will consider ordering the book today!

An excerpt from the preface to Modeling Religious Pluralism.

How do we deal with difference? This has become a central question of our time. Racial difference. Political difference. Cultural difference. Ideological difference.

Scholars, activists, and everyday citizens have discussed and debated these topics at length. And yet, there are some forms of differ

ence that have not yet received the attention they merit, despite their clear importance and urgency.

Our capacity to understand and engage with religion and religious diversity is one such issue. Religion is often overlooked, misrepresented, and misunderstood. Many people avoid conversations about religion, believing them to be too messy and too volatile.

On the occasions that people do discuss religion, it quickly becomes apparent that most in our society are ill equipped to deal with the complexities of religious difference.

The stakes are too high to continue operating in these ways. With surges in religious nationalism around the world and across the United States, it is past time that we develop a foundational understanding of how religion operates in our society and how we can engage religious difference in productive and meaningful ways. There are many leaders and initiatives working to advance that vision, and this volume is our humble effort to contribute to these efforts.

For the past fifteen years, the Aspen Institute’s Religion & Society Program has been working to make religious diversity an asset rather than a liability. We have recognized the global magnitude of this challenge and chosen to focus our work on the United States. It’s where we are situated, the context we know best, and a country where navigating religious difference remains a real challenge.

Through our convenings and research, we have determined that building a healthy society and democracy in this country necessitates a strong and robust commitment to religious pluralism.

What is religious pluralism? Since 2020, this has been our working definition: “Religious pluralism is a vision of the world in which diverse religious communities and non- believers engage one another in beneficial ways, maintain their distinct identities, and thrive and defend one anothers’ right to thrive.” In other words, religious pluralism is neither anti-religion nor pro-religion; it does not favor a particular religion or diminish another; nor is it a call for cultural relativism or an all- inclusive Unitarianism. Religious pluralism is a recognition that religions are different and specific, and that we can view them without assigning hierarchical value or placing them in competition with one another. The goal of engaging with religious difference is not to convince or convert, but instead, to disrupt bias, enhance understanding, and build empathy.

Religious diversity has often been targeted as a problem in this country. Figuring out how to navigate it has been a long- standing topic of debate, from before the United States was founded in 1776 to the present day. Religious missionaries have used the presence of religious difference to stoke fear and to advance ideologies of exclusion. This project offers another way forward, one that claims neither religious similitude nor religious supremacy, but instead, offers a path for appreciating the diversity that surrounds us.

While this book aims itself at the aspiration of religious pluralism, it is also grounded in present realities. This is to say, the authors and I are all keenly aware that not all religions have been able to claim equal footing in the United States of America, and that all religious communities have their own unique challenges.

This includes Christianity, which is often centered in how we conceive of religion and religious freedom in this country, as well as minoritized traditions like Hinduism and Buddhism, which have a strong presence in the United States but do not enjoy equal opportunities or freedoms.

As a scholar of religion, I am also keenly aware that religion itself is a problematic category, neither native nor universal in the way we often presume in our modern world. I am also aware that talking about religion in the singular, rather than religions in the plural, can reify presumptions of essentialism and homogeneity, privilege dominant narratives, and marginalize lesser- known traditions.

And yet, I am also aware that religion is an operative and important construct in popular discourse. In this volume, we have done our best to remain sensitive to these considerations in conceiving of and writing our chapters. One of the ways we have expressed this sensitivity is in our commitment to defining religion not based on what institutions or textbooks say, but on what it inspires people to do.

Implicit in our definition of religious pluralism is our position that the consequences of religious pluralism are positive and desirable. This is not to say that religion is always positive and pro- social. There are countless examples of how it has sown discord and division, hatred and violence. Many of the chapters in this volume speak to the suffering wrought by religious actors. What we believe, though, is that advancing religious pluralism has many positive outcomes that are worth naming explicitly, including enhanced civic engagement, social cohesion, trust, resilience, and belonging.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER OUR NEW BOOK TODAY!

Gunisha is one of the smartest people I know. She’s also one of the most dedicated to addressing human rights violations. She’s a physician and medical anthropologist by training, and for years now she has been medical director for the Weill Cornell Center for Human Rights. She has traveled the world to work on and address these topics, and she has served people from around the world who have endured displacement, persecution, and torture.

Now, she’ll be representing the United States on these issues. It’s a win in so many ways, but none more than for the advancement of human rights.

Gunisha was appointed by Senator Chuck Schumer. The Commission reports to the President, Secretary of State, and Congress. As part of her role, Gunisha will travel to other countries to investigate their human rights records.

There are a number of people who helped nominate her, advocate for her, and support her through the process. The list is too long to get into all the names, but there are many long-time friends in these spaces who went to bat for her. I’m grateful for all of them, and grateful for this larger community of people who care deeply about building a world where people can live into their conscience freely and fearlessly.

Here is Senator Schumer’s press release regarding her appointment.

The diverse makeup of students in my classes means that we always have fascinating conversations, and that our curiosities take us in new directions. The unexpected learnings are some of my favorite things about teaching.

One thing I can expect consistently, though, is that my students’ self-awareness and ethical commitments drives a conversation around authentic practice. Who is authentically Buddhist? How do we embrace the practices without appropriating them? And what do we do with the whiteness of American Buddhism?

These are constant questions in my classes, though this semester, the issues seemed more thorny than others. From the first day of class, I could tell that students were struggling with these questions at a more existential level, and I knew that I needed to address it with urgency and sensitivity.

That’s when I decided to phone a friend. The first person I though of was my friend Liz Bucar, a scholar of religion at Northeastern University. I’ve known her for several years now and have loved her writing on religion and culture. I loved her last book on religious appropriation, and I had read early drafts of her book on the wellness industry. Liz joined my class and helped us think through some of our challenges on these topics. Her insights helped provide guardrails that we’ve been returning to all semester.

I have directly benefited from Liz’s coaching and her wisdom, which is why I’m excited that her new book, Beyond Wellness, comes out today. It’s smart and engaging and so relevant to how religion and spirituality operate in our everyday lives. I highly recommend buying a copy, which you can do so here or here, or honestly, wherever books are sold.

I asked Liz to share a bit more about her new book, and she agreed to do a brief interview with me. Read below to learn more about her big ideas and why they matter. And before you go, please make sure to click on this link and buy her book!

Q: Your last book was about religious appropriation. This one is about the wellness industry. How would you describe the connection between the two?

Something that tends to happen with me is that by the time I finish one book, I’ve already started thinking about the next one. My last book had a chapter on yoga, on the ways the yoga industry, particularly in the US, is implicated in structural injustice, how it encourages things like spiritual bypassing and political quietism. But I ended that chapter feeling like I hadn’t given people anywhere to go. People find yoga genuinely useful. I didn’t want to just leave them with a critique.

So this book is sort of the next step: where do we go from there? It’s really about how we engage with religious diversity, with the religion of other people, with religion in general, especially if we ourselves aren’t religious. And wellness becomes the case study for that, because so much of what we’re consuming in the wellness space right now is a watered-down version of religious practices, things being marketed as “spiritual, not religious,” with the original context and community scrubbed away to make them more universally appealing.

But I also wanted to offer something more constructive. If the last book was trying to help people see that their yoga practice wasn’t as unpolitical or unproblematic as they thought, this book is more like, okay, so you like yoga. What could that practice actually be doing for you? Could you think about embodied movement not just as a way to transform your body or calm your nervous system, but as part of a bigger project of figuring out what a full human life looks like?

Q: You openly criticize the wellness industry, but you also participate in it. How do you reconcile those two positions? Do you ever find yourself feeling pushed and pulled about what’s appropriate and what’s not?

Yes, constantly. I am regularly confused and uncomfortable about this, and honestly, I think that’s a productive space to be in, especially for someone who is a professional ethicist.

I do practice a lot of what I write about in this book. And for research, I engaged with even the practices I didn’t have a personal relationship with (like sound baths and psychedelics), particularly in more explicitly religious containers.

Here’s how I think about it: a lot of us have figured out that the wellness industry didn’t quite deliver on what it promised, and that there are a lot of grifters in that space. But the desire for wellness, that’s real. I just think the bar has been set too low. I’m more interested in what I call real well-being: something beyond BMI, beyond longevity, beyond optimization in a performance sense. Something that asks what it actually means to have a full human life, and orients our wellness practices toward that.

Q: Your book reads like an exploration, and also like a service. It feels like you care about your reader and want to help protect them from getting hurt. Does my perception reflect your intention?

Yes, I think that’s right. The book is very much a personal exploration. I treat my writing a bit like my teaching, where I show you my missteps and my own journey, not because my journey is the right journey, but as an invitation to go on your own.

But I think I’m also writing a little bit as a parent. Like, look, I figured some of this stuff out the hard way, and I want to share it with you because maybe you didn’t know.

And I’ve been thinking a lot about the question of consent. These practices are powerful and can genuinely transform your life, but sometimes in ways you’re not expecting. And I want readers to know what they’re getting themselves into.

The book does not offer a checklist. It’s not one-size-fits-all. But I think the more people understand why they’re drawn to a practice, the better that practice can actually work for them. I want more from these practices, not less, and I think the way to do that is to put more context and content put back in. I want them to be more ethical, more meaning-making, and I want them to actually work better for us.

And I feel some urgency to that right now. There’s so much chaos and fear—politically, environmentally, technologically—and religions have been great conversation partners for humans trying to figure out how to move forward, even if you’re not religious yourself. That’s another thing I’m trying to offer: that there’s still a reason to engage with religion, even if you don’t identify as religious.

Q: What was the hardest part of writing this book? What has been the most rewarding aspect?

This is my fifth book, but my first trade book, and the hardest part was getting the tone right. It’s genuinely uncomfortable for academics, or at least for me, to write in a more constructive mode. I’m pretty good at pulling things apart. Building something up, offering a positive and future-directed vision? That’s harder.

And I was also working a lot of this out in real time, in my own relationship to religion. I’m not quite the bystander I’ve been for most of my academic career, and figuring out what I actually think, and then writing from that place, was its own challenge.

As for the most rewarding part: What I keep hearing from early readers is that I’m putting into words something people had felt but hadn’t quite been able to articulate. And that feels like public scholarship at its best. Taking all this history and these frameworks and concepts we’ve spent decades learning and teaching, and actually making them useful for people in their real, everyday lives. That’s been really rewarding.

Thanks for reading my interview with Liz. Before you go, make sure to buy her book, Beyond Wellness: How Restoring the Religious Roots of Spiritual Practices Can Heal Us.

The title—Modeling Religious Pluralism—is a play on words (what else would you expect from me?). The book presents a model for addressing inequities on the basis of religion. We developed these ideas at the Aspen Institute under the leadership of Meryl Chertoff, Zeenat Rahman, and Allison Ralph. One of its central premises is that while it’s important to talk about why religious pluralism and equity matters, the discourse on its own is not enough. We also have do the hard work of putting these ideas into practice in order to make the idea become manifest. It’s in this spirit that this book also explores the practical aspects of how we bring the aspiration of religious pluralism into reality.

At the same time, the book itself is meant to model religious pluralism in action. It has a diversity of authors, who come from a diversity of traditions, approaches, and fields. People are differently educated and differently convicted, and even their voices and styles of writing are different. Respecting their perspective and honoring their unique expertise is an exercise in what we mean by religious pluralism, and we hope that book shows people what religious pluralism looks like in action.

I believe strongly that no single person is the exclusive expert on anything, and that we all benefit when we listen to and learn from one another. It’s in this spirit that we designed this book as a collection of essays from leaders in the field of religious pluralism. I started working on it upon joining the Aspen Institute a few years ago, and many of the the people whose essays are featured in the book are people I worked with through that role. It’s a simple vision: I’ve learned so much from these leaders over the years. Wouldn’t the world be better off if more people had a chance to learn from them?

When we started this work several years ago, not many people were talking about pluralism. Not many people felt the urgency of this project, either. But in the last few years, the world has shifted, and conversations about pluralism seem to be everywhere. My view on pluralism is guided by a basic question: How do we change our culture so that we’re kinder, and more accepting, and better able to share the planet with one another? This seems to be one of the most pressing issues of our time. I find deep meaning in helping to bring forward some answers to that question.

It’s been a joy and an honor to work on this project alongside so many people I admire, not just for what they do, but also for how they do it. There’s so much to learn, and so much to do, to make our world a more fair and just place for everyone. I don’t take for granted how special it is to work in a community of people who are committed to this vision, and who live by practicing it, day in and day out.

Stay tuned for more about Modeling Religious Pluralism, its contributors, and potential events related to it. Excited to bring this book into the world and to share it with you all!

I loved all of it. What I loved most, though, is the picture book we read to them, or frankly, that our girls read to their classmates. The book is called The Garden of Peace, written by Navjot Kaur and illustrated by Nana Sakata. It’s a lyrical and imaginative retelling of Vaisakhi, and it beautifully communicates the context in which Sikhi emerged and the stakes of its founding. I’ve loved the book for years, and I was so happy to share it with the kids.

Reading The Garden of Peace to them, I remembered my own new book on Vaisakhi, illustrated by Japneet Kaur. I thought of how little there was on these themes when I was a kid, and how much there is for our kids now. I came out of the class to message Japneet about how proud I felt of our book, and I saw that she had posted the cutest video on Instagram. It was her first time seeing the silver sticker from the American Library Association on our book, A Vaisakhi to Remember, and I could sense her excitement.

These small joys have come in the face of global tragedy. There’s so much destruction and devastation all around us. War. Poverty. Corruption. Hatred. If joy is resistance, then maybe the spirit of Vaisakhi offers us a model for pushing back against what feels like darkness all around us.

I say this because when Guru Gobind Singh Ji gathered Sikhs in Anandpur Sahib for Vaisakhi in 1699, he was also dealing with to oppressive political conditions. War, poverty, corruption, and hatred were rampant. Tyranny and injustice were all around him. The guru fought back against these, actively and tirelessly. Addressing injustice was a central focus of his leadership. But that’s not all he did. Guru Gobind Singh Ji was also a lover of life. He enjoyed art and music, and he was known to immerse himself in singing gurbani—even in the face of battle. He found occasions for joy, and family, and community, without ever turning away from the harsh realities of his time.

In a moment of extreme duress, when empire is thriving and people are suffering, it can feel easy to lose ourselves in despair. At times, I feel that pull, too. But this is not the way of Sikhi, and it’s not the way of Guru Gobind Singh. What we learn through their example—including through Vaisakhi—is that we always have agency. We can always create something new. And we can always push for positive change.

It may not be easy, and it may feel like the odds are against us, but this is precisely why it’s so important.

May we all live into this spirit. Vaisakhi diyaan vadhaaiyaan!

A few years ago, I wrote an article for The Daily Beast to help explain what Vaisakhi is about. Read below to learn more.

Every April, communities across the world come together to celebrate Vaisakhi. For centuries, Vaisakhi has marked the spring harvest, and Punjabi farmers have celebrated this occasion with community gatherings and festivals.

Vaisakhi took on special significance for the Sikh community in 1699, when the tenth of the Sikh Guru-Prophets—Guru Gobind Singh (1666-1708 CE)—invited his disciples to join him in the city of Anandpur Sahib. At this gathering, Guru Gobind Singh formally established the Khalsa Panth (the community of committed Sikhs) and publicly entrusted it with leadership.

Every year on Vaisakhi, Sikhs come together to commemorate and reflect on this significant historical event. While the community holds a special place in its collective heart for this occasion, Vaisakhi is not a “holiday” in that the Sikh tradition does not regard any one time or day to be uniquely “holy.” Rather, it is an occasion for celebrating the community’s growth and for recalling a set of shared values and collective memories. In both its cultural and religious context, Vaisakhi is fundamentally about community, progress, and celebration.

Some people mistake Vaisakhi of 1699 as the initial moment of Sikh community formation, so it is particularly important to recognize that Guru Nanak (1469-1539 CE) started the process of forming the Sikh community nearly two centuries earlier. Among other things, he gathered disciples, created community centers, and established shared traditions. The community grew substantially under the leadership of his successors over the next 200 years, and the expectations and responsibilities of the community also increased during this period. This development culminated on Vaisakhi of 1699 when Guru Gobind Singh established a formal order of committed Sikhs—the Khalsa Panth—and bowed before its representatives as a way of indicating the transmission of corporeal authority. The Sikh theology urges cultivation of the individual self while also serving and nurturing the communities around us, an integration of the spiritual and temporal domains.

The 1699 inauguration of the Khalsa Panth also demonstrates an integration of the spiritual and political. The political aspects of this occasion are more apparent. Guru Gobind Singh’s decision to pass on political authority to the Khalsa Panth took place during a period of intense political tensions between the reigning Mughal Empire and the Sikh community. On this occasion, Guru Gobind Singh standardized a core of discipline, practice, and identity around which the Sikh community continues to be centered.

While playing a role in demarcating a community and enhancing group cohesion, these shared practices also play a significant role in enriching one’s spiritual development. One way in which this occurs is through ethical cultivation—a constant practice of discipline facilitates the cultivation of moral faculties. Aristotle referred to this moral training as habitus, the formation of habits through regular practice that informs our decision-making in diverse situations. Engaging with these bodily and ritual practices serves to enrich the human spirit within.

Similarly, the Sikh tradition posits that the role and significance of community is not limited to the political domain. Sikh doctrine emphasizes the central roles that communities play in shaping our spiritual journeys and encourages practitioners to seek out intentional communities that share the same ethical values and spiritual commitments.

In the Sikh spirit, Vaisakhi celebrates the integration of the spiritual and temporal worlds, and it provides practical avenues for bringing these to bear through shared values and practices. Vaisakhi is fundamentally about community, celebration, and progress, and these values are at the forefront of the collective consciousness as Sikhs gather together to mark the occasion.

Years later, when I was shopping my own memoir, I was astonished to realize that one of the offers for The Light We Give came from Anne Lamott’s editor, Jake Morrissey. He was at an imprint called Riverhead at Penguin Random House. I loved Jake’s personality and his vision for the book, and I loved that he had edited one of my writing heroes, Ms. Anne Lamott.

When my manuscript was ready, Jake started to send it out for endorsements. He mentioned Annie (as he called her), and I just about died. What if she hated the book? Or even just declined to endorse it? I’d never be able to write again.

I waited for weeks, worried about what she’d say. And one day, it finally came in. Jake emailed to let me know that Annie loved the book and was writing a lovely endorsement for it. My life was made. If only Annie knew then how much influence she had over a stranger’s life.

I thanked Annie, of course, and offered to thank her in person when my book tour went to California where she lived. She agreed, and maybe she was surprised when I followed up with her the next year while I was visiting the Bay Area. She offered to host a video interview with me while I was in town to help promote my book. How generous and thoughtful is that?!

I was nervous, and stopped to pick up flowers along the way, which I think I forgot to take out of the car until we were halfway through our time together.

We had a lovely time getting to know one another, though, and we’ve continued to stay in touch over the years. I visit her any time I’m in the Bay Area. When her last book came out, I went to the launch to celebrate her, along with hundreds of other New Yorkers, at the Symphony Space theater on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

Each of these interactions, whether in-person or online, whether on the west coast or east coast, has been infused with her signature kindness. Imagine how blessed I feel to have found this unexpected friendship in my life.

All of this is why I’m so excited to share that Annie has a new book on writing out now, co-written with Neal Allen, or as Annie calls him, “her personal husband.” It’s like Bird by Bird got a new lease on life, or evolved, decades later, with all of Annie’s humor and insights that the world has known and loved, and also now with another voice blended in, with just as much gravitas, depth, and wisdom.

I’m providing the link to their new book here. I’m confident you’ll love it as much as I do, even if you’re not an aspiring writer. It’s fun and meaningful for everyone! And think about it this way. The worst that can happen is that you order a book and support an incredible human being who lives with grace and kindness :)

There’s no reason we can’t do this in our online communities, too. Right?

So let me begin with an exciting win that has made me so happy. This past week, my mom, Parvinder Kaur, was honored by the San Antonio Spurs for her decades of community service. I love this for her.

My mom is one of the most giving people I know. She’s also the biggest Spurs fan I know. She watches every game and has had season tickets for years. For the last couple of decades, her primary focus has been on serving the people around her. It’s kind of her thing. So how cool was it for her to be at halfcourt during a Spurs game, with the whole stadium cheering her on.

Look how happy she is. Doesn’t that make you smile?

I also have to tell you about a project that another new friend has been working on. A few months back, a dear friend from years back reached out and said that someone was working on a project for kids that I’d be excited to know about. I invited an introduction and am so glad that I did.

It turns out that my new friend, Sandip Kaur Sodhi, has been developing books and dolls to help instill pride among Sikh children. Sandip very kindly sent me some samples of her work so that I could get a sense of it, and I immediately asked if I could share it with this community. It’s an awesome gift for kids of all backgrounds. It’s also the culmination of a beautiful vision and lots of effort from someone who cares.

Completing projects like this isn’t easy. Trust me. I have so many projects that I’m trying to deliver now. So I want to take a moment to celebrate Sandip’s passion and commitment.

I’m posting a photo of her dolls below. If you’re interested in supporting (perhaps as a gift for Vaisakhi!), you can order it from Niraali Creations or from their Instagram page.

During this time of war, violence, tragedy, and suffering, it can also be nice to focus on the positive and celebrate one anothers’ wins. I like to think of that as a virtuous cycle. If you’re up for it, ask a friend or colleague today what’s going on in their lives that feels exciting or meaningful. Who knows? Maybe it will be a step towards deeper understanding, empathy, and peace.

I just finished teaching a class on Guru Nanak. It was an intensive course, a whole semester packed into two weeks. It was a lot of work for everyone, me included. We met for about four hours each day. After class, we spent hours going through our assigned readings for the next day. And if that wasn’t enough, students had until midnight to submit reflection papers about their assigned readings.

Don’t feel bad for my students though. Anyone who signs up for a graduate seminar knows what they’re getting into. And don’t feel bad for me either. This class was one of the most rewarding teaching experiences I’ve had.

My position at Union Theological Seminary is in Interreligious Histories. I teach courses on the history of Islam and the history of Buddhism, and more recently, the history of religion in the United States. I’ve loved the role and feel grateful for the chance to help people of faith better connect with the past. This was my first time teaching a course on Sikhi, though, and there’s so much I gained from the experience.

Our seminar was made up of a diverse set of students, including a Sikh woman from California, an imam from Kazakhstan, and a Buddhist monk from South Korea. The day before the class, I realized that this isn’t exclusively a history class like some of the others I teach, or even just a class about religious studies. Teaching in a seminary means that I could center theology and lived experience. And when it comes to Sikhi, what better way to do that than to listen to bani.

Subscribe now

We began each session by listening to people singing from Guru Nanak’s writings. We started with nitnem—Japuji Sahib, So Dar Rahiras, and Sohila. Then we did his longer writings, like Asa ki Var and Siddh Gosti, and from there, we listened to shabads that he wrote, sung by various ragis and musicians. Some of it was in classical raag, and some of it was in contemporary styles. All of it gave us a chance to get to know Guru Nanak Sahib through his own words, and to experience his writings in the ways that Sikhs have for centuries. Sitting on the ground, eyes closed, letting the music wash over us.

Next, we would spend some time discussing key ideas from his teachings. We used the beautiful new translation of Guru Nanak’s bani by Nikky Guninder Kaur Singh. I highly recommend the volume and am linking to it here. Sometimes, we would go deep into discussing specific ideas. Other times, we would find ourselves appreciating the literary aesthetics and imagery of his work. As the course went along, we made more and more connections across different writings by Guru Nanak. It was a wonderful way to get to know Guru Nanak Sahib, again through his own words, preserved in his nearly 1,000 shabads in the Guru Granth Sahib.

In the second half of the class, we would return to our tables in the classrooms to discuss the other material we read for class. We spent time every day exploring the earliest account of Guru Nanak Sahib’s life—the Puratan Janamsakhi. We would read a few sakhis in English translation, and we would ask different questions about the text. What was it trying to convey? What does it tell us about the time in which it was composed? How did these stories about Guru Nanak stories circulate in Punjab? What do the different characters in the sakhis represent? What do we make of the immense amount of Gurbani woven into the anecdotes?

Asking different questions led us to develop different perspectives on the Puratan Janamsakhi, and each of them gave us different ways of deriving value from it. It felt meaningful to move beyond the standard question that most people typically ask (“Did that really happen?”). It also felt exciting to realize that in the course of two weeks, we studied and discussed more primary sources about Guru Nanak Sahib than many Sikhs get to read in their lifetimes.

In the final hour of each session, we discussed secondary scholarship on the life of Guru Nanak. We read from different books and from different articles, each of which took a different view on his life and teachings. We read from colonialist scholars who were former Christian missionaries, and we read from Punjabi Sikhs who were trained in history and philosophy. We read works commissioned by the British, and we read works commissioned by Sikhs. We read original scholarship, and we read critiques of scholarship. All of these created opportunities for us to understand the ways Guru Nanak has been read and understood, and how these understandings have shaped popular conceptions of him. They also laid groundwork for us to consider why these interpretations matter and how these interpretations impact our lives today.

Subscribe now

On the last day of the class, one of the students asked how teaching my own religion differed from teaching other religions as I typically do. My honest reflection was that I found it more enriching and more rewarding than anything I had taught before. It felt different to have skin in the game, even when I had zero interest in converting or convincing. I loved the experience of bringing the tradition I love into the classroom and share it freely. I also loved being able to extend beyond historical methodologies and to lean into the richness of religion.

I also shared the other side of the coin. That to teach my own religion meant I was even more aware of my biases than I typically am in teaching other religions. On the first day of class, I expressed the strangeness of my position: that I was a Sikh teaching about Sikhi, and that while I’m trained to recognize that my version of Sikhi is not the only version, my students might take my word for it by virtue of my authority. He practices Sikhi and he has a PhD in Sikh History. And besides, he’s in charge of our grades. Of course we’re going to accept whatever he says about Sikhi.

I was hyper-aware of this tension and tried to address it whenever I could. When explaining an idea, I would regularly point out that this was just my view and that other Sikhs would interpret it differently. I also brought in guest speakers to the class to share their perspectives, and while their reflections demonstrated some continuity among our perspectives, they also demonstrated the diversity within the tradition. In a way, it was a live view into the challenges of constructing history.

The question also made me reflect on how I grew as a Sikh through the class. I loved the emphasis on experiencing the bani each morning, listening to different renditions of it and just sitting with it. I especially loved exploring compositions I don’t know as well as others, like Siddh Gosti and Dakhni Oankar. Having people of other traditions in the room stretched me too, because they often shared different ways of thinking about ideas or poetry that I hadn’t considered before. One thing I’ve learned about teaching is that preparation is key. I spent hours for each class preparing, which meant that this course pushed me to read more about Guru Nanak, reflect more on his life, and think more about his legacy in our world. Isn’t that such a gift?

Subscribe now

I think my students benefited similarly. They had the chance to learn about a significant religious figure who was largely unknown to them, and many of them shared how studying Guru Nanak’s life and teachings helped them understand their own traditions and philosophies better. I love that. I also loved that many of them simply enjoyed reading and listening to his bani. There’s something so moving about being able to share what you love with the people around you.

Overall, the class was as rewarding as it was challenging. It felt like the good kind of effort, where one feels more energized after putting in work. I gained new insights, made new connections, and made new friends. It was a wonderful experience, and I hope to have more opportunities to teach about Sikhs and Sikhi at Union in the future.

I belong to a tradition that teaches us not to judge others. We’re especially discouraged from judging peoples’ religions and their ways of life.

At the same time, the Sikh gurus don’t hold back when they see leaders manipulating religious teachings to take advantage of people, or to hurt them. Gurbani is filled with critiques of these so-called “religious people.” They might be Hindus or Muslims, religious scholars or political leaders. Guru Nanak Sahib spares no one. Anyone who uses religion to hurt people is a burden on this earth.

If Guru Nanak was here in the United States today, I imagine that he’d direct his ire towards Christian Nationalists. Not because they have different beliefs than him, and certainly not because they claim to love Jesus. I think he would reject the ways they use religion as a disguise to manipulate people into accepting some of the most damaging belief systems we’ve witnessed in our lifetimes. Ideas which insist that some people are better than others; ideologies which convince people to see some as better and others as worse; ideologies that trick people into helping themselves at the expense of one another.

I think what Guru Nanak would point out, is that none of these ideologies ultimately bring us happiness. When we hurt others, we’re also hurting ourselves.

Scholars call this moral injury. The willingness to dehumanize others chips away at our own humanity. I’ve felt this myself in small instances, and I can’t help but feel like we’ve all been witnessing this in our society over the past decade. People who are hurt proceed to hurt other people. “Hurt people hurt people.” How do we break this endless cycle?

One answer is that we each develop our own interventions. I’ve tried my hand in my own ways, and I’m also grateful to others in my circles who do the same. That’s why I’m excited about a new podcast launched today—Reign of Error—hosted by Sarah Posner. In this show, Sarah examines and challenges the scourge of Christian Nationalism today.

I had an opportunity to interview Sarah about the show prior to its launch. Sarah Posner is one of the clearest and most rigorous voices on the intersection of religion and U.S. politics today. She’s the author of UNHOLY: How White Christian Nationalists Powered the Trump Presidency, and the Devastating Legacy They Left Behind, and her investigative reporting has appeared in outlets including Rolling Stone, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Politico, and Mother Jones. She’s also a go-to expert for journalists trying to understand how religious and political extremism operates inside the Republican Party.

Sarah is the host of Reign of Error, a new weekly podcast debuting on January 22 that starts with the news and pulls the thread all the way back—examining how white Christian nationalism and other forms of ideological extremism moved from the margins to the center of American politics. Blending sharp reporting with conversations with leading scholars, the show offers depth without jargon, and real clarity in an otherwise overwhelming media landscape.

I want to share my conversation with her here. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Subscribe now

Q: How did you develop the idea for Reign of Error, and what will distinguish it from other podcasts out there?

A: Brad, Ger, and I had several conversations about how we could make a podcast that would draw on the expertise of both scholars and journalists to help listeners understand the flood of news in the context of the right-wing movements that animate Trumpism. We hope this will help our listeners process the volume of news by understanding the ideologies and movements driving MAGA; the religious, business, media, and political figures that support it; and how that shapes its grassroots.

Q: The news cycle is so chaotic right now. How do you plan to keep up?

A: As a journalist who has covered Trump and MAGA since 2015, I have a lot of experience following these news cycles intended to inundate people’s timelines beyond comprehension. My goal is to combine my ability to rapidly process the news with my two decades of experience of covering Christian nationalism to guide engaging, illuminating conversations with experts.

Q: With this frenetic news cycle, do you think there’s an appetite for digging deeper into the religious ideologies driving Trump and MAGA?

A: Absolutely. We believe listeners are hungry to understand these attacks on our democracy beyond the latest social media post, and to develop strategies to combat the persistence of these anti-democratic movements in American pews and politics.

Q: Is Reign of Error only for religion nerds?

A: Absolutely not! While we will talk about religion quite a bit, this is very much a podcast about politics and power.

Q: Reign of Error is on the Axis Mundi Media Network. How does it fit with the shows they are producing? What’s the synergy behind working with a small boutique shop like them?

Subscribe now

A: Reign of Error is a marriage between up to date new coverage of Christian nationalism, the Trump administration, and rising authoritarianism in the US - with deep dives from experts. We are doing two things at once. This is really a combination of journalism and scholarship. Axis Mundi focuses on bringing scholarship to the grassroots. The goal is to educate in order to activate. It started with Straight White American Jesus, which aims to provide a grad seminar on religion and politics in podcast form. So Reign of Error is a natural fit with the network. Their other series - like Andrew Seidel’s One Nation Indivisible - break down separation of church and state and religious liberty issues, the historical entanglements of White supremacy and religion, and so on.

Q: What excites you most about this show?

A: A year into Trump’s second term, we are flooded daily with propaganda, disinformation, AI slop, and truly horrific news from across the globe. I hope we can help people better understand why this is happening, who is animating it, and how they cultivate and maintain power. Each week, we will close with a segment called Anti-Doom--that is, some good news from the week to give us hope that our fellow citizens or people in power are defending democracy.

Subscribe now

I went by myself, not knowing if I’d know anyone who’d been invited to attend and sit at near the front. I was in the third row on the westside of City Hall!

I walked in and saw a Muslim friend from Brooklyn who got some videos of me running the NYC Marathon in November while carrying a Zohran poster. Then I saw some Sikh friends from Manhattan two rows ahead of me. Then I started seeing friends everywhere. It was like a reunion, but at City Hall, and for a historic celebration.

One of the most touching conversations was with a Sikh friend who worked on Mayor Mamdani’s campaign. I mentioned to him how moving it was to see him pour his heart into something he believed in, and how, when he first started, this moment must have felt unimaginable. I’ll never forget his response. “That’s exactly why I decided to do this in the first place. Because it was so unimaginable.”

He also shared how good it felt live and work with integrity, that politics are often described as a series of compromises, and that he wanted to take a different path, one where, even if the outcome he hoped for seemed unlikely, it was still worth trying. His words gave me goosebumps.

It might sound trite as I share it with you, but as he told me, in that moment, in that context, and with sincere earnestness, I was reminded that some of the people I admire most—including some of our religious founders—were also political revolutionaries who insisted that ensuring the dignity of all people wasn’t radical, and that it wasn’t worth compromising. Sometimes, I look at their examples and feel like they were superhuman, that they set impossible standards, that everyday people couldn’t actually do what they did. Today, and especially through this conversation with my Sikh friend, I was reminded that it’s not impossible. What’s more, I was reminded that people with integrity are all around us. We have to open our eyes to notice and appreciate them.

It was a profound spiritual moment. Who would have thought I’d have one of those on the steps of City Hall?

The program was touching and energizing. AOC opened the program and got the crowd on its feet. Jumaane Williams inspired us. Uncle Bernie did his thing. And Zohran gave an address for the ages. The audience was lively and energetic. Positive vibes everywhere.

And then, as Zohran finished his remarks and walked across the stage with his wife Rama, the crowd was treated to a closing act. Babbulicious, a Punjabi Sikh singing his hit song, Gaddi Red Challenger. He wore a pink, rounded turban just like I did. I can’t tell you how many people texted me after to ask if I was rapping on stage after the inauguration.

After the program, a couple of Sikhs from Mamdani’s campaign brought a number of Sikhs from the audience to the stage for a group photo. It was cool to be up there with friends and fun to catch up. It was especially nice to hear about our friend’s experience who was on stage for the interfaith portion. And when we finally assembled for the group photo, there was the most powerful, unexpected moment. Someone let out a loud jakara on the stage.

Bole so nihaaaal!

Saaaaaat sri akaaaaal!

I got goosebumps again. Such a special moment.

I feel privileged to have been able to attend the historic inauguration of New York City’s new mayor. I feel energized by what I witnessed, especially among the people in the audience, many of whom have been working tirelessly to help create a new vision and a new future for our community. I’m hopeful about what’s to come in the future, not just in New York City, but in our political structures that are so badly in need of reform and repair.

And what I walked away with today was something I didn’t expect. A deep appreciation for people in my own community. Those who are continuing to teach me and inspire me through their daily example of living with integrity. Those who are showing up, despite the conditions and despite the prospects, knowing in their hearts that progress doesn’t necessitate compromise. And those who are coming together, even when it would be easier not to, because they believe there is something powerful about collective action. Today, I’m drawing hope from my community—sangat—and how being in their presence inspires me to reach for progress, too.

This is what I’ll remember from Mayor Mamdani’s inauguration. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

I was in South Carolina for latest episode of Undivided. I spent the week visiting plantations and old praises houses and churches. I talked to descendants of slaves about how their ancestors endured daily brutalities and hardship. The elders told me that faith had a lot to do with it, that faith was all they had, that after the most difficult days, the enslaved would gather in these tiny churches, and they would pray and sing.

If I’m being honest, when I hear these reflections, they feel like descriptions and theories that help make us feel better about the horrors of slavery.

But then, as I talked to them, the elders would start singing. They stomped and clapped as they sang. Some pulled out instruments. The songs transformed the room, and they transported me back in time. I could feel my spirit rising, my hope renewed. The experience was unreal.

Before, I had heard how faith carried a persecuted people through incredible adversity. Now, I could feel it. As one of the elders told me, they might not have had much, but they had song and faith and community, and that was enough. This was a source of strength, resilience, and survival. (I can’t wait to share more about this experience when our Undivided episode on the Black Church comes out.)

The day that I returned from South Carolina, I sat with my older daughter in our babaji room to practice kirtan. She played vaja, I played tabla, and she sang the shabad she’s currently learning. I’d heard it many times before, including the last several weeks she’s been learning it, but this time, given my recent experience, I heard it a bit differently.

ਠਾਕੁਰ ਹੋਏ ਆਪਿ ਦਇਆਲ ॥
ਭਈ ਕਲਿਆਣ ਆਨੰਦ ਰੂਪ ਹੁਈ ਹੈ ਉਬਰੇ ਬਾਲ ਗੁਪਾਲ ॥੧॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥
The Divine Master has been compassionate.
I’ve been liberated and become the embodiment of bliss. Vahiguru has carried their children across.

It’s a powerful shabad that touches on so many themes I’ve been thinking about this week. Liberation, compassion, kinship, joy. It also made me feel gratitude, putting my own experience in perspective. I have so much freedom and so much joy, most of which I take for granted. And once again, the music transformed the room and transformed me. There was something indescribable about how it felt to sing it. My spirit rising, my hope renewed.

When she finished singing, I asked my daughter to switch spots. She sat at the tabla, and I sat at the vaja. I sang a shabad I used to sing a lot in my childhood but haven’t for years, a passage from Guru Arjan Sahib’s Sukhmani Sahib.

ਸੋ ਕਿਉ ਬਿਸਰੈ ਜਿ ਘਾਲ ਨ ਭਾਨੈ ॥
ਸੋ ਕਿਉ ਬਿਸਰੈ ਜਿ ਕੀਆ ਜਾਨੈ ॥
ਸੋ ਕਿਉ ਬਿਸਰੈ ਜਿਨਿ ਸਭੁ ਕਿਛੁ ਦੀਆ ॥
ਸੋ ਕਿਉ ਬਿਸਰੈ ਜਿ ਜੀਵਨ ਜੀਆ ॥
ਸੋ ਕਿਉ ਬਿਸਰੈ ਜਿ ਅਗਨਿ ਮਹਿ ਰਾਖੈ ॥
ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ ਕੋ ਬਿਰਲਾ ਲਾਖੈ ॥
ਸੋ ਕਿਉ ਬਿਸਰੈ ਜਿ ਬਿਖੁ ਤੇ ਕਾਢੈ ॥
ਜਨਮ ਜਨਮ ਕਾ ਟੂਟਾ ਗਾਢੈ ॥
ਗੁਰਿ ਪੂਰੈ ਤਤੁ ਇਹੈ ਬੁਝਾਇਆ ॥
ਪ੍ਰਭੁ ਅਪਨਾ ਨਾਨਕ ਜਨ ਧਿਆਇਆ ॥੪॥

Why do we forget the One who doesn’t overlook us?
Why do we forget the One who is aware of what we do?
Why do we forget the One who has given us everything?
Why do we forget the One who is the source of life?
Why do we forget the One who cares for us in the midst of fire?
Only a rare few—with the Guru’s wisdom—realize this.
Why do we forget the One who lifts us out from poison?
Those repeatedly separated are reunited again.
Through the guru’s wisdom, this essential truth is understood.
O Nanak, divine people dwell on the divine.

We repeated the third and fourth lines as the asthaaee, and the more we sang them, the more I felt them. What’s wrong with us, that we forget the one who has given us everything, the one who has given us our lives and everything we enjoy?

Maybe this is the challenge of being human, that we forget, that we take for granted, that we overlook. I’ve felt this in so many moments of my life, being reminded to be grateful for what I have.

But today, I’m in a different state of mind, likely because of my recent visit to plantations in South Carolina. It’s given me a different perspective, not just on enslavement and injustice and suffering, but also on faith and song and hope. We can make our own hope—even in the harshest of conditions. It all starts with a touch of gratitude and a touch of faith.

Subscribe now

The best way to land Undivided with a major distributor is to show that people are excited about the show and supporting it. Your donations will really help to get the show on TV - every dollar counts, especially this week when a match fund will double or even triple your donations! Here's where you can donate today: www.dvnetwork.org/undivided

Thank you for supporting and spreading the word. Let's get Sikh stories on TV!

— Simran

The production team made a short trailer, which I’ll link here and share with you below. The episode is now moving into post-production, which means our director and production team are putting together all the material we shot into a complete episode. We’re also making a final push to raise funds for our episode. We’d love it if you’d consider donating, especially during Dasvandh Week while we have a match fund. The match opens on Friday morning, and your donations will be doubled or even tripled as long as funds last!

I loved the experience of learning about my own community, especially aspects of the Sikh experience that are so different from my own. We visited the first gurdwara in the United States, hung out with Sikh farmers in Yuba City, met with Sikh political activists in Bakersfield, and spent time with a Punjabi-Mexican descendant in LA. All of it was so eye-opening, and as I kept saying to our crew and director throughout our trip, there’s something special about hosting a show that features a Sikh story.

I’ll share some photos below from our shoot in California to give you a sense of the incredible level of quality that our team brings to this project. Please consider donating as we work to finalize production.

Thanks for any support you can offer, especially on Friday morning when the match opens. We’re so excited to bring this episode of Undivided into the world!

Subscribe now

The run was hard, but it was also really fun. I made a couple of friends on the subway, a young woman named Grace who was running for the first time, and a Sikh named Harinder who was running his fifth marathon. I got there early enough to stretch and warm up, and when the cannon went off, I was ready to go—along with 55,000 other runners.

I started out faster than I had planned, though slower than I had in previous races. It was hard to stay disciplined and remind myself what my timing should be. But I felt good, and my legs felt strong, and the weather was perfect. And there were SO many people cheering us along the way. The vibes were incredible.

A few miles in, I saw my brother and sister-in-law by their place in Brooklyn. A few miles later, I saw my childhood friend Jasdeep, who accompanied me for about a mile. Then I caught some of my daughters' friends. Everything felt so great.

Until mile 18. Then, my legs started to crap out. I had to stop and stretch a couple of times. I could feel my hamstrings tighten and my back stiffen. And there were definitely a few times I thought about giving up. Running a marathon is a psychological test.

But every time those thoughts crossed my mind, I’d think of Fauja Singh, and how much he endured. And those reminders were enough to power me through.

After crossing the finish line, I was walking home through Central Park along the marathon route where I saw another inspiration— Avtar Singh Tinne, a 76-year-old who has run 34 straight NYC Marathons. I had to take a picture with him too.

Subscribe now

I have no idea if I’ll make it to 76-years-old like he has, let alone 100, like Fauja Singh Ji. But man, what an inspiring weekend. I’m so grateful to have been able to participate in the world’s greatest marathon, to have been touched by Fauja Singh in his own life, and now, to be back on my feet running again, after seven years without a marathon.

Thank you all for your support throughout the training and through the race. I’m really really grateful.