On the corner of my desk is a small wooden box. Open the shiny rosewood cube and you will see a transparent dial containing a clock. At the top, a shiny round plaque reads “2010 CAIR-Chicago Award for Courage in Journalism: Neil Steinberg, Chicago Sun-Times. For a fair, accurate and inclusive media representation of minorities.”

That last word rings a bell, doesn’t it? Today, “minorities” has a discordant tone like it did in the 1970s and has fallen out of favor. Associated Press style advises against using the word as a noun because the truth is that we are all in some minority.

Any suggestion to the contrary (oh, for example, that this is a white, Christian, heterosexual nation, and that anyone else is somewhere between a tolerated guest and an unwanted intruder) exists only in the minds of a minority of Americans. , ironically; a large minority, unfortunately, requiring them to undergo increasingly vigorous distortions of the facts.

I mention the award, not to brag, but because of something I said when I received it at the ceremony. As I looked out at the more than 1,500 attendees in the western suburb of Oak Brook Terrace, women in headscarves, men with full beards and round embroidered caps (“CAIR” stands for Council on American-Islamic Relations), I spoke from the heart.

“I have been a consistent supporter of Muslim rights for one simple reason,” I said, or words to that effect. “Because I’m Jewish and I see you as just another hated minority trying to get through the day.”

That seems simple enough. Belonging to a group that has historically suffered the most horrific persecutions should make a person more in tune with the suffering of others. Because sympathizing only with yourself and with people exactly like you is neither deep nor brave. Quite the opposite: it is a failure of humanity, common as dirt and leading to many of the problems we see around us today.

You can observe the mistakes committed against your people and try to ensure that they never happen to others. Or be inspired by those mistakes to try to emulate them.

On the last Saturday in October, a 39-year-old Jewish man on his way to synagogue in West Ridge was shot, police allege, by Sidi Mohamed Abdallahi, 22, who, according to Chicago Police Superintendent . Larry Snelling, “planned the shooting and specifically targeted people of the Jewish faith.” Abdallahi was accused with attempted murder and, once authorities searched his phone, with hate crime and terrorism charges.

Accusations of terrorism seem accurate, as some Jews appear terrified. That’s why I write this, to convey a simple message: don’t be. Not just because that was the reason this crime was committed in the first place: to make a certain population feel afraid. Reacting with fear simply plays into the hands of the haters.

But also because this is not representative. Opposite; It’s a rare exception, and the way to keep it that way is to remember that the fundamental promise of America is that we are a country where you don’t get shot in the street because of the kind of hat you wear.

Yes, Chicago has bad neighborhoods where people get shot every day for no reason. But these are also exceptions. Crime continues to go down. Drive down Devon Avenue and stop, if you can, at Tahoora Sweets & Bakery, for their excellent chai tea with boiling milk, and stretches of sari shops give way to synagogues and schools.

If it’s Saturday, you may encounter groups of Hasidic families in their white shirts and wigs and children running around. No one shoots them, usually, and when that happens, our response shouldn’t be to collapse and declare ourselves terrified. I refuse.

Rather, we must remind ourselves of what we have. Yes, a very tense political moment. Which I would describe as those who can empathize with people different from themselves versus those who cannot, thus refusing to recognize any mode of existence other than their own. The rest, as Hillel says, are comments.

Sure, one can react to hate crimes by being afraid and seeing society as an even more horrible place than it can be. Or you can see these crimes as reminders of where allowing the pain of your own people to overwhelm you can lead you.

How does the 22-year-old man accused of the shooting see his future? Proof of the old saying that hate is like taking poison and waiting for someone else to die.

The aforementioned Jewish sage, Hillel, put it another way: when asked to summarize the Torah in one sentence, he responded: “What is hateful to you, do not do to others.”

That’s very simple. However, some people have a lot of problems with that.