My best buddy from college is Jewish. Even though he’s moved to a different state, we still maintain contact. I remember the first time he learned I was Catholic. He snickered as he shared a story with me, an old “wives tail” he was told as a kid: “Watch out for those Catholic kids. They’ll chase you down and drink your blood.”

I laughed when he told me this, certain he was kidding. He wasn’t. He actually believed Catholic kids hated him. Hopefully that fear wasn’t supported by someone’s ignorant words.

We’ve been friends now for more than two decades. He’s come to my church for events. I’ve come to his house for Passover. We share a mutual respect for one another. I’ve never been bent on “changing” him, nor has he tried to compel me to the nearest Jewish temple. And oddly, that fear has never resurfaced.

That friendship came to mind as I entered into discussion with my students one day. They were wondering how we all lay in God’s proverbial “pecking” order — Jews, Catholics, Protestants … even atheists. I answered in a way that endeavored to revere the differences between us, while still maintaining the truths of my faith. And I tried to underscore the most vital concept — and perhaps the most overlooked — about who God is: a loving Father.

I have two young, beautiful daughters. Their personalities are as different as they could be. When they were younger they would occasionally forget their lunches at home. My wife would then drive their lunches up to the school. My oldest daughter, God love her, didn’t usually realize she’d forgotten her lunch. When meal time came, she would walk to her cubby hole and grab her lunchbox without missing a beat, unaware that her mother had “graced” her with its presence. My younger daughter, on the other hand, would immediately recognize that she’d left it at home. So, naturally when the lunch “magically” appeared in her cubby hole, she had the wherewithal to recognize the “source” of its appearance. What’s the connection? Both daughters were loved. Both daughters were graced. But only one recognized the source of that grace.

Our Catholic faith is clear when it comes to the theological concept of “salvation.” Perhaps that’s why I love being part of it: because it portends to extend salvation to … well, non-Catholics. When I told this to my students, they seemed dumfounded. And I reminded them of what I’ve come to understand as another “truth:” most people don’t hate the Church because of what it teaches; they hate the Church because of what the media tells them it teaches.

Fact is, if God is the loving Father we’re promised He is, that love extends to all — both the one who recognizes the “source” of that lunchbox appearing … and the one who doesn’t. I’m glad I do — because I “forget my lunch” a lot. When we have the ability to recognize the source of our graces, doesn’t that make us happier people?

So, who is responsible for our lunch box appearing? The teacher who takes it from the principal? The principal who takes it from the mother? Or the parent who recognizes it sitting on the counter and runs it up to the school?

I’m still close with my friend. I’ll bet we wouldn’t be if every time we met I tried to proselytize him. The Catholic Church to which I belong reminds me that I am saved by my faith in Christ, and my ability to work to respond to that grace. But I love that I belong to a Church willing to recognize that other faiths have “aspirations toward grace” that God can and likely does recognize.

My friend teased me the other day when I told him I wanted to see “Son of God” at the theater. He said: “Hey, Paul. Spoiler alert. He dies in the end.” I answered by saying: “Yes … but in the sequel, he rises.”

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Paul Stuligross teaches theology at Livonia Ladywood High School and is a former police officer.