By Michael A. Stusser

I recently had a conversation with a total stranger about what keeps us up at night. Nice old Jewish woman, Goldie, was losing sleep over the state of the environment and what we're leaving behind for the grandkids. I nodded in agreement, and shared my own fears about the government's massive deficit and how it would also be passed on. Together, we were trying to find ways to repair the world.

My chat with Goldie wasn't a random interaction on the bus or in line at the supermarket. It was a concerted effort called a “Listening Campaign,” organized by Sound Alliance — a partnership of over 50 religious congregations, labor organizations and civic non-profits — to identify common concerns in the community.

Based on renowned community organizer Saul Alinski's vision of building relationships around shared values, House Meetings have been held at town halls, unions, schools and other community spaces around the country for the last few years. The idea is that through one-on-one conversations — face-to-face meetings in places like houses and churches — two people who have never met can share the personal stories, hopes and fears concerning them. From these grassroots house meetings, common issues are emerging — affordable housing, health care, education, immigration. For those who want to take the next step, "Research-Action Teams" are formed to find ways to turn shared problems into solutions. At that point, the professional staff (from organizations such as the Industrial Areas Foundation and Just Congregations) step in and lead trainings and teach organizing skills. In many states, citizen groups have written initiatives for affordable housing or developed transportation packages.

Unlike the gridlock we see in Washington D.C., this bipartisan model seems to be working. In Boston, conversations came full circle: a gaggle of yuppies with ailing parents in elder care homes and a bunch of underpaid and overworked Haitian nurses at these facilities joined together to create a Patient/Worker Bill of Rights. Sometimes, the listening campaigns lead to smaller efforts. A group in Los Angeles, for example, wondered why some of their older members weren't coming to church as often, and found that many had been priced out of the local area, preventing them from being able to easily walk or drive to services. The congregants formed a vanpool that picked up their elder members, helping them out the door and back into the pews. In the Pacific Northwest, seniors are encouraging non-college-bound high school students to stay in school, by helping them find career paths of their own, through a project dubbed Opportunity Works.

I got involved through Jonathan Singer, the visionary rabbi at Temple Beth Am, in Seattle’s North End. Members mingled with men and women from other churches and denominations. It was a diverse group (for Seattle), and the most refreshing aspect, aside from seeing people of color, was that no one arrived with a preconceived agenda. Though many of us may have issues close to our hearts, the collective wasn't there for Gay Pride or Protesting the War or Separating Church and State or Earth First! — we were there to share, and listen. With an interfaith network, you get more bang for your political buck (and I'm not talking about the kind of bangs that are strapped to your chest and explode at checkpoints). Crossing racial, religious, ethnic and age boundaries, the conversations allow for the possibility that the common spiritual component we share can overcome differences and guide a community to social good. Muslims sitting with Christians sitting with punk rockers! What's next? Dogs and cats!? Oh my!

It seems funny that a Listening Campaign is now considered an innovative approach to engaging the community in political solutions. Used to be the local mayor would chat with patrons at the saloon about all the bottles and kegs strewn on Main Street, and round up some fellas (inmates, usually) to clean up on a regular basis. In 1751, Dr. Thomas Bond and Ben Franklin founded the first public hospital "to care for the sick-poor and insane who were wandering the streets of Philadelphia." Now that we're in a global community, with global problems (Global Warming, WTO, hunger, economy, epidemics, and their ilk) it's hard to know where to begin resolving our issues. Can Barack single-handedly reduce my kids' class size or bring me affordable health care in the next few years? Will Mr. McCain's "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" proposals get me out of massive credit card debt? Doubtful. What's needed, once again, is for individuals — neighbors, congregants, drinking buddies — to chat about the challenges on their minds, brainstorm ways to fix 'em (check out DonorsChoose.org) and take small steps that could actually help folks right here where we live. Sounds almost simple when you put it that way.

The other night I was chatting with my son, Riley, after he'd delivered a slice of his birthday cake to our elderly neighbor, Ruth. "Must be hard for her to go down all those steps and drag groceries and recycling around, huh?" he noted. Usually at this point I'd launch into parental soapbox-mode, rambling on about how well the Japanese take care of their aged, recycling rates in other countries, and how Bush has stolen money from Ruth's Social Security to pay for an unjust war. This time, I just sat and listened as Riley began formulating ideas and solutions of his own. "What we could do," he went on, "is make a ramp — I could use it part-time for skateboarding — and level out all those steep places…"

Michael A. Stusser's new book, The Dead Guy Interviews: Conversations with 45 of the Most Accomplished, Notorious and Deceased Personalities in History (Penguin) is now available in bookstores or at michaelstusser.com. To join or start a listening campaign in your neighborhood, check out soundorganizing.org.