Why are so many of your friends named Muham­mad?” my then 8-year-old daugh­ter asked as she read the roster for a course in which I was the only non-Muslim.

I explained that Muslims consider Muhammad the greatest prophet, and many name their firstborn son after him as a sign of respect.

Neither she nor I was satisfied with that answer. So, I took her question to my friends, who informed me that the hadith, a collection of Muhammad’s sayings, includes the promise that anyone who names their son Muhammad will experience blessings in this life and the next.

This interaction also gave me the opportunity to share why we chose the name we gave to our firstborn son, a name that reflects our desire for him to grow into a peaceful bearer of Christ.

For five years I have been a member of a cohort of interreligious learners. We are Christians, Muslims, Buddhists and Hindus, as well as people of no religious affiliation. My new friends and I have studied our respective traditions, often with the guidance of a Catholic priest.

We have developed the kind of relationship that allows us not only to ask questions about things like child-naming practices but also to explore deeper matters of life and faith.

When we interact with people from different faiths, we get out of the echo chambers that reaffirm what we have always believed. For instance, it is difficult enough to explain the doctrine of the Trinity to a fellow Christian. But defining it to a non-Christian makes me take the time to learn more about the faith I profess.

My friends ask questions I’d never considered, moving me beyond the stock responses I’ve learned. When I answer, I seek to embody the words of 1 Peter 3:15 to revere Christ as Lord while being prepared to give the reason for the hope I have, with gentleness and respect.

I find this to be a helpful practice with anyone, including Christians whose beliefs differ from mine. When I surround myself with those who think as I do, I fail to take my understanding deeper than the surface. Asking critical questions — not to condemn, but to learn — develops a more robust faith.

Studying with others reveals the shortcomings in my methods of interpreting the Christian faith. One quickly recognizes that the challenges the Christian church faces are not unique. For instance, other traditions wrestle with how to weigh non-scriptural sources like philosophy, reason and nature.

The psalmist says, “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork” (Psalm 19:1). What is the role of nature in theological reflection and discernment?

I have found it helpful to see how other traditions use these sources. Observing their methods helps me improve my approach to studying the Bible.

I’ve learned to appreciate the diversity within other religions. This helps me avoid the out-group homogeneity effect: We tend to see the members other groups as more alike than the members of our own group.

We might assume all Muslims believe this or all Hindus believe that, though we know our own group is diverse. We say things like, “Yes, I’m a Christian, but not that kind of Christian.”

I have my own opinions, which aren’t always reflected in popular expressions of Christianity. I don’t want to be judged by the worst versions of my faith tradition. My friends from other faiths feel the same way.

My studies have focused on nonviolent interpretations of religious texts. I am encouraged by the growing body of work on nonviolence in traditions like Islam, which many Christians label as violent. I often come across familiar names from the Mennonite tradition, as writers from other faiths recognize them for their contributions to peacemaking.

Each of the world’s religions contains a wide range of beliefs. I want people to understand my faith on its own terms, as I understand it. I pray that I will have the courage to do the same for them.

My interfaith community helps me be a better Christian. Proverbs 27:17 reminds us that one person sharpens another as iron sharpens iron. My friends, including the many Muhammads, have sharpened my faith.

Kevin Gasser is pastor at Staunton Mennonite Church in Virginia and a Ph.D. candidate in comparative theological ethics at Georgetown University.