This morning, I woke up to Hamas (a Palestinian Sunni-Islamist organization that governs the Gaza Strip, with an associated military wing) conducting a stunningly broad and fierce attack on Israel. I have been glued to event coverage, flipping between written, audio, and television news sources. I can’t look away and don’t understand how anyone else in the world could be thinking about anything else. It feels like the world is on fire.
I am a pacifist Baptist minister, and I believe that Christ calls all of us to lives of pacifism. Given that background, you might think you know what my thoughts are on these developments. But I think it is vital that we talk about what “peace” is.
Most of us think peace is the absence of violence. Peace is that and so much more. Peace is the freedom to thrive. There has been no peace in Israel and Palestine since modern Israel’s creation in 1948—for either side. I say this because occupation takes just as big a bite out of the soul of the occupying force as it does from the occupied population, though in very different ways.
My aim is not to provide a history lesson, though I think that as people who strive to be fully present in the world, we must educate ourselves deeply on this issue. As a Christian pastor, I want to meditate on what Jesus is saying in this moment and pray that this meditation somehow leaves us better off. Let me assure you I do not have the answer, but I do have some suggestions of what we can do instead of falling down a well of helplessness or anger.
Love as Justice and Mercy?
Christ, and indeed the entire bible (“and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” — Micah 6:8b), calls for a world of justice and equity when he quotes Isaiah and says,
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to set free those who are oppressed,” (Luke 4:18).
Jesus also tells us, “do not resist the evil doer” (Matthew 5:39), to “love your enemies and pray for those that persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). Loving ourselves is hard enough. How are we supposed to love our enemies?
If I were a Palestinian, how am I supposed to love an occupying force? If I were an Israeli, how am I supposed to love the enemy that has just rained down over 3,000 rockets on a place I call my home and is (as currently reported) taking civilian hostages? As an impassioned bystander, whose side am I supposed to be on? What am I supposed to be doing?
At times like this, I can begin to understand how Jesus felt when he said, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me." (Matthew 26:48). There are three things we can take from this scripture to challenge and instruct us at this moment.
Life Involves Debilitating Tragedy
If even Jesus was overwhelmed with sorrow, we can be sure we will as well sometimes. To be alive means we will be in the valley of the shadow of death at times. This is not the end; it is simply part of the journey. We will have to go through moments that bring us to our knees. Depending on how close you are to this issue and the general pulse of human suffering, this is one of those times. While it is tempting to believe that a good life mandates freedom from such moments, our hearts will again and again be broken open. Knowing that how you may be feeling is something that will happen is an awareness that I hope will steel your resolve to get through it.
Knowing this also brings us face to face with the universality of human suffering, which should bring us to an understanding of the interconnectedness and interdependency of humanity. We are all in this together more profoundly than we may imagine. What happens to one of us—in different ways and at different times—happens to all of us. Uniting with our fellow humans should open up our hearts to love and care for our neighbors, and yes, even our enemies, as ourselves.
Don’t Run from the Impossible Moment
Jesus invites his disciples to stay in the moment of deathly sorrow. Why would anyone want to dwell in the difficult and seemingly unanswerable moment that is now? Surely, it would be better to advocate for whatever course of action would allow us to move on quickly: change the channel, drink it away, bomb—whatever side you prefer—to oblivion, or simply shrug the matter off as unresolvable and not your concern. Romans 12:15 (“Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.”) reminds us that tragedy is always our concern, whether it happens to us or to an enemy thousands of miles away, because we are all one people and truly rise and fall together.
I believe that “peace in the Middle East” and other such issues that we have begun to think of as unfixable only remain so because we are not sufficiently and universally motivated. If we all wept with those who weep—on both sides—, if we stayed in those moments instead of being desperate to escape them, better possibilities would arise.
Be In Community
Jesus asks the disciples to stay with him in his sadness. Community is where our strength and power lies. I have no answers, but I know they will never be found in isolation. Do not be alone. Reach out to your friends, colleagues, and associates. Contact those you know who are Israeli, Palestinian, Jewish, Muslim, Middle Eastern, and human. You don’t have to know what to say. You don’t have to pick sides; just let them know that you are here and keeping watch with them.
What people need most of all in moments of crisis is love. Real love cannot be activated without authentic presence. In chaplaincy, there is a term called “the ministry of presence.” Let those going through Hell know they are not alone simply by being there (don’t fall asleep like the disciples did with Jesus, but you get the point). This need not only apply to those who are directly affected but also to all who are in distress. The more we remain in community during tragedy, the more we realize that what impacts one of us impacts all of us. Only when that happens is true communal transformation possible.
In Conclusion
Real peace—where all are not merely free from violence but are free to flourish—is far from us at this moment. I have no idea what the answer is, but I do know the way forward from this impossible moment: 1) Know that we will all be confronted by tragedies like this, and this is what unites us; 2) don’t run from the feelings you are experiencing but let them push you forward to compassionate and transformative action; and 3) embrace the ministry of presence by being in community with all those affected by this.
Jesus’s response to his deathly sadness did not stop at the three steps I’ve listed. He continued on to pray without ceasing and to strengthen his resolve to do what he had been called to do. You, too, can ask God what God wants of you now. You can only do what you can do, but you are obligated to do no less than that. I pray these steps can get you started and that we all will unite in working to make peace a reality.