My maternal grandparents wanted to emigrate to Israel. Growing up as extremely poor Jews in Poland, in 1920 they were barely out of their teens when they caught the dream of a safe homeland for Jews, governed not by hereditary leaders, but by the people. With no ships willing to transport Jews to what the British mandate was then calling “Palestine,” they ended up emigrating to the United States instead.
But for this accident of fate, it could have been me, caught in the middle of the conflict between Israel and Hamas.
Those of us who take turns writing these weekly prayers usually compose prayers that “we” can say together. But this is deeply personal. Growing up atheist/agnostic/humanist with Jewish heritage, becoming an Episcopalian 35 years ago, I know too many people, too many perspectives, on all sides of this conflict. I am too aware that but for a bit of DNA, a chance of geography, a different upbringing – I could have been any one of them. And so, invoking World In Prayer “founder’s privilege,” I invite you into my personal agony of trying to figure out what to pray…how to pray…when the intolerable seems unsolvable.
It could be me – heart torn to shreds by a death caused by Hamas, a death caused by Israel. Afraid to pick up the phone for fear that it will bear bad news about one of the missing. Terrified that the victim of the next strike will be me. Terrified even more that it might be someone I love.
It could be me, trying to understand how people who live at vast distances from borders and vaster distances from possible enemies can fail to comprehend the immediacy and urgency – and desperation – when the enemy who has sworn to destroy you lives less than 50 miles away.
Lord, have mercy.
For over 2000 years, time after time, country after country, Jews have settled, been welcomed as neighbors, raised families, owned businesses and property, founded synagogues, served as valued national leaders and government advisors – only to have the hydra heads of supposedly-dead antisemitism rise up again in another era. Time and again, country after country, they were denied their rights, their livelihoods, their property, their lives -with the remainder forced to flee. It could have been me, knowing in my very bones, that the Holocaust that happened under Hitler’s regime was not an isolated blip but a horror that has happened over and over, and will undoubtedly happen again. Knowing in my very bones that Hamas’ charter of exterminating all Jews was not rhetorical posturing but deathly promise. It could have been me, trying to find a way to make sure that no matter what happened elsewhere in the world, Jews would have a safe place to come. It could have been me, trying to build a country based on the principles of democracy and equality and justice – yet struggling with the reality that those same principles in time make my own people outnumbered, unwanted and exiled from the very country they founded. It could have been me, trying to weave an uneasy compromise between those two imperatives, and facing the world’s anger because we could only dream, and hope, and pray for a resolution. It could have been me.
Lord, have mercy.
When the British carved out a piece of the Middle East to become Israel, European nations still believed in their right to colonize. They still believed that if a land appeared sparsely settled and undeveloped to European eyes, it was free to be taken. There was no thought to the rights of those who originally lived there. It could have been me, believing that land was mine to be taken by force. It could have been me, driven from the land of several generations of forefathers. It could have been me – enraged, resentful, jealous of Israel’s growing prosperity – who became swept up in the movement to violently expel of the invaders and reclaim what was rightfully Muslim land. It could have been me, who passed on the determination for revenge at all costs to my descendants, and their descendants after them.
It could have been me, living in Palestinian territory yet turning away from terrorism and jihad. It could have been me, convinced that the Prophet’s way was one of peace and mutual respect among all religions and nations. It could have been me, wanting to speak out, yet knowing that to oppose Hamas meant death.
Lord, have mercy.
It could have been me, on any side, on all sides, unable to distinguish rumor from truth, fact from vilification. Dear God, may it not be true that Hamas are deliberately using children as shields. Dear God, may it not be true that they would rather let millions of their own people die than release the hostages. Dear God, may it not be true that Israelis have become vigilantes, attacking entire communities. Dear God, may it not be true that either side or both is only claiming to care about civilian lives while deliberately killing them. Dear God, may it not be true that the origin and escalation of these hostilities is being plotted and manipulated by other countries for their own gain.
Lord, have mercy.
It could have been me, not living in either of the warring countries, expecting a negotiated, two-nation settlement to work – forgetting that it is impossible to negotiate with terrorists and extremists. It could have been me, forgetting that you cannot end abuse in any form by trying to placate the abuser. It could have been me, forgetting the lessons learned in World War II, that appeasement only leads to more carnage. It could be me, pleading and pleading and pleading with God for a way to stop brutality in all its forms, in all countries.
Lord, have mercy.
It could have been me remembering the 6 million killed in the Holocaust, the genocides in the past century in Darfur, Rwanda, Armenia, Ukraine and Namibia, the Killing Fields of Cambodia, the “ethnic cleansing” in Bosnia, the Rape of Nanking in China. It could have been me, knowing that there are some evils so horrendous that they can only be stopped by mass destruction, even at the cost of innocent lives. It could have been me, vowing that it will never happen again, not to my people, not to any people. It could be me, condemning Hamas’ terrorist October 7 attack as heinous beyond belief – yet shaken by the scale of Israel’s response. Wondering if this is a time when violence necessitates greater violence for sheer survival or if there is any other way. It could be me, as the conflict between Hamas and Israel escalates and other countries threaten to join in, no longer clearly able to distinguish the aggressors from the victims – if I ever clearly knew. It could be me, wondering how to stop evil without becoming evil.
Lord, have mercy.
But for an accident of geography, I could have been a peace-maker, a peace-wisher in this troubled land. I could have been shared a moment of grief, of consolation, with someone on the other side. I could have been a mother catching the eyes of another across a public space, and knowing that the bonds of motherhood transcended all the worlds of difference. I could have worked in one of the hospitals serving the injured from all sides. I could have been a member of one of the many groups working to build friendships and understanding Palestinians and Israelis, Jews, Muslims and Christians. I could have been a rabbi, an imam, a priest, storming the heavens with prayers for peace.
It could have been me.
It could have been any of us, in any country.
It could be all of us.
Peace.
Shalom.
Salaam.
Lord, have mercy.
It could be all of us , Lord, have mercy