All God’s Children

April 6th, 2024

Passover is coming soon, and its meaning seems a bit different this year. Pesach is all about freedom, in particular the liberation of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. In one sense, it is the reliving of the Jewish triumph over the power of the Egyptian army. It is the story of a glorious and miraculous victory, but there are also subtle nuances involved. The following quote applies:

“Yet our celebration of this extraordinary victory is muted: the Hallel, the psalms of thanksgiving, is recited in abbreviated form on the seventh day. According to the Taz, a famous 17th-century commentator on the Shulchan Aruch, we shorten Hallel on the seventh day in remembrance of our enemies who perished. The Taz’s comment is based on the Talmud, which imagines a divine cry of pain and grief, directed at the angels about to sing their morning song: ‘The work of my hands is drowning in the sea, and you sing songs?’ (Sanhedrin 39b). At this moment of exhilaration and triumph, God commands us to feel empathy for the defeated. – by Benedict Roth from an essay in The Jewish Chronicle

Hamas is not by any means defeated. The war in Gaza is not over, and there seems to be no chance of it ended any time soon. The Israeli forces are engaged in a slow, grinding type of urban warfare. In the process of uprooting their enemy, the Israelis have killed over 31,000 civilians. When the Israelis win this war, if they can win in any meaningful way, will there be any empathy for the noncombatants? What is the end result of this bloodshed going to be?

I go to an Orthodox synagogue about twice a month on Shabbat. The war in Israel and Gaza is always front and center in the minds of all the congregants. They all support Israel, and they are all very concerned about the hostages who are still held by Hamas. Yet, in talking to a few of the members of the shul, I find that there is also an uneasiness about the violence and destruction in Gaza. As one man told me about the Palestinians,

“They are people too.”

We are all God’s children.

At every Shabbat morning service, we all pray for the U.S soldiers and government, and we pray for the soldiers and government of Israel. When I first started going to the synagogue, I was bothered by this prayer. However, I have found a way to deal with it.

When my oldest son, Hans, was deployed to fight in Iraq in 2011, I prayed for him every day. I prayed that he would return home safe and unharmed. He came back, but not unharmed. I prayed that he would never have to take the life of another human being. He did kill people, and once it was up close and personal. God brought Hans home, but my son returned to us a very different man.

When I pray for Israeli soldiers, I pray for their safe return home. I pray that they never commit an unnecessary act of violence. I pray that they never suffer a physical, psychological, or moral injury. I don’t want these Israeli soldiers to go home changed for the worse. I know how that is.

At the same time, I pray for the people of Gaza. Some of them are ruthless killers, but many of them are innocent, as innocent as people can be in our world. Most of them don’t deserve this agony.

When the war started in October, I emailed a friend from the synagogue, and I emailed a person I trusted at the Milwaukee Muslim Women’s Coalition. I had the same question for both of them:

“To whom can I make a donation that will help in Gaza, but won’t get somebody killed?”

My Jewish friend suggested giving to Magen David Adom (the Red Star of David), which is the Israeli version of the Red Cross. My Muslim friends suggested SAMS (Syrian American Medical Society).

I give to both.