By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO, Calif. —So many thoughts crowd into my head when I witness the images of warfare in the Middle East.  I am a Jew, loyal to Israel, where I have relatives through marriages.  I know how my fellow Jews and other Israelis are suffering, how the rockets fired at them from Lebanon and from the Palestinian territories do not differentiate civilians from military.

And, I am a human being who believes in the worth and dignity of all people, and so I ache when bombs dropped by Israeli warplanes also prove themselves incapable of distinguishing terrorists from civilians, and especially when I see children’s bodies being carried out of the rubble. The possibility that Hezbollah munitions, rather than Israeli bombs, may have caused the Qana apartment building explosion does not ease my anguish over the death of the Lebanese civilians.

Yitgadal, v' yitkadash…. We must mourn all those who die in this conflict; all of us are the children of the God Whom we magnify and sanctify with the Kaddish prayer.

Like so many people throughout the world, I wish that all this fighting had never occurred, and that neither side had a legitimate reason to continue it.  But as a student of history, as one who has seen hopes for peace in the Middle East dashed again and again, I know that the warfare will continue.  Parents on both sides will mourn their children, and orphaned children on both sides will seek to avenge the deaths of their parents.

People in the rest of the world voice concern about the suffering of the non-combatants, and, in an abstract sort of way, they do care—even as they care about the victims of tsunamis, earthquakes, airplane crashes, building collapses and other disasters of natural and man-made origin.

But soon enough, the world’s attention turns to another crisis, another disaster, and the sense of caring about “old” and “previous” crises abates.  For example, has the world already forgotten those who suffer in Darfur? Whatever the broadcast and cable media turns their attention upon gets our attention, at least temporarily, and often to the exclusion of other important problems. 

There are, it would seem, only so many problems that human beings can attempt to resolve over and above the ones that personally affect their own lives.  While we in North America, Europe, Latin America, Australia, island nations and the non-Middle Eastern portions of Africa and Asia worry about our own personal problems, the people of the Middle East worry about theirs.   The thinking in that region has become so calcified, so burdened with symbols and clichés and loyalties, that people believe that if they were to just eliminate this enemy or that enemy all their problems would go away.

From time to time, I have felt the surges of hatred course through my own psyche.  I too have believed that if only this government were toppled, or that leader should suddenly be removed from power, problems would be solved.  But such beliefs were proven naïve and foolish:  somehow, the next government is no better than the previous one, and the horrible leader is succeeded by one just as bad or worse.

There are those who say there simply is no solution to the conflict in the Middle East; that the fundamental differences between Israel and its neighbors can never be resolved, only managed.  Those who believe this also believe that the border skirmishes that occasionally flare into hotter wars, then cool down again under international pressure, actually are the way the Middle Eastern conflict is “managed.”  Somewhere between all-out war, and all-out peace, these short-duration conflicts permit both sides to vent the pressures they are under, while maintaining the status quo. 

What should we Jews living outside of the Middle East do?  How may we remain loyal to and supportive of our fellow Jews in Israel, and still contribute to the cause of international peace?  While rightfully insisting that Israel has the right to defend itself against attacks from its enemies, how should we work towards achieving conditions of peace so those attacks will not occur?

I don’t have the chutzpah to suggest that I possess any global answers. My suggestions deal with the little bit each of us, as individual Jews, can do.

I believe first and foremost we have to demonstrate that our love for Israel does not preclude us from sincerely desiring peace nor from having a genuine regard for the welfare of all people, be they fellow Jews or members of other religious groups. 

We must treat other people, even those who are our political adversaries or military enemies, with dignity and respect.  We must resist the temptation to stereotype any group of people—especially our political adversaries and military enemies. Through our words and our deeds, we must signal that we are committed to Israel’s well-being and, at the same time, are genuinely ready for peace whenever our adversaries show that they are as well.

As American Jews, let us try to help Israel and its neighbors find alternatives to reflexive warfare that ultimately resolves nothing.

Let us encourage the United States and other nations that sincerely want to promote cooperation rather than confrontation in the region to keep trying to do so, to keep looking for opportunities for small gains, to continue searching for chances to build up good will, and to never abandon the goal of peace. 

Arabs, Israelis, Americans.  Muslims, Christians and Jews—all of us are proud peoples, who have contributed much to the world.  We all deserve to flourish in at atmosphere of cooperation and peace.  Let us search our hearts—all of us—to see how this can be made so.