Some of my siblings are unequivocal in their support of Israel, and some of my children are unequivocal in their support of Palestine, leaving me uncomfortably caught in the middle, supporting everyone’s right to live in peace—including mine.
I’m grateful for the sibling who emailed his disagreement with what I wrote about choosing not to celebrate Passover this year. We followed up with a phone call, which was cordial and informative. I acknowledged his support of Israel’s war against Hamas, which has caused so much “collateral damage,” as the slaughter of civilians is called in warfare. He compared it to the Blitz, when Germany bombed London in World War II, and to the use of atomic weapons, when the US bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I still don’t think going to war in response to the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7 was the best response.
Another sibling emailed me, either misunderstanding my opinions or deliberately fabricating falsehoods to justify his incoherent outrage, and accusing me of committing atrocities by holding any sympathies for Palestinians. He accused me of being both an antisemite and a misogynist. This sibling then conflated my stance with those of my children.
Some of my children have expressed public sympathy for Palestinians and are outraged by the death and destruction of so many civilians in Gaza. One sends me articles to read and tells me about co-workers whose relatives in Gaza have died; another invites me to the Jewish Voices for Peace protests she attends. I read most of the articles, but have not participated in a protest.
I’m caught in the middle.
Ambiguity is uncomfortable. It’s also where I live: in a place that can hold compassion for everyone who suffers from fear, injustice, and warfare. What I have learned from this ambiguity is that war is not the best way to solve disagreements. Violence begets violence, and even the so-called winners are losers. Everyone has already lost so much.
What I believe in is a restorative process, where people in conflict own up to the harm they have caused and articulate the harm that they have suffered. Then, working together, adversaries negotiate ways to repair the damage they’ve done to one another. I don’t see this conflict in the Middle East as Either/Or, which bothers my relatives who do.
This is a conflict that has been going on for generations and taken more lives than can be counted. It’s a conflict perpetuated by warfare.
What I would like to see is the ancient Ethic of Reciprocity used to guide those in conflict.
The Ethic of Reciprocity requires people to treat others as they’d like to be treated themselves. It’s not always easy to follow. Not for countries and not for individuals. As much as I wanted to reply to my sibling’s hateful email with invective of my own, I reiterated my invitation to a family gathering instead.
Dear Deborah,
I’m so sorry to hear that you are caught up in the middle of family conflict over this. And I totally agree with you that the only way forward is peace and reconciliation. Violence only leads to more violence. Perhaps the men in charge of ordering attacks, on whatever side, would be less keen to do so if instead they had to put themselves and their families on the front line.
Best wishes,
Judith
Thanks for your kind words. Both matter: kindness and words. Best, Deborah
I, too, feel stuck in the middle—between a daughter who’s seething with anger at Israel and a sibling who’s pro Israel. I’m with you, feeling compassion for those affected by fear, war, and injustice and believing that war is not the answer. If only people would sit down together and listen with open hearts and minds, communicate the harm they’ve suffered, and repair the damage they’ve done to the other. Thank you for articulating the concept of restorative justice so clearly. I hope all of our families can reunite with new understanding.