upworthy

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Photo by Farrinni on Unsplash

Two hands reach toward one another.

We live in challenging times, made even more divisive by social media rage. This is not to say that the rage is always uncalled for or unneeded, as there are many moments in history where even anger is righteous. But far more powerful in these times are the surprising moments of real connection, communication and understanding, like a recent exchange between a Palestinian and a Jewish stranger that shattered negative stereotypes and expectations.

I, like many, have become addicted to the algorithm, often fueled by propaganda, false narratives, and plain myopic anger. We are all, by nature, tribal ,and so many of our hearts have swelled with fear, sorrow, and an existential angst around the idea that humans simply might not be fixable.

earth, space, humans, water, peace A photo of Earth from space. Photo by NASA on Unsplash

But I've noticed lately that I'm getting a stronger dopamine rush from reading supportive and kind comments as opposed to the hate-fueled ones. I stumbled upon a post on Threads from last year just before the Jewish New Year, (Rosh Hashana) which really struck me. A man wrote:

"As a Palestinian, like many of my Jewish and Arab friends, this year has been a heavy one. Nonetheless, I believe and I hope."

"A Jewish friend once shared a verse (from the Pirkei Avot) with me that I've saved and held on to: 'The world is sustained by three things: by truth, by justice, and by peace.'"

"It has been especially poignant as a mantra all year."

"To my Jewish friends, L'Shanah Tovah. May a new year bring love, light, healing, and a sense of peace grounded in truth and justice for all."

Threads, Jewish, Palestinian, Israeli, peace A person on Threads shares a sentiment. Threads, Mohu

Having read this, I find myself constantly searching for like-minded people of all races, religions, and political affiliations who would also like to find a soft space nestled in this chaos. I scour social media sites and have found that often when you search, you find. It doesn't mean that there aren't literal and metaphorical fires burning all around us. It doesn't mean that we shouldn't stay informed and stand up for what we believe.

But, if just for a day, we could focus on these tiny victories, perhaps it's the smallest step to regaining our humanity. I happened upon a conversation last week (also on Threads) wherein a Palestinian woman made a comment about having pride in her heritage. Many nasty Islamophobic and anti-Semitic bots and trolls came out of the woodwork, but one comment stood out.

The OP wrote:

"All I said in my last post is 'I love being Palestinian' and the comments speak for themselves. We can’t love our heritage? Our culture? That’s too much for you (clown emoji)."

In response, someone wrote back:

"I’m Jewish. We probably disagree on lots, but to hell with those comments. You’re a human being deserving of respect, and to be proud of your culture and heritage."

The OP answered:

"Thank you for being rational. May we find a common middle ground one day."

This is met with:

"Hopefully in our lifetime! Don’t let the uneducated people bring you down."

flower, peace, nature, kindness, earth A purple flower surrounded by green leaves. Photo by Konrad Koller on Unsplash

A Threader pointed out, "This is one of the more mature comments I’ve seen. So much hate on these threads. Thank you for being a human being." The kindness began to multiply, with another person sharing, "That’s so true. I started a dialogue with a Jewish man and I would like to think we both learned a lot. You can’t understand how other people think and behave without respectful debates."

There are many more threads like this out there between people from every side of the proverbial chasm. They don't take away the pain and fear, but they could serve as a step in the right direction.


Joy

Maya Angelou reads slain peace activist's words on the transformative power of being alone

Peace activist Rachel Corrie died shortly after composing this email on a peace mission in Gaza.

Maya Angelou and peace activist Rachel Corrie.

The death of peace activist Rachel Corrie in 2003 has come to greater prominence over the past year as war rages between Hamas and Israel in Gaza. Twenty-one years ago, 23-year-old Corrie became the first American to be deemed a martyr in the ongoing conflict between Israel and Palestine, after being run over by an Israeli bulldozer.

Corrie had gone to Gaza to nonviolently protest the bulldozing of homes in an area Israel was clearing to prevent militants from having a place to hide. While protecting the family home of local pharmacist Samir Nasrallah from demolition by the Israel Defense Forces, she was run over by an armed Caterpillar D9R armored bulldozer.

Israel claimed that the bulldozer driver couldn’t see Corrie and that her death was unintentional. Corrie’s family later sued Israel for a symbolic $1 in damages, but a court rejected the suit. The court ruling was called “unacceptable” by former U.S. President Jimmy Carter.



On the third anniversary of Corrie’s death, in 2006, poet Maya Angelou read one of the final emails she wrote home after leaving Olympia, Washington for Gaza. Angelou is a famed American author, historian, and civil rights activist best known for her 1969 memoir of growing up in the South, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.”

- YouTubewww.youtube.com

Rachel’s email from January 2003.

We are all born and someday we’ll all die. Most likely to some degree alone. What if our aloneness isn’t a tragedy? What if our aloneness is what allows us to speak the truth without being afraid? What if our aloneness is what allows us to adventure – to experience the world as a dynamic presence – as a changeable, interactive thing?

If I lived in Bosnia or Rwanda or who knows where else, needless death wouldn’t be a distant symbol to me, it wouldn’t be a metaphor, it would be a reality.

And I have no right to this metaphor. But I use it to console myself. To give a fraction of meaning to something enormous and needless.

This realization. This realization that I will live my life in this world where I have privileges.

I can’t cool boiling waters in Russia. I can’t be Picasso. I can’t be Jesus. I can’t save the planet single-handedly.

I can wash dishes.


rachel corrie, gaza, maya angelouRachel Corrie stands up to a bulldozer before being killed.via Joe Carr/Wikimedia Commons

The key message in Corrie’s email is that there is power in being alone. It shows that sometimes when we aren’t preoccupied with the expectations of others, we give ourselves the space to grow to our fullest potential. It’s also a sad commentary that many of the people we love in our lives can hinder reaching our potential.

Corrie's words are a great reminder, in a world constantly distracted by screens, that we can only truly develop as people when we have a moment of solitude to explore our own thoughts and deeply held moral beliefs.

The piece is also an invitation to visualize what our lives can be if we follow our own paths without worrying about what others think. What truths would we speak and what adventures would we seek? What causes would we stand up for if we knew we wouldn’t be judged?

Corrie’s words also echo those of Maya Angelou, who believed that only through courage can we reach our potential. “One isn't necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential. Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest,” she told USA Today in 1988.

Two years after Corrie’s death, her diaries and emails came to life in a play called “My Name is Rachel Corrie,” which has been staged worldwide, including in her hometown of Olympia, Washington, in 2017.

Palestinian and Israeli whose family members were killed sit face-to-face to talk peace

One man lost his parents. The other lost his brother. Their dialogue is moving people to tears.

Photos by cottonbro studio/Pexels (left), and by Ahmed Abu Hameeda on Unsplash (right)

Hope for peace between Israelis and Palestinians

Conflict between Israel and Palestine has been ongoing for many decades, with scholars around the world spending years analyzing and explaining why and how. But regardless of how we got here, the violence we saw perpetrated on Israelis on October 7th and the violence we've seen perpetrated on Palestinians in the months since has been a drastic escalation with unspeakably tragic results.

People of goodwill everywhere search for hope in times such as these, for evidence that humanity hasn't been completely destroyed by vengeance and violence, that real peace is in fact possible. And there is no better pair to offer glimmers of such hope than Palestinian peacemaker Aziz Abu Sarah and Israeli peacemaker Maoz Inon, who sat down face-to-face on a TED stage in April of 2024 to share their personal stories and talk about what peace requires.

Unlike those of us watching war unfold from half a world away through the lens of media spin and social media algorithms, these men have lived this conflict up close. Sarah's brother was killed by the Israeli Defense Forces when he was just 19 years old. Inon's parents were killed by Hamas on the October 7th, 2023 attack. They both have every reason to be angry—and they are—but the way they purposefully process their anger into peacebuilding is an example to us all.


Inon begins their conversation by sharing how his parents and childhood friends were killed on October 7th, then shares how grateful he was that Sarah was one of the first people to reach out to him even though they'd only met once before. Sarah shares how his brother was killed by the IDF and how all of his friends have lost family members to Israel's bombardment of Gaza, yet praises how he Inon has processed his loss.

"When I sent you that message to offer my condolences after your parents were killed, I was surprised by your answer," Sarah told Inon. "Not just to me, but your public answer. Because you said you're not only crying for your parents, you're also crying for the people in Gaza who are losing their lives, and that you do not want what happened to you to be justifying anyone taking revenge. You do not want to justify war."

"And it's so hard to do that," he added. "So much easier to want revenge, to be angry. But you are a brave man."

Sarah said it took him "much more time" to reach such a place after his brother was killed. "I was angry, I was bitter, and I wanted vengeance. I was 10 years old and I thought there is no other choice. And only eight years later, when I went to study Hebrew with Jewish immigrants to Israel, that's only when I realized that we can be allies."

Both men have been peace activists for years. What's particularly beautiful about their conversation is that they are talking directly to each other, not to the audience, offering an example of what sitting down with the "other side" can look like when you share the goal of peace. They tell their personal stories and explain what has driven them to seek reconciliation over revenge. They listen to and learn from one another. They acknowledge the difficulty but are unwavering in their dedication to build peace.

The division stemming from the historical reality and current politics of Israel and Palestine may feel intractable, but if these men who have lost so much can find common ground and a shared vision, then hope remains. Their dialogue is moving people to tears and is well worth a watch:

Rambam Health Care/Facebook

As the world watches longstanding tensions between Israel and Palestine escalate into violence once again, it's good to be reminded that political conflicts are not a reflection of how average human beings feel about one another. Even when violent attacks take place among civilians, even when hate crimes happen, even when some people express their prejudices loudly and passionately, there are plenty of examples of people on opposite sides of those conflicts—people that the world views as enemies—who join hands to say, "This is not who or what we are to one another."

Case in point: This inspiring show of solidarity between Arab and Jewish medical staff at Rambam Medical Center in Haifa, Israel.

The city of Haifa itself has been viewed as a model of peaceful coexistence between people of various faiths and backgrounds, its religiously and ethnically diverse population avoiding most of the violence seen in other large Israeli cities over the years. Living up to that reputation, in recent weeks, Jewish medical staff at Rambam Medical Center have taken extra shifts to give their Muslim coworkers time off for the Eid al-Fitr holiday, and Arab staff have done the same for their Jewish coworkers to give them time off during Shavuot.

On May 12, as violence escalated, Rambam's medical teams shared photos of Arab and Jewish medical personnel standing arm in arm with signs of peace and coexistence written in Arabic and Hebrew on Facebook.


"Three turbulent days and the escalation in Israel's security situation has led Rambam Health Care Campus employees to send an important message to the general public – we are together," the post states. "The medical staff, nursing staff and employees from other sectors across the hospital are united in these difficult days under the umbrella of peace, coexistence, unity, and solidarity, and many of them chose to take part in a campaign showing colleagues and friends from different religions working side by side to provide the best possible healthcare. These individuals were photographed together, carrying signs of peace and seeking to convey this important message."

The post also included the text of a letter sent to employees from the hospital's director, Michael Halberthal:

"Dear Rambam Employees,

We are all witnessing the recent events in the country, which are characterized by great tension and violence.

Rambam is a hospital where members of all denominations and religions from all walks of life, work side by side. We are all united around only one goal - to help our patients recover and make their hospitalizations easier.

Each of us holds diverse personal opinions and worldviews, but all of these are irrelevant to our shared mission in the hospital.

I hope and believe that Rambam, as a family with differences, will remain an island of sanity within the uneasy reality around us, standing together as we have done during all of the difficult trials we have experienced in recent years.

Therefore, when we, the employees from all the different sectors, enter the hospital and put on our work clothes, we leave the turbulent world behind us and concentrate on our shared goals.

We have built a special "home" here, one that we nurture as a place of harmony and inclusivity. One of which I am personally proud to be a part. Let us keep it going together."

The staff took that message to heart and organized a "solidarity rally" with dozens of Arab and Jewish doctors, nurses, and para-medical staff gathering together under the slogan, "Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies."

"We work side by side in the departments and the operating rooms," the doctors who organized the rally said. "We are one big family, and this is our message."

There's no doubt that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict over land rights and political recognition is complicated. When you have a centuries-long quagmire of power, oppression, religious prejudices, historical injustices, and more, violence is a natural—though not inevitable—result. While people around the world may feel compelled to protest or support one side or the other for reasons they feel are totally justified, it's heartening to see people on the ground, who live and work with one another, rejecting the idea that they are enemies and embracing one another as fellow human beings sharing a common goal.

The vast majority of people simply want to live in peace. Thank you, staff of Rambam Health Care, for reminding the world of that truth so beautifully.