Don’t Ask Me to Choose Sides

I condemn both sides. I mourn for both sides.

As if the horrors of the Israel-Palestine war isn’t enough, we are bombarded every minute by people on both sides who insist that we choose one side over the other.

I can’t.

I have lived with a Muslim family, and seen how kind, how loving, and how devout they were. I have worked with and supported Jews emigrating from the old Soviet Union. I have seen how kind, how loving, and how devout they were.

I have read history. I know the general outline of what has happened to the Middle East since Britain made it into a colony in 1922. I know how the guilt of Europe led to the creation of a homeland for the Jews who had been displaced, discriminated against, and ultimately slaughtered during WWII.

I understand the desperation of Palestinians who were pushed out of their homes by the creation of Israel.

I get it. I feel sympathy for both sides.

But I can’t choose a side this time. I can’t.

Or maybe I can.