I Hope the Iranians Love Their Children Too

I grew up during the Cold War. Growing up in those years meant learning implicitly to fear and hate Russians (because at the time, I and probably most others didn't really understand that the Soviet Union consisted of multiple ethnic groups, not only Russians). We viewed them as the great red menace that threatened our very way of life. We certainly did not think of them as real people who lived day by day and who had hopes, dreams, worries and fears that in many ways were not that different from our own. We couldn't be allowed to think of them in this way, because if we did, we might begin to see them as human. Once we recognized their humanity, we might dare to question the morality of threatening them with annihilation just so that we could feel more secure.

Even before the end of the Cold War I had my first opportunity to travel behind “the Iron Curtain,” the physical and philosophical barrier that divided Europe for almost two generations. Behind the curtain I met real people who got up, went to work or school, ate their food, spent time with their family and other daily activities much as I did, even if the specifics looked quite different and the language they spoke seemed quite strange. Some years later, after the Berlin Wall came down and Europe radically reoriented itself, I had the opportunity to live in Russia and become friends with not only Russians but people from other ex-Soviet ethnic groups. Sometimes it struck me as quite strange, meeting people whom not so many years earlier I could have easily found myself at war with. At the same time I recognized once again the commonality of our humanity. Yes, we had differences, but ultimately we shared very significant similarities. Now that I have friends among Russians and other groups, I cannot simply see them as an anonymous, faceless “other,” an enemy to fear and defend against. I could not easily go to war against them, because I would know that on the other side of that battle front were people much like me, people who might know friends of mine, or who might even be friends of mine.

Some still fear the Russians, but for the most part Americans have shifted their fear to other people groups. The attacks of September 11 focused us on a new enemy. And just as we did in the Cold War and prior to that in other wars, we have labeled another group that is different from us as the enemy. We promote fear and even hatred of these people because we feel threatened. Certainly there are some who do threaten our country and our way of life. But rather than seeing them as the exception, we choose to identify all who are like them as an anonymous mass. It's much easier to hate them that way. We don't have to acknowledge their individuality or their humanity. We “other” them so that we don't have to feel any compassion for them or acknowledge them as humans who also have basic human rights.

I see this in particular at the moment in the attitude toward Iranians. Iranians are the new Russians. They are the face of evil. All Iranians obviously detest us and wish nothing more than to annihilate the United States and Israel. We feel justified in calling for violence and aggression against these people because, after all, they are “the enemy.” In doing so we conveniently forget, or ignore, that most Iranians have no say in the activities of their government. Most of them simply want to live life, to take care of their families, to experience a little bit of joy. Although in many ways different from us, they too share in our common humanity. While working overseas I had the opportunity to meet a few Iranians in person. I found most of them to be quite pleasant people, very hospitable and sociable, and not at all antagonistic toward me as an American. Meeting these people challenged and changed my perception of this people group, because they reminded me that Iranians are people too.

Whenever we are inclined to label a group of people, to paint them with a broad brush, to deny them their basic human rights simply because we feel threatened by them or because they are different from us, we need to stop and remember that whatever group we are labeling is really nothing more than a collection of individuals, each with a unique personality, each seeking to live his or her life just as we are. Each person, whatever her or his nationality, ethnicity, sexuality or any other characteristic, has been created uniquely by God and is treasured by her or his Creator. When we see people in this way, can we possible treat their lives as anything less than precious?

I am deeply troubled by the calls I see in the media that call for violence and promote hatred and fear of other groups. I am particularly disturbed that many times these calls come from people who call themselves followers of Jesus Christ. I read calls for the United States to retaliate against Libyans, or Iranians, or others with overwhelming force, not thinking about the many ordinary people who will suffer and die as a result of our excessive response. To those calling for such action, these lives don't matter. They are not worth as much as our American lives. Surely God weeps when hearing such words. God, who died that all people might experience new life, does not consider an American life one bit more valuable than a Libyan, Iranian or Russian life. To think otherwise is faulty theology.

The other day I was listening to an old song by Sting from the era of the Cold War. I think its message still has value for us to day, so I close by sharing this song with you.

The Lemon Tree

I recently finished reading a most interesting book entitled The Lemon Tree. Written by Sandy Tolan, The Lemon Tree explores the conflict between Palestine and Israel from the time before the creation of the modern state of Israel by following the stories of two families united by a single house. The house was built by Ahmad Khairi, a Palestinian, in the town then called Al-Ramla, located northwest of Jerusalem. Following the establishment of the state of Israel and the war that followed in 1948, the town came under Jewish control and the house eventually came into the ownership of Moshe Eshkenazi and his wife, recent immigrants from Bulgaria. In the ensuing years, Bashir the son of Ahmad and Dalia the daughter of Moshe would see their lives become intertwined because of this house. They develop a close bond but yet struggle to overcome the huge obstacles that separate them as Israeli and Palestinian. 


I liked this true story and the way the author presents it. By placing us in the context of these two individuals and their families, we can see the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on a very different and much more personal level. This isn't just about two nations and their destinies. It's about real people living real lives in real homes. As he tells the stories of Dalia and Bashir, Tolan fills in larger details about the establishment of modern Israel and the wars between it and its neighbors over the years. But he does so evenly, not favoring one side or the other and always keeping the impact of the events on the lives of our two heros in the forefront. It is a moving story and I highly recommend it, particularly if you are inclined to favor one side or the other. Tolan will help you see that neither group is entirely innocent of the problems that now divide the two and will also demonstrate through the relationship between Dalia and Bashir that solutions remain difficult and elusive.


I come from a faith background that unwaveringly sides with Israel. It sees the Jews as God's chosen people and embraces the idea that the establishment of the modern state of Israel was an act of God, a step toward the fulfillment of prophecies made centuries earlier. For much of my life I unquestioningly accepted and agreed with this perspective and the theology behind it. But over the years I have come not just to question this perspective but to actively reject it. The Jews may still have some status as God's chosen, although I am inclined to believe that the Church universal are the people of God now, but that does not mean that the establishment of Israel in 1948 was an act of God. Reading this book showed me how much it was the act of human beings and how significantly their visions, dreams and weaknesses (on both sides of the divide) played into the events of 1948 and the years since. I do want to state clearly that I am not inherently opposed to the establishment or existence of Israel. In a certain since, I view it as a fait accompli, something that the world must work with as it seeks a way forward, rather than something that can be undone as part of any “solution.” Whether this was the best way to make amends to what befell the Jewish people in WWII could be debated endlessly. Wouldn't it have been more appropriate to give them land in Germany, for example? But that question was never asked and to raise it now would be pointless.


However, accepting the existence of Israel does not require us to unwaveringly take the side of Israel in every conflict that occurs between them and the Arab world. The modern Israeli people, just as their forefathers of old, are fully capable of sin and error and in their efforts to secure their future in the land of Israel, they have far too often behaved in ways that prolong and fuel the conflict and must certainly grieve God Almighty. One of the steps required for any process of reconciliation to occur is for Israel to acknowledge these crimes and to change its ways. But this takes us into a discussion of how one might find a way forward, which we will come to shortly.


I cannot support those in the American Christian community whose support for Israel blinds them to the failures, sins and crimes of Israel. God is the God of the Jews, but he is also the God of the Palestinians and other Arabs. Does God favor the Jews more than those other people? I don't believe so. I believe that God's grace and mercy extend to all without difference, yet by our uncritical support of Israel because of a particular theological interpretation (and perhaps out of enduring guilt from WWII), we hinder these Arab peoples from hearing and receiving the love and grace that God extends to them as well. By our actions and words in support of Israel we say we want all people to hear the Good News, except the Palestinians and those who support them. Those people don't really have a place in God's kingdom.


Can there be a way forward? As Tolan demonstrates in The Lemon Tree, no easy one exists. But I think that the followers of Jesus can offer the only realistic one – the path of forgiveness and repentance, the path of grace and mercy. This requires acknowledging wrongs done to us and by us, followed by seeking and offering forgiveness. It requires a willingness to be wronged. It demands that we see our enemy no longer as an enemy, but as person whose dignity and worth come from God just as much as mine do. I don't know that it is humanly possible to live in such a way, particularly in such a heated situation as that between Palestinians and Israelis. I do believe that we who call ourselves followers of Jesus must speak out in support of these radical notions. We must speak in favor of peace rather than continuing to uncritically and consistently take the side of Israel regardless of her actions.


In a highly polarized world and in this particularly polarized conflict, stories like those told in The Lemon Tree are especially needed. A similar story is told in the movie of the same name, although the book and the movie are about the same people or exact situation. We need to remember that these conflicts involve real people and not reduce them to blocks of people whom we can support or oppose without critical engagement. We need to prayerfully read and watch the news and remind ourselves that God loves the people on both sides equally.

Dealing with Conflict

Growing up I learned to deal with conflict by avoiding it. More accurately, as I learned later in life, I learned to deal with it by running from it or denying that it exists. At the time I didn't realize that these were unhealthy ways of dealing with conflict (in most cases). I would not have articulated it in these terms at the time, but I believed that living at peace meant simply avoiding all conflict. Therefore, in my mind the more I "avoided" conflict, the more I was living a godly lifestyle.


A couple years ago I read the book The Peacemaker by Ken Sande and it radically changed my thinking about conflict. I had received teaching about conflict resolution prior to this, which had helped me make some positive adjustments to dealing with conflict. Being married has also helped, not because my marriage is filled with conflict, but simply because conflict will arise when you merge two lives into one. But reading The Peacemaker helped me to understand that conflict is normal (at least in this life) and that living the life of a peacemaker does not mean avoiding conflict, but rather dealing with it in a healthy manner. I highly recommend the book.


This doesn't mean that I have come to relish conflict. I think Sande would argue that this view is also unhealthy. In fact, I still have a lot of room to grow. Although I understand and accept that conflict naturally happens and I have learned better methods for dealing with it, I still don't like it and must often fight my innate inclination to deal with it by running away. I do better when the conflict arises with a friend or my spouse, because in those situations there is already established relationship and a better ability to communicate. But even then I don't always instinctively choose a healthy response of conflict resolution. When the conflict involves someone with whom my relationship is less personal my instinct to flee becomes even stronger.


I have a lot of room to grow in this area. I find that God regularly gives me opportunity for this growth. Sometimes I succeed, in the sense of making progress in handling conflict well. At other times I fail miserably, resorting to ingrained habits. I find myself in a particular conflict situation right now that is testing me. I pray for wisdom to respond wisely and in a godly manner. One potential solution would require us to withdraw from the conflict--to resolve by removing ourselves from the conflict situation, but I want to do so because God directs us to and not simply because I want to avoid the conflict. On the other hand, if the conflict cannot be resolved I don't want to continue to live in a situation that leaves me stressed and tense on a regular basis. Thus the need for wisdom.