As we look toward Pentecost, I find myself reflecting on one question: What if I were Palestinian?
What if I were a child growing up in Gaza, waking up one morning to discover that my home had vanished beneath the rubble? What if the streets where I once played, the neighbors I once knew, and the memories that had shaped my childhood were suddenly erased? Or imagine returning home from school only to find that a bomb had fallen upon your house—that your parents, your siblings, and everything you had had been taken away in an instant. You survive, but survival itself becomes another burden when you learn that your friends are dead as well. While you are still trying to comprehend that horror, another explosion forces you to flee once again, hungry, exhausted, wounded, and traumatized. In such a moment, whom do you blame? Yourself? Your parents? Being Palestinian? And where do you turn?
For many children in Gaza and the occupied West Bank, this is not a distant story or political argument. It is daily life. We may debate terminology and argue over definitions, but beyond the language lies the undeniable truth: the endless killing, displacement, and starvation of innocent people are not morally defensible.
Our world seems divided between those whose suffering is acknowledged and those whose suffering is ignored; between those with human rights and those without. Palestinians appear to belong to the latter group—people whose cries are unheard, whose dignity is denied, and whose humanity is treated as negotiable. As Americans, we have become so attentive to the pain of some communities, yet silent toward others. That silence should shame us all.
On Pentecost, the Holy Spirit broke all barriers of language, tribe, and nation. In this regard, Pentecost is not about spiritual power alone, but about recognizing our common humanity. It invites us to see every person as an image of God. So if we fail to grieve for Palestinians, then we have lost the power of Pentecost.
My dear friends, violence will never create lasting peace. The belief that a people can be bombed into submission is an illusion. What is needed is a path rooted in justice, dignity, mercy, and mutual recognition—a future where both Palestinians and Israelis can live in safety and peace without one people’s humanity depending upon the suffering of another.
Palestinians are not strangers to the Holy Land. They belong there, just as others do. And as followers of Christ, we are called not to harden our hearts, but to pray, to speak truth to power, and to stand up wherever human dignity is threatened.
Pray for Palestinians and for all those in Israel working for peace, that all children of Abraham may live together in peace.
Join us for Pentecost services at 8.30am and Jazz Mass at 10am. Rev. Norm is preaching.
From the E-Crier of May 22, 2026. Subscribe to the weekly newsletter.