I HAD, OF COURSE, SEEN REPORTS about the high rate of Palestinian civilian casualties during the intense fighting last year in Gaza. But the human side of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict suddenly came into sharper focus when a college classmate of mine lost two brothers there—gunned down as they attempted to return home with their father during a planned lull in the fighting. The tragedy received a certain amount of media coverage, as the father's cell-phone pleas for medical aid, which had been denied them for nearly 24 hours, were broadcast live on television.
In the face of such a horrific event, I was eager to join hundreds from my school who expressed their sympathy and support for this fellow student and his family. Many of these heartfelt wishes, posted on Facebook and expressed in personal messages, were echoes of the oft-repeated sentiment, "Our thoughts and prayers are with you." Such an offer of prayer is often the loving first response in the face of personal and global tragedy. But next to such intense human suffering, a genuinely compassionate statement like that can sound like little more than a perfunctory sound bite. To the humanitarian worker dodging shellfire to bring needed food and supplies to trapped Gazan civilians, or to the Israeli mother wondering if her children are safe at school, the words "Our thoughts and prayers are with you" may come across as little more than "Best of luck, but you're on your own!"
This is a far cry from the Biblical portrayal of prayer as an effective way to bring peace to the world, and to heal sorrow and sickness. Both the Old and New Testament are full of accounts describing the tremendous accomplishments of those who turned to God throughout Israel's history—a truly remarkable heritage for the inhabitants of that region today.
