When the families of the hostages first set up their camp in front of the museum I went there to speak with them, to comfort them.  And I found myself speechless.  I bought necklaces for everyone and was silent.  Then I met friends who had kids in the army and hadn’t slept for weeks.  i could barely comfort, but at least made an effort.  Then I met Arab friends who hastened to move away from any conversation about the war.  I felt that way too.

Today I heard a woman on the radio who lost 4 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren and a few other relatives when their house was bombed in Gaza.  She lives in Israel and can barely communicate with her son-in-law because the connections are bad so she knows her daughter is okay but she can’t reach her.  “What do you think of those people who say that everyone in Gaza is Hamas?” the reporter asks her.  Like all of us, she answers, she just wants this nightmare to be over.  She lived in Gaza for many years – before there was Hamas – and she never found the people to be more violent than others.  May everyone go home and live in peace, she concludes….