For the past few years I have enjoyed the mingling of Arabs and Jews in Israel.  I love the proliferation of students, the constant encounters with a kind of people I had never really known before.  But in the past few days the tension has grown.   People worn out by the stress of terrorist rockets and the violence we’ve experienced have begun to fear every person who appears possibly to be an enemy.  We haven’t taken any responsibility for sheltering the Bedouin in the desert from the rockets – they have no sirens and no place to hide.  

That famous poem by Mahmoud Darwish works both ways.  We have to learn to “think of others” and so do they:

As you prepare your breakfast, think of others
(do not forget the pigeon’s food).
As you conduct your wars, think of others
(do not forget those who seek peace).
As you pay your water bill, think of others
(those who are nursed by clouds).
As you return home, to your home, think of others
(do not forget the people of the camps).
As you sleep and count the stars, think of others
(those who have nowhere to sleep).
As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others
(those who have lost the right to speak).
As you think of others far away, think of yourself
(say: “If only I were a candle in the dark”).

The parenthesis aren’t in the original, and I’m not sure about the accuracy of some of the words, but it really suits us all today.