Praying for the Transformation of War

Planting Seeds for Peace and Reconciliation in Our Hearts

The time for lamentation is before us.

It's time to lament the escalation of another war that delays our awakening, postpones our healing, and impedes our re-unification.

Another war that leaves bodies torn asunder, hearts hardened, and lives shattered.

Another war that leaves destruction in its wake.

Before we respond with blame, argument or justification, let us pause, feel, and remember our shared breath.

My heart hurts for the families already mourning on both sides - both Israel and Iran.

My heart hurts for the future loss of more life, friendships, and resources that has been put in motion.

My heart hurts at our inability to remember a higher path, even while embers of hope remain.

It is a time of lamentation that America, which has aimed in our brightest moments to be a shining city on a hill, is now on the side of destruction rather than healing, polarization rather than peace, and intimidation rather than friendship.

We could have been the bridge and we have chosen the bomb.

Bombs are an immature choice by an immature species. They don’t solve differences. They represent an escalation of temper, impatience, and self-centeredness in which we impose our will on other nations through force. When we threaten and menace others to enact our goals, we sow seeds of future violence. We build resentment instead of remembrance. Rebellion instead of alliance. Hatred rather than love.

Bombs can seem like “something” is happening that aims at a solution but to bomb a country without provocation is to virtually ensure more cycles of harm will follow.

That is not to say that Iran is innocent; its current regime is repressive and dangerous. But the Iranian people themselves need to cast off their own fetters rather than having foreign, distrusted powers annihilate their leadership. Foreign attacks are more likely to entrench the forces of fear and stasis rather than empower the forces of liberation and change.

When Iranians perceive an existential threat to their way of life and their people, they will harden in their defenses and deepen in their suspicions. That’s why this cycle of escalation and violence needs to end with us taking the stance of the wise adult rather than the cocksure youth. We need to be the bridge of healing between two nations with deep history and important contributions to humanity This would be aligned with the teachings of Jesus, who was born a Jew and is beloved as an ancestor of Islam, and who would have taught love and peace. He would not have condoned the bombing of his Abrahamic brothers. He would have sought a path of reconciliation. He would have met this moment with open hands rather than clenched fists.

Choosing to bomb Iran is an act with momentous implications, for it has the potential to further inflame the Abrahamic family schism rather than quelling the flames. The repercussions are likely to be serious and our path forward now more difficult to walk.

It is time for Christian religious leaders to state that this war is not holy, that it only tears us apart and that it needs to end now, in the name of God. Pope Leo already made the moral stance clear, “War does not solve problems; on the contrary, it amplifies them and inflicts deep wounds on the history of peoples, which take generations to heal.”

The war between Israel and Iran is ultimately all of our war because all of humanity is connected. We breathe the same air, we drink the same water, we share the same earth. We also inherit the same planetary history, a history of misunderstanding and aggression instead of a history of brotherhood and friendship.

It is time to not be resigned to repeat that history but transform it. We must face that the wounds in the Abrahamic family run deep—now brought vividly to the surface, made visible in bombs, and painted in blood.

Let us tend the wounds rather than have them fester. Even now, the Divine stands at the heart of this conflagration—not igniting it, but waiting within it. Waiting for us to choose love rather than reenact the wounds.

So far, America has faltered in meeting this moment, but the opportunity to choose a higher path remains. Trump has entered the fray as a combatant rather than peacebuilder. Iran has been awaiting this moment since 1979. There may well be many downstream repercussions if we do not make wiser choices moving forward.

On its side, Israel, a country born out of tragedy, has developed a belief that aggression is what is required make it feel safe and secure. But the cycles of aggression never end in the kind of safety we all want. Every bomb explodes not just in Iran but the psyche of every Israeli, who become less able to hear the whispers of the Divine. And every threat and bomb from Iran escalates the fear of Jews that they will never be welcome.

The escalation of threats needs to end. The Holy Land will never be fully consecrated at gunpoint. It will not fulfill its mission for human betterment through bloodshed. Israelis will have to learn this, remember their role as the mother culture of the Abrahamic family and realize that the mother does not kill her children. And Iran, once a cradle of refuge for the displaced, must remember its nobility not in opposition, but in kinship.

I believe in my heart that God is not on one side in this conflict. God is on all sides, watching as His children attempt to mature out of the rage, violence, and fear that have dominated our journey as a species these last few thousand years. God is patient, of course, but the pathways out of this war become narrower with each passing day.

To reclaim a role of healing, America will have to commit to a cessation of further hostilities. We need to be a reminder that Israel and Iran once shared brotherhood. Persian culture once harbored the Jews banished from their own land. There are deep spiritual, cultural, and ecological bonds between the two peoples.

It is time to end the suffering and to focus on the painstaking work of building the peace, which will take time. We would be well served to listen to the mystic lovers of the Divine of each faith who can call us together now in circles of prayer and solidarity rather than separation and suffering. These mystics, from Rumi to Rabbi Heschel to Teresa of Ávila, sing together in one voice to the Divine threads that unite us.

I invite us to close this reflection prayerfully, entering into a space of silence first for a moment, then invoking a field of peace together.

Let us each light a candle for peace in our hearts and join with others who share our prayer.

Let each breath we take now be a peace offering to the land where bombs now fall. Let our inhale carry remembrance, and our exhale forgiveness.

Let us bathe the battlefields in light so that combatants begin to re-awaken the divine spark of remembrance within.

Let us remember the children first and foremost so that they may grow up with the hope and power to create a still better world.

Let us hold a vision that this war becomes an example of how to transform a long and difficult history into a brighter future.

Let us say no to illegal acts of aggression and call forth our own highest contribution to healing the schism.

And let us hold in our hearts a vision in which we can all learn to live with peace, respect, and blessing for all. That is our birthright and, I believe, our destiny. Every moment, we can choose anew. Please bless the peacemakers who advance that vision every day and dare to enact that vision with your every word.

In Genesis (17:18) it is written, “And Abraham said to God, ‘If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!'”

Let us fulfill his fatherly wish as the ancestral patriarch of all the lineages now engaged in war.

Let each line of descent be blessed rather than bombed.

Let us remember that we all share the same Source.

Let us remember that we truly are family.