Weep with Those Who Weep

20 August 2025

Dear Faith Friends,

Can I share a story about 3 groups of people? You’ve got your own version about these 3 groups, but here’s mine.

The first group are European Jews. Over the years, on our faith trips to Germany, we’ve walked through the gates of three concentration camps: Dachau, Sachsenhausen, and Buchenwald. I was overwhelmed by the horror of what hatred—unchecked by moral or civic responsibility—can do to a people. Walking through the gas chambers and watching video evidence of how European Jews were tortured and slaughtered turned my stomach. As Scripture commands us in Romans 12:15, we are to “weep with those who weep.” And we did—and do—weep about the lives systematically destroyed in the 1930s and 1940s.

These days, we weep with two more groups of human siblings: the Israeli families whose lives were ripped apart by the November 2023 attack by the terrorist Hamas organization and the Gazans who are bearing the brunt of an enraged government in response.

A fourth group is our friends on the west side of Fayette County, members of Congregation B’nai Israel, with whom we’ve worshiped and observed Yom HaShoah over the years. Hearing of the anti-Semitism they’ve experienced recently, I reached out again a few days ago. Their Cantor Susan Burden reports, “We always get hate mail and such, but sadly we had a real threat and the FBI got involved.” Ugh.

Four different groups, suffering, because of another group’s fear and anger. Four groups enduring—what seems to me—wrath and violence wrongly targeted.

In America, the decades-long family feud between the Hatfields and McCoys is a legendary tale of violence, loss, and bloodshed. It’s a story enacted the world-over, with each tribe, country, or group able to point the “latest” violation deserving of retribution. Always, more weeping with those who weep.

While all four groups mentioned above deserve ongoing prayers and support, without lifting the pain of one group above another, may I share a few thoughts about the plight of the Gazans?

I do so after Luke and Morgan, my young adult children, shared with me a podcast they’ve both listened to, independently, about the report of an American doctor returning from serving in one of the last remaining hospitals in Gaza. On our 2023 COS trip to the Holy Land, Luke and Morgan made friends with both Jews and some Palestinian Lutherans. (The stones from Bethlehem peppered into our new chancel were sent to us by a Palestinian Lutheran, who lives in Bethlehem, located in the West Bank.) They care about the people on both sides of the wall that divides the Holy Land.

As you might know, the reports from Gaza are horrific.

Just as video evidence turns stomachs in the concentration camp museums we visit, the video evidence from Gaza is equally repulsive.

Might we wonder if the Jewish victims of the Holocaust are not distant ghosts, but stand in solidarity with the Palestinian children today, whose lives are being destroyed in similarly unconscionable ways? The human and structural devastation is daunting:

Between 61,000 and 80,000 Palestinians have been killed since October 2023, including more than 18,000 children.
Given Gaza’s population of about 2.1 million, this means roughly 1 in 30 Gazans—around 3 percent—has been killed.
To compare via a U.S. lens: a 3 percent death rate in America equates to nearly 10 million deaths—What would our sorrow and rage be like if that was our death-toll?
Nearly 1 in 4 homes in Gaza has been destroyed; up to 60 percent of housing in the north is rubble.
Almost the entire population—some 1.9 million Gazans, or 90 percent—has been internally displaced.
Health facilities are collapsing. Only about half of hospitals are still functioning, and WHO documents hundreds of attacks on health infrastructure.
Education is in ruins: 100 schools and universities completely destroyed, hundreds more damaged.

I’m heartened that our American disgust over both the Hamas attacks in 2023 and now what edges on starvation in Gaza is bipartisan.

Republicans and Democrats alike in America are appalled by the loss of civilian life and destruction of sacred infrastructure, such as the bombing of Holy Family Roman Catholic Church.

Way back in my college years studying at Wittenberg, one course featured the Just War Theory—a concept that may sound oxymoronic, yet serves to anchor war in moral restraint. Two central principles are critical here:

Proportionality—any military action must not be excessive, but must be measured to meet its goals without undue harm.
Distinction—combatants must differentiate between military targets and noncombatants; civilians must never be the target.

Sadly, the ongoing situation in Gaza appears to violate both principles in stark ways.

Yes, it’s true that the Just War Theory has endured tank-like trampling by warring countries throughout history. But for those countries seeking positive futures of rebuilding–and I think the United States, thank goodness, often falls into this category–such principles find credence in the conversation. Otherwise, it’s just so easy to revert back to the cynical death cycle of Hatfields and McCoys.

These realities in Gaza make clear that noncombatants and institutions meant to safeguard human life and dignity—children, hospitals, schools—are being obliterated, undermining any claim of proportionality or distinction.

One of my kids texted in our family chat: “It’s so frustrating to see that suffering and not be able to do anything about it.” Billions world-wide share the sentiment. But two things we can try:

One is to contact your governmental representatives, so the voice of the United States is heard. Let’s join Republicans and Democrats alike calling for immediate humanitarian pauses, unfettered aid, and a moral reckoning for the cost of this war.
Secondly, let’s pray. Let’s weep with those who weep in a sense of urgency, holding to our shared faith in the sacredness of all human life.

A Litany for Gaza (and let’s modify to also pray for Israel, and friends locally and globally, as we weep with those who weep)

Let us pray together, echoing the grief of generations:

For the children, the mothers, the elderly—victims of violence, starvation, and displacement—Lord, have mercy.
For the medical workers trapped in under-resourced and bombed-out hospitals—Christ, hear our prayer.
For the schools and universities reduced to rubble—symbols of stolen potential—Lord, have mercy.
For the churches, mosques, and community centers that still stand wounded—Christ, hear our prayer.
For those with power—leaders in Gaza, Israel, the U.S., and the world—to find the courage to choose justice, compassion, and peace—Lord, have mercy.

And yes, as we pray for Gaza, we continue to “weep with those who weep,” for those still enduring repercussions from the Holocaust, the Hamas attacks, and our friends at B’nai Israel, not to mention the other weary war-torn areas of our planet like Ukraine, Ethiopia, Myanmar, and Sudan.

Finally, might we take an extra moment to pray the Prayer of the Day from our services at COS this past Sunday. The call almost jumped off the page to me and is one of the reasons for today’s subject:

PRAYER OF THE DAY

Let us pray. O God, judge eternal, you love justice and hate oppression, and you call us to share your zeal for truth. Give us courage to take our stand with all victims of bloodshed and greed, and, following your servants and prophets, to look to the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

In Christ’s hope,

Pastor Fritz