
This afternoon, over 4,000 gathered in New York City to pay our tribute of respect to those 284 massacred yesterday in Gaza and the 4781 previous Palestinians who lost their lives in the struggle for dignity by the “shining beacon of democracy in the Middle East.” They entered a stage of history, and as they were privileged to act on this mortal stage, they played their parts. Now the curtain has fallen, and they moved through the exit. And the drama of their earthly life has come to a close. They are now committed back to that eternity from which they came.
And yet they died nobly. They are the martyred heroes of a crusade for freedom and human dignity. And so this afternoon, in a real sense, they have said something to each of us in their death. They have said something to everyone who has remained silent behind the safe security of ignorance. They have said something to every politician who has fed his constituents with the rotting flesh of lies and the spoiled meat of racism. They have said something to a federal government that has compromised with the undemocratic practices of a racist state and the blatant hypocrisy of right-wing Republicans. They have said something to every Arab who has passively accepted the evil system of Zionism and who has stood on the sidelines in a mighty struggle for justice. They have said to all of us, Jew and Arab, Muslim and Christian, that we must substitute fear with focus, hatred with hope. They have said that we must be concerned not only with who murdered them, but about the system, the way of life, and the philosophy which produced the murderers. Their deaths have reminded us that we must work passionately, and unrelentingly for the realization of our dream.
And so they did not die in vain. God has a way of wringing good out of even the most purest of evil. And history has proven again and again that unmerited suffering is redemptive. The blood of these people may well serve as a redemptive force that will bring new light to this dark hour. The spilled blood may not cause the whole citizenry of the US to transform the “negative extremes of a dark past into the positive extremes of a bright future.” But these tragic events may cause the citizens of America to come to terms with its conscience.
But not without our help. Not without our voices.
And so I am here to say to all those who assembled here in New York City and nationwide, that in spite of the darkness before us, we will not despair. We will not lose faith. We believe that even the most misguided among them will learn to respect the dignity and the worth of all humanity.
Life is hard. It has its bleak and difficult moments. Like a river, it has its drought and its floods. Like the cycle of the seasons, it has the soothing warmth of summer and the piercing winds of winter. And if one will hold on, he will discover that he does not walk alone. We do not walk alone. We walk with Gaza, and we will lift them from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope. In the chanting and the shouting we will not forget that the deaths are real. We are not only mobs of hate that most perceive us to be, but of sadness and loss as well. Here, most of us go home to houses. They do not. We go home to families. They go home to emptiness. That is a reality people need to embrace. And we will show them what they’ve ignored for so long.
From the river to the sea, from the narrow alleys of refugee camps to the massive valleys of our homeland, we will return.
We will be free.
God Bless Gaza. God Bless Palestine.
OJ



