As my last two posts have outlined religious notions present in the Arab-Israeli conflict, this last installment will take a more editorial look at the ordeal; with a strange yet, I think, significant connection to atheist participation in, and acceptance by the religious into interfaith cooperation.

“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.” — Albert Einstein

Each moment in the ongoing conflict between the Israeli people and their adversaries–particularly on the West Bank–accentuates the global division between Islam and Judaism, and calls out for the understanding that Einstein sought in his view of peace.

In this (delayed) finale to the short series on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I want not to decide which organization is guilty of fewer crimes—indeed, both have their respective indecencies and atrocities. Rather, I think it is important to begin from the understanding that both the most extreme Hamas or Israeli militants have used the religious convictions of their nation, coupled with xenophobia and in many cases racism, to drive the conflict deeper into the dark well of violence and further from the peaceful light.

The use of Islamic promises of paradise, in addition to anti-Israeli propaganda, to drive young Palestinian middle-class to suicide bombing is, to me, just as much an affront to human dignity as the Apartheid-esque segregation and misemployment of the citizens of the West Bank by Israeli officials. That said, the role of religion in the offense seems stronger in the former—yet this may only be out of necessity. Religion’s utilization as a binding tool is a common motif among resistance efforts, be it in the form of Protestantism in the face of Catholic dominance during the French Revolution or the so-named Lord’s Resistance Army against the Ugandan government in France (obviously, not all guerrilla efforts warrant the same reputation). As I noted a few weeks back, Hamas’s exploitation of Sunni Islam as a driving force seems ultimately to be moreso the consequence of, rather than the cause of, their oppressive environment. It is in any case compelling, with the same potential for unification as Jewish heritage has in Israel.

And so, a peaceful solution isn’t trivial, and will certainly require concessions from either side. On a (generally) less violent and imminent tangent, the Middle Eastern conflict parallels that between the religious and the secular, which we drop ourselves right in the midst of here on NonProphet Status. Not to imply that the atheistic plight is, in a general sense, comparable to that of oppressed Palestinians, but rather that the solution is, by many on the extreme ends of either organization, seen to entail the abolition of the opposing perspective (or, as stated by the Hamas charter, the opposing people).

Coexistence, and building a world safe for diversity, to steal my favorite Kennedy quote, is at the crux of overcoming the division between the religious and secular individuals, as it is with that between the people of Israel and Palestine. People have to see themselves as a part of a religious or ethnic community within the larger human population as well, and be willing to admit that an individual is a complex set of beliefs and desires beyond those that may be objectionable. Even between institutions both of which have their share of infidelity, corruption, and wickedness—to acknowledge the scientific potential exhibited by modern Israel, or the musical and otherwise cultural contributions made by Palestinian society, is to illuminate the good present in all Middle Eastern societies that is so often obscured in the violence by which they are often internationally characterized.

Adherence to dogmatism, be it in the form of Islamist extremism in the face of oppression, supernatural Zionism in the face of hatred, or fundamentalism of any color, is the true enemy of humankind. Acknowledging, however, that your enemy is not entirely reprehensible, and there exists significant common ground that you can both share, is the first, and perhaps most important, step towards reconciliation.

Walker Bristol is a student at Tufts University, and the Community Organizer and Interfaith Representative for the Tufts Freethought Society. Originally from North Carolina, Walker was raised in a largely Quaker community before exploring several Christian traditions throughout high school and ultimately becoming a secular humanist at age 15. Walker serves as the chair of the Committee to Establish a Humanist Chaplaincy at Tufts, and this summer interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. Along with fellow Tufts Freethought board member Lauren Rose, Walker hosts the internet radio show FreethoughtCast. In addition to being involved in secular student activism, Walker is a hobbyist musician, ballroom dancer, and far-too-avid science-fiction fan.

Continuing the series looking at religion in the Arab-Israeli conflict, this week’s post centers on Hamas and Hezbollah, two organizations well-known for their(oft-violent) opposition to Israel from within Palestinian territories and Lebanon, respectively, as well as furthers a general overview on how religion plays into the motivations and actions of either side. Comments and e-mails (walker.bristol@tufts.edu) always welcome!

Hamas and Hezbollah–two organizations which it may seem like a mistake to group together in religious terms: Hamas is based in Sunni Islam, holding true strictly to the teachings of Mohammad, Hezbollah, in Shi’a, granting spiritual authority also to his descendants. Their religious convictions certainly bind their members together, but may not entirely drive their opposition to Zionism.

Both Hamas and Hezbollah have held true in the past to the notion of a defensive jihad against Zionism and the State of Israel—furthering the notion of a sort of “holy war” on Israel’s borders. At first glance, this appears to paint the conflict in and around Israel as holding solely religious motivation—I rather find this to be more indicative of the way in which religion is used as a manipulative tool to further drive existing notions and values. The oppression that originated the conflict, and the violent resistance that characterizes it, planted the seeds on either side which are watered and sunlit by the inherently religious Zionistic or Jihadist notions that have appeared.

The conflict itself—despite involving two sides which ascribe to rival religious traditions—is ultimately one of political dominance and oppression, borne out of either side’s feeling of (potentially reasonable) justification. The Zionist religious conception of the significance of the land of Israel isn’t quite as prevalent a motivation for Jewish support as nationalism and cultural fellowship seem to be, even if many Hasidic Jews, with their consideration of the imminent coming of the Messiah, hold tightly to scripture. The leaders of Hamas have several times declared that this is a political war, not one of religion, despite the seemingly religious anti-Jewish sentiment that comes sprinkled throughout such statements.

We see religion most prominently in this particular Middle Eastern struggle as a method of developing brotherhood; of binding individuals on either side together, whether by cultural traditions or heritage or common belief. The forces that drive either side against the other are, on the face, yoked with religious enthusiasm and aggression yet, at the baseline, sociopolitical drives born out of historic, and contemporary, opposition.

I’d like to make a final addendum primarily as a response to some criticism of last week’s post: the idea that Hamas, Hezbollah, and their allies are somewhat anti-Semitic is not meant to imply that, as I mentioned earlier, the conflict is entirely motivated by ethnic or religious bigotry. The conspiracy-esque notions of the inherent corruption or media control by the Jewish people, which are present both in the Hamas Charter and in statements made by leaders on behalf of either organization, are for the most part unignorable—not that every supporter of their actions or of the liberation of Palestine necessarily agree with their bigotry. The significant thing to draw from the anti-Semitism espoused by some of those in extreme opposition to Israel is, I think, the ways in which otherwise developed political or social opinions can be the cause of religious or spiritual perspectives, often in a way exaggerated towards an entire group. Without the initial political conflict, it seems like the tensions between Muslims and Jews that result in such anti-Semitic (or, to be entirely fair, anti-Arab) notions worldwide would be muted, if prominent at all.

Next week’s conclusion will be my personal editorial perspective on the whole shebang (weirdly) relating somewhat to atheist participation in interfaith.

Walker Bristol is a student at Tufts University, and the Community Organizer and Interfaith Representative for the Tufts Freethought Society. Originally from North Carolina, Walker was raised in a largely Quaker community before exploring several Christian traditions throughout high school and ultimately becoming a secular humanist at age 15. Walker serves as the chair of the Committee to Establish a Humanist Chaplaincy at Tufts, and this summer interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. In addition to being involved in secular student activism, Walker is a hobbyist musician and far-too-avid science-fiction fan.

Peering into the utterly controversial world of the Arab-Israeli conflict is never achieved without crossing thin ice. To make sure I give the topic the time it deserves, I’m starting a three-part series looking at the role religion plays, and doesn’t play, in the modern conflict in the Middle East: the first centered on Judaism and Israel’s motivations; the second on Islam, Hamas, and the greater Arab world; and the last my editorial perspective, as relating to atheism and interfaith, on the conflict as a whole. As always, I claim nothing close to expertise in any sort of international affairs (the only thing I think I could be said to have expertise in would be Battlestar Galactica trivia, which will one day make for an utterly geektastic post)—and comments, criticisms, and hate mail is always welcome. At any rate, hope you enjoy my non-Jewish, non-Arab (albeit American, which always seems to taint a perspective) attempt at illustrating an often obscured issue.

A nation whose modern incarnation emerged as a haven for the Jewish religion and culture, and a sanctuary against oppressive anti-Semitism, Israel has experienced an existence characterized by unending violence. Whatever its cause, the aggression– primarily centered in the occupied Palestinian territories although tensions between Jews and Arabs elsewhere are certainly escalated– has become the centerpoint of many country’s foreign policy in the Middle East. Peace talks have been encouraged for years, although as recently as this Rosh Hashanah, Israel has continued to expand into the Palestinian territories as a gift to its Jewish citizens.

The religious nature of Israel’s identity, being the only Jewish-majority state in the world, and the support for it among members of the international community, speaks largely to the sociocultural appreciation that is evident in the wider Jewish community. Judaism is a unique phenomenon in how its adherents retain their cultural and traditional mores even after their belief in the supernatural dissipates.

Ultimately, though, it seems not to be the collective divine reverence that binds Israelis together, as may be the case in the other starkly theocratic nations of the Middle East like Iran and Syria. Rather, the bonds of Israeli population and the Jewish community at large are borne in the fires of the tribulations faced by the Jewish people over the past century, and in the preceding millennia indeed. The role of religion in the advent of anti-Semitism and Jewish persecution—whether from the “Judenhass” of dogmatic Nazism or from the persecution of those trapped under extremist governments under the guise of Islam—seems to have been blurred with the role of racial distaste for the Jewish people. Religion and race have become so intertwined that the lines between religious and ethnic anti-Semitism, and whichever led to the creation and support of Israel, have become greatly blurred.

Similarly, contemporary Zionism has itself become less a religious conviction and moreso a combination of political, social, and religious perspectives on the importance of Israel as a state. Although considered by Hasidic Jews to be the land whereupon the messiah will eventually appear, the land of Israel is seen by many in the outside world through the lens of its diplomatic relations with the surrounding, and Western, countries whom either support or wage against it. It may not be much of a stretch to say that some apply religious significance to the geographic area as a result of their personal and political motivations, an example of projecting your own worldview upon what you hold to be your spiritual convictions. In any case, however, the Jewish community and Israel seem quite inseparable.

A final point I’d like to note comes from just that: while Israel shines as a beacon to many of the Jewish people, as a symbol of survival and perseverance, the Jewish community and the Israeli community are not one in the same. Israel is, according to Jewish teaching, the chosen land of God, and yet, support for Israel is not universal in the Jewish community, and there happen to be many non-Jewish residents of Israel. While anti-Semitism does occupy a foothold in the most aggressive opposition to Israel– although Israel’s questionable (to say the least) treatment of many Palestinians in the occupied territory has inspired much of the response– I think it’d be a dangerous thing to assume that all of the violence on her borders ought to be attributed solely to the fact of Israel’s ethno-religious majority, and thereby a threat to Jews everyone.

That greater threat seems to rather be found in anti-Semitism itself, a notion which I’ll explore in the upcoming posts regarding religious opposition to Israel and my own views on the conflict.

Walker Bristol is a student at Tufts University, and the Community Organizer and Interfaith Representative for the Tufts Freethought Society. Originally from North Carolina, Walker was raised in a largely Quaker community before exploring several Christian traditions throughout high school and ultimately becoming a secular humanist at age 15. Walker serves as the chair of the Committee to Establish a Humanist Chaplaincy at Tufts, and this summer interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. In addition to being involved in secular student activism, Walker is a hobbyist musician and far-too-avid science-fiction fan.

This week’s Religion Roundup centers on Wednesday’s execution of Troy Davis, and the ramifications of philosophical and religious questions when their answers so greatly affect human life. For Davis’ full story, here’s a CNN blog post outlining the events in real time.

“At once too random and too institutional and systematic, this dire business [of capital punishment] has now become an offense both to law and to justice.”  — Christopher Hitchens

Hitch’s opposition to the death penalty came years ago, primarily in response to the potential (and eventual) hanging of Sadam Hussein. Earlier this week saw a plethora of thinkers and religious figures do the same, out of what seems to be a newfound perspective on the value of human life.

The once-pending, now unalterable execution of Troy Davis, a man who seemed to convince everyone except the courts of his innocence and raise blistering questions about contemporary racism and the morality of capital punishment, led to nothing less than an outpour of perspectives and endorsements from religious figures around the country, and the globe. Twitter saw the bulk of the responses, as everyone from Reverend Al Sharpton to our very own Chris Stedman made several vastly-retweeted statements on the issue.

From the diversity of the pro-Davis movement- when he was first sentenced in 2007, even the Vatican expressed discontent with the decision and the importance of preserving human life- comes what could well be a revolution in the abolition of the death penalty. Religion may not be its primary driving factor, that role seems better filled by an acknowledgement of human error and an appreciation of people’s individual capacity for rehabilitation and forgiveness, as well as by practical, economic concerns.

Yet, the notion of capital punishment as a philosophically reasonable form of justice does seem to ultimately come down to the inherently religious value one places on human life. Is this our only shot, where one mistake or evil deed can render us unworthy of continuing to experience it? Is there ultimate justice in the universe, in which our innocence will be judged without the taint of human fallibility? Are infinite punishments or rewards for the finite actions of this life really justifiable? Earlier this week, many of us sat back and felt our personal answers to those questions timidly wash over us as Troy Davis left this world. His final words themselves were imbued with his own spiritual view: to his executioners, he said “may God bless your souls.”

The potential of Troy Davis’ innocence- and the uncertainty that loomed as he faced his death- will remain a haunt on the American legal system for the foreseeable future. The merciful sentiment he expressed just before his execution illustrates a lesson often found only in religious or humanistic circles, that we are people worthy of compassion despite our wrongdoings and mistakes. Whether this was, as his lawyer described it just hours afterwards, a “legally-sanctioned lynching” that incites the fear that a portion of America may not have really matured since the Civil Rights movement, or the shipping of Davis’ soul to an infallible judge who will presumably grant him the clemency or retribution he deserves, seems now irrelevant. Today and forever onward, we must take seriously questions of such philosophical importance, as we’ve seen what practical implications they can have if we brush them to the wayside.

Walker Bristol is a student at Tufts University, and the Community Organizer and Interfaith Representative for the Tufts Freethought Society. Originally from North Carolina, Walker was raised in a largely Quaker community before exploring several Christian traditions throughout high school and ultimately becoming a secular humanist at age 15. Walker serves as the chair of the Committee to Establish a Humanist Chaplaincy at Tufts, and this summer interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. In addition to being involved in secular student activism, Walker is a hobbyist musician and far-too-avid science-fiction fan.

If you’ll allow me to wax editorial a bit more than usual, this week’s Religion Roundup looks at some of the issues surrounding commemoration services this Sunday for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. If you can, please offer your support to all of the groups encouraging interfaith cooperation this September 11th to dispel the hate and intolerance that led to that horrific day in the first place.

Tragedy, particularly on the scale that can evoke tremendous emotion at the mere mention of a date, is beyond any single individual.

As September 11^th approaches, the question that seems to cross everyone’s mind is, “Where are we now?” After years of battling fanaticism, dogmatism, ignorance, and hatred – from extremist violence in the Middle East to the damnation of mosque-building in New York – have we really made great strides forward, or just won a few skirmishes here and there? Like most things, the answer isn’t black-and-white, but clues pointing either way may be found in the voices of those organizing commemoration events this Sunday.

New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg has come under criticism from a number of religious groups and individuals for his decision to have an entirely secular remembrance in New York City this Sunday, without the presence of any clergy or religious leaders. Personally, I think this should be not cited as an example of intolerance or censorship, but rather applauded as an example of true, unbiased appreciation of diversity. Rather than choosing which religious groups are most worthy of holding services at Ground Zero, Bloomberg has decided to, in the place where the events of 9/11 seem to have the strongest emotional impact, render the service an entirely personal experience. Whatever their faith background or beliefs about  the world, people can reflect inwardly rather than project unto others their emotions. Community is incredibly important, particularly in times of tragedy; yet, Mayor Bloomberg is not dispelling community, he is ensuring that it is one populated not by those of the most popular or powerful religious perspectives, but by everyone despite their religious perspective. An honorable position for a politician to take, to say the least.

At the same time, there is certainly value in gathering amongst people who share a spiritual perspective to reflect on events as significant as these. There have, every year, been no shortage of special religious gatherings on 9/11, but this year something significant and inspiring seems to have ascended: the campaign for events to be inclusive of all faiths, and for individuals to spend this September 11^th alongside those of an entirely divergent belief system has had incredible success. The Interfaith Youth Core, the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard, Temple Judea in Los Angeles, the Monmouth Center for World Religions and Ethical Thought, and an unprecedented number of other organizations are hosting campaigns and events to encourage faith groups to spend this Sunday in interfaith cooperation, grounded in compassion and with the goal building strong interrreligious relationships, rather than divided along the same lines that led to the tragic events ten years past.

When the Quran asks us to “repel” the evil of the world “with what is better” (41:34), or the Hebrew Bible, to “be a light unto the nations” (Isaiah 49:6), or Jesus to “sell everything you have and give to the poor” (Mark 10:21), it would seem absurd to think that compassion lacks a foothold in any belief system. That shortlist is not meant to illustrate the way people, according to their religious perspective, have to act—rather, how they can act. Our beliefs, religious or secular, universal or divisive, loving or hateful, will reflect an amalgamation of all sorts of sources.

The actions that transcribed on September 11^th, 2001 were undoubtedly religiously motivated; it would be a mistake, however, to ignore the fact that religious motivations are not formed in a vacuum. People will always be people. We are molded by experience and the influence of others, and sometimes we look to millennia-old texts for guidance or cite them as our motivations. But none of these guiding factors work alone, they all form the fire triangle that makes up an individual, who can ultimately choose to be either compassionate or malevolent.

This year, to know if we’ve truly moved forward, we should celebrate compassion, and when we criticize the hateful among us, we should do so while bearing in mind that there is potential for good within them. Because whether you were in New York City that day, or across the ocean watching it on a television screen, you would be incredibly hard pressed to find someone who wasn’t hurt deeply by what they saw. Because when tragedy reenters our minds, we have to both sit alone and let it wash through us, as well as sit with others and share the loss.

Because on September 11^th, 2001, the sky looked gray.

But the rich, bright blue has, and will continue to come back, so long as we hold hands as we repel the smoke.

Walker Bristol is a student at Tufts University, and the Community Organizer and Interfaith Representative for the Tufts Freethought Society. Originally from North Carolina, Walker was raised in a largely Quaker community before exploring several Christian traditions throughout high school and ultimately becoming a secular humanist at age 15. Walker serves as the chair of the Committee to Establish a Humanist Chaplaincy at Tufts, and this summer interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. In addition to being involved in secular student activism, Walker is a hobbyist musician and far-too-avid science-fiction fan.