Eid Murbarak

I'm somewhat heart broken at what I am seeing in today's news.

The continued bombing in Gaza is horrific. I feel anger, sadness and helpessness like I've not know in a long time. Reading and following Channel 4's Jon Snow's honest report he simply shares that we must come together and show solidarity.

I really don't know what I can do. 

I yearnto do something. Something that will make me feel like I'm changing anything... or anyone. What does solidarity with those who are being bombed look like. How can I be solid with people over there. 

Jon Snow concludes his article calling for 'coming together'. 

This is easier said than done. In fact it's downright impossible to come together. In just my world alone I am surrounded by people who do not come together who "don't talk to each other", who parade behind "principle"or "moral high ground"or simply whatever. It is easier to ignore than forgive. Easier to hold on to whatever "hurt" is left available.

To, myself, shamefully, I, too, exhibit such tendencies. It was modelled to me as I grew up. And it just keeps on going... and going.

I had the privilege of being in the company of a Nobel Peace Laureate once whilst in Davos. She said it's what we do in times of stability get amplified in times of war or trial. Being Liberian she shared some of these darker moments. Her plea for peace was to each of us to strive for what we wish to see being amplified in times of trial like compassion, love, selflessness right now. Why... because these will be amplified.

I still don't know what to do.

So today whilst I do not observe Ramadan nor Eid. I do recognise that I can no longer avoid such celebrations and festivals in today's global village... and today I wish to celerate with my brothers and sisters around the world and sit with them saying "Eid Murbarak!"

I share what my good friend working as a UNICEF child trauma specalist shared with me today. It also highligts a project we worked on together in Davos earlier this year:

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Eid Mubarak! to all beloved friends celebrating today from Aleppo to Gaza, from Dhaka to Dakar, from Ramallah to London, from Mogadishu to Boston - I am thinking of you today.

As this Eid dawns upon what feels like a broken world, perhaps you, like I, find it difficult to be festive today. My spiritual brother articulated it well, "What's the point in celebrating, we might think, when blood is relentlessly being spilled in Gaza, Syria, Iraq, and elsewhere on the globe?"

But let me reveal to you that even now, something is happening - something beautiful is growing in the alleys of our world - persistently, and brightly. Muslims in Mosul and Baghdad have and are risking their lives to protect their Christian brothers against a genocide in Iraq; Palestinian Muslims are finding refuge and comfort with their Christian sisters and brothers in Churches in Gaza; progressive and ultra-orthodox Jews, former soldiers, and very public figures in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv and London and New York are vocally, publicly resisting the Occupation and calling for a #FreePalestine even if it comes at the cost of being disparaged by their kin (yes, Jon Stewart, you are my hero). Some day we will look back and see that some of the most exquisite and deeply meaningful expressions of empathy - through words, art, music, poetry and dance - of our time will be inspired, like Kayhan Kalhor's Symphony for Palestine, like the exquisite Syrian embroidery by refugee women at NuDay Syria and Basmeh and Zeitooneh, even in such times of grief.

Let me also tell you that even here, in the curious space of my inboxes, I have been surprised and so moved to receive a daily influx of private messages and outpouring of solidarity and heartbreak and kindness and love from unexpected sources -- as far as New Zealand and as otherwise removed as Hong Kong. And, for the first time, much curiosity and thirst to learn more about different peoples whom we increasingly understand are our own. Just this week, we took a school of Syrian children for a day of storytelling and food and fun at the Luna Park, almost 200 refugee children who have at least their next year of education secured because of the efforts of a Hong Kong NGO to motivate WEF Participants in Switzerland earlier this year, whose message moved two extraordinary women, one Lebanese and one American, to help fund this school. And because of them, these children will have hope for a future. All these things are real (and not just the product of my pathological optimism!), the product of empathy, and worthy of nurturing and of hope.

Today is a celebration of revelation and community. Have courage, my friends! It is especially in moments of much destruction that our human empathy matters and has the power to transform lives. This Eid, I am sending you smiles, gratitude for your friendship and prayers that God bless you with comfort and peace and loving fellowship today and in the days to come.