Palestinian Nakba Remembrance Day
The Nakba — catastrophe — commemorated on May 15, is not only a past event but an ongoing reality shaping our faith and identity. It is a wound carried across generations, marked by loss, displacement and steadfastness. In this story, we both encounter God and struggle to find God — present in suffering, yet at times painfully hidden.
Remembering is not easy. It is not always safe to speak, to name what has happened and what continues to unfold. We have written so much, told our stories again and again, raised our voices — yet the kind of change that touches daily life often feels distant. Still, on May 15, we are reminded of the danger of silence. We fear forgetting, and we fear what happens if the voices of Palestinians made refugees are no longer heard. We also fear truly listening — to the cries from demolished homes, refugee camps, tents in Gaza, villages in the West Bank facing settler violence and the darkness of military prisons — because listening demands something from us.
We live between a past Nakba and an ongoing one, between the voices of older generations and the urgency of the present. Ours is not a single story, but a chorus that refuses to disappear.
As the war on Gaza deepens our wounds, it feels like another chapter is being written before our eyes. We move from one trauma to another, like moving from one cave to the next — searching for shelter and breath. Yet even there, we keep writing. On the walls, we leave our grief, memory and stubborn hope. We plan, endure, resist. We gather what remains and sing, even as the danger outside does not pass.
Faith, then, becomes both lament and defiance — crying out in pain, yet refusing despair. Even when the road is unclear, we keep praying, trusting that God is with us, and holding to the belief that justice is the only path to a real and lasting peace.
