As a Jew, I do not often write in the pages of a Catholic publication. But after reading a recent column reflecting on prayer, fasting, and suffering in Gaza, I felt compelled to add my voice. 

At a moment when emotions run high and misinformation spreads so easily, people of faith — Catholic, Jewish, and other — must stand together on shared principles: reverence for life, commitment to truth, and the call to be God’s partners in repairing the world.

Both of our traditions teach that prayer and fasting are more than rituals. They are acts of the heart, intended to draw us closer to God’s will. In Judaism, as in Catholicism, fasting and prayer are linked to repentance, justice, and renewal. At the centre of Jewish law stands the principle of pikuach nefesh — the preservation of human life. This commandment is so absolute it overrides nearly every other. Guarding life is not secondary to faith; it is its very essence.

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This is why our hearts break for every child, every family, every innocent person lost in this war. Our prayers must encompass them all. But prayer without honesty risks becoming sentimentality. To mourn meaningfully, we must see clearly. Numbers without context and stories without honesty can turn human suffering into a weapon of propaganda rather than a summons to compassion. If we are to offer prayers that heal, we must anchor them in reality.

The reality is hard. On October 7 2023, entire Jewish families were butchered in their homes. Babies were burned alive. Children were dragged into Gaza’s tunnels, where some were strangled before their mothers’ eyes. Hamas has not hidden its intent: It has declared openly that it seeks to repeat October 7 “again and again,” not until peace is reached, but until Jews everywhere are wiped out. To acknowledge these atrocities is not to diminish the suffering of Palestinians. It is to insist that compassion must rest on truth, and that terror cannot be excused as “resistance.”

At the same time, we must also grieve for the children of Gaza, whose lives are being lost in tragic numbers. Here, too, truth matters. These children die not because Israel seeks their deaths, but because Hamas deliberately places them in harm’s way. Weapons are stored in schools. Fighters hide in tunnels beneath crowded neighbourhoods. False images of famine are staged, with children suffering from unrelated illnesses paraded as evidence of starvation.

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In these ways, Hamas turns its own people into human shields and human props. To tell these truths is not to harden our hearts. It is to honour the innocent by refusing to let their deaths be manipulated into lies.

In both Judaism and Christianity, we are taught that God placed us in this world with a mission: to repair what is broken, to pursue justice, and to bring peace. That work cannot be accomplished if we look away from evil, or if we justify hatred cloaked in the language of righteousness. Naming sin for what it is, condemning the murder of innocents, and standing firmly for the sanctity of every human life are the first steps toward genuine healing.

History has shown that Catholics and Jews can walk this road together. After centuries of mistrust, the Second Vatican Council’s Nostra Aetate opened a new chapter of dialogue and solidarity between our communities. Today, when Jews once again face rising antisemitism, and when Catholics are called to witness courageously to the dignity of every person, our shared faith commitments can unite us rather than divide us. We may pray differently, but we pray for the same world — one where peace and justice are not abstract hopes, but lived realities.

Fasting sharpens our awareness of hunger, but it should also sharpen our awareness of truth. Prayer lifts us beyond ourselves, but it should also send us back into the world to defend the vulnerable, comfort the grieving, and stand up against lies that fuel hatred. As Jews and Catholics, as people of faith, we can only fulfill God’s mission when we deal honestly with reality, even when it is uncomfortable.

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The work is not easy. The images are painful. The divisions are deep. But our mission has never been to choose the easy path. It has been to carry God’s truth into the world — to guard life, pursue peace, and resist hatred. Only then can our prayers and fasts become more than symbols. Only then can they be the beginning of healing.

(Amanda Eskenasi is Director of Education at HR Canada Charitable)