It is quite simple really. Orel and Marya are both eight years old. They have been next door neighbors for nearly a year. They talk, they watch television together, they share favorite foods and teats.
Two kids who are best friends. He can be kind of wild and impulsive; she is smart, always upbeat and strong-willed. But friends put up with that in each other.
Orel and Marya are patients at Jerusalem’s Alyn Hospital. Both children are recovering from devastating wounds suffered in the violence that is life in their homeland.
But what makes this simple friendship special is this: Orel is an Israeli Jew; Marya is a Palestinian Muslim.
They don’t understand the centuries of war and division between their two peoples. They are kids. They play. They cruise the hospital corridor in their wheelchairs. Someone forgot to tell them that they are supposed to be enemies.
Orel suffered severe brain damage during a Hamas rocket attack in the Gaza last January. Marya’s spinal cord was broken when a missile from an Israeli jet fighter mistakenly hit the car she was riding in.
Their families, from different backgrounds and cultures, have become good friends, as well (Marya’s father often helps with Orel’s therapy). The bond between these two children has inspired not only their families but the hospital staff, volunteers, and the parents and families of other patients at Alyn, which specializes in treating young people with serious physical disabilities. Orel and Marya have developed a kinship that defies ancient hatreds.
“The wounds of our children, their pain, our pain, have connected us,” Orel’s mother says. “Do we need to suffer in order to learn that there is no difference between Jews and Arabs?”
In such a simple expression of love and understanding is found Resurrection. Hope triumphs and love reigns in this friendship between two broken children, a friendship that defies old hatreds, a friendship that stares down evil, a friendship that is a certain sign that the kingdom of God is here and now. Resurrection takes place in our midst in such small, simple, hidden moments. Over the next fifty days, let each one of us do something that will mirror the light of this Easter day - something, no matter how simple and hidden, that will be our witness to the Easter promise that compassion, generosity, humility and selflessness will ultimately triumph over hatred, prejudice, despair, greed and death. May the simplicity of Easter compassion illuminate every moment of our days as we journey with the Risen One to the dwelling place of his Father.
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