Glory to Our Martyrs
Three years and more than 3 million lost life-years later, the violence unleashed on Gaza has spread across the region. Honoring the Palestinians killed, and carrying their light forward, is a moral obligation.
Rev. J. Mark Davidson
10/8/20263 min read
These remarks were given by our director at the Solemn Remembrance event on the Third Anniversary of October 7th and the Gaza Genocide. The theme selected by the Duke University chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine was “Glory to Our Martyrs.”
It’s my honor to be with you today. Thank you for inviting me. My deepest gratitude to Duke Students for Justice in Palestine, Anti-Zionist Students for Justice and Peace, and Muslim Students Association for organizing this commemoration of the genocide in Gaza. It is absolutely the right thing to do on this 3rd anniversary of October 7th, and it is incomprehensible to me that you have met with resistance from the administration. What could be more human, more moral, more right or beautiful than remembering those whose lives have been taken from them? What could be more appropriate than glorifying the martyrs? Let us be clear: the bombing, invasions, and environmental devastation in Gaza have spread to the West Bank, Lebanon, Syria, and Iran. The genocide is not over; in fact, it’s open-ended. This is because Zionism – the ideology governing Israel’s actions – is inherently violent. As the Israeli historian Benny Morris conceded, expelling the indigenous Palestinians from their homeland, and if that doesn’t work, exterminating them, are integral to political Zionism. Expulsion and extermination are not accidents of history nor are they byproducts of war. Expulsion and extermination are “inbuilt” in Zionism. That’s the word the Israeli historian used – “inbuilt.” Palestinians who refuse to be driven from their homeland, Palestinians who remain in the land, are subject to pogroms, incarceration, destruction of property and livelihood, apartheid, and death. What Zionism means to the Palestinian people is expulsion, extermination, cruel domination, and death.
So, to be clear, when we gather today for a solemn remembrance of our martyrs, we are commemorating their deaths – and we should never forget how many have died. According to a recent United Nations study, over “3,000,000 life-years” have been lost in the Gaza genocide - over 3 million years that individuals in Gaza would have lived had they not died prematurely from military violence, trauma, and systematic collapse of the health system. We gather not only to remember that they have died, but to celebrate the impotence of death. Although death was imposed on them, it has not been able to totally snuff out the candles of their lives. By the act of remembering, we become stewards of their light. We help keep their light shining. Martyrs are not merely victims, they are something far more important; they are witnesses. Their lives continue to speak. Their lives are testaments. Each one lost to us was a universe unto themselves, a galaxy of possibilities and unrealized dreams. It is not only deeply right that we remember them and their hopes and aspirations. But it would be a sacrilege, a betrayal of their sacred worth, if we did not. Indeed, in this moment, there is an upsurge of revisionist history, a new flood of propaganda and misinformation, yet another attempt to silence their voices, assign them to the dustbin of history, yet another attempt to silence our voices, to shut down voices of protest, to shut down the testimonies of the witnesses to this calamity. To try to argue again that it was all necessary, that the murderers had “no choice.”
Palestinian poet Samih Al-Qasim has written a poem, “Upright I Walk,” that cuts to the heart of the matter. It captures beautifully our responsibilities in this moment:
Upright I walk…
Head high I walk
An olive branch in my hand,
My coffin on my shoulder…
I walk and I walk
My heart is a red moon
My heart is an orchard
With boxthorn and basil
My lips a sky raining
Fire at times, love always.
An olive branch in my hand,
My coffin on my shoulder…
I walk and I walk.”
Al-Qasim is so right: this is a moment to hold our heads high, to show we are unbroken and unbowed. This is a moment to work for peace under the ever-present shadow of death. It is a season of coffins and, yes, the olive branch. It is a moment for fire and love. A moment to walk and keep walking. The Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish said, “I have a million nightingales poised on the branches of my heart, singing songs of liberation.” The martyrs and the poets are telling us, “Keep walking, keep singing, keep working for peace and liberation!” Glory to our martyrs!