In the book of Jonah, traditionally read during the Yom Kippur afternoon service, the famously reluctant prophet does not state the reason for his flight from God until near the book’s conclusion, after the people of Nineveh, moved by his warnings of doom, repent and earn divine forgiveness. Only then does Jonah petulantly tell God that he fled because “I knew that You are a gracious and merciful God, slow to anger, abundant in kindness, and Who relents of evil.” Dovid Bashevkin comments:

While Jonah clearly intends to offer an explanation as to why he ran, his justification at first glance still remains unclear. A close reader, however, will notice that Jonah invokes the opening of the familiar refrain of Moses, known [in rabbinic literature] as the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy, that are repeated throughout the High Holy Day liturgy—albeit with one exception. The standard sequence . . . ends not with the phrase “niḥam al ha-ra’ah” [here, “relents of evil’] but rather with the term emet, truth. The word niḥam derives from the word [for] comfort. Jonah in his irritated description of God substitutes comfort for truth.

Jonah [whose father’s name also seems to derive from the word for truth] finally discloses his frustration with [his task of bringing God’s message to people]. “You want to know why I ran away? Because for most people God, religion, and spirituality are not about truth, but about comfort.” . . .

As a prophet, Jonah has proclaimed God’s impending wrath to wayward communities, and time and again he sees them repent out of fear. Man, when confronted with his own mortality, finds comfort in the community and eternal promises offered by religion. Jonah, however, grew tired of [supplying a] temporal haven for man’s fear of crisis and transience. If religion is only a blanket to provide warmth from the cold, harsh realities of life, do concerns of theological truth and creed even matter?

What was God’s response to Jonah’s religious torment? The story of Jonah ends abruptly. God provides a tree for the ailing Jonah to find shade. After momentarily providing Jonah with comfort, God summarily destroys the tree. Jonah is crestfallen. With the sun beating down on him, Jonah pleads for death. God, in the closing statement of the story, rebukes Jonah for becoming so attached to the comfort of the tree, while still failing to develop any empathy for the religious struggle of the people of Nineveh.

Comfort, God reminds Jonah, is a need inherent in the human condition. The comfort provided by a tree no more obscures the role of God than does the comfort that religion provides. The means through which we find solace need not obscure the ultimate source from which all comfort derives.

If there’s one lesson to be learned from the history of the Israel-Arab conflict, it’s never to be confident that an end is in sight. Ehud Yaari nevertheless—and with all due caution—points to some noteworthy developments:

The absolute primacy of “armed struggle” in Palestinian discourse has discouraged any serious attempt to discuss or plan for a future Palestinian state. Palestinian political literature is devoid of any substantial debate over what kind of a state they aspire to create. What would be its economic, foreign, and social policies?

One significant exception was a seminar held by Hamas in Gaza—under the auspices of the late Yahya Sinwar—prior to October 7, 2023. The main focus of what was described as a brainstorming session was the question of how to deal with the Jews in the land to be liberated. A broad consensus between the participants was reached that most Israeli Jews should be eradicated or expelled while those contributing to Israel’s success in high tech and other critical domains would be forced to serve the new Palestinian authorities.

Yet, the ongoing aftershocks from the ongoing war in Gaza are posing questions among Palestinians concerning the viability of armed struggle. So far this trend is reflected mainly in stormy exchanges on social-media platforms and internal controversies within Hamas. There is mounting criticism leveled at the late Mohammad Deif and Yahya Sinwar for embarking upon an uncoordinated offensive that is resulting in a “Second Nakba”—a repeat of the defeat and mass displacement caused by launching the war in 1948.

To be sure, “armed struggle” is still being preached daily to the Palestinian communities by Iran and Iranian proxies, and at least half the Palestinian public—according to various polls—believe it remains indispensable. But doubts are being heard. We may be reaching a point where the Palestinians will feel compelled to make a choice between the road which led to past failures and an attempt to chart a new route. It will certainly require time and is bound to cause fractures and divisions, perhaps even a violent split, among the Palestinians.