When a Palestinian child greeted me with a kiss
I, a Zionist rabbi, am well practiced in presenting Israel's case, but it is hard to do so when sitting face to face with those that lost their family homes and live in a refugee camp.
As my bus passed the Palestinian Refugee Camp of Dheisheh, I peered through its windows, straining to catch a glimpse of life behind the barbed wire. I always hoped that like the Christmas Day truce of 1914, when British and German Soldiers clambered out their trenches, exchanged cigarettes and played football, we could interrupt our conflict, meet and get to know one another a little.
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