I had lunch with a dear friend. I read his poems and love to hear his stories about growing up in a different world from mine. His family was very poor and he recounted to me how, in a horrific accident, a sister had been thrown out of the cab of their old truck and the truck had actually run over her inert body. It was palpable, they could feel it instantly.

A little like I felt when, a few days ago, what looked like a gray twig on a gray concrete road suddenly moved right in front of my car, turned one way, then another, and I felt the tires going over it. The squirrel dragged itself off the road and I felt as if a sharp rod had pierced my belly. But a sister? A daughter?

“It happened when we lived in West Kansas,’ he told me. “We moved to different places later, but whenever West Kansas came up, my parents would get this look on their faces. They never talked about it.”

I have a feeling that in future Jewish history, Gaza will have that same reaction. Many of us will get a look on our faces—already get a look on our faces—that won’t let up. By Gaza I don’t just mean Palestinians starving, I also refer to Israeli hostages starving in tunnels, human beings of all stripes struggling—and often failing—to survive one more day, and another day, and another day.

As a Jewish, Buddhist woman, what will my face reflect when Gaza is mentioned in the future? What look will come into my eyes, unless I don’t look down, out of sight of other people? Sometimes, I feel that look is already there.

A top Israel government official—I believe it was the foreign minister—said: “Jews don’t starve children.” My sister, who worked with the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center many years ago, told me that at first, the Rape Crisis Center could not get government funding for its work because “Jewish men don’t rape.” And when I was growing up, there seemed to be a consensus that Jews are never alcoholics.

The more absolute the self-image, the more you can bet it’s soon going to crash off its pedestal of certainty and knock you on the head. It’s not just Jews. I’ve heard a number of times from certain Lakota leaders that the Lakota people rarely fought anyone, they were a peaceable people. Tell that to the Crow and Shoshone. And I still remember a dear friend telling a group over dinner that Buddhists are never violent. I don’t know how his faith held up in the face of Ma Ba Tha, the movement of militant Buddhist monks who wanted to push all the Rohingya out of Myanmar.

Do we seriously believe that we are that different genetically? That we don’t get angry or violent, are never greedy, that we don’t get carried away by fear like other humans? That ethical or religious codes somehow automatically mitigate against automatic physiological reactions? In certain individuals, yes, I’m sure. But in an entire people?

Hard as we try to look away, reality finally pierces the veil of righteous denial. Delusions crumble and we’re faced with only ourselves, that small, humble, fragile germ of humanity that labors hard to do just what Bernie said: Don’t be a Buddha, don’t be this or that. Just be a mensch.

In that light, please be mensches and support the fund for immigrant families. Your generous donations sent a dozen children to camp for the summer. After that, $600 went for driver’s ed for five immigrants to get their driver’s license and go to work without fear of being pulled over by State police and immediately being deported. Another $900 went for rent and $250 for an electricity bill unpaid due to the sickness of a family’s sole bread winner.

Next week I will travel to teach in Europe, and before that will give Jimena Pareja a $500 check for more driver’s ed classes for 4 immigrant workers in addition to $750 in Walmart food cards because in the week before schools re-open, there is no state budget for free breakfasts and lunches, so for that week alone we provide food cards. We’ve been able to do all this due to generous automatic donations that some readers have provided, but now the fund is at a historic low, not even enough to pay for one month’s rent when needed. And it will be needed, just a matter of time.

Please help by clicking on the button saying Donate to Immigrant Families. The money goes straight into a PayPal account that feeds into a bank account at Greenfield Savings Bank separate from any of mine. Whatever’s there goes to help hardworking families living in crowded conditions, under continuing threats of deportation.

Let me tell you, if they go, so do our local farms. Whenever I eat corn on the cob, which I love at this time of year, I remember that no farm could afford to raise this without immigrant labors. Please help them in these very difficult times. I can’t do much about Gaza right now, but this much most of us can do, any donation, whatever the size. Thank you.