The news that Israel and Gaza have signed a cease-fire agreement — hostages and prisoners released, fighting stopped, aid flowing in — brings a moment of relief after years of unbearable suffering.
For families of those held captive or killed, deep mourning now coexists with the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this is a turning point. As someone who has spent two decades working on peacebuilding initiatives with Israelis and Palestinians, I’m grateful they’re experiencing even a brief respite from a generational conflict.
“This is the historic dawn of a new Middle East,” President Donald Trump declared after the hostages were released.
It can be — if this cease-fire is followed by courageous, sustained efforts toward peace.
Cease-fires are the pause before the real work begins. True peace cannot be negotiated solely in conference rooms. It must be built — slowly, locally and relationally — by people who have the courage to see one another’s humanity again and the skills to rebuild trust and community.
From diplomacy to transformation
Cease-fires matter. They save lives, allow aid to flow, and give families a fragile sense of safety. They also open the door to broader peace efforts among diplomats in the Middle East and the United States.
But political agreements don’t automatically rebuild trust on the ground. They don’t repair the daily ruptures between neighbors who have lived in fear and resentment for generations. They don’t heal what decades of war, siege, rockets, and retaliation have done to the human spirit.
Even the largest conflicts are at their core relational. The biggest obstacle to peace is not borders or security guarantees — it’s the belief that the other side is the problem and will never change. We wait for them to lead, to apologize, to make restitution. When that doesn’t happen, we justify ourselves — and the cycle of conflict begins again.
Without transformation between people and communities, peace agreements remain fragile. The old stories we tell about each other persist — and with them the wounds that invited the conflict in the first place.
What grassroots peacebuilding teaches us
I’ve seen both sides of the “peace process.” Diplomatic work is vital but it’s grassroots peacemakers who determine whether peace holds.
One of my favorite examples is PeacePlayers, which brings Israeli and Palestinian youth together on basketball courts to play, compete and eventually build friendships. The brilliance of this approach isn’t that it erases conflict — it teaches people how to navigate it. It builds empathy, collaboration, and the ability to see the other as human again.
Kids who once only saw one another through fear come to rely on teammates from the other side. They share frustrations and dreams. Trust — the rarest resource in divided societies — begins to take root.
As their stories change, so do their relationships. Families and communities begin to see new possibilities. When local relationships are strong, extremist narratives lose their grip. Communities start protecting not provoking one another.
Billions will soon flow toward reconstruction and humanitarian relief. It should. But what if a small portion were reserved for community-led trust-building initiatives — run by local leaders who already know how to bridge divides? What if implementation were monitored not only by international officials but by joint committees of Israeli and Palestinian citizens?
These aren’t idealistic dreams. They’re practical mechanisms — the difference between peace on paper and peace in practice.
The relational architecture of peace
Every conflict has both structural and relational dimensions. The structural side — political power, security and economics — dominates headlines. The relational side — fear, humiliation, grief and anger — is less visible but no less powerful.
Right now, both Israelis and Palestinians carry immense trauma. Israelis grieve hostage-taking and terror; Palestinians grieve the devastation of homes and futures. Both see the conflict as existential. Each feels its pain is unrecognized. That asymmetry can turn peace into a contest for moral legitimacy.
Transformative peacebuilding begins with a radical act: seeing and treating difference with dignity. As conflict expert Donna Hicks writes, “The glue that holds all of our relationships together is the mutual recognition of the desire to be seen, heard, listened to and treated fairly.”
Only when both sides feel truly seen and safe can they imagine a shared future. Without that shift, peace agreements collapse under the weight of unhealed relationships.
Building what comes next
If this deal holds, what happens next will determine whether peace endures.
To give it a chance we must:
- Fund trust-building, not just infrastructure. Roads and housing matter, but without relational repair, they won’t be enough to heal division.
- Support trauma healing on both sides. Peace cannot take root in untreated pain.
- Empower local bridgebuilders — NGOs, youth groups, educators and faith leaders — who already know how to connect divided communities.
- Create shared civic projects where Israelis and Palestinians plan together on education, water, safety and jobs.
These investments don’t just complement diplomacy; they make it possible.
For everyone who has prayed, protested or advocated for peace, now is not the time to stop. Ending the war and freeing hostages was the beginning, not the end.
Despite the skepticism, I believe peace is possible. People who deeply disagree can learn to live — even thrive — together. The exhaustion with violence and the courage of those saying “enough” on both sides may finally create the moral space for transformation.
Peace cannot simply be declared. It must be built — person by person, relationship by relationship over years.
The cease-fire gives us an opening. What we do with it will decide whether this becomes the beginning of a new era — or just another tragic pause in an endless cycle of humiliation and violence.