A Different Kind of Ceasefire Proposal

What if, for 49 days, every war came to a halt?

Not just an agreement between two nations, but a silent pact that crossed borders, generations, and wounds.

Every soldier goes home. Every flag is lowered. Every war—on the battlefield, online, or in our kitchens—goes still.

For 49 days, the world exhales.

What would that look like?
Better yet, what would that feel like?

A Global Time-Out

Let’s call a ceasefire what it really is: a grown-up version of a time-out. A “countries-sized” adaptation of something we use to teach toddlers how to regulate their emotions. Which, frankly, in many ways, feels like a fitting description for the current state of affairs.

It’s a last-ditch effort for the actual adults in the room to regain calm in moments of utter exhaustion.

And let’s be honest, we’re all exhausted. We’re run down, terrified, running on fumes. We need a break. A time-out.

We could use a little time on the bench to drink some water, eat some orange slices, and regroup before getting back out there and giving it another go.

To those pressing Israel for a ceasefire: I have a question.

Will you also lay down your arms?

Will you stop the shouting, the fighting, the assaults, the murders, the rapes, the kidnappings, the protests, the college campus insanity, the fear, and the hatred—for 49 days?

I’m calling on every nation and every individual to try something radical: a personal and collective ceasefire—a global showing of solidarity with the Israeli-Arab ceasefires on the table. Show us that you believe in peace. Show us that it’s possible to pause the wars in our countries and in our hearts.

The Resistance

I know some of you reading are already feeling resistance.

“Our fight is different. Our cause is too important. If we stop now, we lose everything, and they will  destroy us.”

I get it. Believe me, I do.

I live in Israel.
This isn’t theoretical.
This is rockets and funerals and children who don’t sleep through the night anymore.
This is seven different fronts where our very existence hangs by a thread.

To those who find this idea irritating, inconceivable, or even offensive—it is you, especially, who I am addressing.

To everyone who believes, even with good reason, that their existence—and the existence of their children, their country, their people—is so threatened by an enemy (who most likely feels equally threatened by them), that it’s inconceivable to put down either rifles or protest flags, even for a single day: we understand.

And now, maybe, you understand us too.

Because the fear? The hatred? The cycles of unspeakable violence? They run deep—so deep they feel like they’re woven into the fabric of who we are.

The conflict between Israelis and Arabs isn’t just political or territorial. It’s ancient. It’s generations of Isaac and Ishmael, biblical brothers who couldn’t reconcile, their descendants still at war.

Thousands of years later, we’ve inherited that brokenness.

And we don’t know how to put it down.

The Ceasefire Within

This isn’t just about nations. This is about you, and me, and all the invisible wars we carry.

For 49 days, what if you laid down your arms?

Not forever. Not even for long. Just long enough to notice the weight of what you’ve been carrying. To feel how it has shaped you, bent you, kept you moving when maybe you needed to sit down—or kept you down when you needed to stand up.

What if you stopped fighting with your partner, or your parent, or your child, or that part of yourself you just can’t seem to make peace with?

What if you stopped trying to win the war of deterrence and intimidation, and simply allowed yourself—and others—just to be? To build our own houses, plant our own vineyards, and raise our children in peace?

Because we’re that fearful?

Like any innovator—and lord knows we’re in dire need of some innovation—we have to ask: does it really have to be this way? Or do we just need to be more creative?

I believe we need to be more creative, less fearful, and more faithful. But all of that is really hard to do when we’re running on empty.

The Challenge

Here’s my invitation: 49 days of a personal ceasefire.

For 49 days, step off the battlefield—whether it’s a war zone or your own kitchen.

And on Day 50? We’ll see how our journeys with fear and hatred have evolved. We’ll see how it feels to have our nervous systems reset. And we’ll see what creative, hopeful solutions we can come up with then.

In the meantime, I want to hear your stories.

Share your #PersonalCeasefire journey. Tell us how you’re choosing hope over fear, peace over anger, resilience over resignation.

Let’s see what kind of world we can create when we all stop fighting.

We may have lost faith in our governments and many of the world’s leaders, but we cannot—and must not—lose faith in ourselves or in the basic goodness of humanity. As Mahatma Gandhi wisely reminded us, “As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world…as in being able to remake ourselves.”

The revolution begins within. It starts with us.

Stay strong. Stay soft.

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