On October 7, 2023, Hamas launched a catastrophic attack on Israel, killing around 1,200 people and taking roughly 250 hostages. The assault—the deadliest in Israel’s history—flows from Hamas’s stated ideology and governance of Gaza since 2007 (Human Rights Watch, 2025)¹. Israel’s military response (“Swords of Iron”) has since produced extensive loss of life and suffering in Gaza. As of September 2025, UN situation updates report very high Palestinian fatalities; figures remain contested due to sourcing and methodology (OCHA, 2025)².

Christian ethics requires us to hold together the biblical summons to defend the vulnerable (Deut 20:1–4) with the command to love enemies (Matt 5:44). That tension—justice and mercy—must govern our evaluation of both Hamas’s atrocities and Israel’s response. The church’s historic witness does not sanctify violence; it constrains it within a grammar of love aimed at the protection of life and the restoration of peace. When we speak of just war, we do not celebrate war; we lament it. And within lament, we seek the criteria by which states may resist evil without becoming its mirror.

The pastoral task in such a moment is difficult. We minister to Israeli families who grieve murdered kin and abducted loved ones. We minister to Palestinian families who grieve homes reduced to rubble and children buried in dust. We refuse the false choice between compassion for one and compassion for the other. Biblical justice, like the character of God, is never zero-sum. God “defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you” (cf. Ps 82:3–4; Isa 58:7)¹⁶. Thus, our analysis must move with two feet: one planted firmly in moral clarity about Hamas’s culpability; the other planted firmly in moral seriousness about Israel’s responsibilities.

The Hamas Charter and the October 7 Attack

The 1988 Hamas Charter, shaped by Muslim Brotherhood ideology, rejects peace with Israel and embeds antisemitic tropes (Avalon Project, 1988)¹⁹. A 2017 policy document softened tone without renouncing armed struggle (Avalon Project, 2017)²⁰. These commitments help explain the scale and savagery of October 7 (HRW, 2025)¹. Allegations of sexual violence on October 7 are under ongoing investigation; they should be described with moral gravity and careful sourcing rather than by retrofitting older UN reports about earlier conflicts. Israel’s obligation to protect its citizens stands; so does the command to spare the innocent (Deut 20:14)¹³.

Theologically, the charter’s call for perpetual enmity collides with the biblical vision of neighbor-love. When an organization pledges itself to the obliteration of a people, it has already crossed the line from legitimate resistance to nihilistic violence. The “works of the flesh” that Saint Paul describes—enmity, strife, fits of rage (Gal 5:20)—are not merely personal vices but political ones. That is why the October 7 massacre functions as a moral earthquake: it reveals tectonic plates long set in motion by ideological commitments that despise the image of God in the other. Such ideology cannot be negotiated into benevolence; it must be restrained.

Yet Christian witness also resists the dehumanization of enemies. While the charter’s moral ugliness must be named, we still bear responsibility to see Palestinian civilians not as extensions of Hamas but as neighbors whose dignity is inviolable. This is not sentimentalism but doctrinal realism: the imago Dei is not revoked by the sins of rulers. Consequently, any strategy that fails to distinguish between combatant and noncombatant, or that treats civilians as mere leverage, fails biblically before it fails legally.

Classicist Victor Davis Hanson reminds us that warfare is not merely a breakdown of order but a perennial human tragedy that exposes the moral character of peoples and polities. In his studies of classical and modern conflict, he argues that culture shapes how nations fight and whether they restrain themselves in victory (Hanson 2010²⁴; Hanson 2001²⁵). This thesis does not baptize Western arms; it warns that when civic virtues erode—deliberation, accountability, and truth-telling—tactics grow indiscriminate. Israel and Hamas therefore cannot be assessed only by battlefield outcomes but by the cultural-moral horizons that animate their conduct.

Hanson's insight helps us read October 7 in context: Hamas’s culture of revolutionary absolutism chooses spectacles of terror precisely because such acts erode public trust, provoke excessive retaliation, and destabilize the civic order upon which humane restraint depends. By contrast, when a state cultivates habits of deliberation, transparency, and civil oversight, it creates the social conditions for discriminating force. Christian discipleship should therefore encourage civic practices—free inquiry, truthful reporting, independent courts—that make mercy practicable in the fog of war.

Israel’s Response: Operation Swords of Iron

Israel targeted Hamas military infrastructure—tunnels, launchers, and command centers—while also confronting ongoing rocket fire and a complex hostage crisis (IDF, 2024)²². Reported fatalities in Gaza are large and tragic; counts vary by source and period (OCHA, 2025)². Humanitarian measures—including aid corridors and airdrops by multiple states in 2024–2025—were undertaken but repeatedly impeded by insecurity and logistical constraints. Because flows fluctuated widely, precise tallies should be time-stamped and attributed (cf. The Lancet on casualty-count methods)⁶.

Hanson also observes that Western militaries often seek decisive engagements and precision to shorten wars (Hanson 1989²⁶; Hanson 2001²⁵). Yet when adversaries embed within civilian populations, the very strengths of precision and speed can be blunted, prolonging conflict and multiplying tragic collateral harms. This aligns with our biblical concern that means must be as righteous as ends.

Operationally, Swords of Iron confronted a challenge common to counterinsurgency in dense urban terrain: the adversary’s willingness to use hospitals, schools, and apartments to mask military activity. International humanitarian law forbids such tactics; biblical morality condemns them as a betrayal of neighbor-love. Still, the presence of wickedness does not excuse unrighteous methods in return. Israel’s responsibility was—and remains—to combine military necessity with moral discipline, seeking the concrete good of civilians even when Hamas does not.

Practically, that entails constant adjustments: opening corridors when fighting shifts, pausing operations for evacuations, calibrating munitions to reduce blast radius, and coordinating with humanitarian actors even when trust is frayed. These disciplines are imperfect in execution; war is an arena of friction and tragic tradeoffs. Yet the test of right intention is whether leaders keep reaching for measures that lower civilian risk at real cost to themselves. The Christian tradition recognizes such costly measures as a form of neighbor-love.

It also entails candor about mistakes. In any large operation, errors occur: misidentification of targets, breakdowns in deconfliction, failures in warning systems. A just state does not deny these possibilities; it codifies investigative mechanisms and public accountability. Confession is not weakness; it is strength. It both honors the dead and reforms doctrine so that tomorrow’s decisions better reflect the sanctity of life. The Bible is relentless about this: righteousness is not the absence of sin but the presence of repentance (cf. Mic 6:8)¹⁴.

Finally, because Hamas’s strategy aims to collapse distinctions between combatants and civilians, the success of Israeli operations will not be judged only by battlefield damage but by the reconstitution of those distinctions. To the extent that civilians can safely return, rebuild, and participate in non-militarized civic life, to that extent the moral arc of the operation bends toward justice.

Hamas’s unlawful tactics—using civilian areas for military advantage—aggravate civilian risk and moral responsibility (IDF, 2024; Gordon & Perugini, 2020)²²²³. Still, Israel remains bound by discrimination and proportionality.

Evaluating Israel’s Response Against Biblical Just-War Principles

1. Just Cause

The October 7 massacre establishes just cause (Deut 20:1–4; HRW, 2025)⁷¹. A state may defend its people; yet Scripture also bends the heart toward mercy for noncombatants (Mic 6:8)¹⁴. Met.

“Just cause” is not carte blanche. It is the doorway into a house with many rooms: legitimate authority, right intention, proportionality, discrimination, last resort, and reasonable chance of success. The morality of a war can be corrupted by how it is fought and what it seeks to accomplish. Thus, while Israel’s cause of self-defense is clear, its conduct and aims remain under moral scrutiny. The same standard applies to every state and every army—including those that style themselves liberators.

In pastoral practice, this means comforting those who cry out for protection while warning against the intoxication of vengeance. Vengeance promises catharsis but delivers corrosion. Justice, by contrast, seeks the restoration of order under law. The difference is spiritual: vengeance centers the self; justice centers the neighbor and the common good under God.

2. Legitimate Authority

Israel’s elected government bears the sword; Hamas is a non-state armed group with authoritarian control over Gaza. Biblical patterns (e.g., 1 Sam 15) assume accountable authority for public defense, even as such authority is held to God’s standards of justice (The Bible, 1989)¹⁰. Met.

The criterion of authority is about more than titles. It concerns accountability to a polity, legal restraints, and the capacity to make and keep public commitments. The presence of elections, a functioning judiciary, and free media—however imperfect—enables oversight. Where these are absent, “authority” drifts toward naked power. Theologically, legitimate authority is stewardship: the ruler bears responsibility before God to wield force ministerially, not idolatrously (Rom 13). Thus, institutions that enable scrutiny are not bureaucratic hurdles; they are means of grace that protect the vulnerable.

Authority also entails duty after victory. If war opens a door to governance, the just state seeks to rebuild civic goods: security, courts, schools, and spaces where truth can again be spoken without fear. Authority that topples a tyrant but refuses the burden of reconstruction abandons its neighbor at the threshold.

3. Proportionality

“Eye for eye” (Exod 21:24) restrains excess. The immense civilian toll in Gaza—whatever the precise ratios at different times—demands rigorous calibration of force and persistent humanitarian access (OCHA, 2025; The Lancet, 2024)²⁶. Partially met.

Proportionality is often misunderstood as an arithmetic of casualties. Biblically and legally, it is a prudential judgment about whether the anticipated military advantage of a strike outweighs the foreseeable civilian harm. That judgment is contextual and dynamic. It must be reassessed as intelligence changes, as humanitarian conditions deteriorate or improve, and as alternative tactics become available. Hence proportionality is not a one-time permission but a continual discipline of conscience.

Practically, proportionality asks commanders to consider alternatives: Can a target be struck at a different time? with a different munition? after additional warnings? in conjunction with an evacuation corridor? Each “yes” narrows harm and forms the moral muscle memory of a righteous people. The costs of restraint—missed opportunities, prolonged operations—are real. But Scripture teaches that it is better to suffer loss than to destroy the innocent (Deut 20:14)¹³. Restraint is not capitulation; it is trust that justice aligned with mercy is the surest path to durable peace.

Hanson’s “tragic view” cautions that even just causes can descend into cycles of reprisal if strategy ignores time, logistics, and the moral corrosion of long war (Hanson 2005²⁷; Hanson 2017²⁸). Scripture’s restraint (“eye for eye” as limit, not license) converges here: proportionality requires not only calibrated strikes but strategic designs that shorten war and spare the vulnerable. Thus proportionality is judged by both methods and war aims—including the speed with which humanitarian access is expanded.

The deeper question beneath proportionality is telos: what kind of peace are we building? If the end is merely the absence of rockets, then civilian suffering will be tolerated as regrettable collateral. If the end is the renewal of civic life—schools open, hospitals functional, courts impartial—then our tactics will change. We will prize intelligence that distinguishes fighters from families; we will structure operations around windows for aid flow; we will accept tactical delay to gain strategic legitimacy. In Christian terms, we will love our neighbors not only by stopping harm but by designing peace.

4. Discrimination

Deut 20:14 requires sparing noncombatants. Israel’s warnings and precision efforts aim at this, yet urban combat, dense civilian shielding, and damage to critical infrastructure have caused grievous civilian harm (IDF, 2024; OCHA, 2025)²²². Partially met.

Discrimination is not an abstract ideal; it is a set of practices. It includes intelligible warnings in languages civilians understand; the designation of protected sites and their active deconfliction; the creation of humanitarian “no-strike” windows; and disciplined fire control in the presence of human shields. It is emboldened by good maps, patient timing, and willingness to abort. Sometimes discrimination means foregoing a lawful shot because the moral risk is too high. The wisdom of Proverbs—“A prudent person foresees danger and takes precautions”—belongs in targeting rooms as much as in family life.

From Marathon to modern urban fights, Hanson notes that civic militaries at their best distinguish combatants from noncombatants because they answer to citizens and law (Hanson 1989²⁶; Hanson 2001²⁵). Where militants dissolve that distinction—using human shields—discrimination becomes harder but not optional. Israel’s accountability mechanisms and public deliberation should therefore be treated as spiritual disciplines as well as legal duties: confession when wrong, correction in doctrine and practice, and renewed safeguards for civilian life.

Discrimination also looks beyond the strike. It asks what happens to survivors tomorrow: Will they have clean water? access to food? safe routes for clinic visits? These are not “merely humanitarian” questions; they are the moral horizon of lawful combat. An operation that leaves civilians trapped between rubble and hunger fails the spirit of discrimination even if each individual strike met the letter of the law. The prophet’s cry—“Is not this the fast that I choose… to share your bread with the hungry?” (Isa 58:7)—does not cease at the line of contact¹⁶.

5. Last Resort

Deut 20:10 mandates offers of peace. Repeated mediation attempts and ceasefire proposals since 2023 illustrate attempts short of war while hostilities continued. The biblical witness commends both firmness against aggression and a continual readiness to negotiate (Jonah 3; Josh 11:19–20). Met (with grief and vigilance).

Last resort does not mean “every possible alternative has been exhausted in abstract logic.” It means that in the concrete circumstances, reasonable alternatives have been seriously attempted and found wanting. In hostage crises, the calculus is particularly painful: pauses may save lives, yet they may also allow an adversary to rearm or reposition. Leaders bear responsibility to run these moral equations with sobriety, seeking counsel from allies and critics alike. The church’s role is to pray for wisdom and to advocate for terms that protect the innocent and bind the violent.

Hansonian readings of the Peloponnesian War show how leaders who scorn negotiation often court strategic hubris and ruin (Hanson 2005²⁷). Deuteronomy’s summons to sue for peace before siege meets the historian’s sober warning: statesmanship and patience can spare lives that arms alone cannot save. Every credible ceasefire or exchange proposal ought to be tested in that light.

Last resort also has a temporal dimension: what counted as “last resort” in October 2023 may not look identical in mid-2024 or late-2025, as conditions, alliances, and facts on the ground shift. This is why ongoing reevaluation is not weakness but wisdom. The capacity to shift from offensive operations to negotiated arrangements—or back—when prudence requires is a virtue that saves lives.

6. Right Intention

Psalm 82:3–4 and Isa 58:7 center the weak and hungry. The moral aim must remain the protection of life, the dismantling of terror capability, and the alleviation of civilian suffering. Intent is tested not by slogans but by sustained policies that minimize harm and expand humanitarian access. Partially met.

Right intention narrows both means and ends. If the end is the humiliation of an enemy, cruelty will creep in; if the end is the safety of innocents and the dismantling of terror, discipline will follow. Intention is revealed in budgets and bureaucracies as much as in speeches: Are we resourcing deconfliction cells, field hospitals, and civilian liaisons? Are we investigating failures quickly and publicly? Are we making measurable progress in restoring essential services? These are spiritual diagnostics in a military key.

The command to love enemies does not negate self-defense; it transfigures it. Love refuses the intoxication of hatred; it refuses delight in the enemy’s suffering; it refuses the corrosion of deceit. Love insists on truth-telling about both atrocities and our own failures. Love seeks the possibility of future coexistence where today there is only fear. In practice, that means shaping operations with a view to the day after conflict: a horizon of governance that prizes justice, truthful memory, and the dignity of all.

Impact of Hamas’s Human Shields

Embedding military assets in civilian sites violates the moral law and IHL, inflating casualties and clouding battle-damage assessments (IDF, 2024; Gordon & Perugini, 2020)²²²³. This does not absolve Israel’s obligations under discrimination and proportionality; it clarifies the tragic calculus of urban conflict and the urgency of civilian evacuation corridors and monitored aid delivery.

Theologically, human shielding sins against neighbor at multiple levels. It treats one’s own people as expendable instruments. It manipulates the empathy of observers by transforming civilians into props for propaganda. It desecrates sites meant for healing and learning. Such tactics weaponize the very goods that just war seeks to protect. Therefore, when the international community condemns human shielding, it is not engaging in pedantic legalism; it is defending the conditions of life in which mercy can breathe.

The presence of shields, however, does not eliminate moral calculus for the attacker. It complicates it. That is precisely when disciplined forces must demonstrate mastery over impulse: adjusting angles of attack; privileging capture over kill where feasible; holding fire when intelligence is thin; coordinating synchronized evacuations that put real people, not abstractions, on safe roads. These are not merely operational tweaks; they are acts of reverence for the image of God.

UN Statistics and Reliability

UN situation reports and Gaza Health Ministry figures provide scale but require careful interpretation; methodologies and classifications can vary. The Lancet notes the inherent difficulty of precise counting in active conflict and the need for transparent methods over time (The Lancet, 2024)⁶. Accordingly, claims about civilian percentages or daily aid flows should be dated, sourced, and open to revision (OCHA, 2025)².

As a pastoral matter, this means refusing to wield numbers as cudgels. We must not minimize suffering by quibbling over decimal points, nor exaggerate for rhetorical victory. Instead, we should teach congregations and students how data is gathered, what its limits are, and why humility is virtuous in statistical disputes. Truth is not served by certainty beyond evidence; neither is justice served by skepticism that dismisses credible testimony because it is uncomfortable.

Practically, it is wise to triangulate: consider UN updates, independent NGO assessments, and official statements, noting where they converge and where they diverge. Where counts differ significantly, we can still draw morally relevant conclusions: that civilian harm is extensive; that humanitarian access remains precarious; that medical systems are strained. Such conclusions are sufficient to compel compassion and action even while debates over the exact figures continue.

Conclusion

As a Christian chaplain, I hold together justice for victims of October 7 and mercy for Gaza’s suffering. The path forward is prayerful realism: relentless pursuit of hostages’ release, targeted operations against combatants, monitored humanitarian corridors and airdrops, and transparent casualty reporting. As Hanson argues across his corpus, cultures that keep faith with ordered liberty tend to fight more accountably and to end wars more securely; when they abandon those virtues, victory itself becomes hollow. “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases” (Lam 3:22); therefore we work, speak, and pray for a peace that protects the innocent and restrains the wicked.

Such peace does not emerge by accident. It is built by leaders who fear God more than polls, by soldiers who prefer restraint to revenge, by citizens who insist on truth even when it wounds their tribe, and by churches that intercede for all who suffer. We must cultivate habits now—honest reporting, care for refugees, cross-community friendship—that will make reconciliation imaginable when the guns grow silent. The cross teaches us that justice and mercy meet not in abstraction but in a person who bears wounds for enemies. If we are to be his people, our politics of war and peace must bear the same cruciform shape.

Endnotes

Bibliography

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• Human Rights Watch. (2025). World Report 2025: Israel and Palestine. https://www.hrw.org/world-report/2025/country-chapters/israel-and-palestine.
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• Hanson, Victor Davis. The Second World Wars: How the First Global Conflict Was Fought and Won. New York: Basic Books, 2017.