Forgive Me, Mother: The Testimony of Rifaat Radwan

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” — John 15:13

On March 23rd, 2024, a massacre unfolded in Rafah.

The Israeli army's elite Golani Brigade was deployed under chilling orders:

“Everyone you encounter is an enemy. If you spot a figure, open fire, eliminate, and move on.”

These chilling orders were given to soldiers before the attack. And it wasn’t until a mobile phone—belonging to a slain Palestinian paramedic—was recovered that the truth could no longer be buried.

That phone belonged to Rifaat Radwan, a volunteer with the Palestinian Red Crescent. His final moments were recorded in a video that shattered the false narrative Israel initially offered to justify the killings.

In the recording, Rifaat is heard reciting the Muslim prayers of the dying. He knew his life was ending.

But Rifaat’s last words weren’t political. They weren’t angry.

They were for his mother.

“Forgive me, mother. Forgive me. I chose this path to help people.”

A Martyr of Mercy

Rifaat Radwan died helping others. He ran toward danger, not away from it. He gave everything—not for fame, not for gain—but for the sacred calling to protect life amid destruction.

“The situation in Gaza will haunt us for decades. Because no one will be able to say we weren’t aware. All the information is available. The images are there.” — Robert Mardini, Director-General of the International Committee of the Red Cross

Indeed, the images are there—streamed from the phones of the living and the dead. What is unfolding in Gaza is not hidden. It is documented, broadcast, and replayed in real time.

The Weight of Grief, the Echo of Honor

That Rifaat felt he had to apologize in his final moments speaks volumes about the world we now inhabit.

He knew his death would break his mother's heart. And even though he died doing something noble, something selfless—he still asked for her forgiveness.

Because when the world fails its people… When justice is denied… When silence becomes complicity… Even the righteous feel they must apologize for answering the call.

Let This Be His Memorial

This is Rifaat Radwan’s lived testimony—a legacy of compassion, courage, and sacrificial love.

He should not have had to say “Forgive me.” The world should have said “Thank you.”

Let his name be remembered. Let his story be told. Let his memory be a fire that softens hearts and strengthens resolve.

Let his sacrifice pierce the conscience of the world.

#RifaatRadwan #Gaza #Humanity #MartyrOfMercy #RedCrescent #StandForJustice #TruthMatters #NeverForget #ICRC #MothersGrief #Witness #PrayForJustice

The New Tower of Babel

There’s a story, older than any nation, about a people who tried to build a tower to the heavens. They spoke one language, moved as one, and believed there was no limit to what they could accomplish — not for the good of all, but to make a name for themselves.

And so, they built higher and higher, layer upon layer, until the very sky seemed within reach.

But what they had forgotten — was that greatness built on pride, on arrogance, on the hunger to elevate oneself over others, can only end one way.

The foundation cracked. Their words, once clear, became noise. Their unity shattered into a thousand scattered tongues. And the tower they had built so proudly stood half-finished — a monument not to greatness, but to the cost of forgetting who they were meant to be.

We are living through a new Babel.

But this time, it isn’t a physical tower reaching to the sky. It’s a tower built out of noise — out of half-truths, slogans, idols, and lies. Each brick laid not with humility, but with defiance. Each level built higher, more unstable, stacked by those who would rather rule the ruins than share the city.

Language itself is breaking. Words no longer mean what they once meant. Truth has been made a weapon. And instead of seeking understanding, many now seek only victory — even if it means destroying the very ground they stand on.

But there is hope. There is always hope.

Not in shouting louder. Not in building a taller tower of our own. But in stepping back from the noise — in returning to the quiet truth that was planted inside us long before we forgot how to listen.

Each time one person chooses truth over pride, kindness over domination, courage over fear, a new foundation is laid. Not for another tower — but for a bridge. A way back to each other.

The question before us now is not whether Babel will fall. It always falls. The real question is — what will we build from the rubble?

I cannot pretend to have every answer. But I know this: I have seen what happens when a person finds their way back to their own inner sanctuary — when the noise fades, and what remains is not confusion, but clarity. Not fear, but purpose.

That is the work before us. That is the invitation.

Not to rise higher — but to stand truer. Not to build monuments to ourselves — but to build bridges strong enough to carry truth, love, and dignity back across the broken places.

One heart at a time. One light at a time. One act of courage at a time.

The new Babel is falling. Let’s make sure what rises from the dust is worthy of the cost.

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#NewBabel #TruthMatters #RebuildTheBridge #InnerSanctuary #StandTruer #SilentResistance #HopeInTheRubble #BuildingANewWay