Hamas members disapprove of parties and stay away from festivities. But they are often the first at your funeral, setting up a tent and making posters of condolences and mentioning the deeds of the deceased.
As I walk the streets of Jerusalem this Chanukah and see the flickering candles in the windows of Jewish homes, I think back to a time 2,000 years ago, when my ancestors here were denied their rights to follow Jewish tradition by the Syrian-Greeks who then occupied the land.
If Israel's crime is extending a ban on the release of its archives, the Arab world's crime is that they have no archives at all to show the world what the real story of the Middle East was after 1948.
Palestinians' wishes are simple -- we want what is ours, our land, with true sovereignty, freedom, equality and civil rights -- what Martin Luther King, Jr. called in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail "our constitutional and God-given rights."
Jews who lived for centuries as good citizens of Arab countries would have loved nothing more than to pledge loyalty to a "Muslim and democratic state" in return for the same freedoms, rights and protections that Arabs enjoy today in Israel.
In our new film Budrus, our protagonist, Ayed Morrar, achieved what policymakers and policy wonks believe to be impossible: He united Hamas, Fatah and Israeli allies to save his village from destruction.
Candidates for Israeli citizenship will now have to pledge allegiance to Israel as a Jewish and democratic state. But if Judaism is the reference point, then Israel's demands for ownership of land takes on a totally new dimension.
Thousands of Israelis have been killed as a result of policies that the conservative "pro-Israel" lobby has supported. Yet they sail on, never looking back, labeling anyone who opposes the status quo "anti-Israel."
Settlement has long been, and remains, the fuel for the fire of de-legitimization of Israel, the basis of charges of apartheid and ethnic cleansing. It undermines the foundation of the idea of a Jewish state.