The mortal mind alone cannot devise an answer to the

In the luminous and sorrowful words of Marianne Williamson, she declared: “The mortal mind alone cannot devise an answer to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, because the true answer lies on a level of consciousness that's beyond our mortal thinking. Quite simply, when it comes to Israel and the Palestinians, we need a miracle.” These words, spoken by a woman who has spent her life exploring the intersection of politics and spirit, carry the weight of both despair and divine hope. For they remind us that the deepest wounds of the world cannot be healed by strategy alone, nor by treaties written in fear, nor by the cold logic of power. They can only be transformed through a higher consciousness, one born not of the intellect, but of the heart — through the awakening of love where hatred has reigned too long.

When Williamson speaks of the mortal mind, she means that level of human thought governed by ego — by pride, division, fear, and the need to be right. This is the mind that seeks victory rather than peace, control rather than understanding. For generations, both Israelis and Palestinians have suffered under the weight of history’s grief, each side seeing itself as the wounded and the wronged. The mortal mind clings to pain; it cannot see beyond it. But Williamson calls for something greater — the transcendent mind, the awareness that sees not as nations or tribes, but as souls. In this higher consciousness, we remember that all peoples, all children, all mothers who weep for their dead are one family beneath the same sky.

The origin of Williamson’s words lies in her lifelong belief that healing, whether personal or collective, comes through a shift in consciousness — what she calls a miracle. To her, a miracle is not an event that defies nature, but one that restores it: the moment when fear gives way to love, when perception is transformed from separation to unity. When she says, “we need a miracle,” she is not asking for divine intervention to erase the conflict; she is calling for a transformation in the hearts of men. The miracle she envisions is the courage to see the other not as an enemy, but as oneself in another form — a courage far greater than the courage of war.

History itself confirms that human wisdom alone cannot end enmity. Consider the long and bitter conflict between France and Germany, which for centuries spilled rivers of blood across Europe. After two world wars, hatred seemed eternal. Yet after the devastation, men and women of conscience — guided not merely by reason, but by moral awakening — chose reconciliation over vengeance. They built not only borders of peace but hearts of trust. That transformation was not born in government halls, but in the collective will to forgive, to rise above pride. It was, in truth, a miracle of consciousness — the same miracle that Williamson believes the Holy Land now awaits.

Her insight is that every conflict, whether between nations or within the human heart, is a reflection of the same truth: that fear divides, and love unites. The human mind, driven by fear, can craft walls and weapons, but not peace. Peace is the fruit of the soul — a work of spirit that begins with empathy and forgiveness. The mind sees differences; the heart perceives likeness. Only when individuals on both sides of any divide begin to act from compassion rather than defense can the possibility of reconciliation be born. Thus, the miracle Williamson speaks of is not supernatural — it is spiritual clarity, a revelation that arises when humanity remembers its shared divinity.

Let this, then, be the teaching: reason may outline the path to peace, but love must walk it. The wise do not scorn the need for diplomacy or justice, but they know that these are only vessels. The true content — the living water that fills them — is mercy. Every act of forgiveness between enemies, every gesture of empathy across boundaries, is itself a miracle, a small awakening of that higher consciousness that alone can heal the world.

So, dear listener, when you think of the great conflicts of our time — in lands torn by war, in homes divided by anger, in your own heart when resentment burns — remember Marianne Williamson’s words. Do not rely on the mortal mind that seeks to win; awaken the divine mind that seeks to understand. Pray, yes, but then act — with gentleness, courage, and compassion. For the miracle the world needs is not waiting in the heavens; it is waiting in each of us, ready to arise when we choose love over fear.

And so, the wisdom endures: peace is not made by power, but by consciousness. When we lift our hearts above hatred, when we see the face of God in the one we once called our enemy, the miracle happens — and humanity, at last, remembers itself.