The Talmud was written, organized and compiled in a different era, but many of its lessons are timeless. Many of its examples may seem inapplicable to most of us, but so many of the concepts hit home to most of us despite these differences in time and milieu.

An example is a discussion in the Talmud about a stolen field full of produce. Most of the readers of this paper almost never get to see a field, with or without produce, but the two wars that are raging as this article goes to print are certainly impacting people in cities as well as farms.

The Talmud (page 14 of Bava Metzia) discusses a field full of produce that was stolen—not ravaged by war—but the effect is the same. Not only was the produce consumed, in the Talmud’s scenario, but the property was also rendered unfit for its purposes, much as Ukraine will not be the same after the war ends. The Ukrainians are fighting for their homeland, but their homes and their land will not be recognizable, if livable, for many of the soldiers and refugees (many of whom are Jewish) upon their return, if ever.

In Gaza, the picture is just as poignant, if not more so. When the Jews disengaged from Gaza almost 20 years ago, they left behind magnificent produce-producing greenhouses that weren’t consumed for the benefit of the new inhabitants, but were intentionally torched to the ground by the Gazans, so the greenhouses could never be used by the people who took over the property or retaken and put to use as before.

Then, in October of this year, not only were buildings in Israel burned by Hamas invaders from Gaza, but they were destroyed with people inside of them (in addition to the other atrocities committed). And because Hamas operated in and launched weapons from civilian houses and hospitals, the war was not as limited as it would be when fighting is confined to purely military targets, so that the devastation was far greater than it had to be.

But returning to the section of the Talmud excerpted above, there is more to the quotation. The actual language indicates that the produce was not only consumed, but the robber “dug pits, ditches and caves in the field,” rendering it unfit for its previous agricultural use. But the language is haunting, “dug pits, ditches and caves.” Sound familiar? It sounds awfully close to tunnels. The inhabitants of the fields in the days of the Talmud couldn’t have imagined the sophisticated tunnels built in the course of the past many years in Gaza, but pits, ditches and especially caves had the same result—causing the area to no longer be fit for its previous use. Although in the case of the Gaza war, the tunnels may not have directly led to the devastation, but their existence certainly caused the devastation to be far greater than it would have been in their absence.

In the Talmud, the discussion continues with how the victims could be made whole, whether from the return of the value of the property before the robbery from the robber’s liened property or from unsold property.

We are far from at the point where the Ukrainians (including many Jews), the Gazans, or the displaced and injured Israelis and their families will be made whole, if ever, but everyone should learn a lesson from the Israelis’ attempts to pinpoint military targets and to avoid needless loss of property, which has always been the modus operandi until the current war, where their hands and weapons were forced to cause more havoc, though only for the reason articulated above. Israelis have traditionally been the victims of genocide, not God forbid the perpetuators of genocide. One of the tragedies of the current war in Gaza—as if there aren’t enough tragedies—is the false accusation that the Israelis are causing genocide. May tragic losses stop, and especially unnecessary purposeful aggravation and distortions of the tragedies, bimhayrah beyamaynu, speedily and in our times.

Rabbi Aaron I. Reichel, Esq. is an attorney and a former staff member of the Environmental Protection Bureau, Office of the Attorney General of the State of New York.