I know this message is written in a language that is not native to you. Neither is it native to me. I don’t speak your native language and you probably don’t speak mine. I hope that the language which I’ve selected for this message is common enough for the both of us to understand each other and to express our ideas.
I know nothing about you except that you are the one who has picked up the bottle and managed to coax this message out of it. You know nothing about me except that I am the one who wrote this message and stuffed it in the bottle. You may be asking yourself why I did it. I suppose it’s because I wanted you to pick up the bottle and read the message, and I didn’t know of any other way to get it to you, the message, that is; I don’t care about the bottle, once you’ve retrieved the message.
I try to imagine you. I won’t tell you what all I imagine about you because you’d probably think it’s silly and they’re probably all wrong.
If you’ve managed to get this far, I’ll tell you what I believe about you. There are quite a few things about you that are similar to me. You love your children. So do I. I’d give my life for mine as you’d give your life for yours. You honor your parents and grandparents, even if they’re no longer living. So do I. You’d do anything for your family, make sure they have everything they need, work long and hard for them. So would I. You want the best life possible for them. So do I. You have friends who would give you the shirts off their backs and you’d do the same for them. Some of those friends are like family to you. So do I. So are friends for me.
The truth is, you don’t know everything. Neither do I. Nobody does. There are lots of things you know but there are lots of things you don’t know. It’s the same with me. The things you don’t know, you have to guess at, you have to trust someone or something, you have to believe that it’s true. It’s the same with me.
But let’s face it. We have our differences too.
Your leaders tell you bad things about us, that we are your enemies. Our leaders say the same things about you. The truth is, some of us really are bad. I suspect that some of you are really bad too. Our leaders say we can’t trust you. Do your leaders say the same about us? It’s not just talk. Some of you have killed or injured some of us and some of us have killed or injured some of you. I don’t know who started it. Do you know? We tell different stories. We have different histories. They all go back so far that nobody really knows for sure what is fact and what is fiction. They also go forward into rosy futures that can’t all be true because some of them are mutually exclusive. It’s a zero sum game.
Our differences are real, but so are our similarities. Why is it that our differences seem to blind us to our similarities? I’m not saying we should ignore our differences. I am saying we should be motivated by our similarities to keep on looking for a way through the valley of the shadow of death, relying on understanding and empathy of and for each other, rather than fear and hatred. Don’t wait for our leaders to lead us to peace. They won’t. They can’t. It is far easier for them to lead us to war. Peace won’t come unless there’s trust and trust will only come one by one, two by two, three by three …
I wrote this message, put it in a plastic bottle, drove to the border between us, and threw it over the wall. I have no idea whether anyone on the other side picked up the bottle, pulled out the message, and read it. I waited for several hours but nobody threw the bottle back over the wall to our side.
The previous paragraph was slightly inaccurate. I was walking next to the wall on the border between us when I saw an object tossed over from the other side. It landed close by and I saw it was a bottle. At first I thought it was a molotov cocktail or something similar. It didn’t have a rag stuffed in the neck of the bottle or anything like that but I did see what looked like a note inside the bottle. My curiosity overcame my caution and I walked over to the bottle and extracted and read this note. It didn’t know quite what to make of it or what to do with it.
The previous two paragraphs are untrue. As a matter of fact this whole note business is complete fiction. I wrote it in the firm belief that there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be true sometime, somewhere, that someone might write a note like this and someone else might read it, that they might feel each other’s pain and prayers and loves, that those prayers and successes and victories might no longer be at each other’s expense.
Not that it makes any difference to a God who created the Universe and all things in it, but I am an Israeli Jew and those on the other side of the wall are mostly Palestinian Muslims. The only prayers that reach God’s ear are prayers for peace among all His creations.