I seem unable to let this day pass without saying something about it.
Except, today, I don't know that I have much to say. Seven years have gone by. We have been embroiled in armed conflicts in the Middle East for most of that time, though that's no longer, evidently, the thing weighing most heavily on voters' minds as we head into the last 6 weeks before the election.
I listened to women being interviewed on Democracy Now today as I picked up my lunch. BOth New Yorkers. One woman lost a brother in the Twin Towers. The other lost nineteen relatives in Afghanistan. The woman who lost a brother kept saying, "We are the same. We are the same."
I wonder, could we believe that?
I love my daughter, just as an Iraqi woman loves her daughter.
I love my father, just as an Iraqi girl loves her father.
I live in a home in which I hope to be safe, just as a Pakistani woman hopes to be safe in her home.
I hope to go on worshiping God in freedom, just as an Israeli Rabbi hopes to worship God in freedom.
In all the important ways, are we not the same?