The World Is Here

The first speaker came as a graduate student from Morocco. The second, a human rights worker from Colombia. The third, a Tibetan girl in India, was "trafficked" by an American, but managed to escape. The fourth, a survivor of the Cambodian genocide, spent years in refugee camps in Thailand and the Philippines.

One by one, they told their stories Sunday at the Winchester Public Library, sponsored by the Multicultural Network. Their stories told of fear and confusion, prejudice and discouragement, but also resilience and hope. Included were moments of wonder: a first ride on a moving walkway at the airport, falling snow, jelly beans.

Now working and raising families, these women have moved beyond survival mode and are now helping to build our communities. They remind us that our social fabric constantly benefits from renewal—new threads, new patterns, new colors of courage, personality and talent. And that this is the American way, played out over generations of immigration, echoing our own family stories.

The stories also remind us that although our lives are local, our consciousness is global. We can no more isolate ourselves by race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, or politics than we can isolate the air we breathe or the water we share. We know that our most deeply held beliefs, including our democratic values, are universal.

I felt this again on Sunday afternoon. After we heard the immigrant stories in Winchester, we returned to Stoneham. The raindrops were just starting to fall as we stepped into the First Congregational Church for a memorial service for those killed and wounded in the terrorist attacks in Sri Lanka.

What happened there, so far away, was indescribably horrible. Yet here were families from South India and Sri Lanka, members of the New England Tamil Church, who worship in Stoneham every week, mourning the loss and the maiming of loved ones.

In a candlelight service of songs, memorials and prayers, we heard accounts of suffering, of missing limbs. We also heard about an earlier escape from the sectarian violence that has plagued the region. While expressing gratitude for the religious freedom in America, one speaker called for an end to the political rhetoric inflaming violence and intolerance.

The Congregational pastor and the director of the Massachusetts Council of Churches were there to express sympathy and solidarity. Then, as the audience held hands, the Tamil pastor prayed in his native language. I couldn’t understand the words, but I could clearly hear the the pain and longing in his voice.

Ten miles north of Boston, our town can sometimes seem a sleepy suburb removed from the main currents of world affairs. Yet, if we look closely, we see we are the world. How we respond will define our character and our future.

© Ben Jacques