Changing Places

CHANGING

Refugees face enormous challenges w but American churches are helping to

by Chris Sicks

Life in Dabaab, a refugee camp in Kenya (photo courtesy of Robert Coronado/World Vision), contrasts sharply with life in North American suburbs (right).

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PLACES

when starting life over in the US, o ease the transition.

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It

was his first day in America, and Farah Mwechiwa was speaking on a telephone for the first time in his life. “All Farah knew was that somehow the numbers on that piece of paper he had would reconnect him to his brother, now living in Texas,” says Angie Jones. “He was amazed at hearing his brother’s voice through that strange piece of equipment.”

Mwechiwa is from Somalia, but he is not of the Somali people. He is a member of the Somali-Bantu people, brought to Somalia decades ago by Arab slave traders. There they were treated harshly and used for manual labor, living in primitive conditions even before becoming refugees.

The United Nations estimates there are currently more than 40 million people in the world who have been displaced from their homes. Somalia alone has produced more than 2 million refugees, and almost half a million of them are living

people lived very simple lives even before entering the refugee camps that many would call home for a decade or more.

Light switches, toilets, stoves, and even doorknobs were novelties to them.

Refugees can learn about those things from any American, but the Mwechiwa family also learned about the love of Christ during their week in the Joneses’ home.

“One day, while we were all sitting on the floor in our family room talking, one of the babies obviously developed a very stinky diaper,” Angie Jones recalls. “The men began frowning and speaking harshly to the mother. I didn’t even think about it; I just took the child from the mother’s arms and changed the diaper and then brought the child back so the mom wouldn’t miss anything. I learned later that this was shocking to them. No one else in their community would have done that, and they had never experienced a white person

Left: Farah Mwechiwa speaks on a telephone for the very first time. His son Said and wife, Binti, are behind him.

Below: Hassan Chalabi poses with his new American friends, Mike and Rita Sabbagh. A former translator for the US Army in Iraq, Chalabi prefers not to be identified.

in camps in Dabaab, Kenya, which were originally designed to hold only 90,000. The US has participated in a massive resettlement effort, bringing thousands of Somali-Bantu people out of the camps and into new lives in the West.

Angie and Craig Jones of Duluth, Ga., welcomed Mwechiwa and his wife and seven children into their home in spring 2003. The family lived there for a week—a brief period of adjustment before moving into their own apartment and beginning their new American lives.

There is a lot of adjusting to do. The Somali-Bantu

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touching their children like that without first putting on gloves.

Of everything they learned that day, that was the thing they talked most about.”

The Joneses volunteered to host the Mwechiwas through Perimeter Church in Duluth, one of hundreds of churches that have committed their hearts, wallets, and time to demonstrating the love of Christ to our country’s newest residents.

Over the past 20 years, more than 2 million refugees and asylum seekers have settled in the US, fleeing natural disasters, war, religious persecution, and political oppression. In

2010, some 73,000 refugees arrived here, and another 21,000 were granted asylum. They are living in all 50 states.

The US has welcomed more refugees for resettlement than all other developed nations combined. Each year, our government determines how many refugees will be received from various countries of concern. In 2010, Iraqis made up 22 percent of resettled refugees; Burma was the source of 20 percent and Bhutan another 15 percent. We have also received large numbers from Somalia, Iran, the former Soviet states, Nepal, and Cuba.

Organizations such as World Relief, Catholic Charities, Church World Service, and Lutheran Social Services—along with many small nonprofits—receive millions of dollars in federal grants to help these refugees settle in the US. The funds provide for three months of rent, English classes, medical services, counseling, and the like.

visa, and officials at Dulles International quickly realized that he had no money, no hotel reservations, and no clue about the immigration system. Through a translator, he announced that he was actually here to apply for asylum, which landed him in detention to await his fate.

Seshaka fled his country when his Tutsi family became the target of the Hutu government because of things his father, a journalist, was writing about the government’s oppressive practices. A young lawyer in our church invested 200 pro bono hours into building Seshaka’s case for political asylum.

He did a great job, persuading the judge to grant Seshaka’s request so he could join the church that had supported and encouraged him during his nine months in detention.

After telling Seshaka the good news, the judge turned to me and said, “I would like to commend your church for its commitment to this young man, and for your faithfulness

Below: Shangwok and Matbien Deng are Christians who fled persecution in Southern Sudan.

Right: Guy Seshaka, a Tutsi who escaped Hutu oppression in Burundi, graduated in May from community college and is now pursuing a BA in conflict analysis/resolution at George Mason University.

What these organizations cannot provide is the love and healing that is found in a church family. Herein lies an area of great opportunity for believers today, and the organizations working with refugees are actively seeking to partner with local churches and their members.

Several years ago, my own church in Alexandria, Va., sponsored a young man from Burundi. When we met him, Guy Seshaka was a 19-year-old who spoke little English and was waiting in a detention center to hear if his asylum application would be approved. He had flown to the US with a tourist

to the gospel message.” I’m not sure if federal immigration judges normally talk like that, but this one had recognized the gospel at work. And he wasn’t the only one. Seshaka was already a follower of Christ when he fled Burundi, but his father, Athanase, was not. His broad intellect was one stumbling block. The genocide he had witnessed was another. But when he saw the work of God in his son’s life, his heart was changed. He wrote to us: I live in a country which has been torn apart by wars and

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violence on a horrifying scale. The unspeakable atrocities I have witnessed pushed me to draw the conclusion that God had quit our planet and was no longer mindful of our collective plight. Ladies and gentlemen of Alexandria Presbyterian Church, you have proved me otherwise. And, hand on heart, I confess that I have been mistaken and that my pessimistic conclusion has been hasty. Definitely, God is still very much around and is overseeing every human undertaking. Your church is a visible sign of the divine presence in the world.

“The blessings come”

That is, of course, precisely what God intends the body of Christ to be—a “visible sign of the divine presence in the world.” Through ministry to anyone who suffers, the church has an opportunity to testify to the character of Jesus and his Father. But God takes a particular interest in those who are vulnerable, including refugees: For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt (Deut. 10:17-19).

home. But before long, he was experiencing conflict with his roommate, another Iraqi refugee placed in the same apartment who resented Chalabi’s service with the US Army. Chalabi decided he needed to move, so he spoke about it to the Sabbaghs, who were eager to help.

“It was then that Rita invited me to her church, a Baptist church with an Arabic worship service. But I was kind of scared. I asked her, ‘What is it like?’ She told me, ‘It is a nice place where you will find love and people who will consider you to be a family member.’”

“I laughed. I told her, ‘There is nothing like that.’”

But Chalabi was hungry for hope. The situation with his roommate had escalated considerably, and he found himself jailed on false accusations.

“I was really depressed by what had happened to me,” he says. “The most depressed I had ever been in my life.

Even in Iraq, I had never experienced such cruel treatment.

“But then Mike and Rita bailed me out of jail. They said, ‘We prayed for you and God released you.’ And as I sat with them in the car, they prayed for me again.”

The judge turned to me and said, “I would like to commend your church for its commitment to this young man, and for your faithfulness to the gospel message.” I’m not sure if federal immigration judges normally talk like that, but this one had recognized the gospel at work.

The Hebrew word we translate as alien, foreigner, or stranger describes a person from another country who had come to settle down and live.

Abraham was this kind of alien in Hebron. Moses was an alien in Midian for 40 years, a refugee who fled from Egypt to save his life. And, as God points out in verse 19, the Israelites themselves were alien residents in Egypt for 400 years.

Being an alien is part of the DNA of God’s people, both then and now. Although we dwell on this planet for many years, we are not to put down roots here, for this world is not our home. God’s people are all resident aliens here (2 Corinthians 5:1-4).

Hassan Chalabi [not his real name] is from a devout Muslim family in Iraq. He studied English in college but could not find a job as a teacher. Eager to work, Chalabi accepted the opportunity to serve the US Army as a translator.

“But that put me in danger,” Chalabi explains. “Many people in Iraq did not like the US forces being there. They saw me as a traitor because they had been influenced by the propaganda of the extremists working against the Americans.”

In 2008, Chalabi applied for a special visa program to come to the US. “I was resettled to Atlanta by World Relief. Two people picked me up from the airport. I didn’t know if they were Christian or Muslim, but I assumed they were Muslim because they spoke Arabic.”

The couple, Mike and Rita Sabbagh, were volunteers with World Relief. They helped Chalabi get adjusted to his new

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That week, Chalabi attended the Arabic-speaking church.

The pastor, whom he had never met, began preaching about depression.

“I heard him say, ‘Don’t be depressed. God has many reasons for you to come here, to have new life, to have new hope,’” Chalabi recalls. “And as I listened, the dark cloud on my heart began to go away.”

Before long, Chalabi became a believer in Christ and an eager volunteer at the church. He also began volunteering with World Relief, serving as an interpreter for other refugees and inviting them to his church.

“I saw how the church helped the needy refugees, paying their rent, members of the church helping to buy or repair cars for refugee families,” Chalabi says. “I learned how Christians love others. They were always giving, without asking for anything back in return. I saw the peace of the Christian message, whereas Islam uses the sword.”

Today, Chalabi works full-time as a case manager assistant and interpreter for World Relief.

What’s the difference between a refugee and an asylee?

The US and other countries provide safe haven for victims of torture, political oppression, and religious persecution. When an individual is awarded refugee status, it occurs before they are brought to the US. When they arrive, they are automatically enrolled in a variety of programs that provide financial assistance and services to ease their transition. Churches have the opportunity to prepare a warm welcome in advance of the refugees’ arrival.

Asylees, on the other hand, are already present in the US when they petition for asylum. They may be undocumented, but the majority are here on student or tourist visas when they make their application. Although asylees are fewer in number, they represent a large mission field for the church because they do not receive any benefits during the often-lengthy asylum application process. Nor are they legally allowed to work while their application is pending. If they receive asylum, they do receive some of the same assistance and services available to refugees.

“I love helping these people,” he says. “I have lived their life as a refugee. Now I get to prepare their apartments for them before they arrive, receive them at the airport, and help them apply for benefits and state identification.”

Chalabi has also learned the power of prayer.

“We have a prayer meeting at World Relief every Wednesday, and we pray for refugees,” he says. “And the blessings come, usually within two to four weeks. Medical problems, financial issues, legal complications—they’re just gone, after we pray for these people.”

“A whole different world”

In late 2004, Bilal Abdallah arrived in the US at the age of 15. He spoke no English and had never ridden in a car or used a telephone. Last month, just over seven years after arriving, he graduated from the University of Washington.

Like the Mwechiwa family, Abdallah and his family are Somali-Bantu, received refugee status, and were relocated to Georgia. Having lived most of his life in the Kakuma and Dabaab refugee camps in Kenya, Abdallah found his new life full of surprises.

“In a refugee camp, you basically just get food,” Abdallah says. “There are no cars in the camp. There barely are bicycles there! And you rarely see anyone other than refugees.

If you see someone who is white or another color, the kids would come running to see this strange sight. So coming to Atlanta was like a whole different world.”

Like the Mwechiwas, Abdallah’s family was received by volunteers from a local church. William and Rochella Mood

from Roswell United Methodist Church opened their home to Abdallah and his parents and siblings.

The Moods never planned to host a family of six African refugees. They started out just gathering furniture and household items for other refugees that had arrived.

“We thought it would be a nice weekend service project, focused on some simple things we could do that were well-planned and well-defined,” William Mood says. “But before long, we started wondering what it would be like to host a family ourselves.”

After that, Mood explains, “We planned for about a year, knowing we’d focus on a Somali-Bantu family. World Relief tries to place the Bantu near family members or some other members of their tribe. These are very clannish people.”

Although the Mwechiwa and Abdallah families were both placed near Atlanta, thousands of others are living in places like Salt Lake City, Tucson, Boston, and San Diego. About a thousand Somali-Bantus have been settled in Lewiston, Maine, a city of just 42,000 people.

Staff from World Relief and other volunteers from Roswell United Methodist helped the Moods prepare.

“This is a people group that lived in a very rudimentary environment,” Mood says. “Our goal was that within seven days they would be decompressed and acclimatized, as much as is possible. There were also visits to the health department, Social Security office, and other such things we had to take care of.”

After a week in the Moods’ home, Abdallah’s family moved to their own apartment, furnished with beds, clothing, kitchenware, etc. But the work wasn’t over for the Moods—or the church.

While the church provides many forms of assistance, English instruction is often the thing for which refugees are most grateful.

“I was put in 8th grade when I

What can you do?

Find out which agencies and nonprofits serve refugees in your area, then contact them to ask how you can help.

You’ll find state-specific information at the US Department of Health & Human Services’ Office of Refugee Settlement (tinyurl.com/6wtjt34).

Contact some of the voluntary agencies that partner with the US Office of Refugee Resettlement. One or more of these are likely working in your area: World Relief (WorldRelief.org) Church World Service (ChurchWorldService.org) Catholic Charities (CatholicCharitiesUSA.org) Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (LIRS.org) Episcopal Migration Ministries (EpiscopalChurch.org/ EMM) Provide Bibles for refugees in the Kakuma camps in Kenya (IAFR.org > Projects > Bibles for refugees).

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first arrived,” Bilal Abdallah says. “I took summer school and received intensive tutoring in English from members of the church. They were the key to my success. There were so many exams to be taken before I got into the University of Washington, but the people who tutored me made all this possible for me.”

Abdallah became a US citizen in 2010 and now tutors other Somali-Bantu people himself. This is a common pattern—those who receive the mercy and assistance of God’s people are motivated to pass it along (2 Corinthians 1:3-7).

“I feel loved and accepted”

Shangwok Deng is another dynamic example. Deng grew up in Southern Sudan in a Christian family. He fled persecution to Syria, where he studied Arabic, went to school, and met his wife, Matbien.

Shangwok and Matbien came to the US in 2004 as refugees. Their first child was born two days after their arrival in the US, and Catholic Charities placed the family in an apartment complex near West End Presbyterian Church in Richmond, Va. Soon Shangwok began leading a Bible study at the

thing.”

Deng also told me about Ziad, a man from Iraq who attends adult English classes at West End. “When I come to the church, I am welcome,” says Ziad. “I feel loved and accepted.

I don’t feel judged, and I feel peace. I receive help, even though I am a Muslim.”

As a result of the love he has received from followers of Jesus, Ziad has shown an interest in learning more about the man behind the love. Deng recently gave him a Bible in Arabic, encouraging him to read the Gospel of Mark and come back to discuss it.

“People are moved by what they receive from the church,” says Deng. “Some of them are now helping in the clothes closet and food pantry. Women from Iraq, Russia, and Uzbekistan are working together in a Presbyterian church, because they want to give back to the community in some way.”

Since Guy Seshaka received asylum and joined my church in Alexandria, we have welcomed two dozen more African asylees into our congregation. They are from Ethiopia, Eritrea, Central African Republic, Togo, and the Democratic Re-

Left: Karen children from the refugee camps in Northern Thailand join in the children's worship at Friendly Avenue Baptist Church in Greensboro, N.C. Center: Farah and Binti Mwechiwa had no previous experience with plumbing, so they were fascinated with their new washing machine, demonstrated here by their US host, Angie Jones.

Right: After living in the US for a little more than seven years, Bilal Abdallah (in red) graduated from the University of Washington in June with a degree in criminal justice and human rights. He's pictured here with his family (his father, Mohamed, is on the far right) and his first US hosts, Rochella and William Mood.

church for other Sudanese refugees. He became a member of the church, then a deacon, and now works there full time as director of neighborhood outreach, bringing material assistance and the gospel to the refugees he lives among.

“We provide food, clothing, worship services in four languages, and after-school tutoring for the children,” Deng says.

“After they finish helping with a child’s homework, the tutors often ask if they can pray with the children, or maybe read a story about Jesus from the Bible.”

When I asked Deng how the Muslim parents felt about this, he told me, “We have found that even with the [adults] we can pray in Jesus’ name. We ask, and they almost always say yes. They respect someone who has strong convictions about what they believe, even if they don’t believe the same

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public of Congo (DRC). Seshaka serves with us on the Mercy Committee and translates the Sunday worship service into French. Just as Deng and Chalabi now serve other refugees, we have been encouraged by the way each newcomer to our church receives help and guidance from those who arrived ahead of them.

Our church has continued to work with asylees rather than refugees. Every month or two we get a call from Human Rights Now, Northern Virginia Family Service, or the Capital Area Immigrants’ Rights Coalition. These are secular organizations working with asylum-seekers who are stuck in a kind of limbo until their cases are decided. Although these organizations don’t profess Christ, they have learned that our church can provide material assistance to applicants while their cases

are being prepared by pro bono attorneys.

But our involvement always begins with Sunday worship.

Here’s how I explain it to them: God created the church to be a loving community that is growing together in their relationship with Jesus Christ. Yes, we are eager to provide material help. But it must be done in the context of worshipping, praying, and learning together (Acts 2:42-47). We are praying that the Lord would send us asylum seekers who want to experience all the blessings of being welcomed into a church family.

Recently we received a young woman from the DRC, a nurse and women’s rights activist who had fought for better treatment of women in her often-dangerous country.

The government did not appreciate her efforts, so she was persecuted, jailed, and raped. Rape is a common weapon of war and intimidation in the DRC. Although the fear and shock were still visible in her eyes, she relaxed a bit in the company of her new friend—another woman from the DRC. While this younger woman had only been with us for eight months, she was already settled into life with a family from church, learning English rapidly and receiving counseling from a woman trained to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Friendly Avenue Baptist sponsored their first Karen family in 2007, partnering with Lutheran Family Services. As more families arrived, the church worked to prepare their apartments and acclimate them to the US. They began offering ESL in a Sunday school class for the adults and incorporating the children into the church’s regular classes.

Today, about 200 of the Karen in Greensboro are involved with the church plant.

“We baptized nine of them recently,” Presson says. “It’s very exciting to see that—people coming out of an animist religion where they would worship their ancestors and into the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

But Presson and Friendly Avenue Baptist are also looking ahead to the time when Karen pastors will be trained and ready to lead churches of their own. They are partnering with Golden Gate Baptist Seminary to provide contextualized theological training in the Karen language.

That is the kind of forward thinking the American church should be and is doing today—recognizing the thousands of refugees arriving each year as our newest neighbors and, in many cases, newest members of Christ’s body.

Blessed by diversity

If anyone is prepared to fulfill the commandment from Deuteronomy 10:19, it’s Americans—ourselves a blended nation of foreigners and refugees. May the believers among us discover the joy inherent in the command to “love those who are aliens.”

Our entire congregation has been blessed by the diversity and gifts our African friends contribute to Alexandria Presbyterian.

Perhaps they will remain as members of our church family, or maybe the Lord will raise up a new church for them.

That’s what is happening in Greensboro, NC, where Byran Presson is leading the efforts of Friendly Avenue Baptist Church to plant a church for Karen people from Burma and northern Thailand. Presson is uniquely qualified to pastor this new church.

“My wife and I spent 20 years in northern Thailand, planting churches among the Karen refugees there,” Presson says. “I never imagined I would move back to my hometown of Greensboro and find 400-500 Karen waiting for me.”

Chris Sicks is Pastor of Mercy at Alexandria Presbyterian Church in Alexandria, Va., where he works with the deacons and Mercy Committee to show holistic compassion to those in the congregation and broader community. His passion is to help people see the Lord as Comforter and Savior in the midst of suffering.

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Humans, Not Issues

by Amy Spaulding Zimbelman

“You’re famous!” screamed the subject line of the email from my friend. I clicked the link she’d sent and found myself quoted in a popular blog centered on anti-refugee sentiment.

The blog was chock-full of fear. Fear that refugees (especially Muslim ones) will take over our culture, our jobs, our country.

Fear that our nation is making a huge mistake by admitting thousands of “them” each year. Fear that they are all terrorists.

My first reaction was to resent the fear-mongers, to lump them into the convenient category of “bad guys.” But then I reminded myself that an issues-based dichotomy of good guys vs. bad guys is not what our nation needs right now, neither among politicians nor among engaged citizens.

But what, then, should my response be? What should the church’s response be? People do have real or imagined fears of welcoming the stranger, and yet as Christians we are called to welcome them as though they were Christ himself.

Casey, a college student, volunteers his time to tutor refugees like Asaga, from Eritrea.

Arguing about issues and statistics, I’ve found, does little to assuage fears. But introducing skeptical or fearful people to other human beings (who happen to have refugee status) can work miracles.

A few months ago, a student group came to my office to learn about refugee resettlement. I gave my usual hour presentation outlining the horrific experiences of most refugees, the process of resettlement, the services our resettlement agency provides, etc. When I was finished, one of the women, we’ll call her Ashley, asked a couple of questions that were clearly anti-refugee. Not “I’m just wondering...” questions, but ones that exposed some real fear and anger. I addressed her

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questions and arguments as kindly as I could, but I sensed that she was already convinced in her mind.

As part of the class assignment, Ashley and the other students were required to shadow the teachers of our English as a Second Language (ESL) classes. I hesitated to allow Ashley to interact with our refugee and immigrant students.

Will she say something overtly hurtful? Will she storm out of the class? I whispered a quick prayer that she would have eyes to see.

I led Ashley’s class to the ESL classrooms. There were a few minutes to spare, and I noticed that Ashley became engrossed in conversation with one of the ESL teachers, who is an immigrant herself. The vibes from their conversation were surprisingly good.

Two hours later, I checked back with the students. All had had a positive experience,

“Why didn’t you just stay in your home country?” becomes harder to ask after learning that a wife was raped, a village burned down, or a child shot. By definition, refugees cannot stay in their home country.

They ran for their lives.

including Ashley.

“These are such kind, diligent students. Thank you for the good work you’re doing here,” Ashley said to me, with a hint of apology in her voice.

Not everyone’s heart might soften as quickly as Ashley’s did, but when I introduce someone to a refugee friend of mine, the arguments somehow do seem to lose footing.

The complaint “You’re taking my job” fades away when you learn that your new refugee acquaintance works the night shift at the local meat packing plant. If anyone born in the US who speaks English wants that job instead, it’s theirs.

“We’re just letting everyone in” becomes clearly untrue as

your refugee friend describes the vast, overpopulated refugee camp she just moved from, where she lived the last 20 years.

Most refugees suffer in camps for years (or their entire lives!) and are never offered resettlement, even after desperately seeking it.

“Why didn’t you just stay in your home country?” becomes harder to ask after learning that a wife was raped, a village burned down, or a child shot. By definition, refugees cannot stay in their home country. They ran for their lives.

The questions I have, whenever I hear anti-refugee or anti-Muslim sentiment, are these: Have you ever met one of the people you’re talking about? Have you ever been to her house and received her hospitality? Have you allowed this person to cook you dinner, laugh with you about language differences, tell her harrowing story of persecution or her hopes for a new life here? Have you ever seen the face of Christ, who himself was a refugee, in the face of this stranger?

It’s amazing how much I learn from refugee friends, how they cleanse me of fear and greed as I, in exchange, help them learn some English. I’m pretty sure I’m getting the better end of the deal.

So the next time I meet someone with an anti-refugee stance, I hope I can be gracious enough to simply introduce him or her to my refugee friends. Because it is real flesh-andblood human beings, not arguments or side-taking on issues, that introduce us to the truth in the end.

Amy Spaulding Zimbelman works in a resettlement agency in South Dakota, where she connects refugees and immigrants from around the world with their new neighbors. She studied English and cultural anthropology at Gordon College in Massachusetts and has spent time in the Middle East, the South Pacific, and rural Zambia.

Welcome to Shelbyville:

Promising Changes On and Off Screen

by Amy Spaulding Zimbelman

Welcome to Shelbyville is a film about change—a changing economy, a new president, and the shifting demographics of a small Southern town as whites, African Americans, Hispanics, and Somali refugees wrestle with what it means to be American. Articulated by a resident of Shelbyville, the film’s central question is this: “Now are we gonna work together or are we gonna stay divided?”

The documentary is uncomfortable enough to purge the audience; people have walked out of screenings I’ve organized—some because they believed it to be pro-immigrant “propaganda” and others because the anti-immigrant hateful remarks were too painful to bear.

And that is Shelbyville’s greatest strength—it reflects reality.

“These fears, of losing jobs and losing our identity to refugees, these are our fears,” a lady from small-town South Dakota confessed after a screening.

But as people get to know refugees and listen to their stories, I have seen positive change, both on screen and in audiences.

In the film, one resident of Shelbyville worries that “[The Muslims] are gonna start blowing up in Shelbyville.” But after getting to know her Somali neighbors, she admits, “I could have been her, but God chose for me to be over here … no, I could have been one of them.”

At another screening, an older woman remarked, “I never thought about the fact that my ancestors fled persecution in Europe, so I’m a descendant of refugees. And unless we’re Native American, all of us came from abroad.”

To see ourselves in the stranger, to realize their tragedy could have been ours, and to use that realization to propel us toward greater compassion and closer community, those are the changes Shelbyville promotes and the changes we must seek for ourselves and our nation.

Learn more at Welcometoshelbyvillefilm.com. You can download a lively discussion guide for this film at ShelbeyvilleMultimedia.org

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