The lessons I learned from a room of refugees

In other words, she had grown up in some of the most challenging environments on the planet. Here in England, she cares for both her parents, yet is set on finding work and has invested inordinate efforts acquiring the necessary language skills in order to do so. And she wears a perpetual smile, radiating positivity.

For a humbling lesson in the triumph of the human spirit over adversity, Sara’s story was difficult to beat.

Secondly, the work done by World Jewish Relief and its partners on the ground in Coventry is not virtue signalling. It is life saving. It takes the well-documented statistics of huge numbers of suffering people and resists the temptation to simply shrug at yet another account of global tragedy. Instead, it focuses on changing the lives of a few hundred individuals for the better, helping them to realise their hopes, dreams and aspirations.

That is why the most powerful moment of the trip for me was witnessing the end of an English language class for the most recent arrivals, mainly from Yemen.

After the class, toddlers ran in from the creche next door to greet their parents. My three-year-old does the same whenever I pick her up from nursery. Like her, these children were focused on the next few moments, a toy, some food, or their parents’ attention.

Yet, unlike other kids, just a few weeks beforehand, they were enduring unthinkable conditions of war, famine and disease.

I looked at their faces and realised that due to this life-saving work, these toddlers would now have an opportunity to grow up British— with the hope of a safe, secure and prosperous future that should entail.

I found that thought exceptionally meaningful. We may not be able to change the global picture. But we can change the lives of one person at a time. And in Jewish tradition, that famously equates to saving the entire world.

Finally, the trip enabled me to reflect on our own Jewish experience in this country, and the responsibility that history carries with it.

We visited the Jewish cemetery and saw the shul building, which was last used for services in 2004. The Jewish community in Coventry is now reduced to just a few individuals. Yet for well over a hundred years, they would have relied upon the existing non-Jewish community respecting the value of difference.

Walking through the streets of Coventry, I wondered how many Jews on their way to shul on Shabbat, perhaps newly arrived in this country, may have also worried about their heavily accented and stilting English.

Perhaps, like Sara, they too were concerned that it would make it difficult for them to find a job. Perhaps they even tried hiding their identity in public. Prejudice and antisemitism would have been an ever-present concern for them.

Circumstances today are different, of course. British society in general is far more tolerant of difference and diversity than it once was and Coventry’s example in this regard is inspirational.

Yet, surely, refugees seeking not just to survive but thrive, people who desperately want to make a success of their lives in this country, need champions. People whose own history enables them not just to empathise with them, but to advocate on their behalf, to seek to do their bit to make sure they are finally able to live without fear.

As a sentient human being, I am proud of the fact that Britain is helping some of the most vulnerable people on earth survive. And as a Jew, I am proud that World Jewish Relief are leading from the front on behalf of the Jewish community of this country in these efforts.

 

Yoni Birnbaum is the rabbi of Hadley 
Wood Synagogue