To the editor:
Boston.com published a story on December 17 about the recent experiences of Muslim youth in the metro-Boston area, including the story of Amal Dirrane, who attends school in Lincoln. Dirrane shared her mixed experience, in our town, of both struggle and support in being identified as Muslim in the wake of the recent Paris and San Bernardino tragedies. Lincoln Public Schools Superintendent Rebecca McFall subsequently sent out a letter to the community affirming our school district’s commitment to supporting cultural and religious differences. I commend Ms. Dirrane for courageously sharing her experience with us, and Superintendent McFall for her strong and unequivocal support of values that our town holds dear.
The fear that our nation is currently struggling with is palpable: this week alone, two different school districts, one in Virginia and the other in California, cancelled school out of an abundance of caution related to the possibility of violence or terrorism. This fear is, to a degree, understandable. When innocent people are murdered while enjoying a meal at a café, attending a concert, Christmas shopping, or flying home from vacation, our own level of day-in, day-out safety and security suddenly becomes questionable. The fact that fear has been tapped into is not surprising. However, what we then do with that fear is up to us, and it is a decision that matters tremendously.
Fear can turn into righteous anger and indignation. Such indignation, as we saw in the wake of 9/11, can get unfairly directed towards entire categories of people. Fear can make us suspicious of someone walking down the street, or perhaps someone we don’t know who’s shopping at our local Donelan’s. Perhaps the fear we feel isn’t articulated, but felt inside us, hidden away, with a certain degree of regret and even shame. We don’t want to be afraid; we may recognize that it’s even irrational; we know that the chances of dying of terrorism are exponentially lower than that of dying in a car accident. Yet, emotions are not always rational. Feelings can, at times, have a life of their own.
As adults and leaders in our community, we must always be cognizant that our youth and children pick up not only on what we consciously articulate but also on what remains unarticulated—our energy, our vibe, our tone. We are, most definitely, a town that is committed to religious diversity and pluralism, just as my congregation is. However, living out that commitment requires us to have difficult conversations as families and neighbors. If we hold some measure of fear in our hearts, how might we first name that fear and then lessen that fear? It is only possible to work with and transform that which we are able to consciously name and acknowledge.
I am deeply grateful to Ms. Dirrane for helping us do exactly that. Her story contains pain, hope, and possibility—the pain of misunderstanding, the hope of her friends who stood by her side, and the possibility that we now have before us, as a community, of bridging misunderstanding and creating deeper bonds of caring and support. In a world that can, at times, be so broken, anything that can stretch our hearts deeper and wider is the call of the sacred inviting us to our better selves.
Sincerely,
Rev. Manish Mishra-Marzetti
Senior Minister, The First Parish in Lincoln
Letters to the editor must be signed with the writer’s name and street address and sent via email to lincolnsquirrelnews@gmail.com. Letters must be about a Lincoln-specific topic, will be edited for punctuation, spelling, style, etc., and will be published at the discretion of the editor. Letters containing personal attacks, errors of fact or other inappropriate material will not be published.
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