LITTLE AMAL, an 11-foot-tall puppet of a 10-year-old Syrian refugee, is the star of “The Walk,” a live public production to honor millions of displaced children in the world. Named after the Arabic word for “hope,” Amal took her first steps at the Turkey-Syria border in July 2021. Since then, she’s traversed more than 5,500 miles in 13 different countries to share a poignant plea: “Don’t forget about us.”
Four puppeteers help Amal walk. One person sits inside her torso, visible through a cage, to operate her face, head, and feet; two move her hands with external rods; and one offers balance support from behind. Amal towers over the crowds who greet her, and the enormous space she occupies sends a powerful message: Forced displacement is an urgent and collective responsibility. The Walk embodies compassion, care, welcome, and belonging — core principles of Christianity. Amal, who has more than 170,000 followers on Instagram, has become a well-recognized humanitarian symbol, reminding us that displaced people are not “aliens” or “strangers.” They are our siblings, parents, children, neighbors, and friends.
The International Rescue Committee estimates that 100 million people are displaced globally. From violence to persecution, food insecurity to natural disasters, the reasons families must flee are manifold and accumulating. Though inherent to our theology, loving responses to displaced people are not universally embraced by Christians. Do we not believe God came into the world in the body of a young Middle Eastern refugee — someone strikingly similar to Amal?
On her journey, Amal has encountered bigotry and violence, representative of a fraction of the brutality migrants and refugees face every day. In Greece, for example, agitators threw stones at her. In the U.S., we witness horrifying treatment of displaced people: the abuse of Haitian asylum seekers by agents on horseback; family separation at the border; the heinous political stunt of Republican governors sending migrants to New England with no plans for resettlement. Even though we know the terror migrants and refugees endure, we often fail to respond. Is it because we’re overwhelmed by the suffering that surrounds us, not knowing what actions to take to help? Or is it because we still view the refugees Amal represents as “strangers”?
The Walk suggests a theory of change rooted in empathy: Humanizing the refugee crisis will motivate more meaningful action. This aligns with the Bible’s teachings. In Deuteronomy, it is written, “You must treat foreigners with the same loving care — remember, you were once foreigners in Egypt” (10:19, MSG). Loving God and loving our neighbors — even those we don’t consider (at first) to be our neighbors — are two primary Christian responsibilities. Our faith asks that we dwell in compassion, knowing no strangers.
In this vital work, Amal can be our guide, for she walks a path like the one well-worn by Christ and his disciples: reaching out, teaching, gathering, and healing. May we follow Amal’s example, working to transform our hearts and our communities into spaces of radical welcome and loving care.
Sarah James, a biracial Indian American woman of color, is a graduate of Yale Divinity School and founder of Clerestory Magazine.
Got something to say about what you're reading? We value your feedback!
