Suret Must Survive: Why Our Language Matters Now More Than Ever.

By: Onita M. Narso

Our language — Suret, Sureth, Syriac, or Assyrian Neo-Aramaic is not merely a tool of speech. It is the voice of our ancestors, the soul of our identity, and the heartbeat of a civilization that has endured for millennia. It carries within it lullabies whispered to children in refugee tents, prayers echoing in candlelit churches, and stories passed down in kitchens, battlefields, and exile.

To speak Suret is to remember. To preserve SureFt is to resist forgetting.

But today, this language, spoken by the descendants of ancient Assyria, stands on the edge of silence. And if we allow it to fade, we will not just lose grammar and vocabulary we will lose ourselves.

The Language That Remembers

Language is not just how we speak it is how we remember. Suret is the living thread that connects Urmia to Turlock, Alqosh to Sydney, and Nineveh to Chicago. It carries our humor, our grief, our resilience. It binds together Assyrians, Chaldeans, and Syriacs scattered across continents; even when divided by borders, politics, or denomination.

To lose Suret would be to sever one of the last remaining ties to our homeland, to the stories and songs that once filled our villages. Without it, we drift. With it, we remain rooted even in diaspora.

When a Language Dies, So Does a World

The death of a language is more than silence. It is erasure. It is a slow fading of memory of the chants that once shook our churches, the idioms only our grandparents understood, the jokes and wisdom that lose meaning outside their native tongue.

When our language dies, so too does:

• Our ability to access sacred texts in their native form

• Our connection to oral histories passed down for generations

• The strength of our global community, fractured by distance but united by speech

• Our visibility as a distinct people indigenous to Mesopotamia, but alive in diaspora

What remains is assimilation and in that, the risk of disappearance.

 Why Is It Fading?

Our languages decline is not our fault, but its revival is our responsibility.

Centuries of displacement, genocide, and forced migration tore families apart and scattered communities across the globe. War silenced village storytellers. Immigration demanded we prioritize survival over tradition.

Add to that:

• Assimilation pressures in Western schools and workplaces

• A lack of Aramaic-language education and resources

• Internal divisions over dialects

• Shame for speaking “incorrectly” or not fluently enough

The result is a generation unsure if they are “Assyrian enough” because they don’t speak the language of their ancestors.

A Revival Within Reach

The good news is that it is not too late.

Reviving Suret does not require perfection. It requires intention.

• Learn it, no matter your age. From toddlers to elders, all are welcome.

• Speak it, even if imperfect. Every phrase is an act of preservation.

• Create spaces of grace no judgment, only encouragement.

• Celebrate every dialect. From Iraqi Suret to Urmian, from Turoyo to Bohtan all are part of our mosaic.

• Support community programs churches, schools, youth groups.

• Pass it on at home even one word a day is a beginning.

Dialects Are Not Divisions — They Are Stories

Too often, we weaponize dialects. We mock, correct, exclude. But dialects are not signs of division they are proof of survival.

The Urmian speaker from Iran, the Turoyo elder from Tur Abdin, the Chaldean child from the Nineveh Plains, and the Assyrian descendant from Hakkari all carry a different branch of the same ancient tree. Let us learn from one another. Let us teach one another. Let us recognize that in our diversity lies our greatest strength, not our division.

What We Mean When We Say “Suret”

Suret, Sureth, & Eastern Neo-Aramaic show the modern evolution of the ancient Aramaic language, once spoken across empires. It is the language of saints and scholars, martyrs and mothers, farmers and freedom fighters.

Some call it Assyrian. Some call it Chaldean. Some call it Syriac. Call it what you will but never call it forgotten.

A Language Shaped by Exile, Still Standing

Suret has absorbed the sounds of every land we’ve walked:

• Arabic in Iraq and Syria

• Farsi in Iran

• Kurdish and Turkish in Southeastern Turkey

• English in the diaspora

But beneath every borrowed word is our original voice waiting to be heard again.

 Speak, Even If Your Voice Shakes

Perfection is not the goal. Connection is.

Whether you speak fluently or only know a few phrases, you are part of this revival. Correct with kindness. Teach with patience. Listen with love.

Let us build a culture where no child feels shame for trying, and every elder feels joy in hearing their words echoed back.

This Is About More Than Words

Preserving our language is preserving Assyria. It is reclaiming the right to exist as a people proud, visible, and enduring.

Let us speak it. Teach it. Sing it. Share it. Let our children hear it not just in church, but in our homes, in our jokes, in our music, in our everyday moments.

Because when Suret survives, we survive not just in name, but in voice.