Fr Zaher, a Syrian priest now serving in Australia, knows first-hand how difficult life is for Christians in some parts of the Middle East. But he feels guilty being safe in Australia as attacks on churches in his homeland escalate, even hitting people he is close to.
The 22 June suicide bombing of St Elias Orthodox Church in Damascus, which killed more than 25 people and injured at least 50, marked a devastating turning point for Syria’s Christian community. Fr Zaher recalls deadly but isolated attacks on Christians by Islamist extremists during the civil war that began in 2011 under former president Bashar al-Assad, but says churches were places of refuge. ‘While he was there, we never saw a church bombed,’ he says.
A transitional government has been in power since March and has vowed to protect minorities including Catholics and other Christians, Druze, Kurds and Shia Muslim Alawites, to which most of the former rulers belonged. But violence against these communities has been growing, and for various reasons, it is difficult to know exactly who is carrying out such attacks.
They saved more than 500 people inside.
The St Elias Church assault was carried out by extremists, who Syrian officials say were from Islamic State, despite another hardline Islamist group Saraya Ansar al-Sunna claiming responsibility.
‘Honestly, in my heart, I was feeling something will happen, but I didn’t know that will be so quick,’ Fr Zaher says. He was in Lebanon at the time of the attack, and later spoke to one of the priests at the church, a good friend.
The priest explained to Fr Zaher that an attacker wearing a suicide vest opened fire with a rifle at the back of the packed church, but worshippers were able to stop him as he opened his vest to detonate it.
‘They pushed him down on the earth. When he opened it, that pressure went down and made a hole,’ Fr Zaher said. ‘And they saved more than 500 people inside the church. The church was full; three or four priests were saying Mass.
‘They didn’t allow him to go inside. If he went a bit further, more would be killed, including the priests.’
My heart is torn.
It was, as Fr Zaher said, a shocking event, all the more so for its rarity, but it was not the last attack on a church. Reports from Aid to the Church in Need (ACN), who are in contact with people on the ground, confirm waves of targeted violence.
Most recently, amid deadly fighting said to be mainly between Bedouin and Druze in the southern province of Sweida, hundreds of Christians sought refuge in a Capuchin monastery, which was then damaged by mortar fire. Elswhere in the region, security forces foiled an attempted bombing of Mar Elias Maronite Church, intercepting a car loaded with explosives.
Fr Zaher describes a climate of fear. Christians, who once made up 10 per cent of Syria’s population, are now an estimated 3 per cent. The priest recounts the incident that led him to flee in 2015: the murder of his friend, Fr Fadi. ‘They [Islamist militants] kidnapped him, took his eyes, his nails.’
The trauma of loss and guilt haunts him. He left Syria at the urging of his ailing mother, who has since died. One brother stayed but is professionally stymied under the new regime. ‘My heart is torn,’ Fr Zaher admits. ‘I thank God for the safety, opportunities, and the faith community I have found here. But I have never forgotten where I came from.’
Syria is not just a place of war; it is a land of saints, a land that still speaks the language of Jesus.
He is marking 10 years since his arrival in Australia, singling out now-Bishop of Sale Greg Bennet, former Archbishop of Melbourne Denis Hart and Archbishop Peter A Comensoli as being especially welcoming and helpful.
He has embraced the direction his vocation has taken him in Melbourne, including being incardinated as a priest of the Archdiocese (having been ordained in the Melkite Church in Syria). Fr Zaher’s roles have included chaplain for St Vincent’s Hospital and he is currently assistant priest at St Mary’s Parish in Greensborough.
Fr Zaher dreams of leading pilgrimages to Syria’s ancient Christian sites—the underground church where St Paul was baptised, the convents and monasteries that have survived centuries of turmoil. ‘When I speak to people here, I remind them that Syria is not just a place of war; it is a land of saints, a land that still speaks the language of Jesus,’ he says.
As long as there is a candle and a prayer, we will not leave.
Yet the erosion of that 2,000-year-old presence continues, and Fr Zaher struggles not to tip into despair. ‘St Paul, when he came as Saul to destroy and kill all the Christians in Damascus, Jesus stopped him. Why doesn’t Jesus do that right now?’
Then he remembers a beautiful moment that happened during a 2024 visit to his home town, south of Damascus.
‘I stood in a half-ruined church where I used to serve, and a small group of people still gathered there for Sunday Mass, despite everything. Their faces were tired, but their eyes were filled with light.
‘One elderly woman said to me, “As long as there is a candle and a prayer, we will not leave.”
‘That moment reminded me why I carry their story with me wherever I go.’
Banner image: Fr Zaher Mhanna outside the Convent of Ibrahim Al Khalil, a Melkite Greek Catholic convent near Damascus. (Photo courtesy of Fr Zaher.)
