This belief was deeply rooted in the conservative Christian community where I grew up, and where I frequently heard the elderly thank God for the absence of Druze among them. This sentiment was stemming from the hatred and pain resulting from the war in the eighties, which has yet to lead to genuine reconciliation. I am Maroun Chamoun, priest and head of the secondary section at Saint Joseph School, and this is my journey.
From school to university, I was only exposed to and knew about Christianity and Christians. Discussing the Druze was forbidden, and I only met one Muslim in school, who shared very little about his faith. In high school, young Christians would physically attack Muslims who tried to express their religion, leading some Muslim students to retaliate by confronting Christians and hitting them after school. Even during my university studies as a priest, which began in 2003, I learned about Islam only through Christian professors who presented the Qur’an from a Christian religious perspective. Over five years, we met with a Muslim sheikh only once for a brief half-hour lecture. Thankfully, things have improved since then.
At that time at university, the prevailing perception of Islam among us, particularly Sunni Islam, was that it adhered to the Qur’an with absolute literalism, lacking critical or historical interpretation. In contrast, we studied that our Christianity allowed for historical and intellectual analysis of its religious texts. We were taught that the Qur’an intersects with the Bible and that Muslims were “heretics” who rejected Jesus as God in favor of Jesus as a man. Although I was raised in a household free of sectarian hatred, these experiences and teachings reinforced the idea of Christian superiority and entitlement over followers of other religions, solidifying the belief that Christianity serves as a compass to correct other religions.
It was not until 2013, when I participated in the “LIU” program organized by the Forum for Development Culture and Dialogue, that I recognized the necessity of engaging with individuals from different religions. Throughout the program, I met regularly with Muslim, Druze, and Christian leaders from Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and Denmark, including hardliners and extremists. We tackled sensitive topics and collaborated to create initiatives and strategies aimed at benefiting our communities, promoting understanding, dispelling stereotypes, and mitigating conflicts and sectarian tensions.
This experience allowed me to uncover the roots of our differences and gain a deeper understanding of our divergent orientations and visions, despite our shared values. I also became aware of the dynamics of power and politics and their impact on our work. For instance, I was able to engage in dialogue with a group of Muslim Brotherhood members from Egypt, despite this hardship due to our significant viewpoints’ clashes. I observed how their perspectives on religion shifted between two periods: when they were in power in Egypt and when they lost that power.
This profound experience, which I had not previously recognized as essential for shaping leaders in religious and educational fields, inspired me to change my doctoral thesis. I shifted my research focus from the philosophy of education to education for peace. Additionally, I initiated dialogue groups and organized sports activities that united schools with diverse religious backgrounds, aimed at enhancing understanding of one another and fostering a culture of pluralism, acceptance, and the dismantling of false beliefs. As a priest serving in the areas of Ras al-Dekwaneh and Tal al-Zaatar—regions marked by sectarian conflicts whose repercussions persist today—I launched several initiatives targeting young people and women of Palestinian, Syrian, and Lebanese descent. These initiatives, developed in collaboration with social and psychological specialists, aimed to empower participants to understand themselves, navigate their actions, make informed decisions, and challenge the stereotypes and tensions that fuel many regional conflicts.
I Changed My Entire Thesis When I Met Leaders from Other Religions
Written by Nahila Salameh
Edited by Elissa Mdawar
The Druze are “traitors”.
This belief was deeply rooted in the conservative Christian community where I grew up, and where I frequently heard the elderly thank God for the absence of Druze among them. This sentiment was stemming from the hatred and pain resulting from the war in the eighties, which has yet to lead to genuine reconciliation. I am Maroun Chamoun, priest and head of the secondary section at Saint Joseph School, and this is my journey.
From school to university, I was only exposed to and knew about Christianity and Christians. Discussing the Druze was forbidden, and I only met one Muslim in school, who shared very little about his faith. In high school, young Christians would physically attack Muslims who tried to express their religion, leading some Muslim students to retaliate by confronting Christians and hitting them after school. Even during my university studies as a priest, which began in 2003, I learned about Islam only through Christian professors who presented the Qur’an from a Christian religious perspective. Over five years, we met with a Muslim sheikh only once for a brief half-hour lecture. Thankfully, things have improved since then.
At that time at university, the prevailing perception of Islam among us, particularly Sunni Islam, was that it adhered to the Qur’an with absolute literalism, lacking critical or historical interpretation. In contrast, we studied that our Christianity allowed for historical and intellectual analysis of its religious texts. We were taught that the Qur’an intersects with the Bible and that Muslims were “heretics” who rejected Jesus as God in favor of Jesus as a man. Although I was raised in a household free of sectarian hatred, these experiences and teachings reinforced the idea of Christian superiority and entitlement over followers of other religions, solidifying the belief that Christianity serves as a compass to correct other religions.
It was not until 2013, when I participated in the “LIU” program organized by the Forum for Development Culture and Dialogue, that I recognized the necessity of engaging with individuals from different religions. Throughout the program, I met regularly with Muslim, Druze, and Christian leaders from Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and Denmark, including hardliners and extremists. We tackled sensitive topics and collaborated to create initiatives and strategies aimed at benefiting our communities, promoting understanding, dispelling stereotypes, and mitigating conflicts and sectarian tensions.
This experience allowed me to uncover the roots of our differences and gain a deeper understanding of our divergent orientations and visions, despite our shared values. I also became aware of the dynamics of power and politics and their impact on our work. For instance, I was able to engage in dialogue with a group of Muslim Brotherhood members from Egypt, despite this hardship due to our significant viewpoints’ clashes. I observed how their perspectives on religion shifted between two periods: when they were in power in Egypt and when they lost that power.
This profound experience, which I had not previously recognized as essential for shaping leaders in religious and educational fields, inspired me to change my doctoral thesis. I shifted my research focus from the philosophy of education to education for peace. Additionally, I initiated dialogue groups and organized sports activities that united schools with diverse religious backgrounds, aimed at enhancing understanding of one another and fostering a culture of pluralism, acceptance, and the dismantling of false beliefs. As a priest serving in the areas of Ras al-Dekwaneh and Tal al-Zaatar—regions marked by sectarian conflicts whose repercussions persist today—I launched several initiatives targeting young people and women of Palestinian, Syrian, and Lebanese descent. These initiatives, developed in collaboration with social and psychological specialists, aimed to empower participants to understand themselves, navigate their actions, make informed decisions, and challenge the stereotypes and tensions that fuel many regional conflicts.