We Are the Roots of the Land: Philadelphia’s Arab Christians Keep Faith Alive During Easter

By Elissa Odeh

April 23, 2025                     

Incense swirled through St. Sharbel Maronite Catholic Church in Newtown Square on Holy Thursday as Father Joseph Daiif knelt to wash the feet of 12 young men, reenacting Christ’s act of humility during the Last Supper. The choir sang “Fi Layli Qabla El Alam,” a Maronite hymn that translates to “In the Night Before the Pain.”

The washing of feet followed a series of Holy Week liturgies starting on April 13th at Arab Christian churches across the Philadelphia region. These diverse church communities include Lebanese Maronites, Palestinian Orthodox, Jordanian Catholics, Egyptian Copts and others who continue centuries-old traditions while observing the holiest days in their faith.

Father Joseph Daiif giving his homily during the Good Friday liturgy at St. Sharbel Maronite Catholic Church in Newtown, PA. Photo: Michel Moutran

“We, as Maronites, are some of the earliest Christian communities in the world,” said Father Daiif, who has been serving at the Lebanese parish since 2022. Maronites, named after Syrian hermit Saint Maron, date their origins back to the fourth century in the Levant region of the Middle East. They have a particularly strong presence in Lebanon, where they comprise an estimated 21% of the population. Observant Maronites pride themselves on a strong ethnic and religious identity rooted in ancient Catholic teachings.

With increasing immigration, particularly during Lebanon’s 15-year civil war that began in 1975, many Maronites found a home in Philadelphia, establishing churches that helped sustain their cultural and religious practices. Founded in 1983, St. Sharbel Church soon became a second home to a growing Arab Christian population in the city’s suburbs.

“I feel like my homeland is here at St. Sharbel,” said Laith Hawatmeh, a Jordanian American member of the parish who moved to the Philadelphia area from As-Salt, Jordan in 2018. “It is the church that nurtured me like a mother.”

Hawatmeh grew up in the Melkite Catholic Church—one of the oldest and largest Christian communities in the Levant with more than 1.5 million members—but has found familiarity and comfort at St. Sharbel, thanks in part to the Arabic hymns. “Listening to Fairuz sing ‘Qamat Maryam,’ or ‘Mary Stood,’ which depicts the agonizing image of Mary watching the slaughter of her son, takes me back to my church at home,” he said.

Worshippers at St. Sharbel Church carry a casket full of flowers during the Good Friday liturgy. Photo: Michel Moutran.

At St. Sharbel, hymns by Fairuz filled the incense-laced air as tearful worshippers marched with men carrying a casket full of flowers on their shoulders in a mournful reenactment of Christ’s funeral.

“What distinguishes Arab Christians is the passion we show in our prayers,” Father Daiif said. “We know how to mourn. It is why we experience Holy Week with such yearning.”

At the Good Friday service at St. George Antiochian Orthodox Church in Upper Darby, the Syrian, Palestinian, Jordanian and Iraqi members wore the traditional black. The sanctuary darkened as priests hung a large icon of Christ’s body on a wooden cross.

A longtime member of the church, Palestinian American Suzan Muaddi described the somber ambiance as worshippers knelt in front of the cross while Orthodox lamentations were recited in the background.

“These hymns and rituals make me relive those sorrowful days that happened on our soil back home,” she said. Muaddi started attending St. George Church in the 1980s, hoping it would help her family remain connected to their Arab roots. “I wanted my children to have a community that teaches them our culture and traditions, even if we are away from home.”

Mark Zachary, a member of St. Mary & St. Kyrillos Coptic Orthodox Church, with woven palm fronds on Palm Sunday. Photo: Mariam Akraz

A similar sentiment can be found among the congregants at St. Mary & St. Kyrillos Coptic Orthodox Church in Hatfield, 30 miles north of Philadelphia. Tracing their origins to ancient Egyptians, Coptic Christians are among the most long-standing Christian communities, dating their founding by St. Mark, one of the authors of the Gospels, to 42 A.D., in the city of Alexandria. In response to intensifying religious and political turmoil in Egypt, Copts began arriving in Philadelphia in the 1940s and establishing churches throughout the region.

“Being Coptic means being Egyptian,” said Mariam Akraz, a member of St. Mary & St. Kyrillos Church. Although Copts are Arabic speakers, Akraz explained, they take pride in their identity and hold onto their ethnic Coptic roots. “We have our own traditions, our own language and our own hymns.”

On Palm Sunday before Holy Week, the Coptic church held its customary lively celebration. Priests blessed palm fronds, children formed donkeys and crowns out of palms and the congregation sang hymns in both Coptic and Arabic. The liturgy marked the beginning of a week of mourning as the Church shifted to black curtains in a display of sorrow.

Children at St. Mary & St. Kyrillos Coptic Orthodox Church formed donkey-shaped palms on Palm Sunday. Photo: Mariam Akraz

For Akraz, life in the United States can distract her from her origins. “I sometimes forget who I am and where I am going,” she said. “But then going back to church and attending Holy Week, Palm Sunday and Resurrection liturgies makes me feel grounded and more connected to home.”

This year Holy Week fell in April, which is also Arab American Heritage Month. But many Arab Christians express feeling overlooked in conversations about Arab heritage, despite comprising a large majority of the Arab American population, with estimates ranging from 63% to 77%. War, persecution and political violence across the MENA region have forced generations of Arab Christians to flee their homelands in search of safety and economic opportunity. And yet, Muaddi says, these communities remain almost invisible in the West. “People are often shocked to know that we exist,” she said.

Hawatmeh feels a similar disconnect about the status of Arab Christians in their cultures of origin. “We are labeled a minority in our homelands, but that is where Christianity was born, and we were the first Christians,” he said. “We are the roots of the land. The salt of the earth.”

On Easter morning, as the congregation cried, “Al Maseeh Qam! Haqqan Qam!” (“Christ is risen! Indeed, He is!”), the choir chanted, “This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Families passed around sweet ma’amoul, its circular shape representing the crown of thorns, a symbol of Christ’s suffering and triumph over death.

“The Arab Church is a victorious one,” said Father Daiif. “Our outlook throughout Holy Week and all times of grief is a triumphant one, because we know that after all this sorrow comes victory—the victory of the Resurrection.”

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Elissa Odeh is a Palestinian journalist from Lansdale, PA. She graduated from West Chester University with a BA in media and culture and a minor in journalism. Her work has been published in Lehigh Daily, Daily Local, and the New Orleans Review.