by Vanessa Boumelhem — catholicweekly.com — Some of my earliest memories are of Our Lady of Lebanon in Harris Park, where I would attend 9:30am English-language Mass with my family every Sunday, Fersan Al Adra (parish ministry for school aged children which translates to “Knights of Mary”) every Saturday, and visit for a quick prayer every morning before school, where staff and students were predominantly Maronite. Having grown up in this bubble of mine, stepping out of my Maronite world and into the real world was a stark change—one I hadn’t expected, despite all the warnings I received. Going into university, it took only days for me to realise just how much my Maronite identity had made me who I am, and how important it is to me. But what is Maronite identity? I argue that the answer is entirely subjective.
In Australia, I am only one of thousands of Maronites who have each had unique experiences making them into the people they are. It is difficult to define Maronite identity when it is something that runs deep, something our grandparents passed onto our parents—which has now been given to us and will continue to live on. Maronite identity is embedded into the core of each one of us, and is sometimes as simple as the actions we do almost absentmindedly. My Maronite identity is doing the Sign of the Cross before every meal and car ride, or before putting food in the oven. It is deliberately taking longer routes so I can pass by whichever Maronite church is on my way and say a quick prayer as I drive by. It is as simple as saying “esmesalib” (in the name of the Cross) every time I see lightning, or every time something startles me. It is the rosary hanging off the rear-view mirror in my car and the miraculous medal I wear every day. My Maronite identity is knowing that no challenge I face can’t be made easier by a visit to Our Lady of Lebanon, the church I grew up in, which has been a constant in my life from birth until now.