“If the explosion had happened on the street, I could’ve understood it. But for it to happen inside a church while people were praying?! Everyone there was either elderly people who go to church to pray, or young boys and girls attending scout trainings,” says Rama (a pseudonym), after returning with her family from the wake of Simon Haddad, one of the victims of the Mar Elias Church bombing, which has so far left 27 people dead and over 60 injured, according to the latest statistics from the Syrian Ministry of Health.
Simon, as usual, was sitting in the last row of the church when the suicide bomber entered and detonated himself, killing Simon instantly, according to what his daughters told Rama.
Like many Christians in Syria today, Rama lives in a state of shock and fear after the suicide bombing that targeted Mar Elias Church in the Al-Duwailaa neighborhood of Damascus.
The Syrian Ministry of Interior announced that it had arrested a cell affiliated with the “Islamic State/ISIS” and connected to the church bombing, although the group has not officially claimed responsibility. Meanwhile, unverified statements have circulated claiming a faction named “Ansar al-Sunna” carried out the attack.
Despite the announcement of arrests, repeated reassurances, official visits by government officials, and a personal call from interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa to the victims’ families, the neighborhood remains tense and its residents increasingly feel unsafe.
This is not the first time a church has been targeted in Syria, and the attack follows massacres in the Syrian coast that targeted Alawites, tensions in Suwayda involving Druze groups, and near-daily incidents of sectarian killings.
“Christians Have Not Felt Safe to this Day”
Al-Duwailaa is a Damascus neighborhood adjacent to the famous Bab Sharqi area and is home to a majority-Christian population who migrated from various provinces in search of work and stability. It is marked by informal housing and harsh economic conditions that originally drove its residents to settle in the capital.
Today, the neighborhood is in deep mourning. Most homes have opened their doors to receive condolences, and white ribbons have been hung by youth to mark the period of mourning. Amid tears and lamentations, residents whisper—publicly or in secret—about their fears, revived by the church attack, asking the haunting question: “Why us?” Some go further, linking the bombing to a vehicle that roamed the area two months earlier, using loudspeakers to call for conversion to Islam, which residents had forced out: “Did they come back for revenge?”
“In my opinion, the government bears responsibility. Didn’t they say we’ve become a state? So where is the Ministry of Interior? Where are the intelligence services? Why are citizens left exposed in the first place? And if the authorities were able to quickly arrest those responsible, doesn’t that mean they could have prevented the attack? The real question is: did this happen with the knowledge of those in power? Or was it due to the negligence of a rogue element?” says Marcel S., a sixth-year medical student.
Marcel is not alone in feeling that the new government failed to protect its people. In Christian circles, accusations of negligence have grown louder. Archimandrite Malathios Shatahi affirmed that the problem began when the state failed to protect people from what were called “isolated incidents,” saying: “After staying silent about so-called isolated events, I’m not surprised we’ve reached this point.”
Rama adds: “At the wake, there was a charged atmosphere of anger toward the government, but people were afraid to express it. When a group from the authority arrived, silence fell, and no one dared show any resentment. They were afraid.”
This anger later manifested in a nighttime protest that chanted: “Free Syria, Free Syria, Chechens out!”blaming foreign armed elements integrated into the new regime’s security apparatus.
“Christians haven’t felt safe until now. All the government is doing is polishing its image politically. Since the fall, I’ve been reassuring my family and relatives, convincing them that this government isn’t extremist, but today, I can’t say that anymore. I no longer believe my own words,” Rama says.
“The government’s refusal to label the victims as martyrs, and its fear of granting this simple public demand, clearly exposes the discrimination between citizens of the same country, treating non-Muslims as second-class citizens.”
Many from different sects increasingly feel like they’re merely pawns in the hands of the regime, used when convenient. Marcel comments: “I can’t help but notice how most of the sympathy feels manufactured. Not because I’m sectarian, most of my friends aren’t even Christian, but we didn’t see this media outcry after the coastal massacres, nor did the Minister of Social Affairs visit the shrines that were destroyed there.”
He adds: “Not to mention the unprofessionalism of the Syrian News Channel, which consistently fails in every incident, reporting in a way that fuels sectarian rhetoric instead of calming tensions.”
The Syrian News Channel’s coverage triggered widespread outrage, especially after a political analyst stated that the attack on Christians happened because they didn’t join the “minorities alliance”—referring to Alawites and Druze—which was seen as implicitly justifying the attack rather than condemning it.
Marcel is one of thousands of young people whose lives have been consumed by war. He once had high hopes for liberation and change, but the Mar Elias Church bombing marked a turning point. “What worries me most now is the fear that this will happen again, and that we’ll be the next victims. My friends and I often go to church to pray and then hang out. It could have been us. Right now, I’m seriously thinking of leaving the country.”
Not All Syrians Are “Martyrs”!
One of the immediate debates following the bombing was the government’s refusal to label the Mar Elias victims as “martyrs,” even though it had used the term in previous statements for victims from the Sunni community. This time, the presidential statement made no mention of the word, in contrast to earlier announcements where it appeared explicitly.
While many say the term “martyr” holds little personal meaning due to its ideological weight, in today’s context, the selective use of the word depending on a victim’s religion is far from innocent.
Marcel agrees: “The government’s refusal to name the victims as martyrs, and its fear of fulfilling this simple public demand, clearly shows the discrimination between citizens, treating non-Muslims as second-class.”
According to writer and researcher Roger Asfar, three issues stand out: first, the avoidance of the term “martyr”; second, the failure to offer prayers for the victims; and third, referring to the Christian faith as merely a “sect.”
Roger explains: “These three reflect a specific conservative or fundamentalist Islamic perspective, which views martyrdom as reserved for Muslims, and even then, only in specific contexts. In this framework, there are ‘ranks of martyrdom,’ and Christians, in their view, fall at the lowest rank, not even deserving the word ‘martyr.’”
The second issue, according to Asfar, is the refusal to pray for non-Muslims, based on religious interpretations that prohibit it. The third concerns the exclusive recognition of Islam as the only true religion, relegating all other beliefs to the status of mere ‘sects’ or ‘groups’ without equal standing.
Asfar concludes: “It might be acceptable for ordinary people to hold these views. You could argue with them. But when they come from the state or from officials representing public institutions, the issue is entirely different. It reveals a state that does not treat its citizens equally, but rather discriminates between them based on their religion or sect.”
Between imposed silence and suppressed rage, many Syrian Christians feel exposed, not just to the ‘enemy,’ but to a state that no longer grants them even the label of ‘martyr.’ Amid this growing sense of isolation, one question remains: Is there really a place for everyone in Syria?
