Special Report: Syria’s Christian Community Faces Extinction
DAMASCUS, Syria — Morning light poured through the stained glass windows, casting amber and crimson pools on the marble floor where Fadi Ghatas knelt. The air inside St. Elias Greek Orthodox Church was heavy with incense, and 350 voices rose together in song. That was until the bomber struck.
There was a sudden commotion at the church doors, then the sharp crack of gunfire ripping through glass and stone. Screams rose before a final, deafening blast silenced everything. The bomber ended his own life and claimed 22 others in the June 22 attack. More than 60 others were wounded.
“We were under the Lord's watch, praying in peace before it happened," he recalled in an interview with Religion Unplugged. “I counted more than 20 dead bodies.”
READ: More Than Politics When it Comes To Syria’s Christians
The attack, the deadliest in recent memory, sent shockwaves through Syria's dwindling Christian population, communities that have endured in this ancient land for almost two millennia. Now, many fear they are witnessing the final chapter of one of Christianity's oldest continuous presences anywhere in the world.
Issa Nasr, another survivor of the Damascus bombing, struggled to comprehend the targeting.
“I don't understand why we were attacked,” he said. “We were not part of the violence in Syria. I cannot forget the swollen and exploded bodies of the victims.”
The bombing was claimed by Saraya Ansar al-Sunnah, a hardline splinter group that broke away from Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), a former al-Qaeda affiliate and the Islamist group that helped topple former President Bashar al-Assad. It represents one of the deadliest assaults on Syria's Christian community since Assad's ouster and has accelerated an exodus that began when civil war erupted in 2011.
In the aftermath of the attack, religious leaders criticized authorities for failing to declare national mourning or refer to the victims as "martyrs," as typically occurs in similar incidents. This perceived neglect, they say, has deepened feelings of isolation and marginalization.
"The community increasingly sees itself as 'forgotten in its own land,” said one church official who requested anonymity due to security concerns.
The Damascus bombing is part of a broader pattern of attacks targeting Christians across Syria. In Wadi Al-Nasara — the Valley of Christians in Homs province, one of Syria's most significant Christian strongholds — residents report widespread arrests, property seizures and attacks on places of worship. In neighboring Hama province, the Greek Orthodox Archbishopric was attacked earlier this year, causing extensive damage in an incident that remains under investigation.
“What is happening is not just the bombing of a church, but the systematic emptying of an entire community,” said Father Elias Khoury, a priest in Homs. “We are witnessing mass emigration of young people, and anxiety dominates families.”
Syria’s Christian population has collapsed from roughly 2 million people before the war to fewer than 300,000 today, a decline of more than 85 percent that religious leaders describe as approaching extinction levels. For many, the Saint Elias bombing has crystallized fears that even Syria's new political landscape offers no sanctuary for religious minorities.
When the war broke out in 2011, many areas with historically active Christian communities quickly turned into front lines between warring factions, forcing residents to flee both violence and persecution. Idlib province stands as a stark example. Christians there began leaving in large numbers after the arrival of Jabhat al-Nusra, now known as HTS, in 2012.
By 2015, after the Army of Conquest, a coalition that included Jabhat al-Nusra and other opposition groups, seized control of the province, the exodus accelerated. Media reports estimated that more than 90 percent of Idlib’s Christian population had fled, with numbers dropping from around 11,000 in 2011 to between 200 by 2022.
The same pattern has repeated elsewhere. Economic collapse, a lack of political prospects, and the deterioration of public services and infrastructure have driven Christians in other regions to seek safety and stability abroad. Many families lost sons to forced conscription under the previous regime or were forced to pay crippling sums to avoid military service, pressures that have led to a steady outflow of young people from the country.
Naji Awad, who left for the Netherlands in 2015 seeking asylum, described the impossible choices facing Christian families. His parents sold their rural home to fund his dangerous journey to Europe to escape mandatory military service.
"I faced two options," Awad explained. "Pay what's called military service exemption fees, which costs thousands of dollars, or pay that amount to smugglers who would help me reach Europe. I didn't want to be part of the Syrian war."
"Neither side gave us consideration or guaranteed a dignified life for Syrians in general and Christians in particular," he continued. "Today I feel like a real citizen in my host country, something I never felt in Syria, my motherland."
Christians in Syria have not faced uniquely targeted persecution in recent decades, according to George Najib Awad, assistant researcher at the University of Bonn, Germany, and a specialist in historical theology. He explained that over the past 50 years, Christians endured the same authoritarian repression as the rest of the Syrian population, both under the Assad regime and now under the current administration.
“We can’t really say there was a special kind of persecution aimed just at Christians,” Awad said. “They suffered like everyone else in Syria, part of the broader story of oppression and hardship.”
Still, their migration has been particularly noticeable. As a small minority, once about 10 percent of the population and now estimated at around 3 percent, Christians have often found it easier to leave, in part due to the presence of welcoming communities abroad.
Awad warned that if current conditions of repression and rising extremism persist, the Christian population in Syria could fall below half a percent within the next decade. He noted that all signs point to a continued and possibly accelerating wave of emigration.
“Today, we see restrictions on Christian presence through practices carried out by the new administration in Homs, Aleppo, Hama, and other cities,” said Spyridon Fayyad, priest of the Church of Archangels Michael and Gabriel. “The type of these restrictions today is still at its minimum level, related to clothing, drinking, and eating, but what is worrying is that they give signals for what is coming – what might later relate to the right to practice rituals or live freely and with dignity.”
The rise of HTS as the de facto authority in Damascus has alarmed many Christians who had already endured hardship under Assad.
“Since the fall of the regime, official delegations have repeatedly visited the bishopric, insisting that threatening our existence in Syria is a red line,” Fayyad added. “But in my view, the very frequency of these reassurances from authorities suggests that Christianity itself is seen as a controversial presence by the new administration and instead of easing our fears, it has only deepened our anxiety.”
The unease among Syria’s Christian communities has only deepened in the aftermath of the June 22 attack, especially as promises of accountability remain unfulfilled.
The Syrian government's investigation into the bombing has itself become a source of controversy. Authorities quickly arrested individuals they described as Islamic State operatives who allegedly infiltrated from al-Hol camp in northeastern Syria, controlled by the Syrian Democratic Forces.
The rapid investigation and rushed conclusions have raised questions about the official narrative's accuracy, particularly given that Saraya Ansar al-Sunnah had already claimed responsibility.
“Despite the authorities’ pledge to investigate the bombing, we, as a church, have yet to receive any official results,” he added. “This silence has only added to the growing sense of insecurity among Christians.”
That deepening sense of insecurity is evident in Fayyad’s daily encounters with his parishioners. Many now come to the church with questions about leaving, wondering if the church can help them emigrate or advise them on the dangers of staying. Though they often speak with affection about Syria and their connection to the land, their words are laced with unease. A growing number say they no longer feel at home in their own neighborhoods, but like “outsiders in a place that once offered belonging.”
During memorial services for the Damascus bombing victims, Patriarch John X of Antioch and All the East affirmed that Christians must hold fast to the land they have long inhabited. He called on the international community to cease its geopolitical calculations and pay attention to the world's oldest Christian community facing the threat of silent extinction.
But with several Western countries welcoming religious minority refugees, emigration has become an increasingly appealing option for many Christians.
Nada Kashi, a university student, told Religion Unplugged that she applied to universities in Germany and the United Kingdom in search of a “better future.”
While reports suggest some church support for emigration, the process remains largely driven by individual efforts.
“Even if violations are avoided for fear of international backlash, the social climate has shifted,” she said. “We’re viewed more and more through a sectarian lens, and that keeps us in constant anxiety.”
For Kashi, it is not just the church bombing that fuels the desire to leave. “It’s the broader rhetoric, from the authority’s supporters and factions now absorbed into the Syrian army that makes staying feeling uncertain.”
This article is published in collaboration with Egab.
Amer Al-Meri is a journalist based in Syria.