Lebanese in Australia: A Story of Migration, Faith, Family, and Keeping Lebanon Alive
What happens when Lebanese people leave their homeland and settle thousands of kilometers away? Do the traditions disappear with time? Does the language fade? Do the children and grandchildren still feel Lebanese?
This conversation in Australia became much more than an interview. Sitting with members of the Lebanese community—some of whom have lived in Australia for more than 50 or 60 years—we listened to first-hand stories of migration, hardship, work, family, faith and an extraordinary determination to keep Lebanon alive across generations.
Leaving Lebanon, But Never Leaving It Behind
One of the strongest messages throughout the discussion is simple: they left Lebanon geographically, but Lebanon never left them.
Some early immigrants arrived with very little. Yet among the possessions they chose to carry across the world were objects connected to home: a kebbeh mortar, an old wheat pot, family traditions, recipes, prayers and memories.
These objects became symbols of something much bigger. People were building a new life in Australia without wanting to erase the life they had left behind.
For elderly Lebanese in Australia, those memories remain particularly powerful. The discussion even touches on older people experiencing dementia who mentally return to the Lebanon of their childhood—the villages, sounds and memories that stayed with them for a lifetime.
The Early Lebanese Migration to Australia
The conversation traces Lebanese migration to Australia back to the 19th century.
According to the history discussed in the episode, three young men from Bsharri, from the Fakhri family, arrived in Adelaide around 1854. A beautiful story is told about Australian farmers welcoming them despite neither side speaking the other’s language. The Lebanese newcomers later reportedly harvested the farmer’s wheat as a gesture of gratitude.
That spirit of gratitude toward Australia appears repeatedly throughout the episode.
Australia is described by several guests as their second mother: Lebanon remained the motherland, but Australia was the country that welcomed them, gave them opportunities and allowed their families to build new lives.
The early immigrants began as traveling merchants, carrying textiles and consumer goods from farm to farm. Once established, they helped relatives and friends make the journey, gradually creating larger Lebanese communities.
Migration later accelerated after World War II and again following the beginning of the Lebanese war in the 1970s.
Starting Again From Zero
Perhaps the most powerful parts of the episode are the testimonies of the immigrants themselves.
They remember arriving without English, without money and often without professional recognition.
Many worked in factories, construction, steel, railways and heavy industry. Some worked two shifts in a single day. Fathers could leave home before their children woke up and return after they were already asleep.
There are stories of several workers sharing the same bed according to their shifts—one sleeping while another worked.
Lebanese women were equally important to this story. They worked in factories, offices and family businesses while simultaneously raising children and maintaining the home. Families and neighbors developed informal childcare systems so that mothers could work.
The objective wasn’t immediate comfort.
They were sacrificing so the next generation could have a better life.
From Factory Workers to Business Owners
The episode also follows the economic evolution of the community.
As Australian manufacturing declined and former industrial areas began transforming into residential neighborhoods, many Lebanese moved into construction, property development and business.
The children and grandchildren of factory workers became entrepreneurs, professionals and major businesspeople.
It’s an extraordinary progression: immigrants who arrived with almost nothing eventually established businesses, built homes, churches and institutions, and created opportunities for the generations that followed.
The Church Was More Than a Church
One of the central discussions concerns the importance of the Maronite Church in Australia.
For the first Lebanese arrivals, church was not simply somewhere to attend Mass. It became a meeting point, community center, support network and connection to home.
The episode discusses the establishment of St Maroun’s in Redfern around 1897, followed over the decades by additional Maronite churches, parishes, schools and institutions.
Newly arrived Lebanese could gather near the church hoping to hear someone speaking Arabic. Meeting another Lebanese person could mean finding accommodation, employment, advice or simply someone who understood what they were experiencing.
The church therefore helped support three dimensions of immigrant life simultaneously:
spiritual, social and economic.
Preserving Maronite Faith Across Generations
An especially fascinating part of the discussion is how strongly religious traditions survived migration.
Children and grandchildren born in Australia continue praying in Arabic and Syriac. Young people attend Mass, pray the rosary and participate in traditional Maronite celebrations.
The devotion to Saint Charbel is particularly visible.
The discussion describes large gatherings, processions and young people walking for hours during the Australian winter. Some participants walk barefoot as an expression of faith.
Saint Charbel has also moved beyond the Lebanese Maronite community. His statues can now be found in churches across Australia, and the episode discusses how some Maronite devotional traditions are influencing other Catholic communities.
Lebanese Traditions Surviving Thousands of Kilometers From Home
Religion isn’t the only tradition that survived.
The guests describe maintaining customs connected to marriage, family gatherings, village associations, food and respect for parents and grandparents.
One fascinating example concerns marriage proposals. In some families, if the grandfather is still alive, he participates in formally asking for the bride’s hand—maintaining a hierarchy of family respect inherited from Lebanon.
Weekly family gatherings are another recurring theme.
Children, grandchildren and grandparents come together for barbecue, kebbeh, Lebanese food and sometimes a glass of arak. The gathering isn’t merely about eating. It ensures cousins know one another and younger generations remain connected to the family.
Food Became a Vehicle for Identity
Food naturally plays an important role.
Early Lebanese children sometimes felt embarrassed bringing unfamiliar Lebanese foods to school because their Australian classmates didn’t recognize them.
Today, the situation has completely changed.
Saj bread, manakish, zaatar, kibbeh and Lebanese cuisine have become celebrated and sought after.
The same food that immigrants once ate quietly became part of Australia’s multicultural identity.
The community continues preparing traditional foods for religious celebrations: maamoul, hrisseh, awamat, Lebanese pastries and village specialties.
More importantly, grandmothers and mothers are teaching younger generations how to make them.
The recipe isn’t simply being cooked.
It is being transferred.
The Importance of the Lebanese Village
Something particularly Lebanese survives in Australia: people don’t only identify themselves as Lebanese.
They remember their village.
Throughout the discussion we meet people and hear references connected to Hadchit, Bsharri, Kfarzghab, Karm el Mohr, Zahle, Blouza and other Lebanese towns and villages.
Village associations were created in Australia to bring families together, celebrate patron saints, prepare traditional food and maintain relationships with their ancestral villages.
Some associations also send money back to Lebanon to support churches, halls and community projects.
So the connection isn’t nostalgic only.
The diaspora continues physically investing in Lebanon.
Arabic Language and Lebanese Schools
Language preservation is another major subject.
Families speak Lebanese Arabic at home and deliberately teach it to children. One grandfather proudly tells the story of his five-year-old granddaughter announcing that she was learning Arabic.
The discussion highlights three schools in New South Wales connected to the community: Our Lady of Lebanon, St Maroun and St Charbel.
Their role goes beyond conventional education. They help transmit Arabic, Lebanese culture, traditions and religious identity.
Extraordinary Community Generosity
Another remarkable discussion concerns how churches and community projects were financed.
Instead of relying entirely on bank loans, members of one parish reportedly contributed personal loans of $10,000, $15,000, $20,000 or whatever they could afford, allowing the community to purchase its church without conventional bank financing.
The church purchase is described as approximately AUD 1.5 million, paid off in around three years.
Later, the community reportedly raised more than AUD 1 million in interest-free contributions toward additional property.
Women’s groups raised money through food preparation, events and community work. Tradespeople donated their labor rather than billing the church.
This is perhaps one of the strongest messages of the entire conversation:
community was built through people’s time as much as through their money.
The People Who Built the Community
Throughout the episode we hear personal testimonies from members of the Lebanese-Australian community.
Youssef Hosairati speaks about more than 60 years in Australia, working extremely long days and thanking Australia for welcoming his family while insisting that Lebanon never left his heart.
Salim, known as Sleiman el-Homsi, describes arriving decades ago, working hard, establishing a business and the role his late wife played alongside him.
Susan Abboud, originally from Kfarzghab, recalls arriving as a child after her uncle brought the family from Lebanon. She describes an extraordinary and frightening journey through Bombay aboard an aircraft connected to the military, followed by the challenge of learning English and adapting to Australian life.
Other women share prayers and religious songs remembered from their mothers and fathers—traditions that have survived for decades in Australia and, in some cases, may now be less commonly heard in Lebanon itself.
We also hear stories from families originating in Hadchit, Zahle, Karm el Mohr and other villages, each demonstrating different ways of keeping Lebanese identity alive.
Faith, Miracles and Personal Testimonies
The conversation becomes deeply personal when several community members share experiences they interpret through their faith.
Raymond Raad, one of the people involved in establishing the parish and promoting devotion to Mar Romanos, recounts a serious medical episode during which his family was reportedly told that little more could be done. He describes experiencing the presence of the Virgin Mary before recovering.
Another woman recounts an experience involving her young daughter and her devotion to Mar Romanos, whom the community invokes as a healer.
These are presented in the episode as personal testimonies of faith, and they illustrate how religious belief remains intertwined with everyday family life within this community.
A Lebanese Identity That Didn’t Disappear
Perhaps the biggest lesson from the entire conversation is that migration doesn’t necessarily mean losing identity.
These families integrated into Australia. They learned English. They worked, created businesses, entered politics and professions, built institutions and became Australian.
Yet many simultaneously remained deeply Lebanese.
They preserved:
the language, the food, the village, the church, the prayers, the family structure, respect for grandparents, generosity, hospitality and attachment to Lebanon.
And now something even more interesting is happening.
The first generation carried Lebanon to Australia.
The second generation protected it.
The third and fourth generations—many of whom were born thousands of kilometers from Lebanon—are choosing to rediscover it.
Lebanon Is More Than Geography
I came away from this conversation thinking about what it really means to belong somewhere.
Is Lebanon simply the land between its borders?
Or is Lebanon also a grandmother making maamoul in Sydney? A child learning Arabic in an Australian school? A family gathering every week around kibbeh? A young person praying in Syriac? An immigrant who left his village 60 years ago but still introduces himself by the name of that village?
These men and women left Lebanon because of poverty, war, economic hardship or the search for opportunity.
They worked incredibly hard to build another life.
But somehow, across generations and across more than 14,000 kilometers, they carried Lebanon with them.
And perhaps that is one of the greatest stories of the Lebanese diaspora:
You can leave Lebanon. You can build a new home on the other side of the world. You can become proudly Australian. But Lebanon can still remain in your language, your kitchen, your faith, your family—and most importantly, in your heart.
