Written by István Gégény

Lebanese Najla Kassab is the first female president of the World Communion of Reformed Churches, which has one hundred million members. She lives in Beirut with her husband and three children, but her work often takes her to Syria, and she also maintains ties with Ukrainian Christians. She was one of the speakers at the ecumenical conference in Pannonhalma at the end of September. In our interview, she talks about how faith can emerge from brokenness, how peace can be found even in wartime, and why church justice can only be complete with the inclusion of women.

– While the Catholic Church has its own hierarchy with the pope as its main leader, the Reformed Churches have a different ecclesiastical structure. Please introduce yourself as the main representative of the Reformed Churches!

– I am the president of the World Communion of Reformed Churches, which has around 100 million members worldwide. Our organization focuses on bringing Reformed voices together, and it is deeply involved in mission work for justice. We have strong relations with the Vatican; we are in active dialogue, and there is even a representative from the Vatican at our executive committee meetings. So we have developed a strong relationship with the Catholic Church. I’m from Beirut, so I live in the Middle East. This is the first time the Communion has elected a woman as president – and we hope I will not be the last. We try to include women at different levels of service, because if we speak about justice, we have to reflect it in our lives. And the inclusion of women in the church at different levels is a form of justice — not for the sake of women, but for the sake of what we preach about the integrity of the church.

– I guess you are dreaming of a time when it will no longer be important information that you are a woman.

– Yes. Now it’s something new, but I hope one day it will be a normal thing, and we won’t need to talk about it. I hope it will happen in my lifetime, but I’m not sure. I am very much involved with the Catholic Church in the Middle East, and we have prepared a document about the role of women in the church — even in the Catholic Church — that was presented to Pope Francis a few years ago. In fact, every church has its own journey in this field.

– Maybe you and your organization can help us Catholics clarify the role of women in the church. As you surely know, Pope Francis has opened many doors for women to become leaders even in the Vatican.

– Yes, I know that he has taken some steps toward the inclusion of women. I know Nathalie Becquart, a very good person who is one of the leaders of the renewal Synodality process in the Catholic Church.

And every church has its own similar renewal. Let’s continue — it is a journey.

It should come from within the church, not just by doing what other churches are doing. Even though I studied in the West, at Princeton Theological Seminary, I never accepted to be ordained there. I said that if one day I were to be ordained, I would want my people to ordain me. I have worked with women in the church since 1990 — I was the first to have a preaching license in Lebanon, opening the door for the inclusion of women. It took us from 1993, when the decision to grant preaching licenses to women was made, until 2017, when ordination finally happened. So we first started with women serving in parishes; now we have around six women ordained in the Middle East. It is part of our church life — it grew naturally out of our desire to share everyone’s talents in the life of the church. This journey is very close to my heart.

– Let’s think of your home, Lebanon! We are now at a conference focusing on the garden, and if we read the Bible, we often encounter the name of Lebanon — the tree of Lebanon. Although these phrases speak of a great, lovely, holy place, nowadays Lebanon is full of war. What is in your heart regarding this contrast — the current situation in your country and in Gaza, in Syria?

– Let’s think of where Jesus was born, which was supposed to be a place of peace! And what’s happening today? Lebanon is in the same situation. The issue is not the land — it’s how people live. The garden is not a place; the garden is a relationship with God. And what happened? The first pair wanted to be like God, so they were expelled from the garden. The issue is relationships.

When the world does not place human relationships at the center, we end up again with war and divisions.

What’s happening today is not only about one region — it’s part of an economic strategy in which human beings are no longer important. It’s about money. And that is not what the garden looks like. The garden is about relationships — about human dignity and the shalom or well-being of everyone, whether in Lebanon, Palestine, Hungary, or Ukraine. The human being must be at the center, nothing else. This is our role: re-centering the garden as an experience with God in our lives, taking care of human dignity. We must ensure that the church helps people live the fullness of life. Jesus said: “I came so that they may have life and have it abundantly.” And this abundance of life is not financial — it is an abundant life of dignity where everyone matters.

– Your words are so close to the testimony of the Archbishop of Aleppo, who once told me that death is not the worst thing that could happen to us. While he serves in Syria, where attacks, bombings, and killings are close to him, he has a deep peace in his soul. Sometimes I feel that here in Hungary we live in such comfortable circumstances that it becomes harder to have a strong relationship with God.

– For sure, the world poses questions to you and teaches you a lot. First, it teaches you to live day by day and to feel God’s presence every day. It teaches you not to give up, because you know there is a journey. In my lecture at this conference I said: we are here because we know there is a covenant — God is with us. And that is what keeps us. We know that we are not forsaken.

We might be forsaken by people, but we are not forsaken by God. And this gives us strength to continue our journey.

Many people were shocked at the beginning of the Syrian war — the Lebanese are more experienced with war than the Syrians — but they learned to see how to answer their questions, how to trust that “God is with us” is not just words. It is life. It helps people continue standing. I don’t want to say it’s easy, because psychologically people are often affected. Therefore, as a church leader, it is very important to remain a voice of hope. Because if the church becomes hopeless, that would be more tragic than war itself. It is a learning process — how to keep faith, how to trust the promises, and how to work together in such situations. And I want to tell you: the Lebanese enjoy life despite everything. We have a beautiful culture.

– You mean right now, in the midst of so many social conflicts?

– Yes, right now. When I say we have a beautiful culture, I mean something important. You can be in a peaceful place and still have no meaning in your life. Or you can be in a difficult place and have a life full of meaning. If you have something to live for, that gives you strength. If you go to Lebanon, you’ll see that people are happy because they have learned to stand. This is our culture, this is our country. We have learned to be strong; we don’t give up easily.

– We have a special topic, as Pope Leo’s first apostolic visit will be to Lebanon. Do you think that would give more strength to the Lebanese?

– Of course, the pope would give strength to the people by showing that they are not left alone. He will not come to say what everyone says; he will come with a special message — the voice of the church. The church is called to have its own voice, not merely to echo the news. We need our own insight into what Christ would do if He were among us today. I actually know Pope Francis better — I am still learning about Pope Leo. I hope he will continue the synodality process.

– You have a special Ukrainian mission. Why have you visited Hungary’s neighbor several times?

– The people of Ukraine and Lebanon are both struggling. We share a similar pain of war. The first time I went to Ukraine, they didn’t know how to build shelters. I remember that our engineer contacted Ukrainian engineers on Zoom to teach them how to build shelters. We have experience with war, and now we are on the same journey of struggle. We understand how difficult their path is, and as a church we feel each other’s pain. I go there to show my support for these struggling churches. I pray that the war will not last long, because they are losing people every day. When we met Ukrainian women in Lebanon, we discovered similar stories — families scattered everywhere, just like in Syria. We want to walk this journey together. I go there because of faith — because I believe that together we can strengthen one another and pray for the future. I know that when we had an earthquake in Lebanon, the Ukrainians helped us.

They are in pain and we are in pain; we are one body of Christ. Although there is nothing good about suffering, when you suffer, you understand another person’s suffering better.

– In Pannonhalma, you mentioned a kind of fragility that gives God the chance to heal our wounds. It reminds me of Pope Francis’ words that the church is more like a hospital for the wounded than a perfect place for perfect people.

– The question is: how do you deal with your weakness and brokenness? In Lebanon, brokenness is visible. But there are people struggling everywhere — in Hungary and beyond. The point is not to hide the brokenness but to face it. And it’s strange how God puts us together and shapes us anew. I often ask: was the cross necessary? Couldn’t God have done things differently? It seems that when you are broken, God sends you a special message. This journey of the cross — of death and resurrection, weakness and strength — is our story, the story of the church. That’s why we had martyrs, people who went through hardship so that the church would continue to resemble its Lord. At my graduation from Princeton, the sermon was titled “The Church Will Die.” We were shocked — why had we studied all those papers? But the preacher said: if the church is to look like her Lord, she must die to rise again. If we want to follow Christ, we will go through brokenness — but it is not the end of the story. The end of the story is resurrection. Even for us in the Middle East, we don’t think death is the end. Resurrection will come. Do you think resurrection happens only when war ends? No. There are countries without wars but with deep brokenness.

It’s a matter of trusting that God is with us today.

We also reject the theology of “suffer here, and it will be good in heaven.” We want to see heaven begin here. Hope should start now. Resurrection should start here. And yes, it will be completed when we see God face to face. We cannot say we are Christians if we do not experience brokenness — but God gives us the strength to continue the journey. One day we will see clearly how God has journeyed with us.

I am not afraid of death, even in war; I am afraid of hopelessness.

– The message of hope is close to my heart — it was even the last word, the legacy of Pope Francis. You mentioned in your lecture that hope is not always something great and visible; it can be raised by anyone — it’s enough for one string in an instrument to sing the song of hope.

– Many people think hope comes through big decisions. But hope comes through small decisions by people who refuse to give up. In the life of the church, we see many who refuse to give up. Hope is saying: I will continue to do my part in the way Christ wants me to. This is hope. Worrying about not achieving the results I wanted — that is not hope. Hope belongs to people who live from the heart. It changes things. I live in a beautiful ecumenical relationship with Catholic sisters in Lebanon — we learn from each other every day, we struggle with our faith in similar ways. Hope is this togetherness. Sometimes hope starts with just a few people who decide to live their faith the way Christ calls us to live. Not focusing on outcomes, but trusting that God will lead us into the future. Our whole story with our sisters in Ukraine began this way. I couldn’t go to them because the airport in Lebanon was closed. So we said: why don’t they come to us? They took the risk to come to Lebanon. There were special moments of hearing God’s voice in that meeting. We were 23 women from Lebanon, Syria, Ukraine, and Northern Ireland. The way the women spoke about their faith and shared their stories brought hope. We hope to meet every year. If you ask me how this will end, I don’t know. I only know how it started — and that together we can make a difference. I have the same hope with our Catholic sisters in Lebanon: we dream of a different church, and we dream together. My church is not better than any other church.

– We can dream together while respecting our differences.

– I tell you, I am very Protestant. It’s not about mixing everything and creating something new. No — we all have our own theology and background, but we must have the attitude of coming together. That’s what I learned here at this conference — about communities and movements in the churches — so that we truly come together.

We are united, but in the way Christ wants us to be, not according to any one church’s design.

– Let’s finish our conversation with a possible meeting between you and Pope Leo, which may happen this December in Lebanon. What would be your message to him, if you can share it?

– I can share it: I will talk with him about the fruits of synodality. Because this affects not only the Catholic Church — it also challenges us Protestants. We must continue the Reformation; it is not a finished story. I also plan to mention the unification of the Easter celebration in the Middle East. I will dare to ask him about the role of women. I know Pope Francis did not accept the ordination of women, but the role of women in the church is changing, and the church itself is changing. The churches are in God’s hands, not ours.