At one of the most famous Christian churches in Damascus, the Melkite Greek Catholic cathedral known as Al Zeitoun, the bishop spent part of Sunday’s Easter sermon comparing Jesus’s Resurrection to that of Syria.
The metaphor was an obvious one. Less than five months have passed since Syrian rebels overthrew President Bashar al-Assad, putting a sudden end to the Assad family’s brutal half-century reign. The new Syria, liberated Syria, is still rising to its feet.
But what that new nation will come to look like is an open question. While many Sunni Muslim Syrians have embraced the country’s new leaders, who espouse a conservative version of Islam, religious minorities who felt protected or empowered during Mr. al-Assad’s rule greeted the takeover with anxiety.
Easter, for Syria’s historically persecuted Christians, was therefore something of a test. How would the new government led by President Ahmed al-Shara, a former Al Qaeda member who says he has moderated and who has promised inclusivity and tolerance, handle one of Christianity’s most important holidays? Would it pass as peacefully as it had under Mr. al-Assad, who courted minority support with his secular outlook?
In the end, it was like any other Easter — at least in Damascus, the capital. The city’s ancient heart is a historically Christian quarter known as Bab Touma, which houses churches of at least a half-dozen different denominations. Purple banners and crosses festooned the neighborhood on Good Friday, and people carried lit candles the night of Holy Saturday, on their way to celebrations that lasted until early morning.
On Sunday morning, crowds of people dressed in their Easter best headed to church down cobblestone streets, the children to be rewarded with chocolate and red-dyed Easter eggs that would stain their lips pink. Young church scouts later led processions through the same streets, waving religious banners and the new Syrian flag, drumming and blaring trumpets.
“I feel secure — nothing has changed,” said Angela Ammeyan, 40, who had crowded into the courtyard of an Orthodox Armenian church that lies just off the Street Called Straight, of biblical fame. (It plays a supporting role in the story of the apostle Paul’s conversion to Christianity.)
Ms. Ammeyan noted a ubiquitous sight during Holy Week, leading up to Easter: black-uniformed security officers sent by the new government to guard the entrances to the largely Christian neighborhood. That, she said, had reassured her and other Christians who had initially felt uneasy about openly celebrating the holiday.
“This is a rebirth for Syria,” Ms. Ammeyan said.
But others were reserving judgment.
The celebrations might have been supported in the capital, but it was not clear whether Christians in the rest of Syria felt as free to practice openly, said Kivork Kivorkian, 80, head of a community committee at the Armenian church.
“Outside of Damascus, we don’t know,” he said. The new government, Mr. Kivorkian said, likely wanted to make a show of tolerance for journalists and visitors, who were concentrated in the capital.
By late Sunday, no reports of violence against Easter celebrations elsewhere in the country had emerged.
Providing security was the least the new government could do, Mr. Kivorkian said.
“It’s a good sign, but this is the minimum, to be able to come to church,” he said. “This is not grace from the new government.”
Berge Boghossian, 60, the head of the church’s executive committee, who said many Armenians he knew were weighing whether to leave the country out of fear of what would come next.
“I hope you’ll come back and find things better,” Mr. Boghossian told a New York Times journalist on Sunday. “If not, then you won’t find us here.”
The city’s Christians have already made note of the mass killings of Alawites, another religious minority, in March; they saw the road map toward a new constitution take shape with what they said was little input from much of society; and they saw signs that the new government might try to curtail social freedoms, including failed attempts to close down several Damascus bars.
“We’re so used to being free to live our lives the way we want,” said Ghaida Halout, 50, holding a dyed egg outside the Mariamite Cathedral of Damascus, a Greek Orthodox church. “We don’t have a problem with the newcomers, but we hope they don’t have a problem with us.”
Nearby, Fadi Zughaib, 63, an actor and director, summarized some of the long and fearful history of Christians in Syria in a few minutes, from the time of the Umayyad conquerors through the 1860 Ottoman-era massacre of 5,000 Christians by Muslims.
To Mr. Zughaib, it seems that Mr. al-Shara, the new president, has been leading just as undemocratically as Mr. al-Assad did, with major decisions reserved for him and a few loyalists.
The former dictator ruled through the Baath Party, the only political party Syria knew for decades. And now? Resurrection was on Mr. Zughaib’s mind, too.
“It’s like the rebirth,” he said, “of the Baath Party.”