Byblos in the Mirrors of Paris: The Prophecy of Michel Chiha and the Manifestations of the Symbol in the Homeland of the "Message"

By: Jean-Marc Aractingi

Lebanon has never been a mere geographical tract defined by topography, nor a political entity swaying at the mercy of precarious balances; it is, in its very essence, an unalterable "Idea"—a message maturing in the hearth of trials to become a universal voice transcending the boundaries of time and maps.

A few weeks ago, a major work was revealed to the global consciousness: "Freemasons' Lebanon: From Hiram to Gibran Khalil Gibran," the fruit of an intellectual collaboration between Jean-Marc Aractingi and Naji Ali Amhaz. This work did not simply arrive to fill a void on library shelves, but to reawaken an age-old question: Was Lebanon ever just a country inhabited by men, or was it always that sublime "Meaning" that dwells within History?

In the folds of this wake, Lebanon expands as a sacred spiritual and philosophical space, illuminating the world with the light of knowledge. It is the point of confluence where stone and word, architecture and idea, man and the essence of existence intertwine. It is as if the authors did not write a frozen history, but rather restored Lebanon's existential function since the dawn of humanity: to be a laboratory of freedom and a sanctuary for every seeker of the light concealed behind matter.

The book circulated among the French ruling elite, welcomed as a "Gospel of Humanity" for its rhetorical "chisels" that sculpt and polish the soul. Some saw in it the "Spiritual Constitution" of a liberated Masonry in the world, considering its texts as hymns to be recited with reverence, so deeply do they embody humanity in its noblest expression, with an eloquence bordering on divine inspiration. As for the liberal and critical elite, they remained fascinated by texts whose breath recalls the "Age of Enlightenment," while those who dread the brilliance of truth questioned: For whose benefit is Lebanon being transformed, in these stormy times, into a universal symbol?

Only yesterday, the name of "Byblos" in the heart of Paris came to complete this legendary tableau of a country small in surface area, but immense in its global stature and cultural role. Byblos is not merely the epic tale of Cadmus; it is the root from which "Sparta" was born, the idea fashioned by Cadmus through "Echion." And if Gibran Khalil Gibran made the "Word" a homeland without borders, Hiram, through the symbol, made "Stone" a builder’s message. Between the rigor of stone and the transparency of the word, the authentic Lebanon was born: the Lebanon that reveals itself only to those who know how to "read" it like a book, and not merely inhabit it as soil.

In Paris, under the high patronage of President Emmanuel Macron, the exhibition "Byblos, Cité Millénaire" (Byblos, Ancient City) was inaugurated to perfect the image of Lebanon, from Tyre to Jbeil. It is as if President Macron wished to add his own note to the work "From Hiram to Gibran," conscious that no one can worthily cross the threshold of the Élysée without knowing the secret of Hiram. The event was not a mere ephemeral cultural manifestation, but a "spiritual proclamation": despite its fractures and incessant wars, Lebanon remains the civilizational pole of world memory. Byblos was not exhibited there as a vestige of the past, but as living proof that this "Little Orient" was once the starting point of the world, as if Paris were today borrowing from Byblos the "sense of beginning."

Here, the reach of the "Book" intersects with that of the "Exhibition": the former decrees that Lebanon is an "Idea," the latter proves that this idea is immortal.

In 1997, a speaker—and I was among the audience then—spoke to unveil one of Lebanon's greatest secrets: "The nations of the world struggle and fight for oil, gas, or water, but those who defend Lebanon on a global scale defend the very idea of humanity, without which the human race would lose its meaning." It is here, from the heart of Lebanon, that the primal sense of the human was born.

Michel Chiha considered that Lebanon's strength lay not in its material power, but in its "Role"; and this role is not measured by weapons, but by the capacity to merge paradoxes within the same crucible. Today, as the storms intensify, the question arises again: Do we want Lebanon to remain a homeland, or to be reduced to nothing more than an arena?

What is occurring in the depths is a redefinition of Lebanon as a "Symbol." And the symbol, on the chessboard of nations, is more powerful than geography: land can be occupied, but a symbol cannot be tamed; it is inhaled. Lebanon, which exported the alphabet, presents itself today as a "Text" that must be reread. It is no coincidence that the Phoenicians are returning to the forefront, nor that Lebanon is presented as the land of "Builders"—not only in the architectural sense, but in the highest human sense.

However, the danger, as Chiha predicted, is that Lebanon might slide from "Message" toward "Myth." For myth dazzles but does not save, and the symbol can be carried to the summit while being emptied of its substance if it does not truly dwell within hearts.

The real challenge today is for Lebanon to remain a living idea. And life demands immense sacrifices. This is why we are destined to sacrifice unceasingly for this sacred trust that Almighty God has confided to us: the responsibility of being "Lebanese."

Between Hiram’s chisel and Gibran’s pen, between the nobility of Byblos and the elegance of Paris, between the wound of war and the eternity of memory, Lebanon stands once more before its ancient and renewed destiny:

Either to be a homeland for Meaning… or to become a Meaning without a homeland.

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