William Secrest, professor and head of the Religious Studies program at Henry Ford Community College, took the winter semester off from teaching to travel to the Middle East with his wife, Misty. The Secrests’ first stop was Beirut, Lebanon, and their itinerary includes visits to Syria, Jordan, Mount Sinai, Israel, Palestine and, finally, Turkey.

The entire trip will encompass approximately four months, bringing the Secrests back home near the end of April, and Bill will chronicle their travels via a series of “dispatches” that the Mirror News will publish each issue.

Greetings from Zahle, in the Bekaa Valley east of Mount Lebanon. Yesterday we visited nearby Baalbek, an incredibly well-preserved and awe-inspiring Roman temple complex, which we had almost to ourselves. Today, we tried to leave Zahle, but piles of burning tires, flag-waving crowds, and army tanks and troops blocked the routes out of town. A “day of rage” had been called for by the partisans of the former Prime Minister Saad Rafik Hariri, recently ousted by a coalition anchored by Hezbollah.

We had already traveled north to Tripoli, where we rented a car and drove into the snow-capped mountains to an ancient cedar grove and the Qadisha Valley, a gorge slicing through the mountains; the cliffs dotted with monasteries hewn into the stone. These mountains are home to the Christian Maronite community. Our host there, a supporter of the Maronite Lebanese Force and a friend of its former leader's bodyguards, revealed the startling fact that Lebanon's population is only 4 million, in contrast to the 14 million who live outside the country, a diaspora driven by millennia of occupation by successive empires.

Ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, a succession of Islamic empires, Crusaders, Turks, French and Syrians all have had their day here, leaving traces of their cultures in their wakes. The Lebanese populace reflects primordial religious and clan loyalties. But respective religious faiths are less a basis of dispute than fault lines that are easily exploited. Today's “day of rage” signals the ongoing struggle of these culturally diverse peoples to find a balanced and sustainable national identity while being treated as pawns in the geopolitical struggle for power.

Basically there are two Lebanons in play. Just a few miles drive from Zahle revealed the astonishing juxtaposition of rival perspectives. Yesterday, as we approached Baalbek, the way was festooned with yellow flags of Hezbollah and banners displaying the turbanned grandfatherly face of the bearded Hezbollah chief, Hassan Nasrallah, patting grinning children on the head. Our return journey to this Greek Orthodox town featured the blue flags and handsome, fashionable visage of just-ousted Prime Minister Hariri.

To a certain extent this is a question of tradition versus modernity, but it is also about finding a viable balance between issues of justice and honor, prudence and prosperity. As our Maronite host had said earlier, “I'd rather be Hong Kong than Hanoi,” his point being that accommodation with the West would lead to a peaceful and prosperous future. The alternative—championed by Hezbollah, Syria and Iran—favors the principle of no accommodation with Israel for Lebanon, even if that calls for endless war.

Obviously, this political instability and attendant armed conflict deters internal and international investment, business and tourism. In the midst of ongoing conflict, young people lack opportunity, the economy sputters, the natural environment suffers, and ordinary folks cannot maintain their businesses and livelihoods. Repeatedly, we meet Lebanese, exhausted by political wrangling, who simply want to live a normal life; to get up each day, drive to the market and not meet up with shouting partisans and the black smoke of burning tires.

And so those with resources search for better mornings by fleeing their beloved homeland.