AT THE beginning of this month, when Russian jet fighters went into action in Syria, it was widely reported that Russia and its national church had proclaimed a "holy war" against Islamic State. In the Western world, some people groaned ("not another warring party that claims to have God on its side") and some quietly approved, on the grounds that just maybe, the only antidote to jihad could be counter-jihad. In fact, these reports somewhat distorted what the Russian Orthodox church said. It would have been amazing if (given that he maintains, with official encouragement, cordial ties with Muslim leaders inside and outside Russia) the Patriarch of Moscow had made any statement that implied a generalised conflict between Christianity and Islam. What Patriarch Kirill, speaking as de facto chaplain to the nation, said was a bit more cautious:

The Russian Federation has made a responsible decision to use armed force to defend the people of Syria from the sorrows caused by the arbitrary actions of terrorists. We believe this decision will bring peace and justice closer to this ancient land. Wishing peace to the people of Syria, Iraq and other countries, we pray for this harsh conflict not to develop into a major war, for the use of force not to lead to the death of civilians and for all Russian military personnel to return home alive.

The "holy war" headlines were prompted by one of the Patriarchate's blunter spokesmen, Father Vsevolod Chaplin; and even he didn't exactly call for an inter-religious or inter-cultural war. What the cleric said, word for word, was as follows: "The struggle against terrorism is a blessed [literally, sanctified] struggle and today, our country is the most active force in the world that is taking part in the struggle against [terrorism]. Not because she has any selfish interest in this, but because terrorism is an amoral force."

Regardless of the exact words of Russia's religious leaders, the talk of "holy war" has in recent days triggered some powerful and articulate responses from Orthodox Christians in Lebanon, who are among the most influential exponents of Christianity in the Middle East. Hundreds of people have signed a statement circulating, in French and Arabic, on Facebook entitled "Petition against Religious Wars" which reads in part: "We unreservedly condemn the idea that the "protection of Christians" can serve as an excuse in the service of ideological or political objectives, as some have tried to do in support of the Russian military intervention in Syria."

Tarek Mitri, a respected scholar and former Lebanese culture minister, told me that he had co-launched the petition because:

We think that blessing wars, no matter what objectives they claim to have, is to be condemned. Equally, we wanted to affirm that Christians in Syria could not, and should not, be "protected" by the means of a military intervention. There were voices in Russia and the Arab world who used the "minority protection" argument, which we believe contradicts what most Arab Christians have stood for in their modern history. [All] civilians, Christian or Muslim, are to be protected.

Meanwhile senior Lebanese clergy, such as Metropolitan [bishop] Elias Audi of Beirut, have been laying out some theological and historical arguments against the idea of state-sponsored war. Roughly their case is as follows. Christianity is in its essence pacifist; and unlike Roman Catholicism, Orthodox Christianity has no doctrine of just war, but instead views war as intrinsically evil, although sometimes unavoidable, in other words a necessary evil at best. Moreover Arab Orthodox Christians, unlike Greeks or Russians with their dreams of Byzantium or the tsars, have no collective memory of wielding state power in the name of God.

All these propositions are contentious; theologians and historians could debate them for hours. And like all public statements, they have to be read against a certain political and historical background. Lebanon's Orthodox Christians occupy a particular place in the country's complex, volatile mosaic. With less than 10% of the population, they are fewer, more vulnerable and more "Arab" in their collective identity than the Maronite Christians who look westwards, theologically, culturally and commercially. In the days when secular, pan-Arab nationalism was a rising force, Lebanese Orthodox Christians were prominent supporters. Those days may be gone, but the Lebanese Orthodox are still wary of anything that would estrange them sharply from their Sunni Arab neighbours. Over the past few decades, various Maronite Christian leaders have made pacts with other players in the region, from Israel to Syria to Iran (or Iran's proxies). Lebanon's Orthodox Christians, by contrast, feel that anything that raises the regional temperature will threaten their survival.

So much for the context. But don't ignore the content. Some good, subtle and compelling arguments have been heard in recent days from the pulpits and newspaper columns of Lebanon, a country that knows all about the horrors of sectarian conflict. It's always reassuring to be reminded that religion's public role doesn't begin and end with calls to holy war.