We all know how hard it is to become a doctor. Hard work at school, years at university and long hours as an intern.

Now imagine doing a medical degree in a foreign language — not once, but twice.

Dr Jamal Rifi, an Australian Lebanese Muslim GP and community leader, has gained widespread praise and some criticism for the stand he has taken in denouncing Islamic State (IS).

It is probably not a situation Dr Rifi envisaged for himself when he arrived in Australia 30 years ago determined to win a place at Sydney University Medical School.

"Jamal is a doctor and that's his absolute love and when you see him in action that's when he's at his very best," friend, patient and former principal of Punchbowl Boys High Jihad Dib said.

For nearly 20 years, Dr Rifi has been a prominent figure in the Lebanese Muslim community of south-western Sydney.

A respected and hard-working GP, Dr Rifi provides much more than just medical care to people, helping with application forms, mediating in disputes and so much more.

But it is in the past 12 months that Dr Rifi has entered the national psyche as one of the most passionate voices from the Muslim community denouncing the barbaric behaviour of the IS group.

After he condemned Australian jihadist Khaled Sharrouf for allowing his son to hold up a severed head, he received a death threat from another Australian fighting with IS, the notorious Mohammed Elomar.

The Rifi family: (from left) Faisal, Nemat, Lana, Jamal and Sue. ( ABC )

Social Services Minister and former immigration minister Scott Morrison said Dr Rifi's stand was "brave".

"That is a very brave thing for him to do," Mr Morrison said.

"I can say it, the Prime Minister can say it, as we should, but for someone like Jamal to say it and other leaders to say it, then that carries some real risks for them in their community."

His family was concerned about the threat and increased their security.

"When he did receive the death threats, I was angry at him especially because it referred to my siblings and their schools," his eldest daughter, Nemat, said.

His wife Lana said she was "concerned that someone might just walk into the surgery, because it is an open, it's a public place".

Community turns to doctor for leadership

Dr Rifi has also been instrumental in helping families whose children are in danger of radicalisation.

"That is the crux of everything we've been working for — to prevent young people being ensnared in this ideology and taken away from their family," he said.

When four sons from the El Baf family in Sydney ran off to join IS in Syria, the family turned to Dr Rifi for help.

Mr Morrison said he recalled Dr Rifi phoning him about the men.

"Jamal is always someone who acts. Jamal called me and said 'what can you do?'," Mr Morrison said.

"We tracked them but they'd already got their way to Turkey and by then they'd clearly gone to Syria."

But critics, like leading Muslim academic Dr Yassir Morsi, have a different view about Dr Rifi's actions and words.

"He's a divisive figure, there's no way around that," he said.

"There's plenty of people who dislike what he's got to say and feel that he's gone about it the wrong way."

Lifesaving program important step forward

Dr Rifi first came to the media's attention in the mid-1990s as a strident voice condemning the small but violent criminal element in the Lebanese community.

Mecca Laalaa working as a life saver on Cronulla Beach. ( Jamal Rifi )

He was a vital cog in the rebuilding of community relations after the Cronulla Riots in 2005.

Former NSW premier Morris Iemma, who is also a patient, recalled the event which occurred while he was in power.

"He rolled up his sleeves, he left his medical practice and came up with the great idea of the surf life saving course," Mr Iemma said.

The course trained young Muslim men and women to become lifesavers at Cronulla Beach and was a practical attempt to bring two cultures together.

"Symbolically it was very important and symbols matter," Mr Iemma said.

Young romantic overcomes hurdles

Dr Rifi is only too aware of the horrors of war, having grown up in the middle of the brutal civil war in Lebanon in the 1970s.

Jamal Rifi with his wife Lana. ( ABC )

The death of his baby brother from an anaphylactic reaction to an injection fuelled his desire to become a doctor.

Unable to do a medical degree in his home country because of the fighting, he ended up starting his studies in Romania as it was the only country he could get a visa for.

"Here I am, 19 years old in a country I don't know anything about and I don't even speak one word of Romanian," he recalled.

But fate was waiting to deal him another hand.

He had fallen in love with a young Australian Lebanese girl, Lana, who he had met when she visited relatives in Lebanon.

For two years the couple communicated by letter but it was not easy.

"I could write in Arabic, French or Romanian, but I couldn't write in English, and Lana could write very well in English but not so well in Arabic," Dr Rifi said.

Eventually the tyranny of distance took its toll and when he heard Lana had other suitors he decided to act.

Lana recalled his plans.

"He'll come out here, we'll get married and then he'll finish off his medicine degree here," she said.

That proved easier said than done as Jamal's knowledge of English was extremely limited but once again he triumphed, despite being one of the oldest students in his class and one of the very few married with children.

Friend Jihad Dib said: "with Lana and Jamal you see a real love story."

"A little while ago I caught them holding hands and I just laughed and I said Jamal 'you're such a romantic'."

He said his friend overcoming early hurdles showed his determination.

"I think that in itself speaks of the amount of work that he has put in to becoming a doctor."

And despite all his work in the community, his status as a leading spokesperson for Australian Muslims, and the many awards he has garnered, that is how Jamal Rifi sees himself first and foremost.

"I am a family doctor, and, I've told my friend, I am a doctor from nine to five, while in reality I am a doctor 24 hours a day, seven days a week."