Its appeal could be in part because it is a Maronite Catholic congregation, which means its loyal members are predominantly Lebanese or of Lebanese descent.

"They take Lebanon in their heart and part of that is their faith," said the Rev. Sharbel Maroun, the congregation's pastor. "They preserve their church. And they are living all over the world. The sun never sets on the Lebanese."

Maroun came to the United States from Lebanon when he was 22. He had a degree in computer science, but soon after arriving he felt called to the priesthood and entered a seminary to study theology. For the past nine years, he has led St. Maron's during its most significant period of growth.

"The community has been growing by God's grace," Maroun said. "We have many people who come from overseas because of the war in Lebanon. One half of the members are newcomers."

The country has seen its share of bloodshed in recent years. Israel invaded Lebanon in 1978 and again in 1982 to drive out Palestinian guerrillas and it has occupied the border zone since 1985. Clashes flare up occasionally. Lebanon also suffered a devastating civil war from 1975 to 1990.

While the church's growth has been a blessing, it also has created a challenge: The trim little church overflows on Sundays. So Maroun appealed to the congregation, which responded. One man, John Nasseff, donated two-thirds of the cost of a $3.5 million expansion project and dedicated his gift to the memory of his parents, Betros and Smeroud Nasseff. The congregation picked up the rest.

"Most of the Lebanese people come with very little," Maroun said. "They are hard-working people. The first five years they work hard to establish themselves. They have to buy a home and a car. In some cases their families, relatives help them."

It's not just the growth that makes St. Maron's different. Maronite churches are Catholic and answer to the Pope. But they also have their own patriarchs and bishops. St. Maron's patriarch is Nessrallah Peter Sfeir, who lives in Lebanon, and its bishop is the Rev. John Chedid, who lives in Los Angeles and oversees churches in 34 states. There is one other Maronite Catholic church in the Twin Cities, Holy Family, in St. Paul.

But there are other twists that make the denomination unlike any other. The liturgy is spoken in three languages: Aramaic, Arabic and English. And when Maronites pass the peace during the service, they hold their hands as if in prayer, enclose the next person's hand and then gently slide away.

"It's more than shaking hands," Maroun said. "It's taking the peace of Christ and then giving it to others."

Another difference is during the liturgy of the Eucharist. The priest not only touches the elements of Holy Communion, he also kisses the wine and wafer at the beginning of the Eucharistic prayer. Then the elements are distributed by intinction, that is, by dipping the wafer into the wine and then placing it on the worshiper's tongue.

Maronite priests bless the congregation with two fingers, to represent Christ being truly human and divine. The blessing has deep meaning for the denomination because 350 Maronite monks were slaughtered in 541, just after the Council of Calcedon, for that belief.

Maronite worshipers also don't kneel during the service. They stand and face East because they believe when Jesus returns he will come from that direction.

"We face East because Jesus could come at any time, and we want to be ready to run and meet him," Maroun said.

They celebrate All Souls Day three Sundays before the beginning of Lent, rather than on the Sunday after Halloween as most churches do. On All Souls Day, the deceased are remembered.

Instead of Ash Wednesday, Maronite churches celebrate Ash Monday, thereby making Lent two days longer than other denominations. And during Lent, the focus is on the miracles of Jesus rather than emphasizing his suffering and death, as most major denominations have traditionally done.

In preparation for the expansion of the congregation's building, the church has purchased six houses on the same block of the present building. Those houses will be torn down to make way for the building and parking lots. Maroun believes with enough space inside the church and parking outside, the church will grow and become even more important to members.

"Sunday worship is more than just going to church," Maroun said. "They come to church and then they go downstairs and have coffee and doughnuts. And they talk. They don't see each other during the week, so it's very important."

Clark D. Morphew