At Samad’s Gourmet Deli in Manhattan, Wassim Malaeb was talking about the Druze faith when a teenager paid him double the price for the candy bar she selected from the store’s shelves. As she was about to leave, he called out and stopped her. “It’s two dollars, not four,” he said as he returned the extra money. Turning back, he continued the conversation about his faith. “It’s just you and God,” he said. “No rituals.”

 

The exchange, on a recent winter day, spoke volumes about Druze belief and behavior. While the Druze see “ritual” as an obligation for a special caste of believers, religious practices filter down into everyday life. Malaeb does not consider himself religious, but he lives his Druze faith through doing good deeds in the world and passing on his values to his children.

 

“Believing in God and raising a good family,” said Malaeb. “That’s 70 percent of the religion.”

 

Malaeb spoke as he tended to customers while the sun dipped below the horizon outside the deli at 112th and Broadway. Behind him, rows of aromatic spices and freshly baked baklava gave witness to his Lebanese origins — as did a large Cedar tree printed on bags containing loaves of pita.

 

According to Sahar Muakasa of the American Druze Society’s New York chapter, there are only a few dozen Druze living in New York City. That represents a small fraction of the estimated 30,000 in the United States, one of the largest communities outside the Middle East. Of the approximately 1 million Druze around the world, most live in Syria, Lebanon, and Israel.

 

Outside of a small number of initiated Druze, known as the uqqal, most members of the faith observe no formal religious ritual. In Malaeb’s hometown of Baissour in the mountains of central Lebanon, the Druze dominate. Here in New York City, where he is part of a much smaller community, there are no houses of worship and hardly anyone formally initiated in the faith.

 

Despite the absence of these outward expressions of the Druze religion, the core tenets live on. “Almost no one here is religious, but we have to keep the community together,” said Malaeb. “This faith is all about the mind, because if you can control your mind, then you can do good things in life.”

 

Many Druze live their faith as a way of life. They attend yearly retreats and gatherings, abstain from eating pork, and refrain from drinking alcohol. But Malaeb sees it more as religious conditioning than ritual. “When you drink, your mind can’t do good things,” he said. “If you can’t control your mind, you lose control over your soul.”

 

To the Druze, the mind is represented by the color green. It is the first of the five colors that symbolize the faith, proceeding in a cosmic order: green for the mind, red for the soul, yellow for the truth, blue for willpower, and white for the realization of that willpower in the material world. These colors are often arranged in a five-pointed star, or in a flag that’s commonly flown in Druze communities.

 

Even those colors, important as they are, are not essential to living the faith. What matters, said Malaeb, is to live according to values such as honesty and altruism so that you are rewarded in the next life. Reincarnation is an important part of the Druze religion, granting believers a new life after this one.

 

Leaning back on his chair during a pause in business, as silence briefly filled the store devoid of customers, Malaeb told a parable that his father had taught him as a young child.

 

“One day there was a wealthy man, who had acres of land and a large, beautiful home,” said Malaeb. “He owned everything except for a tiny plot of land, where there lived a woman who was poor and pregnant. The rich man wanted to kick her out and have all of the land, so he did.”

Malaeb grinned and paused. “Nine months later, the woman gave birth, right after the man died,” he said. “The man was reborn as the woman’s child, but now he returned as a child with no land. He took his own inheritance away from himself.”

 

In the larger Druze community of New Jersey, the same tenets hold true. Wael Fayad emigrated to the United States three decades ago from the small hamlet of Bchetfine in the Chouf mountains of Lebanon, a half-hour drive south from Malaeb’s hometown. While there are few Druze religious leaders, or shaykhs, in the United States, he said he still found ways to live his faith.

 

“Our doctrine is a direct connection to God, 24/7,” said Fayad. “God is within us, and we are reminded of that connection by our values on a daily basis by the way we live our lives.”

 

For Fayad, the most important value is truthfulness. “Truthfulness of the tongue and preservation of the brethren are the key tenets,” he said. Ghassan Saab, a member of the American Druze Foundation’s Board of Trustees who lives in Michigan, echoed his sentiments. “Truthfulness and honorable dealing,” said Saab. “That, to me, is the main tenet of the Druze faith.”

 

Represented by the color yellow, truthfulness occupies a central position in the order of Druze colors and precepts. Fayad’s son, who was born in the United States, wears a necklace bearing the five-pointed star as a reminder of his identity.

 

Even among those who don’t consider themselves religious, these values are an essential part of daily life. “