With our pilgrims, we gathered in the Armenian Church in Iskenderun to pray for all those whose lives were lost on September 11, and for the families who still carry the pain of that day. September 11 is a date that awakens memories for so many of us. We remember where we were, what we were doing, and the disbelief with which we watched the events unfold. My own thoughts drift back to where I was all those years ago—in Sevan, Armenia, at the Vazgenyan Theological Seminary. It

Yesterday, we traveled into the historic region of Cilicia, once a great center of Armenian faith and life. We visited Kozan, Anavarza, ancient Sis—the former capital of the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia and, for centuries, the seat of the Armenian Catholicosate. Kings once ruled here. Catholicoi prayed here. Churches, monasteries, and schools formed generations in the Christian faith. Although much of that visible world has disappeared, its spiritual voice has never fallen sil

Last Tuesday, as we ended our visit to the ancient city of Ani and turned back toward its weathered walls, something among the dust and scattered stones caught my eye. It was the Armenian letter Է—Eh. I picked it up and held it before our pilgrims. Somehow, finding that seventh letter among the ruins of Ani felt like more than a coincidence. It felt like a quiet message. Է is the seventh letter of the Armenian alphabet. In Scripture, seven is often the number of fullness and