The Holy Scripture is full of names, many of people we know almost nothing about. The First Book of Chronicles has long lists of them, one after another. Matthew's Gospel opens the same way, with the family line of Jesus: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and on through many generations. Why are these names there? I believe they carry a beautiful message: God writes His story through ordinary people. They raised families, faced hardships, and tried to stay faithful. They never imagined

Did you know that in 2001, an Armenian Yellow Pages directory was published, containing the names and phone numbers of Armenians living across the United States and Canada? I discovered a copy the other day while visiting Hye Ground Café in Racine, Wisconsin. And by the way, thank you, Ari, for the delicious Armenian soorj and the warm hospitality! If you’re ever in the area, stop by. It truly feels like a little piece of Armenia in the heart of Wisconsin. As I flipped throug

Suffering has a way of revealing what is in the heart. When life is easy, faith and trust can come naturally. But when loss, disappointment, illness, or an unexpected burden enters our lives, suffering tests us. It can soften the heart or harden it, draw us closer to God or push us away. We see this clearly on Calvary. Three crosses stood side by side. Jesus was in the center, with two thieves beside Him. All three were suffering, yet the two thieves responded very differentl

Growing up, I remember how our family kept old photographs in boxes and albums. Some were carefully arranged, while others were tucked away in drawers and cabinets. Every once in a while, we would open those boxes, and suddenly a forgotten photograph would appear. I would recognize a familiar face, remember a special moment, and feel the joy of rediscovering something precious from the past. Those memories had never disappeared. They had simply been waiting to be rediscovered

Growing up, I remember my grandmother had a beautiful set of fine china. She also had those delicate Czech crystal glasses that were so popular at the time. They were kept carefully in a special cabinet with glass doors, almost like a little museum inside the house. We could see them, but we rarely used them. They came out for Christmas dinner, family celebrations, or when special guests were visiting. For everyday meals, there was another set of plates, simpler, cheaper, eas

Last weekend in Cleveland, I had the joy of visiting the Ararat Judo Center with Der Hratch and the young people from our Cleveland parish. The center is run by Ghazar, who began practicing judo in Armenia shortly after I left, training at the same school under the same coaches. The moment I stepped inside, a flood of childhood memories came rushing back. From the age of six until I was thirteen, I practiced judo. Those seven years taught me discipline, balance, patience, res

Growing up, I remember having a plastic dagger that seemed very important to me. It was only a toy, but in my imagination it was something precious. I carried it everywhere. I played with it constantly. I even slept with it beside me at night. At that age, it felt like a treasure. Today, I have no idea where that plastic dagger is. I do not miss it. I do not wonder what happened to it. Something that once seemed so important eventually became insignificant. That is how life w

There is something strange about the human heart. It is rarely satisfied with where it is. We wait for something, pray for it, work for it, and finally receive it. For a while, we are happy. Then, almost without noticing, the heart begins looking toward the next thing. On a hot day, we wish for cooler weather. In winter, we miss the warmth. We dream about getting away, and after a few days away, we begin to miss home. When we are young, we cannot wait to grow older. Later, we

There are moments when faith feels strong. We know what we believe. We trust God. We can even encourage others to trust Him. And then there are moments when something happens and we find ourselves asking, “Lord, are You really there? Are You still with me?” St. John the Baptist knew both moments. He had seen Jesus with his own eyes. He baptized Him in the Jordan. He heard the voice from heaven. He pointed to Christ and boldly declared, “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away

What a joy it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy this past Sunday at Sts. Sahag and Mesrob Armenian Church in Providence, surrounded by so many of our young people gathered for the ACYOA Juniors Sports Weekend. The timing was especially meaningful as our Armenian Church celebrated the Feast of the Holy Translators—St. Sahag, St. Mesrob, and their disciples. More than sixteen centuries ago, these great saints saw what their generation needed. With faith, courage, and vision,

Meet Ryder. He is a service dog, gentle, attentive, and remarkably aware of the person beside him. Some service dogs are trained to recognize things that others may not see. They can sense signs of medical distress before anyone else notices. They may alert their handler to an approaching emergency, retrieve medication, or bring help when it is needed. What struck me is that they are trained to notice what may be invisible to everyone else. And that made me think about how ma

There was a time when people said “God willing” much more often. They would say, “I’ll see you tomorrow, God willing.” “We’ll travel next summer, God willing.” “We’ll celebrate together next year, God willing.” Today, we do not hear those words as often. Maybe it is because we have become more confident in our plans. We have calendars, schedules, reminders, reservations, and long-term goals. We organize our days carefully and often speak about the future as though it is alrea

When I first came to the United States in 2015, my initial assignment was in St. Louis, Missouri. Before that, I had spent more than ten years serving Armenian communities in France, Switzerland, and Belgium. My daily life was in French. I knew the language, understood the culture, and felt comfortable in my ministry. Then God opened a completely new door. Usually, clergy arriving from overseas spend some time at St. Nersess Seminary. They improve their English, learn about A

In Armenia, people often use the expression «ցավդ տանեմ» — Tsavt tanem, which literally means, “Let me take your pain.” I heard it often growing up, especially when I was sick or hurting. My mother and father, and my grandparents, would say to me, «Tsavt tanem.» As a child, I simply received those words as love and comfort. I did not think much about their meaning. But the older I get, the more I understand how profound they are. Tsavt tanem is more than an expression of symp

We live in a world that celebrates multitasking. We answer emails while eating lunch, check messages during meetings, listen to someone while thinking about the next thing we need to do, and move from one responsibility to another without ever really stopping. Sometimes we even feel proud of it. The more we can juggle, the more productive we think we are. But eventually, something gets dropped. The other day I was watching a waiter in a restaurant carrying several plates at o

Sometimes we imagine that strong faith means being strong in the face of unbearable loss. We think we should have fewer questions, shed fewer tears, or somehow carry our grief with greater courage. But grief has no timetable, and God never asks us to hide our broken hearts from Him. There is a very short verse in the Gospel that has always touched me deeply: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Jesus knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew the tomb would open and His

Psychologists say that people need three things to be happy: something to do, something to love, and something to look forward to. There is wisdom in that. We need meaningful work, someone beyond ourselves to love, and hope that gives us a reason to rise each morning, believing that tomorrow can be better. But these three things alone are not enough to be happy. We must also ask: Am I doing the right thing? Am I loving the right thing? Am I hoping for the right thing? We can

Imagine a beautiful bell hanging high in a church tower. It has been carefully shaped and polished. But inside, one small piece is missing: the clapper, the piece that strikes the bell and gives it a voice. Everything is in place for the sound to travel across the town. Yet the bell remains silent. Armenian poet Paruyr Sevak offers a similar image of the home: “A home without children is like a bell without a clapper.” I believe this image speaks to the Church as well. We res

Today we celebrate the Independence Day of Armenia. I think of the independence of Armenia as a testimony, as a declaration that no power, no empire, no obstacle can erase the destiny God has placed on His people. It’s about God’s faithfulness. It’s about His hand guiding a nation through valleys, through fires, through long nights of captivity, and bringing them into the morning of new life. After nine hundred years without sovereignty, after centuries of oppression and stru

It is always a joy to be back in Chicago. Whenever I visit, I am reminded of the beauty and energy of this great city. One of the city’s most familiar landmarks is Cloud Gate, better known as “The Bean.” People gather around its polished surface to see themselves reflected alongside Chicago’s beautiful skyline. But the reflection is not always accurate. Depending on where you stand, you may appear taller, shorter, wider, or strangely curved. The image may be real, but it is d