On Sunday, May 17, I was at St. Mary Armenian Church in Livingston, NJ, for their 100th anniversary banquet. As I sat at the table, I noticed that the tablecloth looked old and a little unusual. When I looked more closely, I saw names sewn into the cloth. At first, I began reading them out of simple curiosity. But soon I realized that these were the names of Armenian Church Youth Organization of America (ACYOA) members from St. Mary, from the years 1961 to 1964. Each name rep

When we light incense in church, the charcoal first bursts into a strong flame. It catches quickly, burns brightly, and draws our attention. Then, after a little while, everything becomes calm. The surface looks still, and it may seem as though the fire has faded away. But when you lean down and gently blow on it, the coals begin to glow red again. The fire was never gone. It was hidden beneath the surface, waiting for breath. That is why the deacons keep the censer moving, a

Japanese traditional tea cups have no handles. You hold the cup directly in your hands. This may seem unusual, especially if we are used to mugs with handles. But there is wisdom in this simple design. The cup itself helps you know whether the tea is ready. They consider, that if the tea is too hot to hold, then it is too hot to drink. What a beautiful lesson for life. So often, we want to rush. We want quick answers, quick healing, quick success, quick change. We pray today

A man once wrote a letter to the editor of a newspaper. He said, “I have been going to church for 30 years. During that time, I have probably heard about 3,000 sermons. But honestly, I can hardly remember any of them. So I wonder: are priests wasting their time preaching, and are we wasting our time listening?” That letter started a great discussion. People wrote back and forth. Some agreed with him. Others defended the value of preaching. Then one reader sent a simple respon

Years ago, a ship was caught in a violent storm. Everyone on board was filled with fear. The captain had his young son with him on the ship. In the middle of all the panic, someone noticed how calm the boy was. While the others were frightened, he sat quietly playing with his wooden toy. So the man went over to him and asked, “Son, how can you be so calm in this storm? Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” The boy looked at him with the calm confidence only a child can hav

Fear and faith have something in common: they both ask us to believe in something we cannot yet see. The difference is which one we choose to trust. Fear believes in the worst that could happen. Faith believes in the best that God can make happen. In the Scriptures, when Moses sent twelve men to scout the Promised Land, ten came back with fear. They saw giants and said, “We felt like grasshoppers in our own eyes” (Numbers 13:33). That is what fear does. It magnifies the probl

Sometimes we imagine heaven as far away. When we pray, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” or hear that Jesus ascended into heaven, we may picture God as distant, beyond our reach. But today, as we celebrate the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Church reminds us of a beautiful truth: Christ rises to the Father, yet remains close to His people. Forty days after His glorious Resurrection, the disciples watched Him ascend into heaven. Before He went up, He gave them a promis

There is a unique kind of peace that comes from being in the presence of someone who has walked with God for a long time. These "giants of faith" offer a quiet, steady warmth that tells you everything will be alright. I was thinking about this today as we prepare to lay our beloved Fr. Karekin Kasparian to rest. My mind went back to 2015, when I first arrived in the United States and spent a day with him at the old St. Nersess Seminary in New Rochelle, almost like a one-day i

Happy and blessed Mother’s Day to all the mothers, grandmothers, and spiritual mothers. Today, we celebrate you, the women who pour out love, who shape lives, who hold families together with grace and strength. You may not always get the recognition you deserve, but remember, heaven sees every sacrifice, every prayer, every tear, every act of love. And God is smiling down on you today. The Bible says in Proverbs 31:28, “Her children rise up and call her blessed.” It doesn’t s

Today, there are phone apps that can tell people where your body is. Families use them all the time. With a quick glance, someone can know whether you are at home, at work, on the road, or safely arrived. But imagine if there were an app that could show where our mind is. That is a far more important than where my body happens to be. Because long before our feet move in the wrong direction, our thoughts usually go there first. We often ask one another, “How are you feeling to

When I was a teenager, like many boys of my generation, I was fascinated by movie stars. After watching films with Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Bruce Lee, I began collecting their pictures. To my young mind, they represented strength, confidence, victory, and discipline. I admired them. And somewhere deep inside, I wanted to be like them. Years later, I found myself collecting images again. But now the faces before me were different. No longer actors from th

In Milwaukee, there is a beautiful landmark called the North Point Lighthouse. During my visit, I wanted to see it because a lighthouse has always been one of the most powerful signs of hope. When a ship is drifting on the sea, when sailors are struggling against the waves and the harbor still feels far away, the light is already shining. It sends a message: “You are close. You are being guided. You are not alone.” That is the light of hope. Jesus says, “I am the light of the

During one of my visits to St. Mesrob Parish in Wisconsin, I visited a senior parishioner who could no longer come to church. She had not grown up Armenian, but she had married an Armenian man, and over the years, she had become part of the parish family. We sat together by Lake Michigan, enjoying coffee, looking at the peaceful water, and she shared a story that touched my heart. She told me that the first time she came to the Armenian Church with her late husband, she felt

With our diocesan clergy brothers during our visit to the Basilica of Saint Josaphat in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, April 29, 2026. Last year, every Thursday evening, we met on Zoom with one of our parishes to talk about our diocesan theme, “Love One Another.” We often began with a simple icebreaker question: “Who, for you, best reflects this commandment to love one another?” I was deeply moved when, in parish after parish, many gave the same answer: “Our pastor, our Der Hayr.” It

Many times, the pain we carry does not come only from what is happening. It also comes from what we imagine may happen. The mind runs ahead. The heart begins to tremble. And before the trial even arrives, we have already started suffering. One of the desert fathers once said, “He who fears suffering suffers from fear itself.” What a deep and honest truth. Fear has a way of making us live the trouble before its time. It places tomorrow’s burden on today’s shoulders. It makes t

My grandfather, Zhirayr Parsamyan, was a survivor of the Armenian Genocide. He lost his father during those dark days, and with his mother and two brothers, he found refuge in Thessaloniki. Life there was not easy. They lived with hardship, poverty, and the pain of being uprooted from their homeland. Then, in 1935, he made his way to Eastern Armenia. And do you know what he did first? He went to Holy Etchmiadzin, the Mother Cathedral of All Armenians, he lit a candle and offe

Today, on April 24 we remember the martyrs of the Armenian Genocide, who remained faithful to God even unto death. We remember lives uprooted, homes emptied, churches silenced, and countless faithful souls who carried the name of Christ on their lips to the very end. And on this day, the words of our Lord come to us with special depth: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24). A

There is a small drawing that has traveled farther than most masterpieces. It hangs in homes, in hospitals, in churches. The “Praying Hands” by Albrecht Dürer. Two simple hands, folded in prayer. No grand landscape in the background. Just hands lifted to God. At first glance, it seems almost too simple. But the longer you look, the more you see. The veins are visible. The fingers are slightly worn. They are hands that have worked, carried weight, hands that know effort and fa

There are moments in life when God leads us in a direction we would not have chosen for ourselves. A door opens, and instead of feeling immediate excitement, we feel hesitation. We look at what we may have to leave behind. We think about what feels familiar, comfortable, and dear to us. We wonder whether this new path can truly be the right one. In the fall of 2019, while I was serving at St. Vartan Cathedral, I received a call from His Holiness asking me to return to Armenia

Have you ever noticed how often we speak to ourselves? Sometimes it happens almost without thinking. We say, “Get up.” “Keep going.” “Do not be afraid.” “You can do this.” What seems like a simple habit is often something much deeper. One part of the soul is speaking to another. Many of our deepest struggles take place within, where one part of the soul reaches for peace while another clings to fear. One part wants to trust God, while another remains tired and uncertain. The