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

Last week in Lowell, Massachusetts, I was taken to City Hall to see a memorial khachkar, a cross-stone called “A Mother’s Hands”. As I reached up and touched the bronze hands above the cross, my thoughts immediately turned to my grandmother Eva, a survivor of the Armenian Genocide. I remembered her steady, patient hands making needle lace, and how, when I was a teenager, she taught me to lace. Needle lace is delicate work. It requires patience, attention, and care. You do not

A few weeks ago, I was in Washington, D.C. during cherry blossom season. The city was filled with beauty: trees covered in soft pink and white blossoms, almost like a living painting. But what struck me just as deeply were the trees that had been cut down. Even from some of those trunks, new shoots were already beginning to grow. Life was quietly rising where everything seemed finished. We all know what it feels like to face something in life that seems cut down: a dream, a p

Years ago, when I was a student at Sevan Seminary, we had a psychology class during our fourth year. In one of those sessions, we learned about what is called cognitive reframing; the ability to look at the same situation from a different perspective and, by doing so, discover a new meaning within it. At the time, it felt like a modern psychological insight. But as the years passed, I came to realize that the Holy Scripture and the spiritual fathers had been teaching this wis

Watching a rocket launch from across Kennedy Space Center in Florida These days, many eyes are turned toward Artemis II, which launched on April 1, 2026, sending astronauts on a ten-day journey around the moon. Just three weeks ago, during our diocesan clergy retreat in Orlando, we were staying near that same Kennedy Space Center and had the joy of watching another rocket launch. Back in 1961, when Yuri Gagarin became the first human in space, Soviet propaganda claimed that h

With our diocesan pilgrimage in Nazareth, in front of the Church of the Annunciation, where the Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Holy Virgin Mary. How often do we stand before moments that feel too big for us? A new responsibility. An unexpected burden. A difficult transition. A calling that stretches our faith beyond what feels comfortable. In those moments, fear speaks loudly and questions fill the heart. But when God calls us, He also gives grace for the journey. Today, w

Opposite the tomb of Lord Jesus Christ, Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem Years ago, while I was serving as a parish priest in NYC, one of my parishioners lost her husband. After the funeral she would faithfully visit her beloved husband’s grave at the cemetery. She would bring a small chair with her, and sit by the headstone for hours. I would accompany her on occasion, whenever she asked me to offer formal blessings at his burial site. But in my youth, I struggled to understand why

On Holy Friday, we stand before the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ and look upon the deepest mystery of our faith. Many people looked at the crucified Jesus on that day and saw only a suffering man. They saw His wounds. They saw the nails. They mocked Him and treated Him like just another condemned person. But the One hanging on the cross was the eternal Son of God. The hands pierced for us were the same hands that created the world. The head crowned with thorns was the head

Paris, April 24, 2014 — Greeting François Hollande, then President of France, at the commemoration of the Armenian Genocide in Paris, together with Patrick Devedjian and Alain Terzian. Back in 2014, I was in France, serving as locum tenens, organizing the election of the new primate. One day, I received a call from Canada. It was from a bishop who was serving there as locum tenens. He said to me, “You know English and French. You would be a good Primate in Canada. I’ll bring

Today, we celebrate Palm Sunday, the triumphal entry of our Lord Jesus Christ into Jerusalem. We’ve walked through the 40 days of Lent praying, fasting, and reflecting, and now we stand at the gateway to Holy Week. In the Armenian Church, we mark this day with a deeply symbolic service called “The Opening of the Doors.” At the end of Badarak, the priest knocks on the church door, and people sing together: “Open to us, O Lord, the door of Your mercy, and make us worthy to ente

Today is Lazarus Saturday, a moving day in our church calendar that reminds us of one of the greatest miracles in Scripture. A day when Jesus didn’t just speak about life, but He proved He had the power to bring it. He called Lazarus who had been dead four days out of a tomb, and that man walked out fully alive. But before that miracle ever happened, something else had to take place. Jesus looked at Martha, Lazarus’ sister, and said these words: “I am the resurrection and the

Have you ever noticed how a child comes to a parent without fear? A child doesn’t rehearse the request. They don’t wonder, “Will I be rejected?” They simply ask because they trust the heart of the one they’re asking. That kind of trust is built on a relationship. It’s built on knowing that the parent wants what is good. That is the picture Lord Jesus gives us when He says, “Which of you, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead?” (Matthew 7:9-10). Our Lord p

12 July 2014, at the wedding of Arthur and Karine at St. George Armenian Church in Hartford, Connecticut. In 2014, I came to America for the first time. I traveled from Paris, where I was serving as locum tenens of the Armenian Diocese of France, to attend the wedding of my friends Arthur and Karine Petrosyan. The moment I arrived in New York City, something moved deeply within me. It is hard to explain, but I did not feel like I was in a foreign place. I felt a deep peace, a

At the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, touching the stone from which Christ ascended, my heart whispers: “Maranatha; Come, Lord Jesus”, awaiting the One who ascended and will come again. On behalf of all believers, who raise their eyes to the skies, who try to reach out to Heavens, the prophet exclaims, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down.” (Isaiah 64:1). Lord, if you broke that thickness which seems to separate us from You, then we can, at last, find the true