At the Jordan River, where Jesus was baptized, His public ministry began. Yesterday we visited the Jordan River, where the Lord Jesus was baptized and where His public ministry began. There, we celebrated the Armenian Blessing of the Water Service and sang the ancient hymn Ov Zarmanali (“O Wondrous Mystery”), which gently places these words on the lips of our Lord: “River, do not be afraid. It is I, your Creator. I have come to be baptized and to wash away sins.” Picture that

At the 12th-century Armenian Cathedral of St. James, in the Armenian Quarter of Jerusalem When you walk through Jerusalem, you quickly realize this is a city layered with prayer, sacrifice, and hope. Every stone has a story. Every street carries memory. And in the heart of this ancient city, among great powers and ancient empires, stands a small nation with a big faith, the Armenian people. From the early fourth century, when Christianity became the faith of the Armenian stat

In Jericho, one of the oldest cities in the world Yesterday we visited the ancient city of Jericho. In the Old Testament, when the people of God were traveling through the wilderness toward the Promised Land, Jericho stood in their way. It was the final obstacle before entering the land God had promised them. Jericho’s walls were massive, so wide that chariots could ride on top of them. Humanly speaking, there was no way through. Yet God gave Joshua a surprising instruction.

At the Pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem, where Jesus healed the paralytic When Jesus met people who were hurting, He often asked a surprising question: “Do you want to be made well?” At first, the question seems unnecessary. Of course, they wanted to be healed. Why else would they be there? In the Classical Armenian text, the word used is “ողջ-voghtch,” which means whole, complete, lacking nothing. Jesus was not only asking about relief from pain or the removal of symptoms. He w

Yesterday we visited the Upper Room. It is a simple room, quiet and unassuming, yet it holds some of the most powerful moments in all of Scripture. In that room, Jesus reveals the very heart of God. This is where He gathered His disciples, washed their feet, and gave them the gift of Holy Communion. Jesus took the bread in His hands. He blessed it. He broke it. And He said, “This is My body, given for you.” Then He took the cup and said, “This is My blood, poured out for you.

In life, we all have a moment when the weight becomes too much. Moments when the weight of life feels heavier than what we can carry. Responsibilities, pressures, disappointments, burdens we didn’t choose. We try to push through, we try to stay strong, but the truth is: even the strongest people get tired. Today, as we walked the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem, following the path our Lord Jesus Christ took while carrying the cross, this truth became deeply real. Along that road, e

Today, we walked through the Garden of Gethsemane, and the first thing that caught our attention here was the olive trees. Some of these trees have stood for centuries, dating back even to the time of Jesus. These trees have endured storms, heat, cold, and pressure, yet they still stand. Olives have something remarkable about them: they give their oil only when they are pressed. The pressure draws out what is most precious. Without pressure, there is no oil. And it is no coin

When I was a child, we often spent our vacations in my mother’s village, Sevkar, in the Tavush region. My mother’s aunt would bake bread in a wooden oven, the old, ancient way. We, children, would be outside playing, running around without a care, and suddenly the air would change. The smell of fresh bread would reach us, and without anyone calling us, we would all run to the oven, excited to get our share. Today, as we entered Bethlehem, I felt that same stirring within me.

Today, we took a boat across the Sea of Galilee. As we moved over those waters, it was easy to picture that unforgettable moment when Jesus calmed the storm on this very lake. The disciples had set out with calm skies and steady waters. Everything felt manageable until it didn’t. The wind rose, the waves crashed, and water began to fill the boat. Storms still come like that. Unannounced. Unscheduled. One moment, life feels steady, and the next you’re facing winds you didn’t s

Today, we embark on our diocesan pilgrimage to Jerusalem. For generations, believers have dreamed of walking these holy paths. People have prayed for this moment, longed for it, and trusted God that one day they would stand where heaven touched earth. Some people travel to escape. Some travel to rest. But we are traveling to return to the roots of our faith, to the foundation of our hope, to the story that shaped our souls. We’re not going backward; we’re going deeper. This p

St. Vartan Cathedral, 3:00 a.m., wrapped in silence. Back in the 1950s, when our community dreamed of building St. Vartan Cathedral, they already knew where it needed to stand, right here in the heart of New York City. They had the vision. They had the faith. But they did not have the funds. And standing in their way were eight brownstone townhouses on that lot. They didn’t have the money, but they had trust in God and a willingness to take one faithful step at a time. So the

There’s power in a name. Most of us were named with intention. Maybe you carry the name of a beloved grandparent, a famous figure, or someone who shaped history. Names are powerful because they connect us to a legacy, to history, and to the stories of those who walked this earth before us. History is full of the names of famous and outstanding people. They were like bright stars shining in the sky, illuminating their time, their achievements, and their influence. But as brigh

When I was growing up, there were times when I wanted to do something just because all my friends were doing it. I’d go to my parents and plead my case: “But Mom, everyone else is doing it!” And you know what she’d say? “Everyone else isn’t my child. You are. Now act like it.” At the time, I thought that was the most unfair thing in the world! But now, looking back, I realize there was so much wisdom in those words. What she was really saying was, “You’re set apart. You’re di

When we ship something fragile, we make sure to mark the box clearly: FRAGILE — HANDLE WITH CARE. On the outside, it may look ordinary, just cardboard and tape, but the ones who packed it know what’s inside. They know it carries something valuable, something delicate, something worth protecting. That’s why they don’t take chances. In the same way, whether you realize it or not, you are walking through life with heaven’s label on you. God Himself has marked you: FRAGILE — HAND

Have you ever walked into a gym and seen someone pushing those weights, sweat pouring down, muscles trembling, face turning red? If you didn’t know better, you might think something was wrong. You might even think they were being punished. But we know better. They’re not being hurt, they’re getting stronger. Every repetition, every stretch, every moment of discomfort is shaping their body, building endurance, and making them stronger than they were before. In many ways, our s

On the first day of the year, an altar server decided to make a list of everything he would do for God. He wrote down every habit he needed to break, every ministry he planned to serve, and every way he could become a better servant. He brought that list to the church altar, expecting to feel joy. But instead, he felt empty inside. So he tried again. He went back home and added even more promises. He made his list longer and stronger. Then he placed it on the altar a second t

Today is the last day of the year. Standing on the threshold of a new beginning, we are naturally filled with mixed emotions. There is excitement for new opportunities, but if we are honest, there is also a quiet trembling of the heart. A whisper of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what might happen next. The fear of uncertainty is a profoundly human experience. It’s the quiet voice that asks, “What’s going to happen next?” It’s the anxiety that keeps us awake at night with

Recently, I was visiting St. James Armenian Church in Watertown, MA, and one of the parishioners handed me a small gift, an Armenian spinning top. The moment I held it in my hand, I was instantly taken back to my childhood. When I was a child, one of our favorite games was spinning tops. We didn’t have many toys, but that little wooden top was more than enough. We could play with it for hours, winding the string carefully, holding our breath, and then pulling with all our str

“She gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7). The Son of God, the Savior of the world, was about to enter history. The long-awaited Messiah was arriving, and yet, when Mary and Joseph knocked on the innkeeper’s door, the answer was, “No room.” But that “no” didn’t stop God’s plan. That innkeeper’s refusal didn’t stop Jesus from being born. God’s purposes are going to b

On a crisp Christmas morning, a mother watched with joy as her six-year-old son eagerly unwrapped his gift. All he had asked for was a wheelbarrow, and there it was—bright red, shining under the glow of the Christmas tree. His eyes sparkled with excitement, lighting up the room brighter than any holiday sparkle. As she prepared Christmas dinner, her son disappeared with his prized gift. Hours passed, and panic gripped her. Searching the house and yard, she found no sign of hi