Back in 2015, while I was serving at Holy Virgin Mary and Shoghagat Armenian Church in Belleville, Illinois, we had a beautiful Christmas tradition that I will never forget. Every December, our parish community would visit retirement homes and assisted-living centers to sing Christmas carols. Many of those seniors lived with loneliness. Some were facing serious physical pain. Some could barely speak. Yet the moment the music began, faces softened, eyes filled with light, tear

Children and Christmas just seem to go together, don’t they? There’s something about their wonder, their excitement, the way their eyes light up, that reminds us what faith is supposed to feel like. Jesus once said, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:15). He wasn’t talking about age. He was talking about attitude. Children don’t analyze God; they just trust Him. They don’t worry if the plan looks uncertain; they hold o

Have you ever noticed how many fences there are: wire fences, wooden fences, boundary markers that define limits and control movement? They quietly tell us, “You can go this far, but no farther.” And then, almost without effort, a bird flies overhead. That bird doesn’t slow down. It doesn’t circle back. It doesn’t even notice the fences below. It keeps soaring, free and unbothered. Why? Because the fences were never meant for the bird. They were built for those who walk on th

The relic of Noah’s Ark in the Cathedral Museum of Holy Etchmiadzin Today, we commemorate St. James of Nisibis, one of the most cherished saints in the Armenian Church. He is known for his divine vision on Mount Ararat. The story goes that while he was preaching near Nisibis, he encountered people who doubted the story of Noah’s Ark. Instead of being discouraged, St. James made a bold decision. He set out on a journey to Mount Ararat, determined to find evidence of the ark. D

The other day, I stepped outside, bundled in my warm winter coat, ready for the cold. As I walked through the city, I saw others doing the same: heavy coats, scarves, gloves, layer after layer. It was a cold and windy day, but nobody looked worried. Nobody was panicking because they were prepared. They had what they needed to handle the weather. It struck me that the difference between shivering in fear and walking with confidence isn’t the weather, it’s what you’re wearing.

In the ancient world, there was a deep, rich crimson dye made from a tiny red insect found on the Araratian plains and along the Arax River. This Armenian cochineal was so powerful, so intense, that once it touched wool, it could never be washed out. You could soak it, scrub it, expose it to sun and weather, nothing could erase it. The stain became part of the fabric itself. Even today, after centuries have passed, archaeologists still uncover textiles, khachkars, and ancient

People sometimes ask me, “Srpazan, why don’t you use a case for your phone?” I usually smile and say, “Because I like to live dangerously!” But in truth, it always makes me think how careful we are with the things we buy. We cover our phones, we buy screen protectors, insurance plans, and we clean the fingerprints off the screen. Some people won’t even set their phone down without a soft cloth underneath! We’re so protective of the things that can be replaced… yet how careful

A puzzle piece on its own doesn’t look like much. It’s incomplete, odd-shaped, maybe even a little confusing. If you judge it on its own, it doesn’t make sense. But when you place it in the bigger picture, when you connect it to the pieces around it, suddenly it fits perfectly. Suddenly, what looked random becomes meaningful. What seemed insignificant becomes essential. That’s how our lives work in God’s hands. The Scripture says, “God has placed the parts in the body, every

In 2002, during my last year at the Etchmiadzin Seminary, I had a disagreement with the deputy dean. It wasn’t just a small misunderstanding—it was serious. He was trying to expel me. In my mind, everything I had worked for was slipping away. I had given my heart to serving God, yet here I was, facing a battle I didn’t know how to fight. One day, after a tough conversation with him, I went to a friend’s room, simply needing to speak, to breathe, to make sense of what was happ

Preparing sandwiches for shelters in Massachusetts A famous American psychiatrist, Karl Menninger, was once asked what he would tell a person who felt like they were on the edge of a breakdown. People expected him to say, “Go find a doctor. Take care of yourself. Take this or that medication.” But his answer was surprising: “Lock up your house, cross the tracks, find someone in need, and help that person.” Modern science has proven that when we help people, and they thank us

In almost every home, there is a thermostat and a thermometer. Though they may sit on the same wall, they serve very different purposes. A thermometer only reflects the temperature around it. If the room is cold, it registers cold. If the room is warm, it registers warm. It simply mirrors whatever atmosphere it is placed in. A thermostat, however, does something far more active. It sets the temperature. It shapes the atmosphere. It brings the environment into alignment with t

In 2003, when I was still a deacon, I remember one Sunday during Holy Badarak at Etchmiadzin, while I was watching the celebrant at the Altar, something stirred inside of me. I felt a strong, unshakable desire—almost a pull—to be on that Altar myself, to celebrate the Badarak one day. A few weeks later, I was with His Holiness Karekin II when he suddenly turned to me and asked, “Are you ready for ordination this coming Sunday?” It was like the voice of God confirming what He

Life can feel like a marathon, not a sprint. There are moments when the road seems too long, the hills too steep, and the obstacles too heavy to overcome. You might be tempted to slow down, to pull over, or even to stop altogether. In those moments of exhaustion or discouragement, Scripture offers us a powerful encouragement to hold onto: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders, and the sin that so easil

If you’ve ever stood before The Bean in Chicago — that great, gleaming mirror of steel in Millennium Park — you know how breathtaking it is. You can’t help but be amazed at how it reflects everything around it — the skyline, the clouds drifting above, the people walking beneath. It’s so bright, so clear, so perfect. But what most people don’t realize is that it doesn’t stay that way on its own. Every morning, workers come to clean it. They remove the fingerprints, the dust, t

There are moments in life when our faith is tested beyond anything we could have imagined. Moments when the light fades and the future looks dark. I faced such a moment in the summer of 2022, after my car accident. I remember lying in that hospital bed; broken, bruised, uncertain. The doctors didn’t know what the future would hold. I was staring at the ceiling, thinking my life as I knew it was over. No walking. No serving. No celebrating Badarak. I saw a lifetime of pain ahe

Back in 2018, when I was the Director of Ministries at the Eastern Diocese in New York City, I was at a crossroads in my ministry. I had questions. I had doubts. The road ahead seemed unclear. So I decided to do something radical—I went on a silent retreat at Ender’s Island in Mystic, Connecticut. For three days, I turned off my phone. No calls, no texts, no distractions. I ate my meals in silence. Just me, God, and His Word. Each day, I spent hours reading and praying throug

For generations, our grandparents and great-grandparents knew what it was like to live in fear, to hear that knock on the door in the middle of the night, not knowing if they would ever see their families again. They lived through the unimaginable darkness of persecution and genocide. Yet God didn’t let their story end in sorrow. He led their children and grandchildren to America, to a land where they could live without fear. Here in the United States, we and our children can

Have you ever noticed how light always needs something to live in? A candle needs wax, a flame needs a wick, a bulb needs a filament. Light never exists on its own—it always chooses a home. Without a vessel, the light cannot shine. In ancient times, people used simple clay lamps. The beauty of the lamp didn’t matter. Whether it was gold or clay, what mattered was that it was willing to hold the oil. And that’s how God looks at us. He’s not asking for perfection. He’s not aski

The other day, I went on my very first hike—at a place called Sloan Gorge Preserve in Woodstock. It’s a beautiful trail, carved between moss-covered rocks and old bluestone walls. The trees rise high above you, and at times it feels like stepping into another world—peaceful, ancient, almost sacred. I was alone, inexperienced, and honestly, a little nervous. At the beginning, I noticed small yellow trail markers painted on the trees, which became my guide. I learned quickly th

A Sunday School class went on a special trip to a grand cathedral. As they walked into that magnificent sanctuary, the children’s eyes were drawn to the towering stained glass windows. Each window told the story of saints—men and women who walked with God, and who lived lives of faith, sacrifice, and courage. The teacher turned to the class and asked, “Children, do you know who the saints are?” There was silence as those young minds pondered the question. Then, a little girl,