Reflections on the Sasnashen Shoot-Down 60th Anniversary

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Reflections on the US Air Force C-130 60528 Shoot Down over Sasnashen, Armenia
 
by Fr. Vazken Movsesian
Piece of the wreckage –
shadowbox presented to Fr. Vazken







“Kahanayk yev joghovort” are the first words of the requiem service of the Armenian Church.  The words translate to “the priests and people” referring to a gathering of those who remember the dead in prayer. And there we were, the priest and people, in solemn remembrance of 17 men who perished 60 years ago to the day. I was singing the hymn but this gathering was not in any Armenian church. Far from one, we were standing in the middle of America in Bellevue, Nebraska, near the Offutt Air Force Base. The gathering? Sixty years ago, in the height of the Cold War, a United States Air Force C-130 was shot out of the sky by the Soviet Union.  The plane crashed in the village of Nerkin Sasnashen, Armenia (about 60km Northwest of Yerevan).  

It was interesting that I sang the hymn in Armenian and no one in the audience understood the language, yet everyone knew very well what was happening. We were connecting as people. We were uniting the remote village of Sasnashen with Bellevue. Armenia was uniting with Nebraska and all of this to attest that a group of men were united with eternity.

 

Remembrance in Sasnashen

Like many Armenians, or many people in general, I had not heard of this shoot-down incident. We grew up in the Cold War fearing the worst, with duck-and-cover drills executed in our school hallways on a regular basis. But who knew that the Cold War was being played out with a shoot-down in Armenia? We should have known for in fact, this major international incident was the most publicized confrontation between the Soviet Union and the U.S. military during the Cold War!

On September 2, 1958, four Soviet MiG-17 pilots attacked and shot down an unarmed US reconnaissance aircraft after its crew inadvertently flew into Soviet airspace over Armenia. Seventeen United States Air Force airmen were killed in the crash at Sasnashen. The incident was covered up until the break up of the Soviet Union –  and then some – when the remains of the C-130 60528 Crew were excavated from the crash site and interred on the 40th anniversary of the shoot-down, with a headstone identifying the members of the Crew* at Arlington Cemetery in Virginia.
Fortunately, the details of the incident, the cover-up, the years of denial, the reconciling with the facts up to the present day have been meticulously documented by Larry Tart and have been published in his book, “The Price of Vigilance: Attacks on American Surveillance Flights” (2001 with Robert Keefe). The book and detailed information can be found at Mr. Tart’s website. He has also prepared a short briefing video (which was shown at the Bellevue gathering) where the main details of the incident are outlined.
With the Prop Wash Gang – September 2, 2018, Bellevue, Nebraska


One of the eye-witnesses to the event was a young man, Martin Kakosian, a college student on a field trip in 1958. Kakosian, a skilled sculptor, later collaborated with the villagers to create a memorial — a khatchkar— honoring an unknown American crew that had died unceremoniously at the edge of their village. In late August 1993, Sasnashen village commemorated the 35th anniversary of the shoot-down during the unveiling of the khachkar.

Keynote
 
Mr. Tart, on behalf of the Prop Wash Gang, the organizers of this gathering, wrote to both the Eastern and Western Dioceses of the Armenian Church asking for a priest to offer the requiem prayer at this 60thanniversary. Archbishop Hovnan Derderian assigned me to this event. As mentioned, the incident was news to me; however, not for long. I was engaged in the story from my first reading of the account. After a few conversations with Mr. Tart, the PWG asked me to offer the Keynote Address for the Commemoration.
With Chief Lonnie Henderson
 
This invitation was a true honor for me on many levels. As a priest I was there to offer the prayer and even to reflect, but it was a personal experience at the time of my father’s death over 25 years ago that connected me directly to the story that was unfolding before me. My father was a veteran of the Korean War. I remember vividly to this day the overwhelming emotions that surged in me when at his funeral military personnel presented the flag of the United States to my mother, and said, “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your husband’s honorable and faithful service.” I remember being moved to tears when realizing that great men are defined by the sacrifice they make. People in service to others truly define greatness. In the church we speak of martyrdom as an expression of sacrifice. As a priest I share the Gospel of Christ, and His words, “Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (Jn 15:13) While Jesus refers to his own death in this passage, he also gives an opportunity for us to understand our service and sacrifice to others. It was the expression of that devotion and sacrifice that was moving the direction of the message I wanted to share.
Presentation of the Shadowbox with wreckage
 
Furthermore, as an Armenian, I wanted to also emphasize the diverse set of circumstance which have contributed to Armenian history and to the events of the shoot down. As history will attest, Armenia and Armenians are often caught in the middle of battles not by our choosing. The US Air Force plane took off from bases in Eastern Turkey, that is, occupied Armenia. The plane was shot down over Armenia, occupied by the Soviets. (And yes, the plane was shot down by a Mig-17, named after Migoyan.) In every way Armenians are the by-standers to this particular history; nevertheless, Armenian have a message to share that can lead to healing.
 
The day arrived and we met with people from throughout the United States. They had all come to commemorate, to remember, to re-connect with a story and with others who shared the same values and understanding of the sacrifice made by these 17 men.
 
The acting President of the Prop Wash Gang, Chief Lonnie Henderson, emceed the program. He had set up a “Missing Man Table” at the center of the banquet hall. The table was set on a white tablecloth, containing 17 red roses in vases and a place setting for one – one representing them all. A shaker of salt next to the setting was a bitter reminder of what had transpired. There, the names of the 17 men were written along with the poem “We See the Eagles Fly.”
 
Tom Giroir, offered the invocation and introduced me as an Armenian priest. In referencing to my background he pointed to our ministry of “In His Shoes,” that is, those who have suffered evil have a unique responsibility to take action against injustice to others. It was on this premise that I shared my thoughts for the evening with the group.
 
Missing Man Table Setting
With a quick look at history, I spoke of the rich story of the Armenian people and the land. I spoke of the Armenian Genocide as an event but also as a spring-board to addressing the despicable reality of Genocide that continues to take place in our world. Most especially, I shared with the group the need to stay ever-vigilant in their resolve to remember the sacrifices of their fallen brothers. Vigilance and remembrance must have manifestations today in our actions to combat evil on all fronts.
 
After I offered the ancient requiem prayer of the Armenian Church and remembered all 17 of the fallen servicemen by name, Chief Lonnie honored me in a manner I will forever remember. On behalf of the Prop Wash Gang he presented a shadow box with an actual piece of the downed-plane. Here I would have a tangible reminder of the sacrifice made by these men and the ever-essential necessity to stay vigilant against injustice. He also gifted me Larry Tart’s book, “The Price of Vigilance” signed by the author. These are the treasures, coupled with the stories I heard, that I return to the Diocese to share so it may be known and never forgotten.
 
I confessed that in all my travels to Armenia I have never been to Sasnashen. Now, I don’t think I can go back to Armenian without visiting Sasnashen. I hope to do so in October of this year. There, I promised the group, I will take the spirit and the energy that was brewing in this room on September 2, 2018. It was a powerful and moving spirit.
 
Finally, with the recitation of the poem, “We See the Eagles” the Commemoration on the 60th Anniversary of the Shoot Down came to an end.
 
A plaque with the names of the 17 men and this poem was presented to me.
 
This evening we connected on a human level. We were there to honor sacrifice – the expression of love by these 17 men. We connected Bellevue Nebraska mystically to Sasnashen, Armenia.  This evening we understood that the most fundamental of all human expressions – to extend ourselves to others, to love and share is essential. It is the legacy that has been left to us by the 17 men who were shot down giving themselves for something greater than themselves, for our country and ultimately for humanity. And we accept the challenge to perpetuate and share this legacy beyond this evening.
WE SEE THE EAGLES FLY
We see the eagles fly…
lookin’ north
toward the Caucasus Mountains
‘bout nine in the morning
Warm September day
Clear
No clouds
We see the eagles fly…
…effortlessly
riding the currents
Soaring above all
Majestic
Supreme
We see the eagles fly…
…and those eagles
look a lot like
The Prop Wash Gang
September 2, 1997
The 17 services men of US Air Force C-130 60528 who were shot down on September 2, 1958 in Sasnashen, Armenia were A2C Joel H. Fields, A2C Gerald H. Medeiros, A2C James E. Ferguson, Jr., A2C Gerald C. Maggiacomo, Capt Paul E. Duncan, SSgt Laroy Price, 1Lt John E. Simpson, TSgt Arthur L. Mello, A2C Robert H. Moore, Capt Edward J. Jeruss, MSgt George P. Petrochilos, A2C Clement O. Mankins, 1Lt Ricardo M. Villarreal, A1C Robert J. Oshinskie, Capt Rudy J. Swiestra, A2C Harold T. Kamps, A2C Archie T. Bourg, Jr.

Photos courtesy of Pat Morrow.

Meeting Khoren of Khorenian

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Maestro Khoren Mekanejian with Fr. Vazken & Susan
at the St. Nersess Armenian Seminary, Armonk, NY 2018
I wasn’t expecting this meeting. He introduced himself to me as Maestro Khoren. Could it be him? I thought. No. He was from long ago – a contemporary of Lusine Zakarian. He was at Holy Etchmiadzin when I was there in the 1970’s. The Maestro Khoren is the renowned and noted conductor of the Etchmiadzin Choir who has written one of the melodies and arrangements of the Divine Liturgies for the Armenian Church. If this was the Khoren of the Khorenian Badarak, what was he doing at the dining table at St. Nersess in Armonk, New York?
“He teaches us music and Armenian liturgical singing,” answered one of the students. Maestro extended his hand in introduction to me and said he was looking forward to celebrating the Liturgy together this coming Sunday at the Cathedral. I was still thinking: Could it be him? “Ah! You sound like you are a baritone,” said the Maestro to me as he walked out the door. “We will be able to sing in the higher keys.” I wish I understood how a low-note baritone gave permission to higher keys, but for that moment I gave a courtesy node and smile as he left the room.

 

“How often do you take classes with him,” I asked one of the seminarians. “Once a week. The rest of the week the Maestro is at the Cathedral.” It has to be him, I thought. Of course! That’s him.
 
An hour later we took a tour of the seminary. The seminarians were eager to show us around. I was anxious to check out my hunch. He was on break, between class sessions. He was challenging one of the students with a question about Aravod Looso: Which verse of the 36 verses (corresponding to each of the 36 letters of the Armenian alphabet) does not follow the rhythmic rhyme of repeating the first character (and therefore the phonetic sound)? I got into the act. I had not done my brain teaser for the day; it was a challenge I wasn’t going to pass up.*
 
Established: This is theMaestro Khoren. I’ve had a burning question that I’m sure he will be able to answer. I’ve kept this mp3 file in my Drop Box for just such an occasion. It is Zarouhi Vartian, singing Marmin Derounagan during my ordination Badarak. It is a unique melody which I have only heard sung in a few churches, including at my first parish in Cupertino. I play it for Maestro. He admits he’s never heard it but starts playing some chords on the 1990’s Yamaha keyboard in front of him. We’ve been invited to his classroom. He explains that the chord progressions suggest, what Komitas called “The Urbanized Armenian hymns.” Armenian hymns are sung and expressed by the villagers, who intertwine the spirit of the land and air into our prayers, he clarifies. Today, everyone wants to get out of church. They would not tolerate such a long and drawn out hymn. “Do you know how I came about to write the music for the Badarak?”
 
This is it!  We’re sitting one-on-one with the man who wrote one of three (Yegmalian, Komitasian, Khorenian) authorized melodies for our Divine Liturgy. And now, in front of this keyboard, we’re about to hear the story of how our Church took on a new form. Yes! It happened, not in the 21st century, but forty years earlier.
 
He shared his story. He begins by admitting, “I’m not a composer. I direct choirs. I’m a choral leader.” And from this humble admission he tells the story of what may seem like an accident of events, but in fact, as we found out, is how the Divine works through our lives.

Khoren Mekanejian was the choir director at the Mother Cathedral of Holy Etchmiadzin. Among his many singers was Lusine Zakarian, the “nightingale” of the Armenian Church, if not, of Armenia. The Catholicos of the time is the venerable Vazken I, who has a front row seat at every Badarak celebrated at Etchmiadzin. One Sunday, the Catholicos calls Maestro into his office following the Liturgy. He has a criticism of the way “Miayn Sourp” is sung. Lusine is accenting the first syllable of Mi~ayn and this conjures negative imagery. “Mi” = do not! “Mi nusdir” = do not sit! “Mi khosir” = do not talk! The Catholicos didn’t want the negative wording of “Mi” to be accented. He told Khoren to please instruct Lusine to accent the second syllable, draw out the second syllable, Miayn~.

After Badarak, in the mashutka that takes the singers back to Yerevan, Maestro tells his star singer to please accent the second syllable. She agrees.
 
The next Sunday, during Badarak, once again, Lusine accents the Mi in the Miayn. Vehapar hears the obvious. After church he summons Khoren into his office. “Didn’t you tell her?” “Yes I did Vehapar Der.” What happened? He sends a deacon to summon Lusine to his office. She arrives and admits that Khoren had told her but she did not comply. With a smile on his face Khoren tells us that at that point “I was relieved. The fault was off of me.”  
 
The following Sunday, the same thing happens: Lusine accents the Mi instead of the Ayn. Now Vehapar is truly upset. So much so that he did not come to church the following Sunday. This cannot happen, thinks Khoren. So he writes the music for Miayn Sourp, with the notation to cut the duration of the Mi and make up for it by extending the duration of ayn. He hands it to Lusine and they practice. Come Sunday morning she sings Miayn Sourp to the specification the Maestro had written. Vehapar is pleased and thanks the Maestro.
 
Now he says that there are variations of the Miayn (=only/along/unique), particularly as it is sung in Amen Hayr Sourp, Vorti Sourp, Hoki Sourp. Maestro contemplates the expression of the Trinity in the Armenian Church as Three Persons in One Nature. His challenge is to present three persons – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – as unique expressions and yet united in One Nature. He composes the music for the hymn and it flies! Vehapar loves it.
 
So now Vehapar asks for Der Voghormia. He wants a new expression appealing for the Lord’s Mercy. The Maestro has had enough. “I’m not a composer,” he protests. “I’m a choir leader.” But Vehapar wants to hear a new Der Voghormia.
 
Khoren lives by Dzidzernagabert. He prayed. The flames, the smoke, the air gave him the melody. He plays a few bars for us on the keyboard. We are moved to tears.

He took the music to Lusine’s house and played it for her on the piano. She sang and they worked together to perfect the harmonies. His head was hurting from the stressful demand of this project. He asked her to make him some coffee. She went to the kitchen and continued singing while he played the piano from inside. Minutes later she brought him his coffee. She had mistakenly mixed salt in it instead of sugar! The demand to produce this hymn was just as stressful for her.
 
The Khorenian Der Voghormia was being sung at the Sunday Badarak on a regular basis. Catholicos Vazken was drawn to tears every time he heard it. Once a group of nuns from Rome had come to Armenia and visited the Holy See. When they heard the Der Voghormia in the Mother Cathedral of Etchmiadzin they were all wiping away tears. Vehapar called Khoren to his side and pointed to the sisters saying, “Do you see, it’s not only me who feels this way about your rendition.”
 
Now Vehapar upped the ante; he wanted the entire Badarak written by Khoren. This was going over the top! How could I write a Badarak or even dare to be in the league with Yegmalian and Komitas? Khoren once again extended his humility in a request to Vehapar to abandon this project. And once again, the venerable Vazken I, in a display of his wisdom argued back, “The Catholics have 20, 30 maybe even 40 different renditions of the Divine Liturgy. Is it too much to ask for a third for us?”

“Your Holiness,” Khoren continued his protest, “There is Aram Khatchadourian. There is Babajanian. They are all composers. I’m a choir leader!” To which Vehapar answered, “Yes, but they have not breathed in the khung (incense) of our Armenian Church. The Church is in your system.”
 
The Khorenian Badarak was written. It was celebrated once a month in Etchmiadzin and in several churches throughout Armenia. He admits that that was the case only because Catholicos Vazken insisted upon it with his bishops, many of whom had expressed opposition to something new being introduced into the church. Today, it is regularly celebrated at the St. Gregory Cathedral in Yerevan and in other churches as requested.
 
It was a memorable moment we shared with Maestro, a reminder that new tunes, new harmonies and new melodies are all possible. Of course, for me, the musical expressions are a metaphor for things even greater. But this afternoon, our tears have choked us up to be in his presence and hear his story.
*Answer to Maestro’s challenge: The stanza that begins with the “vo” letter, since it is connected with the ‘vieun” and therefore makes the sound of “oo” in one of the verses.

Orthodoxy with Our Malankara Brothers and Sisters

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Finding Brothers and Sisters in the Poconos
 
“Abouna?” asked the voice on the phone.
 
“Yes,” I answered, not sure where this conversation was going but I knew any request that was followed with “Barekhmor” had to lead to something meaningful for our ministry. Barekhmor means “Bless, O Lord,” the same as the Armenian priestly greeting “Orhnya Der.”
 
The voice identified himself as a priest of the Indian Orthodox Church, specifically from the Malankara Archdiocese of the Syrian Orthodox Church of North America. “We’ve seen your videos on the Internet and would like to invite you to address our youth at our annual conference.” Of course, “our” videos are “their” videos. The Malankara church is a member of the Oriental Orthodox group of churches and therefore a sister Church of ours. We share a common faith and enjoy communion in our Lord Jesus Christ. As expected, when two siblings find each other the conversation was warm and real. It was a dialogue which landed us in the Poconos Mountains last week for the 32ndAnnual Youth and Family Conference of the Archdiocese.

 

Over 750 Attend the Conference

 Seven hundred and fifty members of the church had travelled from throughout the country to the beauty of the Pennsylvania Mountains to share, worship and grow together with their Primate, His Eminence Mor Titus Yeldho, Archbishop and Patriarchal Vicar. Even more, young and old came together with their clergy for this special week held at the Kalahari Resorts and Convention Center. The excitement level was high. The event had sold-out only a month after reservations began being taken earlier this year!

With the Youth at the Conference
 
Yn. Susan and I immediately felt the warmth and charm of this community on our arrival. We met with priests, we met with their families, and we met with the youth. The enthusiasm throughout the Convention Center was contagious. The days began and ended with prayer. I was the keynote speaker for the Youth and as such most of our time was spent with the younger generation both at prayer and classes.
 
The clergy processed into the Convention Center where the Archbishop chanted the hymns of praise and officially started the gathering. As we processed the people greet the collection of clergy with soft songs and shining lights. I was overwhelmed with emotions when I first saw the name of the event on the posters decorating the Convention Center wall. The gathering was called “Youth and Family Conference.” It may seem like a small matter but in that small gesture of placing the youth ahead of all else, the church and its leadership, from archbishop to priests, lay-leaders to volunteers, was making a bold statement about their priorities: The youth are first and foremost.

The comparisons between both our communities – Armenian and Indian – are striking. Issues that we struggle with in the Armenian Church – such as culture and religion, language, assimilation, relevancy – are part of the common conversation. The Indian Orthodox Community, they told me, came to America in the 1970’s, about 70 years after the first Armenian communities were established here. Many of the challenges we encountered during the first few decades of our church’s life in the New World are the ones they feel today. In a very real sense, while speaking to many of the members of their church I felt as if I was looking at the church of our grandparents. We are here in America with new sets of rules and conforming to the societal pressures while trying to remain steadfast to the values and traditions that uniquely define us and give our lives meaning. While in this “time-travel” state I was hoping that reciprocally, in me they would have an opportunity to peer at the church of their grandchildren. There is a lot to learn from each other. While the Armenian Church has been here almost twice as long, ironically it still struggles with the hurdle of language – a hurdle which the Indian community has jumped and, as we witnessed, the youth participate at a very real level of engagement in the liturgies and prayer services.

Susan during the parade

 

The theme of the week was “Living a life worthy of the Lord” (Colossians 1:10).  I had a chance to present three different lectures/discussions, one on the concept of Lord-worthiness, another on the challenge of the Cross in the worthiness walk, while the last talk was intended to empower youth in activism.
 
In the 1990’s, while serving as the Parish Priest at the St. Andrew Armenian Church in Cupertino, I was approached by a group of Indian Orthodox asking if they could use our church sanctuary while their church was being built. With the permission of our Primate, they would come every Sunday following our service and worship in our sanctuary for about a year. When the church was completed, a high ranking cleric came from India to dedicated and consecrate the building. I was invited to the ceremony and took my place in a humble location, not to interfere with the proceedings. Suddenly I was asked to come forward and meet His Holiness. I was not expecting this honor and felt the anxiety of the moment. I greeted him and kissed his hand. He then did something which not only will I never forget, but it gave me a direction for my own ministry.
With His Eminence Archbishop Titus

 

In front of the hundreds of parishioners gathered inside the new church, His Holiness took off his Pontifical ring, the ring of authority, and handed it to me. Puzzled, I looked at him for an explanation. He then asked me to read the inscription inside the ring. To my surprise, it was written in Armenian! It was gift given to him by the late Catholicos of All Armenians, His Holiness Vazken I, of blessed memory. He said he wore this ring given to him by his “brother-in-Christ” because it is a constant reminder of the plight of the Armenian people. He went on to explain to all of us by pointing to me and thereby to the Armenian Church saying that the Indian Orthodox had always enjoyed a place of respect in their country. “We have never known Christianity through suffering. The Armenians, on the other hand, have never known Christianity without suffering! We must be aware of their story.”
There it was. His Holiness’ words were given to the community to listen and learn, to me, they became an invitation to present the message of the Cross – the story of suffering and sacrifice – as witnessed by the Armenian people.
During the Opening Ceremonies

Those words became my motivation to bring the dimension of outreach and healing to my ministry. And here, a quarter of a century later, I had a chance to share the Gospel message, as it passed through the Armenian people and Armenian Church, to our brothers and sisters in Christ. Personally, this was a very humbling and spiritually rewarding experience.

 
The last evening of the Conference was a celebration and sharing of culture. We enjoyed dances, songs and cheer. The week came to an end with the celebration of the Divine Liturgy. We prayed, sang, worshipped and communed in the One Single Faith that unites us all: Our Lord Jesus Christ.
 
I passed along the greeting of our Primate His Eminence Archbishop Hovnan to the head of the Malankara Archdiocese, His Eminence Archbishop Titus and thank them both for this opportunity to share our Faith. During the Divine Liturgy Fr. Joel Jacob, one of the young priests who was part of the organizing committee, placed a priestly stole around my neck so that I may participate in the Celebration. Following the service, as I folded the holy vestment to return it, he said it was mine to use whenever I attended a Malankara Orthodox service. It was a gesture which reflected the warmth and hospitality we enjoyed with our brothers and sisters.
 
-Fr. Vazken Movsesian
 
To learn more about the Malankara Orthodox follow these links

More Pictures

The Last Station-Stop

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Christ on your Doorstep*
 
The Last Station-Stop
by Father Vazken Movsesian
 
The Resurrection of Christ is the defining moment in human history. It separates time into B.C. and A.D. Is it any wonder that for us in the Church, the Resurrection is much more than a celebration on Easter Sunday? We come today with a new publication: “Christ on your Doorstep,” which is founded on the news of Jesus Christ’s Resurrection and is distributed to you beyond the Easter celebration.
Recently, in a conversation with our Primate Archbishop Hovnan Derderian, we discussed the ever-alarming growth of violence in the world around us and the despair it breeds. He pointed to a verse from one of the Dalai Lama’s books, “Just as a healthy immune system and healthy constitutions protect your body against potentially hazardous viruses and bacteria, mental immunity creates a healthy disposition of the mind, so that it will be less susceptible to negative thoughts and feelings.”  Can we, in fact, build up our mental immunities to transform the negative to the positive? Does such a wonder-drug or vaccination exist? And if so, where can we find it and in large enough quantities?
Today we struggle with many issues of identity. Along with the eternal questions of Who am I? What is my purpose? Where am I going? we add additional questions sparked by our ethnic make-up as Armenian Americans: What does it mean that I am Armenian? What is my obligation, if any, to my past? What does an Armenian Christian identity mean in a pluralistic and globalized society?
 The Armenian American community finds itself in a rather precarious position. We are all thankful for the welcome and the freedoms we are granted here in the United States. A quick look at the last 100 years will show a mass exodus of the Armenian people from our historic lands. Armenians were scattered throughout the world with some strong-hold positions in the Middle East. In the last half century, we witnessed civil war in Lebanon, the end to the Shah’s regime and the rise of Islamic fundamentalism in Iran, the collapse of the Soviet Union along with the political ramifications it produced, the intolerance of Christian minorities in Egypt, two wars in Iraq and now, the gassing of civilian populations in Syria and the largest refugee crisis the world has ever seen.
Whether your family arrived to America in the 1920s, the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s or in the 21st century, you have made it to the last station-stop. Welcome: We are all Armenian-Americans! 
Today, we all stand here with a sense of gratitude but also insensitive to the values and important institutions that have been forgotten. Our mental and spiritual immunities are weakened. We have forgotten the lessons of history. Is it a surprise that we find dysfunction in our families or that we run after the wealth that cannot possibly sustain us in the long-run?
During the mid-20th Century, during a time of global crisis, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke the prophetic words, “We must all learn to live as brothers or we will die as fools.” The message can be adapted to us as the Armenians living in the Diaspora. We are all brothers and sisters and our only hope is to understand the unique and precious tie that exists between us. 
At the Diocesan “Reclaim” conference this winter we heard many speakers talk about the potential we hold within us for great lives. We focused on the power of the Spirit which moves us to new realms of possibilities, both for our lives and for our communities. As we delved deeper into the subject from speaker to speaker, from discussion to discussion, we heard one theme reoccur: We haven’t lost the answer, we have merely forgotten about it. 
 Jesus uses the metaphor, “Suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it?”
Fortunately, we have not lost our bearings, but we have misplaced them and need to search them out. In finding them, they are more valuable than silver coins for they are the life-giving vaccine, the shield of immunity against disease, loss and despair. Search no further than the Armenian Church. As the Body of Christ, the Armenian Apostolic Church is the living witness to Jesus Christ and His Resurrection. Political parties, philanthropic organizations, schools and other institutions all have their place, but it is only the Armenian Church that can provide the language and the tools for survival and growth. The Church has nurtured us for the last two millennia on a steady diet of Resurrection in our lives. 
Dn. Varoujan & Fr. Vazken Movsesian at Sardarabad
The power of the Resurrection builds our immunities – mental, physical and spiritual – and is fortified every Sunday morning in our churches.  The proof of this statement – the endorsement for the vaccination – is no further than the story of your family’s arrival to America. Despite the odds, despite the countless difficulties and problems, despite wars, torture and even Genocide, you have opened your eyes at the last station-stop. 
Collectively, the proofs are even greater. This May we celebrate the 100th anniversary of the First Armenian Republic. Exactly three years after the beginning of the darkest page in human-history, three years after the Golgotha of the Armenian people, we proclaimed the power of resurrection over crucifixion. Sardarabad stands as a living monument to this power. Even more the Cathedral of Holy Etchmiadzin, with its bells ringing and clergy singing, are the silent heroes of freedom because they provided the language for resurrection. 
America is the great equalizer – we are all Armenian-Americans at this junction. We all come into the mix with our own sensitivities and strengths. The Armenian Church stands at this station-stop with open arms for us to embrace the one message – the eternal message of resurrection over crucifixion, the victory of life over death. Celebrate the resurrection in all that you do. Turn to the Armenian Church – and find, not what has been lost, but what has been forgotten. Build up your spiritual immunities with the prayers and the hymns that point to resurrection and the possibility for true life.

Los Angeles, California

30 April 2018

*Christ at Your Doorsteps is a new publication of the Western Diocese of the Armenian Church of North America, under the auspices of the Primate, Archbishop Hovnan Derderian.

Secret Message for Dreaming

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Keeping the Dream Alive: Homily on the 50th Anniversary of the Martyrs’ Monument
by Fr. Vazken Movsesian
St. Leon, Srbots Ghevondyants, Armenian Cathedral, Burbank, California
April 24, 2018

It is truly an honor to be offering this homily this evening. I thank His Eminence Archbishop Hovnan Derderian, Primate of the Diocese for giving me this very special honor his evening.


It is with a thankful heart that we gather this evening as we experience yet another chapter in Armenian history opening up in front of us with developments of the last several days. We are thankful that transitions are taking place in Armenia without bloodshed or violence. While we gather here this evening remembering the atrocities of 1915 and all their ramifications, we are very aware of the difficulties our brothers and sisters are enduring in the homeland. We know of their sufferings and the makings of the political system. And so, I was up against a difficult set of circumstances in regard to my position this evening. The magnitude of the demonstrations that took place this past week and especially this past weekend, left me wondering about the direction of my remarks and the message of this sermon.
Obviously, there is no staying silent either about April 24 or about Armenia today. And so, the homily I wish to offer this evening is to give honor and respect to both of these realities. I have chosen to speak about Dreams, about dreaming as individuals and as a collective…. And to speak about a very special dream that came our way in 1968 – namely with the opening of the Armenian Martyrs’ Monument in Montebello which was unveiled exactly 50 years ago.  
I speak of dreams today because I have come to realize at the saddest people I have met are those who have no dreams. They are people who have no hope. Whether because of loss, disease, separation, desperation – they have lost hope, they no longer dream of better days, and the ability to dream is one of the most beautiful aspects of our humanity. That’s what the Turks did on April 24: the Turks rounded up the leadership – the writers, the poets, the priests, the intellectuals – in one word they rounded up the dreamers. If they could kill the dream the people would perish, they thought.

 

Dreaming and where our dreams CAN lead…

1968 postcard: Armenian Genocide
Martyrs’ Monument in Montebello, CA

 

Our story as Armenians living in the diaspora did not occur in a vacuum. There are many factors that played into how we remember our past and how we celebrate our todays. I’d like to share with you some experiences from my childhood. It’s a story that doesn’t often get told – the plight of the first generation of Armenian settlers here in the United States. Not too far away, the 1960’s decade was a turbulent one in the United States. It was marked by accomplishments and tragedies that would reverberate for years, decades, and now, a half a century later the effects of the 1960’s are still being felt. The 1960s began with the election of one of the youngest and most vibrant presidents of the United States. In John Kennedy people saw hope, because he was dreamer. They saw courage and the ability to achieve the impossible opportunities. He promised to put a man on the moon before the end of the decade and it happened. His dreams led the people. He established by executive order the Peace Corps. But, unfortunately, what people of my generation remember most about Kennedy was that an assassin’s bullet in 1963 left his dreams unfulfilled.
Civil rights was in full swing in the 1960s. We were fighting a horrible war in a place called Vietnam and the images of mayhem were being pipped into our living rooms on the five channels that our television sets had at the time. Meanwhile in America race relations were exploding. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. set the tone for dreaming on the principle he had learned from the Gospel of Christ. He dreamed there would come a day when people of the world could put aside their differences and focus on the common thread of humanity. He dreamed of a day when we would not be judged by the color of our skin (or our ethic make-up) but rather on the content of our character. New dreamers were coming along, one of which was the slain president’s younger brother Robert Kennedy.
It was in thatAmerica that people began to feel comfortable with their skin, with their background and their history. Ethnic pride was highlighted with statements such as “black is beautiful” encouraging men and women to stop trying to eliminate ethnic traits by straightening their hair and attempting to lighten or bleach their skin. In that climate of expressing ethnic pride, the Hispanic community adopted a saying “brown is beautiful” and we Armenians followed suit. Fifty years after our Genocide, we knew the time had come and the time was right to tell our story.
In the early 1960’s our churches were at the center of our communities. Armenian Schools were dreams that were becoming realities. My mother, as a first generation daughter of survivors had just authored an Armenian-American textbook for learning basic Armenian conversation. It was published by the Western Diocese and was being used in the Saturday schools of the churches.
Backside of postcard: Armenian Genocide Martyrs’
Monument in Montebello 1968

In 1965 I had just turned nine years old when the Armenians in Los Angeles organized a march – 3,000 marchers began at St. Sophia Greek Orthodox Cathedral on Pico and Normandy and ended up at the Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire Blvd. Afterwards the dream was articulated – we needed a place in the Los Angeles area where Armenians could gather and commemorate the Armenian Genocide. In a sense, that Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire was the place where the dream was first dreamt.

A group of dedicated Americans of Armenian descent, representing all different aspects of the community, came together in the spirit of unity and organized as the Monument Council.
For the record – the original Council are recognized on a plaque at the Monument (alphabetically): 
Hagop Abdulian; Hrant Agbabian; Krikor Aivazian; Hagop Arshagouni; Marilyn Arshagouni; Vartan Fundukian; Harmik Hacobian; Richard Hovannisian; Osheen Keshishian; George Mandossian; Hagop Manjikian; Michael Minasian; Vasken Minasian; Bob Movel; Varougan Movsesian; Hagop Nazarian; Misak Sevacherian; Jivan Tabibian.
My father, Varougan Movsesian was one of the dreamers.
After three years of dreaming, deliberating, planning, developing, organizing, fund-raising and fighting political obstacle – tremendous pressure of the Turkish lobby not withstanding – the Armenian Genocide Martyrs’ Monument was waiting to be unveiled. The dream was about to become reality.
Then in 1968, I was about to turn 12 years old and the Armenian Martyrs’ Monument was about to open, when on April 4 the first of two tragic events were thought to bring an end to dreaming. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was struck down and killed in Memphis, Tennessee. Dr. King was 39 years old. Exactly two months later Robert Kennedy was assassinated in cold blood at the Ambassador Hotel – the same hotel where the dream for the Armenian Monument began. Bobby Kennedy was 42.
In the middle of these two horrific events, the Armenians in Los Angeles did not lose the dream; the Martyrs’ Monument was unveiled on April 21 to a waiting and anxious public. That day was a true celebration for the Armenian community in particular but even more for the entire community in general. “This monument erected by Americans of Armenian descent,” says the inscription at its base, “Is dedicated to the 1,500,000 Armenian Victims of the Genocide perpetrated by the Turkish Government, 1915-1921, and to men of all nations who have fallen victim to crimes against humanity.” The monument reaching for the sky was tall and big. It was even bigger for us as little kids. It was telling a story that went beyond Armenians. The Monument could not be hid and neither could the crimes to which it was pointing be forgotten.
The monument in Montebello was a dream come true for us. At age 12, in the midst of civil rights struggles, wars, the counter-culture movement, rebellion, Rock & Roll and revolution, this monument was standing there to give us meaning and definition. The Armenian Community had its churches, its schools, its organizations, and now a monument – a statement which acknowledged the past in a grand manner.
On the day of the opening my father, along with the other committee members was busy taking care of details in the background. I remember he had handed me a camera to walk around that day to take pictures for posterity. There was a Turkish man standing on Garfield Ave on the road leading up to the monument. He was holding up a poster with demeaning and defaming words against the Armenian people. I remember taking the last picture of him holding that sign as Lindy Avakian, author of “The Cross and the Crescent” came up and tore the poster in his face. Needless to say, the rest of the crowd sent the misguided man on his way.
The opening of the monument was a monumental event, no pun intended. But little did we know that there was something greater coming along that we could not have imagined.
Just a few weeks after the opening of the monument, on May 18, 1968, His Holiness Vazken I, of Blessed Memory, the Supreme Patriarch and Catholicos of All Armenians arrived and blessed the monument and the community. This was something that was unseen for us, and left an indelible mark on our psyche. From the Mother See of Holy Etchmiadzin His Holiness brought with him two khatchkars etched with the words of endurance, hope, resurrection and victory. No, there weren’t four words on that stone, only one.  
On the khatchkarwhich was mounted on the monument, was carved the word “Etchmiadzin.” While to many Etchmiadzin is a name from history, or a the name of a place, for us it was much more. I remember my dad telling me that day, to gaze at the letters on the stone beginning with the might “Է” symbol. He said there is a secret message inscribed on that stone, a hidden message for dreamers to keep dreaming. It is the message of hope.
And here, 50 years later, I am coming to understand what he meant by that cryptic message. Etchmiadzin is the name of St. Gregory the Illuminator’s Dream. It’s the beginning place of our Armenian soul and being. Etchmiadzin is a dream in which Christ descends and points to where the Church of the Armenian people is to be built. Etchmiadzin literally means the “descent of the only begotten.” Or very plainly: God is with us! Աստուած ընդ մեզ է: It is that dream of Etchmiadzin that has kept us alive – a dream to acknowledge the One who said, “I will NEVER leave you!” The one who said, “In this world you will have much trouble, but courage, the victory is mine! I have overcome (conquered) this world.” (John 16)
On that historic day in 1968, at the footsteps of the Monument, the Venerable Catholicos Vazken I, as the spiritual father of all Armenians, addressed his children and the general public. His words were met with thunderous applause and massive gratitude. “From those dark days in 1915, an entire country was destroyed… an entire people was decapitated… but just as Christ rose three days after death, three years after 1915, in 1918 our Independent Armenia had risen.” He spoke it plainly, the Armenian people have resurrected and we have a message for the world: good is more powerful than evil, light always overcomes the darkness, dreams are what give us hope and are meant to be dreamt until they are actualized.
Today we stand 103 years removed from a day that was supposed to have left us with only one Armenian propped up in a museum. April 24, 1915 remembers the day the Turks went after the dream! By killing off the writers, the poets, the priests, the intellectuals and the leadership they thought they would kill the dream! Kill the dream and the people will lose hope and die. But our hope and our dream was greater: Etchmiadzin – “Christ is with us!” “God is with us!” That’s a dream that cannot be killed!
The monument of 50 years ago, with the Etchmiadzin khatchkar at its base, continues to stand as a beacon of hope – where you stand with a dream, there is hope.
Our brothers and sisters in Armenia are standing together in defining the new course of a civilization. Ours is one of understanding and dreaming with them. I always mention that in looking at Armenia let us not be impatient, but let us dream of better days. Independence is only 26 years old! What was America 26 years after independence? There was slavery. There was struggles to define the limits and extent of democracy. Misunderstandings led to conflict. But it’s the dream of America that gives us hope.
And so today, let us continue to dream. Those dreams keep hope alive. Dream the dream of “Etchmiadzin” – God is with us! The possibilities are endless. Look at the proof all around us. Each one of you here today, is here because the dream has come true. Therefore, each of you is a monument to the dream – you have survived, you are living and creating! We’re an interesting group of people because we name our children “revenge” (=Vrej) but we also name them “resurrection” (=Haroutiun). Our revenge is in our resurrection.
Tonight – a group from GenNext is with us. Young people who are dreaming of their brighter futures. They are keeping hope alive. Sure, we have people who may not understand the language but they understand the heart – the place where dreams begin. They are part of the dream as everyone who came before them.
Tonight in celebrating the monument at age 50, let us celebrate the spirit of unity of a community coming together. Let us celebrate dreams, however impossible they may seem, to becoming reality. Let us celebrate the lives of the crowned saints, the Holy Martyrs’ of our Church, for the life they lived as living monuments to “Etchmiadzin” … to the fact that God is with us!
God bless you all. God bless the Armenian people and nation. Keep Dreaming.

 

Miracle in the Sky and Around us

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It’s hard to believe that 20 years have passed since our first commemoration of Children’s Memorial Day. Then President Clinton had just declared the second-Sunday in December as the memorial and we had a recent loss in our church community, young Cathia Hamparian.
 
That first Children’s Memorial was an opportunity for us to come together to remember dear Cathia and to stand in solidarity with the Hamparian family as they faced their loss. Tragically, through the years others have joined the list of the children we mourn. Each year, the slow and uncertain footsteps of the grieving parents would approach us. They’d share a name and perhaps a picture with us. Our list has grown to 150 children over these last 20 years. To each of those parents we’ve made a promise that we would keep their child’s name alive through the years. With candles, pictures and stories we keep those names close at heart.
 

 

And so we gathered on December 10 – the second Sunday in December – at the St. Leon Armenian Cathedral in Burbank to offer our prayers, to light our candles and to seek solace. This was our 20th year. With the blessing of His Eminence Archbishop Hovnan Derderian, Primate, we gathered, prayed, sang, told stories of our children, hugged and shared the horrible pain of the these tragic losses.
 
Miracles happen in unusual and unexpected ways. Perhaps no one knows this better than I do. This year we had several. One came a half-an-hour before the service when one of the mothers gave me a call. She comes every year and stands in solidarity and unity with us but never talks publically. The pain is too great, even after over a decade of being with us. But this year was going to be different. Cathia’s mother, Maria organizes these annual gatherings and stays in touch with the various families. Maria told me just a few days earlier that this woman was ready to talk! She was looking forward to coming this year and sharing her story as she remembered her dear son. With that anticipation I answered the call. Sadly, it wasn’t going to happen this year either. She was unable to come but she sent her greetings to the new families and her love and appreciation to those families returning to the service. She asked me to tell everyone that she would be there next year. Miracle.
 
Is that the miracle? My choice of words are intentional. When you consider the pain and suffering these families have experienced over the greatest loss of their lives, you can only then appreciate the word in context. Two other miracles took place last night when two first-time families came and found love, warmth and the caring embrace of fellow journeyers. They talked, cried and in solitude below the blanket of stars above us. It was a night of solace.
 

 

Christmas and the holiday season is one of the hardest times for families who have lost a child. While others are celebrating, their empty arms are reminders of the gift of life taken away. The Children’s Memorial Service is a subtle reminder that they are not alone and a reminder to us all that love is our grasp. Reach out to the hurting world.
 
 

Picture: At the end of the service, candles were placed around the small angel which sat quietly throughout the service. 

Regarding my being a Board Member of Equality Armenia

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Recently an article appeared in Asbarez proclaiming me a Board Member of the newly formed Equality Armenia organization. The article was predicated on an interview I gave to Cary Harrison on KPFK radio. Unfortunately, some of the information in the article might be misconstrued to mean something different than what was intended.
 
To be certain, according to the canons of the Armenian Church marriage is between a man and woman. Holy Matrimony is one of the seven sacraments of the Church. Pure and simple, this is the definition of marriage as accepted by the Armenian Church. I have not stated anything to the contrary and even more, it is not the place of a priest to change canon law. The underlying reasons for this definition stems from the understanding that marriage is the vessel in which procreation takes place and gives structure to the family. This is the stand of the Armenian Church. Therefore, I cannot be a Board member of any organization whose mission contradicts the stance and doctrines of the Church.
 
There is also a pastoral dimension to our work as priests that is predicated on the call by Jesus Christ. In the radio spot (it can be heard at https://tinyurl.com/kpfk-eqarm) I was interviewed with Armen Abelyan of Equality Armenia. He is an openly gay man and I sat with him to share in a conversation. In the interview I expressed the orthodox teaching of the Armenian Church, namely that we are called to a life where love is the motivating force in all that we do. Love, as we know, has many dimensions and manifestations, not all of which are about physical love. Love is articulated in a life of compassion, care and understanding.  This is expressed throughout the writings and teachings of the Church Fathers, including the greats such as St. Nersess Shnorhali who reminds us that the “name of love is Jesus.” As an Apostolic Church we take our cues from Jesus who accepted all. The cliché “love the sinner but not the sin” is fine to remember as long as at the same time we accept that we are all sinners, in other words, we all miss the mark of perfection. This is not to set up a value system, rather it is to acknowledge our humanity. Judgement is left to God alone. Ours is not to judge but to live the Gospel message in our lives. As a priest my approach with the homosexual community – as with any community – is pastoral, highlighted by our compassion, understanding and acceptance. It only follows then that we approach one another with respect and we love one another for the common union we share in humanity. This is why Jesus Christ does not place a condition on his command to love one another. This is the challenge before all of us to rise above our differences, thereby allowing God to be God and us to be human. I am no different than any other priest: The call we receive to the ministry has as its foundation the call to compassion.
 
In the scope of our humanity we have to inevitably talk about human rights. Every Armenian should be concerned with human rights because we exist today, especially in the Diaspora, because at one time we were the target of human rights’ violations of the extreme type. Let us not forget that our most recent history marks a Genocide where we were targeted as less-than-human. As Gregory Stanton outlines in his “Eight Stages of Genocide” document, the most violent acts against humanity begin with the simple classification and dehumanization of the target groups. If there is anything that we have learned as victims of Genocide it is that today we cannot tolerate intolerance. Name calling, chastising, irreverence toward God’s creation cannot exist in a loving and caring environment. Therefore, as the Church we follow the highest ideals of humanity as expressed by Jesus Christ, to love one another without exceptions. It was for this reason that we are ordained into priesthood of the Armenian Church.
 
My calling as a priest has given me an opportunity to sit with many communities that have suffered persecution. My reference to the Armenian Genocide is in the context that if we have survived the suffering of the most horrific of all persecutions, we have a unique vantage point in the world and history. This is not to equate all suffering with the Armenian Genocide. I do not make that comparison, nor can it be made.
 
Christianity, as expressed through the ancient Armenian Church, works for me. It presents to me a model for living where love and compassion pave the way for the possibility of peace. At Jesus’ Birth, the angels proclaimed, “Peace on Earth, good will toward all.” This was not a declaration about a time to come but a time that has arrived. When we leave judgement to God, and God alone, we then have an opportunity to focus on our own lives, to understand how we can and must be part of the equation for peace.

 

 
While I cannot accept a position on the Board of Equality Armenia, it is my hope that we can be called upon for spiritual counsel and direction. All priests are open for this dialogue and the offering of prayer and the sharing of faith.

So that Armenia may hear: One Mission, Several Hearts of Compassion & 1800 Miracles

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We knew this would be an emotional trip when Archbishop Hovnan Derderian called and asked if we’d accompany the Kavoukjians to Armenia on the Starkey Hearing Foundation Mission. This was not a trip to see sights from old, rather it was to participate in a mission simply dubbed, “So that Armenia may hear.” And so, Yeretsgin Susan I took off for the homeland in expectation of a miracle. Soon we would find 1,800 miracles in the works.
This wasn’t my first exposure to the Starkey Hearing Foundation. Last July, at the invitation of Mr. & Mrs. Armen & Haikouhi Kavoukjians I attended the Starkey Annual Gala fundraiser where the likes of Steve Tyler (Aerosmith), Daymond John (Shark Tank), John Fogerty (CCR) and many others celebrities from the entertainment and sports worlds lent their talents and names “So the World May Hear.” That night over $7Million dollars was raised to bring the possibility of hearing into different countries. It was also a special evening because for the first time, Armenia was being introduced to the Gala attendees. Within minutes thousands of dollars were raised for the Armenia mission to bring hearing to those who could least afford it – to those who possibly would never have an opportunity to avail themselves to this technology. And so, the ground work was in place. We were headed to Armenia.

 


The Starkey Hearing Foundation was founded by Bill Austin who believes that hearing is a vehicle to reflect caring and to improve the lives of individuals, their families, and communities. For more than 50 years, Austin has been providing the gift of hearing to people in need, with a simple premise: “Alone we can’t do much. Together we can change the world.” With the help of thousands of volunteers and supporters, Bill and his wife Tani Austin have been giving the gift of hearing to those in need, empowering them to achieve their potential.
Starkey came to Armenia through the efforts of Armen & Haikouhi Kavoukjians, local medical suppliers (Comfort Care Medical Products) who approached the Austins with the proposal to take the Starkey team to the land of Ararat. The Kavoukjian’s dream was being realized with our footsteps on Armenian soil. Phase 1 of the Armenian mission took place earlier this year when the Starkey team visited Yerevan to take measurements for the hearing-aid fittings. And now we were here for Phase 2, with the Austins, the Kavoukjians, the Starkey Team and scores of volunteers. In the course of three days, 1,800 individuals would be turning on their devices for a chance to hear.
Yerevan’s Hamalir – the Karen Demirchyan Sports and Music Complex – was the site of this phase of the mission. The challenge was to move hundreds of people through, to provide them with hearing exam, education, placement of the hearing aids and then provide on-going instructions for care of the devises. Busses from Gyumri, Vanadzor and other cities brought hundreds from the outlying areas, while locals from Yerevan came directly to the Complex.
From one end of the Hamalir, the patients registered. They were greeted by friendly volunteers who directed them according to their needs. After exams and the education process, the miracles began to happen. One by one the patients approached the audiologists and technicians. One by one their ears were opened to the world of sound. The audiologists had come from different countries. With no knowledge of the Armenian language, they were assisted by volunteers who translated the basic questions of “Can you hear this?” or “Do you hear that?” And suddenly… there was transformation! Suddenly there was sound! It didn’t take long before smiles replaced the faces of hopelessness. For many this offered a new lease on life. Soon there was communication: “Can you hear this?” became “Lusum es?” and “Lav ah?”


For many the loss of hearing had been a gradual process which came about over the years. But for some hearing was but faint whispers throughout their entire life. Such was the case for one young boy who came in from the villages. His hearing loss was so severe that he had never heard properly. At age 11 he had not attended school because of the lack of programs for the hearing impaired.  The moment his hearing aid was installed and turned on he lit up with excitement. He could hear! The tears of joy rolled down his face as they rolled down all of our faces: We were witnesses to this miracle. AND… if this was a unique miracle, it would certainly have been reason enough to come to Armenia, but tragically, this boy’s story was not a singular event. One after another, we witnessed the miracle of sound on young and old. Children were hearing their parent’s voice as parents were hearing the laughter of their children for the first time. There was an abundance of tears of joy and hugs of appreciation all around us.
The Scriptural scene recounted in the Gospel of Mark chapter 7 comes to my mind. A deaf man was brought to Jesus, but along with his restricted hearing the man’s tongue “was tied.” When Jesus healed his hearing, Scripture tells us that “and his tongue was released…” Gaining his hearing was just the beginning of a major change in his life! So much more would now be available to him. Likewise, here in Yerevan, the hearing aids opened the ears of the patients for sure, but even more, now their lives were opened to possibilities for communication, interaction, education, a better life and ultimately to become agents for change in their communities.
This was a spiritual journey for sure. His Eminence Archbishop Hovnan Derderian and the Western Diocese were sponsors of the Mission and I’m thankful for the opportunity he gave Yn. Susan and myself to be a part of this miracle-making.  The Agape Circle of the Western Diocese, chaired by Mrs. Alice Chakrian was a financial supporter of this project. For our part, we took the prayers and financial assistance of our Glendale Bible Study group and the In His Shoes mission.
Following the Mission, the Starkey Team were welcomed at the See of Holy Etchmiadzin, where Archbishop Natan Hovhanissian welcomed and commended the group for their work. He passed along the blessings of His Holiness Karekin II, the Catholicos of All Armenians, who was away from the Holy See in Germany.
Over 1,800 people received hearing aids during the three days of operation. Yerevan TV publicized the event locally and by day 3 many locals had come without registering. What may have been a difficult situation was quickly remedied when Bill and Tani Austin assured us that everyone would be fitted and would receive hearing aids, if not that day then at the next time Starkey came to Armenia in early 2018. Furthermore, each person that received a hearing aid was also offered instructions on care and maintenance of the device, along with ample supplies of batteries.
Armenian government officials toured the operations, meeting with Starkey organizers and physicians. Dr. Ara Babloyan, the current President of the National Assembly of Armenia, was among those who visited and was truly impressed by the scope and extent of operations, noting the smooth and efficient manner in which distribution was taking place. On the final day of the Mission, the Armenian Parliament recognized the work of Starkey Foundation, honoring Bill Austin with commendations and the entire Kavoukjian family for this most important humanitarian effort and work.
The Mission continues and will continue in the months to come as the phases are explored. It took the prayers and untiring efforts of hundreds of people to make this happen. Essential to the success of the project was the invaluable work of Lianna Sahakian, the International Project Coordinator of the Arabkir Children’s Fund. 
The Kavoukjians hosted the Starkey appreciation dinner at Megerian Carpets in Yerevan. Here the Starkey team was treated to some exceptional Armenian food, music, dance and culture. When the Starkey awards were given, they awarded one to the Western Diocese and to the Mother Church of Holy Etchmiadzin. I was honored to pick up these awards on behalf of the Church but after all that we had witnessed over last several days it was obvious that these awards were not necessary. Miracles are a part of Christian life. We witnessed true miracles as people heard, laughed, cried and understood the power of love. We had received our award in the miracles we witnessed. And so, may the awards inspire others to reach out with their resources to help those in need. May we all be encouraged to be a part of the miracle-making that is all around us and that is so necessary in our world today.
To learn more about the Starkey Foundation visit www.StarkeyHearingFoundation.org.
To donate to this Mission contact aram@comfortcare.com

 

Coffee with Laura

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Yesterday morning, you gave me the news of Laura’s passing while I was walking. I got home and made my coffee with a pot that Laura had given me. It was a surprise. One day I came home and there was a package, inside was a glass pyrex pot. I made a pot and took pictures of it. Drank my coffee.
Later in the day, as I was recording inside I heated the bottom of the remaining coffee. Forgot it on the stove and continued recording. Susan came home to the kitchen filled with smoke and the pot red hot. I took the put outside and placed it on a piece of medal. It CRACKED. It broke.
Just a small note of happenings.
Profound Loss

At Last, Forever
by Ian Anderson

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
I’m not intending to go far away.
I’m just slipping through to the back room
I’ll leave you messages almost every day.

And who was I to last forever?
I didn’t promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe
But we’ll cling together:
Some kind of heaven written in your face.

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
Well, am I feeling so cold to the touch?
Do my eyes seem to focus
On some distant point?

Why do I find it hard to talk too much?
And who was I to last forever?
I didn’t promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe
But we’ll cling together:
Some kind of heaven written in your face.

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
I’m not intending to go far away.
I’m just slipping through to the back room
I’ll leave you messages almost every day.

And who was I to last forever?
I didn’t promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe
But we’ll cling together:
Some kind of heaven written in your face.

Written by Ian Anderson • Copyright © BMG Rights Management US, LLC

Joseph & Mary’s Son

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Joseph and Mary had a baby. He was my father. He was born on July 17, 1932 to Joseph and Mary Movsesian, in Marseille, France. This jesus was named Jeane.
Both Joseph and Mary had loved before. They were both widowed during the Armenian Genocide. Aside from their spouses, they lost parents, siblings and children. They were exiled from their homes in Kharpert and Sivri-hisar and somehow, by the Grace of God they ended up in France in 1931 where they married and tried to bring some semblance of order to the chaos they had witnessed. In that chaos, a new light, a new miracle and a new hope, Jeane, became their salvation.
After Jeane’s birth, Joseph journey across the pond to America. He set up life for his new family amidst the Great Depression, bussing tables and stocking vending machines at a New York cafeteria. Mary and Jeane met up with Joseph in 1937. At the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade that year, Jeane sat atop his father’s shoulders, much like Jesus might have sat atop his Joseph’s shoulders in the carpentry shop, having a bird’s-eye view of all the creativity around him, allowing his little head to wonder – and formulate the metaphors – about the magic of life.

 

In 1943, with America fully engaged in World War II, the family moved to Los Angeles. It was here that Jeane would grow up. Kids being kids, made fun of his name: Jeane is a girl’sname! Mary adopted an Armenian for him: Varougan (pronounce Vahr-oo-zhan). I’m not sure how that change would have helped matters but it did. (Later in life, he would go simply by John.) Dad went to Virgil Junior High where he entered the orchestra. He taught himself the violin and by age 17 he was offered a position with the Los Angeles Philharmonic!

Varougan in flight

He graduated John Marshall High School in 1949 and continued his education at LA City College. He was a man of determination and had set his mind on being a medical professional. He was drafted and served as a Medic in the US Army during the Korean War. After the war, he married Anna and started a family together in the heart of the City of the Angeles.

Varougan went from LACC straight into USC Pharmacy School. They told him it could not be done, and that’s all he needed to hear to make it happen. He graduated in 1960 with a Pharm.D. degree. He was a miracle worker. He was a Pharmacist by trade and a physician at heart. He mended and healed, he hammered and nailed, he built and rebuilt. He could fly through the air and dazzle people with his charm. He was Joseph and Mary’s son.
Dad passed away in 1991. He resurrected a few days later. He’s alive to this day in our memories and the stories we marvel at and repeat among us.

 

Though I knew these facts, it wasn’t until I turned 60 that I realized that my dad came from divine stock.
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When I was growing up, I was influenced by a variety of people from different walks of life, with an assortment of life-styles, each flashing their own values. One of these influential  men was Hratch. Though he claimed to be an atheist, he helped me become a priest. Hratch’s father was an Armenian writer, a prominent man and well-regarded within the community. Though I never read any of his articles, essays or books, I heard about Alex Kludjian and about the influence he had within the Armenian intellectual community. Because of him I learned there was an “intellectual” category of people. And in fact, thinking about it now, I would say that my conversations with his son Hratch fell into that intellectual category.
Hratch passed away a 2009. A few months after his funeral, I received a box in the mail sent to me by his wife. It contained a plaster bust of Mgrditch Khrimian Hayrig, a 19th century cleric of the Armenian Church. By this time I had served in the Armenian Church for over 25 years. I knew the players and also had developed a love for certain figures throughout the history of the Church. Mgrditch Khrimian Hayrig certainly tops that list. He was the chief bishop of the Armenian Church under Ottoman occupation. He led the people by preaching self-reliance and victory through inner strength of conscience and will. One of the first books I read in the Armenian language was Hayrig’s “Bab oo Tornig” – his instructions on living a meaningful life. In this essay, he calls for a connection – a permanent bond – to the Armenian soil. I cherish this book and to this day refer to it for inspiration.
Khrimian Hayrig bust
Hratch’s wife wrapped the statuette along with a note. She wanted me to have this memory. It was Hratch’s and now mine. It was made of plaster, hard and shiny. I examined it and noticed two bits of writing on the back of it. One was in ink. It was from the Venerable Catholicos Vazken, with a dedication and dated 1960. That particular year was the first time a Catholicos of the Armenian Church had visited North America and so I figured he probably presented this bust to Alex. If there is such a category as intellectual, then certainly Hayrig’s statue belonged within that community.
But it was the second notation that was of interest to me. It was engraved in the plaster before the putty had dried. It was the signature of the artist who constructed the bust. Below his name there was a date: 17 July 1932.

 

Writing on the back of the statuette
This statuette is 84 years old today, the same age that the son of Joseph and Mary would have been this very day. The son of Joseph and Mary was a miracle worker. He came into the world amidst choas and taught us to believe and to have hope. He believed in self-reliance, not in a pompous and arrogant manner, nor with false pride. Rather he understood that the knowledge of God meant a knowledge of the self and with a healthy knowledge of the self, one could be in tune with God… that is, one could be a son of God. It’s a complex formula that he somehow lived in simple elegance. It’s a formula that is built on dreams and dreaming. Perhaps it cannot be explained by words, but it works.