Don’t know where this originated. I’ve printed this on a small card and have kept it next to my computers for the last 25 years. So it goes back a while and probably had more meaning back then anyway (as you can tell by the technical terms).

Thought I’d present it here just to share something from the past, BUT even more to exemplify a theme we’ve kicked around many times, particularly in our Bible Study program, that all writing must be viewed in the context in which it was created, written and developed. I look at this prayer and remember a time when commands would echo on screen and printer, when it was necessary to understand algorithms in order to make sense of program structures and development, and I remember when all programming led to hours/days/weeks of debugging frustration and a prayer for smarts was always in order. Today, someone reading this prayer without an understanding of early computer-programming might offer a courteous smile or harshly condemn it as mocking Christianity. It certainly has a different meaning for the person who used a computer back in the late 70’s as a opposed to someone who’s first computer application was setting up an account on Facebook.

So here it is, from the early days of computing with this small prayer added from me – especially to those who would quote Holy Scripture in a literal manner – that this serve as a reminder that even the Bible was created in a time and place in history and not outside of it.

KEYBOARD PRAYER

Our Program, who art in Memory,
‘Hello’ be thy name.
Thy Operating System come,
Thy commands be done,
On the Printer
As they are on the Screen.
Give us this day our daily data,
And forgive us our I/O errors
As we forgive those whose
logic circuits are faulty.
And lead us not into frustration,
But deliver us from power surges.
For thine is the algorithm, the
application and the implementation
Looping for ever and ever.

RETURN.

There is a conversation (if you can call it that) that I get caught in many times. It is triggered after I’ve spoken a few sentences in Armenian and the listener has been unable to detect an accent.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from here, Los Angeles.”

“No. Where were you born?”

“I was born here in America.”

“But you speak such good Armenian.” Now, mind you, this is being said to me from someone who is born in the Middle East, that is, not from Armenia.

So depending on the favor of my mood, I may retort with, “Well, so do you. So do you.”

“Yeah, but you’re from America.”

“And you’re from Beirut.”

“How about your parents? Where are your parents from?”

Now the fun begins. “They’re from America too.” Now, I notice that the inquirer is completely baffled and confounded. I may offer, “Are you asking about where our family is from, before the Genocide?” And as they nod, I’ll offer, “They’re from Kharpert.” Of course, this is the easy-answer, because the person’s inquiry is so superficial that I really don’t care to get into the details with them. The grandmother who was most influential in my life was from Sivri-Hisar, while my grandparents on the other side came from Palu.

Why the inquiry? I have a sneaky suspicion that it has to do with deep rooted anti-American prejudice. Yup! The American Armenian is the stepchild of the nation. S/he’s not real. And so, begin all the inquiries – to make sure that there’s a connection with something more solid. Ironic, isn’t it? Most people leave the Middle East looking for a solid foundation where to raise their family. They choose America for that stability – a place where they can prosper. But for some reason, America doesn’t hold much weight in the pre-hyphen descriptor to being Armenian.

Here’s to the Armenian-American: the stepchild of the Armenian nation. We’ll never be fully accepted until the next generation of children grow up to be identified as Armenian-Americans. They are the children of the inquirers.