Armodoxy for Today: The Ararat Label

The term “virtual” has taken on some new meaning in the last few decades with the popularity of the internet. It is used to describe something that does not physically exist but is made by software to appears as if it does. That describes the way most Armenians understand Mount Ararat.

The mountain range is easily visible from the moment one arrives in Armenia at the Zvartnots Airport and shows itself especially nicely from the capital city of Yerevan. And if by chance the air is foggy or misty, and a cloud covering hides the mountain, Ararat is seen on logos of coffee shops, souvenirs and just about any type of clothing accessory one can imagine. Most homes have a picture of the twin-peaked mountain hanging somewhere in the house. And if you’re a visitor to Armenia, you receive a small ink graphic of Ararat stamped in your passport when you arrive. I mention this as an oddity because the Ararat Mountain is not in the borders of Armenia. Currently, that land is occupied by Turkey and exists within its borders on internation maps. But Mount Ararat is purely Armenian as is attested by the name itself.

Ararat is the theme of songs, and poems. Even during the Soviet years (1920-1991) when nationalism was played down or discouraged with the large scale punishment, Ararat was the theme of poem and prose. Armenia’s beloved poet, Yeghishé Charents wrote the words that are recited and sung; and they even stretch across a picturesque arch saying, “Travel the world and there is no white capped peak as beautiful as Ararat … it is the road to glory, unreachable, I love Mount Masis.” (another name for Ararat).

For Armenians, Mount Ararat is a national symbol. It’s our mountain and it always will be. This feeling is so strongly reinforced in the collective consciousness of the people that we – Armenians – often forget that the mountain’s claim-to-fame on the international scene is thanks to a reference in the Book of Genesis chapter 8, as the resting place of Noah’s Ark.

A few years back, I was invited to celebrate the Divine Liturgy in Nashville, Tennessee. It is considered a “mission parish” meaning that there is no permenent priest to pastor the small flock. A dear friend picked us up from the airport and on our way to the services we flew past an exit sign on the freeway boldly marked, “Ararat Cemetery next right.” A big smile came on my face. The sign, and the cemetery it pointed to, were indicators that there were Armenians in Tennessee. Any congregation that was running a cemetery must be ready to have graduated from mission parish status. Of course, I was operating on the notion that Ararat implied Armenian.

As we got closer to the cemetery, the sign read, “Ararat Baptist Cemetery.” It was, in fact, run by the local Baptist Church with absolutely no Armenian ties or overtones. The name pointed to the Biblical Mountain which is accepted by all of Christendom.

Much of what we believe, we are conditioned to believe. I’ve spent my entire life associating things labeled “Ararat” – from the local nursing home, to the bubbly water, from the restaurant to a type of slippers, to the cognac – with the Armenian nation. If we had not taken an extra step to take a closer look at the sign, I would have lived with the illusion of believing Tennessee had an Armenian cemetery. Issues of the faith are even more important than discovering what’s under a label. Whether a cemetery or an article of faith, take a moment to go beyond the label.

We pray from the Book of Hours, “Heavenly King, my soul is in Your care at all times and I trust in Your holy Cross. I have the multitude of saints as my intercessors before You. You are forbearing toward all, do not disregard those who rely on You, but protect them with peace by Your precious and Holy cross. Amen.