A reporter from the Boston Globe visited Holy Trinity Armenian Church in Cambridge, MA this weekend to cover the Sunday School Christmas pageant, which had been snowed out not once, but TWICE. For people who love Christmas (like me), Armenian Christmas is extra fun, because it extends the holiday season.
Boston Globe article on Holy Trinity's Christmas program
Someone asked me recently if Armenians celebrate Christmas differently, apart from having it on a different day. My reply was, "Well, most people in the US do the big dinner and presents on December 25th; Armenian Christmas mostly entails going to church."
This answer, while perhaps truthful for me and other Armenians, is not exactly accurate, as Der Vasken reminded us, for Armenians, Christmas is not just about the birth of Christ, it is about the revelation of Christ to the world. Non-orthodox churches celebrate Epiphany, which is traditionally celebrated as the day that the 3 wise men arrived and saw the infant Jesus for the first time. Orthodox churches celebrate Theophany, which celebrates Christ's baptism as the big revelation of the savior to the world, when God himself spoke to the people proclaiming Jesus as his own son and the messiah. This is why, in the Armenian church, we have the water blessing at Christmas, and why we greet each other by saying "Christos dznav yev haydnetsav" - literally "Christ is born and revealed." Good news is best shared, and that is what Armenian Christmas is about- the arrival and sharing of the good news of Jesus.
Showing posts with label feast days. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feast days. Show all posts
Monday, January 11, 2010
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Feasts
Today is the Feast of the Holy Cross. I wrote a post about this last year, but it's a new year, and a new church. Every church does things just a little bit differently, so I got to see what this church does. They not only bless the basil, but they bless the four corners of the earth too! Nice. The priest blesses the congregation by standing in the middle of the sanctuary and sprinkling blessed rosewater over the whole congregation. I got splashed a few times, so I literally left smelling like a rose! I notice that last year I mentioned that eating harisa (not the hot moroccan pepper, but a wheat porridge) is a tradition on this day, but it was the first day of Sunday School at this church, so they were having a big breakfast (breakfast, ha- I left church at 12:45!), which I didn't attend. Maybe they had harisa there?
The choir director sent someone to talk to me because he noticed that I have been there a few times, and I sing along with the choir. This happened at the other church too (on my first visit, actually- this is my third visit to this other church), but even though the choir director got my phone number (twice, in fact, once on two separate visits), no one ever called me, or showed me where to go, or told me when to show up, etc. So I will go back to this church next week, sing in the choir, and we will see. I am not giving up on the other church- I actually do want to go back!
Also, adult Armenian lessons start tomorrow. I need to call and ask how much they are! If they're not more than $250, I will take them.
The choir director sent someone to talk to me because he noticed that I have been there a few times, and I sing along with the choir. This happened at the other church too (on my first visit, actually- this is my third visit to this other church), but even though the choir director got my phone number (twice, in fact, once on two separate visits), no one ever called me, or showed me where to go, or told me when to show up, etc. So I will go back to this church next week, sing in the choir, and we will see. I am not giving up on the other church- I actually do want to go back!
Also, adult Armenian lessons start tomorrow. I need to call and ask how much they are! If they're not more than $250, I will take them.
Monday, February 05, 2007
The Feast of St. Sarkis
Two Sundays ago was a feast day, celebrating the life of one of the many Armenian martyrs, St. Sarkis. St. Sarkis was a warrior and a Christian, killed by a Persian king after fleeing the Emperor Julian. The lives of the Armenian Saints are filled with stories like these (stories similar to those of the early Saints celebrated by the Catholic church as well)- people being tortured and killed because of their Christian beliefs.
Armenians are not alone in this kind of history; persecution has gone on since the beginning of time, but as a people who have faced it relatively recently in their history, both on a historic scale (e.g. the Genocide), as well as on a small-scale daily basis (Armenians in the Middle East diaspora were Christians surrounded by Muslims, although many, many of them have emigrated elsewhere) we are very sensitive to the necessity of sticking to our beliefs in the face of all outside pressure.
I started writing this post a couple of weeks ago, but the sermon last week tied into the post that I had in mind. It was about St. Sahag, who was Catholicos, was instrumental in the development of the Armenian alphabet by St. Mesrob Mashdots, and the two of them have a joint feast (the Feast of the Holy Translators), although according to my church bulletin, Saturday Feb. 10 was the Feast of Sahag Bartev. So maybe he has his own?
Usually St. Sahag is depicted as one of the main characters who ushered in the "golden age" of Armenian culture, but this week, we were recognizing him for something different. St. Sahag stuck up for the monarchy, which made him really unpopular with the ruling Armenian princes, and eventually had to step down as Catholicos. He maintained his popularity with the people, though, who recognized him as someone who was true to his beliefs.
Historically, in the face of tremendous pressure and persecution, Armenians have remained true to their Christian faith. They have suffered, been discriminated against, and even been killed en masse over it.
I think that this is why,
when two FoxNews reporters were kidnapped by Muslim extremist groups and converted to Islam in order to be released, I did not know if I could have done what they did. I would have felt extremely guilty. Armenian heritage stands upon the bones of many, many people who died rather than betray their faith, what they believed to be true. I think that part of me would have seen conversion, however insincere, to be a betrayal. I know that if I were killed because of a refusal to convert, my husband, father, and mother would all be upset, although maybe my mother would have understood better than anyone else.
The sermon on that day was about St. Sahag, and all people who are truth-tellers. Telling the truth is not always popular; especially when that truth is something that people don't want to hear. Have you ever told a friend or loved one that the person they're dating is controlling or abusive? Just see how popular THAT is. Usually what happens is that the person will quit talking to you, and eventually either break up with or divorce the dodgy significant other. Sometimes your friend will come slinking back, embarrassed by the fact that you were right, but sometimes not.
What was especially interesting about this sermon was that the priest walked his talk. This church is in an extremely, extremely conservative area, and I wouldn't categorize the membership as especially liberal. The priest proceeded to elaborate his message with the modern-day example of the Iraq War, and how no one wanted to come forward to say that it was a bad idea and our reasons for going in were spurious. Those who did say those things were demonized by the administration, but time is bearing them out, and more and more voices are joining in to support them.
I confess that I was shocked. And impressed.
Armenians are not alone in this kind of history; persecution has gone on since the beginning of time, but as a people who have faced it relatively recently in their history, both on a historic scale (e.g. the Genocide), as well as on a small-scale daily basis (Armenians in the Middle East diaspora were Christians surrounded by Muslims, although many, many of them have emigrated elsewhere) we are very sensitive to the necessity of sticking to our beliefs in the face of all outside pressure.
I started writing this post a couple of weeks ago, but the sermon last week tied into the post that I had in mind. It was about St. Sahag, who was Catholicos, was instrumental in the development of the Armenian alphabet by St. Mesrob Mashdots, and the two of them have a joint feast (the Feast of the Holy Translators), although according to my church bulletin, Saturday Feb. 10 was the Feast of Sahag Bartev. So maybe he has his own?
Usually St. Sahag is depicted as one of the main characters who ushered in the "golden age" of Armenian culture, but this week, we were recognizing him for something different. St. Sahag stuck up for the monarchy, which made him really unpopular with the ruling Armenian princes, and eventually had to step down as Catholicos. He maintained his popularity with the people, though, who recognized him as someone who was true to his beliefs.
Historically, in the face of tremendous pressure and persecution, Armenians have remained true to their Christian faith. They have suffered, been discriminated against, and even been killed en masse over it.
I think that this is why,
when two FoxNews reporters were kidnapped by Muslim extremist groups and converted to Islam in order to be released, I did not know if I could have done what they did. I would have felt extremely guilty. Armenian heritage stands upon the bones of many, many people who died rather than betray their faith, what they believed to be true. I think that part of me would have seen conversion, however insincere, to be a betrayal. I know that if I were killed because of a refusal to convert, my husband, father, and mother would all be upset, although maybe my mother would have understood better than anyone else.
The sermon on that day was about St. Sahag, and all people who are truth-tellers. Telling the truth is not always popular; especially when that truth is something that people don't want to hear. Have you ever told a friend or loved one that the person they're dating is controlling or abusive? Just see how popular THAT is. Usually what happens is that the person will quit talking to you, and eventually either break up with or divorce the dodgy significant other. Sometimes your friend will come slinking back, embarrassed by the fact that you were right, but sometimes not.
What was especially interesting about this sermon was that the priest walked his talk. This church is in an extremely, extremely conservative area, and I wouldn't categorize the membership as especially liberal. The priest proceeded to elaborate his message with the modern-day example of the Iraq War, and how no one wanted to come forward to say that it was a bad idea and our reasons for going in were spurious. Those who did say those things were demonized by the administration, but time is bearing them out, and more and more voices are joining in to support them.
I confess that I was shocked. And impressed.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Good News!
This past Sunday was the Merelotz Badarak; meaning that after Badarak, Hokehankist (literally "spirit rest") is meant to remember all of our dead. Merelotz means either "dead" or "death"- I am not totally sure, but definitely one of those.
The priest explained that the Sundays after big feast days (namely, Christmas and Easter), we always have a Merelotz Badarak. This is because Christ being born and rising from the dead is not only good news for the living, but good news for those who are "asleep." The priest explained that we don't think they are dead, just "asleep" until the second coming, or judgment day, or whatever it is that is supposed to wake them up from death. Merelotz Badarak seems especially important to me after Easter, because the priests don't say Hokehankist at all during all of Lent, nor for Easter. In general, big feast days = no Hokehankist. I suppose that this recognizes that there is a time for everything, and while we never forget our dead, some days should not be marred by mourning. Seems sensible to me.
The sermon this week was an interesting one. It was all about Jesus as the source of all good things, as exemplified by the first miracle that Jesus carried out. For those of you who aren't familiar with the New Testament (indeed, my own knowledge is somewhat sketchy, as I am able to name 2 of Jesus's miracles, but not the third one), the first miracle was Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana.
The priest made a really good point. Jesus's first miracle was to promote the individual enjoyment of people, to let them have a good time. This runs contrary to some of the doctrines of more puritanical churches who forbid alcohol, dancing, etc. It shows that God is the source of all good things and shows that He wants us to enjoy ourselves and celebrate. Sounds good to me!
The priest explained that the Sundays after big feast days (namely, Christmas and Easter), we always have a Merelotz Badarak. This is because Christ being born and rising from the dead is not only good news for the living, but good news for those who are "asleep." The priest explained that we don't think they are dead, just "asleep" until the second coming, or judgment day, or whatever it is that is supposed to wake them up from death. Merelotz Badarak seems especially important to me after Easter, because the priests don't say Hokehankist at all during all of Lent, nor for Easter. In general, big feast days = no Hokehankist. I suppose that this recognizes that there is a time for everything, and while we never forget our dead, some days should not be marred by mourning. Seems sensible to me.
The sermon this week was an interesting one. It was all about Jesus as the source of all good things, as exemplified by the first miracle that Jesus carried out. For those of you who aren't familiar with the New Testament (indeed, my own knowledge is somewhat sketchy, as I am able to name 2 of Jesus's miracles, but not the third one), the first miracle was Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana.
The priest made a really good point. Jesus's first miracle was to promote the individual enjoyment of people, to let them have a good time. This runs contrary to some of the doctrines of more puritanical churches who forbid alcohol, dancing, etc. It shows that God is the source of all good things and shows that He wants us to enjoy ourselves and celebrate. Sounds good to me!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
On Being A Visitor
While we were away last week, I took the opportunity to visit a local Armenian Church to celebrate the Theophany, and get my yearly rationing of holy water. I was pleasantly surprised at how friendly and welcoming this church was. This is the first time I've been to an Armenian Church where someone actually talked to me first. I admit, I was shocked. Before I even sat down, someone came over to introduce himself and ask me where I was from, etc. Turns out there had been a young adult party at his house the night before, and he also had another person there who was in town for the same conference that brought me to the area.
Since I like to give credit where credit is due, the church I visited was St. James Armenian Church in Evanston, IL. They have a young priest (a "Deacon-in-Charge" actually, which seems to be the step before becoming a Der Hayr? Not sure.), but on Sunday, they had a visiting priest from Detroit conducting Badarak.
In my regular church, the way they get through the service in the fastest way possible is to leave things out. For instance, instead of starting with Khorhoort Khoreen (Profound Mystery), we start with Miadzin Vorti (Only Begotten Son). This visiting priest, who was not very young (to be polite), had been around (in a church way), so his method of keeping the service snappy was to say the whole thing very, very fast. I was following along with the pew book (the brown one!), and it was tough. He was going FAST. Not just normal quick conversational speed, but the speed you hear when someone is saying the fine print at the end of a radio commercial.
Because it was Christmas, church was packed. It wasn't a big church (at least, the sanctuary wasn't big; the building itself seemed like it had lots of room), and you could tell by looking at the outside of the church that it hadn't originally been an Armenian church. If an Armenian church is built to be an Armenian Church, it is built in a very specific style. However, Armenians are a resilient people, so we will happily take a church that used to be Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal, or whatever this denomination used to worship there, and make it our own. On the inside, it looked like the other Armenian churches that I had been to. You have a place to light candles (where in the church this is located seems to vary from church to church), a raised platform where the faithful go up and receive communion and where the priest gives his sermon (this is one step up higher from where the congregation sits), and then you have the altar, which is raised up much higher than the congregation. You have to climb several steps to get up there, usually 3-5. You have the curtain that gets closed during part of Badarak (or the whole Badarak, as happens during Lent), the marble-looking altar thing (surely it can't really be marble, can it?), the gold crosses, the picture of Jesus and Mary (this church had a very European, Vermeerish looking picture instead of a more traditional Eastern-style, 2-dimensional iconograph).
When Badarak started, I was the only person in the congregation. No real surprise, since Armenians always run late. The church gradually filled up, and I ended up sharing my pew book with a Northwestern Ph.D. student originally from Glendale. I could tell from the way she was sneaking looks at my pew book that she needed one too, so I asked her if she wanted to share. Even though I have been attending church regularly for over a year now, I still need the book to know where we are, what is happening.
On the train from downtown, I was cramming like crazy to learn the two lines I needed to learn. First was the Christmas exchange. It goes like this:
Armenian #1: Krisdos dznav yev haydnetsav! (Christ is born and revealed among us!)
Armenian #2: Orhnyal eh haydnotyoonun Krisdosee! (Blessed is the revelation of Christ!)
I figured that I didn't really need to wish anyone Merry Christmas, so all I had to learn was the response, which was the same as the other exchange I was trying to learn last minute, the exchange for the Kiss of Peace. Protestant/Catholic churches also do some kind of passing/exchanging peace, usually consisting of shaking the hands of your neighbors seated around you and saying "Peace be with you." In the Episcopal churches that I have attended, Exchanging the Peace practically turns into coffee hour, with everyone going all over the church to say hi to their friends, talking to random strangers, and it tends to go on for 5 minutes or so, until the priest reins them all in.
In the Armenian Church, despite our deserved reputation for being loud, noisy, and social, we are very regimented when it comes to the Kiss of Peace. The deacon-in-charge (not always the priest) usually goes down, and starts the chain by "kissing" two of the other deacons, who then go out and distribute the "kiss" in the manner of playing Telephone down each row.
Let me clarify. There is no actual kissing involved. It's basically the miming of a European-style, double-kiss greeting on both cheeks, but instead of kissing, the person doing the kissing whispers Krisdos ee mech mer haydnetsav (Christ is revealed among us).
Then, the person receiving the kiss whispers back the same line you reply with for Christmas: Orhnyal eh haydnootyoonun Krisdosee. After you receive the kiss, you turn to your neighbor, move your face from one of their cheeks to the other, whispering Krisdos ee mech mer haydnetsav, and they reply back Orhnyal eh haydnootyoonun Krisdosee, and repeat.
The reason why I don't know these two lines is because a) Christmas only comes once a year, so it's not like I get to practice and b) with the Kiss of Peace, being in the Choir gets me out of participating, so I never had to learn. (It is kind of a relief- one fewer thing that I have to screw up on a regular basis). On the one hour train ride from downtown Chicago to Evanston, I kept repeating (sometimes out loud, but quietly) "Orhnyal eh haydnootyuonun Krisdosee! HaydnooTYUNun. HaydnooTYUNun. HaydnooTYUNun." And then I get to church, and I STILL screw it up. No one seemed to mind, though, and when the "kisser" got to me, he said it in English to make sure I understood.
Afterwards, I went up to the Deacon-in-charge and told him that he had a very friendly church, and I was very impressed. He asked my name, and I told him, and then he asked my last name. I repeated my very, very WASPY, not Armenian at all, last name (both married and maiden name are this way), and added "I am only half Armenian." He told me that did not matter at all, and not to even mention it, I was still Armenian, etc. My sister, in all of her experiences with the youth programs with the Eastern Diocese, has said that this attitude of "We're all Armenians!" is not universal, so I admit that I kind of expect it wherever I go. I'm only half, I don't speak much Armenian, etc. I told him "Keech me ge khosim." (I speak a little), and hey, he was happy.
My husband and I are just starting the process of finding out where we will be living starting next year. I am pleased to realize that everywhere he is interviewing is no more than about an hour away from an Armenian Church, and most are much closer than that.
Since I like to give credit where credit is due, the church I visited was St. James Armenian Church in Evanston, IL. They have a young priest (a "Deacon-in-Charge" actually, which seems to be the step before becoming a Der Hayr? Not sure.), but on Sunday, they had a visiting priest from Detroit conducting Badarak.
In my regular church, the way they get through the service in the fastest way possible is to leave things out. For instance, instead of starting with Khorhoort Khoreen (Profound Mystery), we start with Miadzin Vorti (Only Begotten Son). This visiting priest, who was not very young (to be polite), had been around (in a church way), so his method of keeping the service snappy was to say the whole thing very, very fast. I was following along with the pew book (the brown one!), and it was tough. He was going FAST. Not just normal quick conversational speed, but the speed you hear when someone is saying the fine print at the end of a radio commercial.
Because it was Christmas, church was packed. It wasn't a big church (at least, the sanctuary wasn't big; the building itself seemed like it had lots of room), and you could tell by looking at the outside of the church that it hadn't originally been an Armenian church. If an Armenian church is built to be an Armenian Church, it is built in a very specific style. However, Armenians are a resilient people, so we will happily take a church that used to be Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal, or whatever this denomination used to worship there, and make it our own. On the inside, it looked like the other Armenian churches that I had been to. You have a place to light candles (where in the church this is located seems to vary from church to church), a raised platform where the faithful go up and receive communion and where the priest gives his sermon (this is one step up higher from where the congregation sits), and then you have the altar, which is raised up much higher than the congregation. You have to climb several steps to get up there, usually 3-5. You have the curtain that gets closed during part of Badarak (or the whole Badarak, as happens during Lent), the marble-looking altar thing (surely it can't really be marble, can it?), the gold crosses, the picture of Jesus and Mary (this church had a very European, Vermeerish looking picture instead of a more traditional Eastern-style, 2-dimensional iconograph).
When Badarak started, I was the only person in the congregation. No real surprise, since Armenians always run late. The church gradually filled up, and I ended up sharing my pew book with a Northwestern Ph.D. student originally from Glendale. I could tell from the way she was sneaking looks at my pew book that she needed one too, so I asked her if she wanted to share. Even though I have been attending church regularly for over a year now, I still need the book to know where we are, what is happening.
On the train from downtown, I was cramming like crazy to learn the two lines I needed to learn. First was the Christmas exchange. It goes like this:
Armenian #1: Krisdos dznav yev haydnetsav! (Christ is born and revealed among us!)
Armenian #2: Orhnyal eh haydnotyoonun Krisdosee! (Blessed is the revelation of Christ!)
I figured that I didn't really need to wish anyone Merry Christmas, so all I had to learn was the response, which was the same as the other exchange I was trying to learn last minute, the exchange for the Kiss of Peace. Protestant/Catholic churches also do some kind of passing/exchanging peace, usually consisting of shaking the hands of your neighbors seated around you and saying "Peace be with you." In the Episcopal churches that I have attended, Exchanging the Peace practically turns into coffee hour, with everyone going all over the church to say hi to their friends, talking to random strangers, and it tends to go on for 5 minutes or so, until the priest reins them all in.
In the Armenian Church, despite our deserved reputation for being loud, noisy, and social, we are very regimented when it comes to the Kiss of Peace. The deacon-in-charge (not always the priest) usually goes down, and starts the chain by "kissing" two of the other deacons, who then go out and distribute the "kiss" in the manner of playing Telephone down each row.
Let me clarify. There is no actual kissing involved. It's basically the miming of a European-style, double-kiss greeting on both cheeks, but instead of kissing, the person doing the kissing whispers Krisdos ee mech mer haydnetsav (Christ is revealed among us).
Then, the person receiving the kiss whispers back the same line you reply with for Christmas: Orhnyal eh haydnootyoonun Krisdosee. After you receive the kiss, you turn to your neighbor, move your face from one of their cheeks to the other, whispering Krisdos ee mech mer haydnetsav, and they reply back Orhnyal eh haydnootyoonun Krisdosee, and repeat.
The reason why I don't know these two lines is because a) Christmas only comes once a year, so it's not like I get to practice and b) with the Kiss of Peace, being in the Choir gets me out of participating, so I never had to learn. (It is kind of a relief- one fewer thing that I have to screw up on a regular basis). On the one hour train ride from downtown Chicago to Evanston, I kept repeating (sometimes out loud, but quietly) "Orhnyal eh haydnootyuonun Krisdosee! HaydnooTYUNun. HaydnooTYUNun. HaydnooTYUNun." And then I get to church, and I STILL screw it up. No one seemed to mind, though, and when the "kisser" got to me, he said it in English to make sure I understood.
Afterwards, I went up to the Deacon-in-charge and told him that he had a very friendly church, and I was very impressed. He asked my name, and I told him, and then he asked my last name. I repeated my very, very WASPY, not Armenian at all, last name (both married and maiden name are this way), and added "I am only half Armenian." He told me that did not matter at all, and not to even mention it, I was still Armenian, etc. My sister, in all of her experiences with the youth programs with the Eastern Diocese, has said that this attitude of "We're all Armenians!" is not universal, so I admit that I kind of expect it wherever I go. I'm only half, I don't speak much Armenian, etc. I told him "Keech me ge khosim." (I speak a little), and hey, he was happy.
My husband and I are just starting the process of finding out where we will be living starting next year. I am pleased to realize that everywhere he is interviewing is no more than about an hour away from an Armenian Church, and most are much closer than that.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Merry Christmas!
Today is Christmas in the Armenian Church. The New York Times had a nice article today explaining why we do things the way we do. Basically, we were the only church not threatened by pagans, so we kept the celebration of Christ's birth and baptism together, while all other churches split them up.
In the words of my priest, when people ask, "Why do you celebrate Christmas on January 6th?" the correct answer is "Why DON'T you?" :) That is a little antagonistic, I admit, and I wouldn't really recommend it.
New York Times Article on Armenian Christmas
One of the interesting things that this article points out is the benefit of having the celebration of Christmas be on a different day than Dec. 25th. Having Christmas on Jan. 6th means that most of the commercial, end-of-year retail push, etc. is over, and you can truly concentrate on Christ's birth.
What is kind of ironic about this POV is that really, Christmas isn't a big deal in the Armenian Church. I mean, it's a feast day, we're happy, we celebrate, we bless water, but Christmas is NOTHING compared to Easter, at least from a religious standpoint.
Christmas is a big deal in the US, and most of the Western World, though, so the Armenians I know still make a big deal out of it, even though traditionally, back in the "old country," it wasn't. However, these Armenians ALSO make a big deal about Easter, much bigger than most people in the US. Let's face it- Lent is all about self-denial, which will never be popular with companies, and Easter isn't as big of a deal when it doesn't come at the end of this period of self-sacrifice. If you make an effort to observe Lent, however you do it, whether it's going vegan the whole time like you are "supposed" to, or going vegan two days a week (I did this last year), or giving up something in particular like many Catholics do, you are going to be relieved when Easter rolls around!
I couldn't get to service today, but I am going to go tomorrow. We are still out of town- we have been out of town for almost 3 weeks now, so I haven't been able to go to church. There is one that is about an hour away by public transportation, and since they will be blessing the water, I am going to go. It will be interesting trying a new church for the first time in a year.
In the words of my priest, when people ask, "Why do you celebrate Christmas on January 6th?" the correct answer is "Why DON'T you?" :) That is a little antagonistic, I admit, and I wouldn't really recommend it.
New York Times Article on Armenian Christmas
One of the interesting things that this article points out is the benefit of having the celebration of Christmas be on a different day than Dec. 25th. Having Christmas on Jan. 6th means that most of the commercial, end-of-year retail push, etc. is over, and you can truly concentrate on Christ's birth.
What is kind of ironic about this POV is that really, Christmas isn't a big deal in the Armenian Church. I mean, it's a feast day, we're happy, we celebrate, we bless water, but Christmas is NOTHING compared to Easter, at least from a religious standpoint.
Christmas is a big deal in the US, and most of the Western World, though, so the Armenians I know still make a big deal out of it, even though traditionally, back in the "old country," it wasn't. However, these Armenians ALSO make a big deal about Easter, much bigger than most people in the US. Let's face it- Lent is all about self-denial, which will never be popular with companies, and Easter isn't as big of a deal when it doesn't come at the end of this period of self-sacrifice. If you make an effort to observe Lent, however you do it, whether it's going vegan the whole time like you are "supposed" to, or going vegan two days a week (I did this last year), or giving up something in particular like many Catholics do, you are going to be relieved when Easter rolls around!
I couldn't get to service today, but I am going to go tomorrow. We are still out of town- we have been out of town for almost 3 weeks now, so I haven't been able to go to church. There is one that is about an hour away by public transportation, and since they will be blessing the water, I am going to go. It will be interesting trying a new church for the first time in a year.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Feast of the Evangelists
Saturday was the Feast of the Evangelists, namely the authors of the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Unfortunately, I can't tell you any more about it than that, because the Eastern Diocese's website is down, and the priest only gave the barest of English translations during the sermon. This is something I have been thinking about in the last few days- church just doesn't seem very spiritual to me nowadays. I go, I sing the songs, I have fun talking to people, I feel a little smug because now I know what's going on, and I go home.
I think that part of this is the lack of emphasis on sermon-giving in the Armenian church (more on this in my "women in the church" post that I swear I will finish and post soon), and part of it is the fact that our priest is way more comfortable in Armenian than he is in English.
I introduced myself to someone who has started singing in the choir. She is a third-generation American, full Armenian, who grew up in Pasadena, which is a pretty serious Armenian community (not like Glendale, but you are still pretty plugged in). She doesn't speak or read Armenian, and we were comparing notes about how un-fun it is to go to church and feel excluded. She seems to feel that our church is not that welcoming to people who don't speak Armenian, maybe because she grew up in a big Armenian community where she didn't need to know Armenian, while I have had lots of experiences feeling totally rejected from different Armenian churches. In comparison, my current church is very friendly!
We started discussing my never-ending undercurrent concern about getting youngish people involved. She thinks that we need to be more welcoming to people who don't speak or read Armenian. I would agree with that, BUT it's hard to teach old dogs new tricks. I would like to see more English in the service, specifically good sermons in English, and the confession also in English. I think that this is probably too much to ask of the current priest, but a girl can dream, can't she?
In the meantime, we may try to think of ways that we can get people involved that ARE things that we can organize and do.
Unfortunately, I can't tell you any more about it than that, because the Eastern Diocese's website is down, and the priest only gave the barest of English translations during the sermon. This is something I have been thinking about in the last few days- church just doesn't seem very spiritual to me nowadays. I go, I sing the songs, I have fun talking to people, I feel a little smug because now I know what's going on, and I go home.
I think that part of this is the lack of emphasis on sermon-giving in the Armenian church (more on this in my "women in the church" post that I swear I will finish and post soon), and part of it is the fact that our priest is way more comfortable in Armenian than he is in English.
I introduced myself to someone who has started singing in the choir. She is a third-generation American, full Armenian, who grew up in Pasadena, which is a pretty serious Armenian community (not like Glendale, but you are still pretty plugged in). She doesn't speak or read Armenian, and we were comparing notes about how un-fun it is to go to church and feel excluded. She seems to feel that our church is not that welcoming to people who don't speak Armenian, maybe because she grew up in a big Armenian community where she didn't need to know Armenian, while I have had lots of experiences feeling totally rejected from different Armenian churches. In comparison, my current church is very friendly!
We started discussing my never-ending undercurrent concern about getting youngish people involved. She thinks that we need to be more welcoming to people who don't speak or read Armenian. I would agree with that, BUT it's hard to teach old dogs new tricks. I would like to see more English in the service, specifically good sermons in English, and the confession also in English. I think that this is probably too much to ask of the current priest, but a girl can dream, can't she?
In the meantime, we may try to think of ways that we can get people involved that ARE things that we can organize and do.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Feast of the Holy Cross of Varak
Today, as I discovered in church, is the Feast of the Holy Cross of Varak. This celebrates the appearance of a relic of the Holy Cross (Sourp Khatch- the same one that we celebrated 2 weeks ago) on an altar in a monestary on Mt. Varak. Mt. Varak is in "historic Armenia," which means that it is not in the actual country of Armenia, but rather in modern-day Turkey.
We had a visiting priest today. Our regular priest was out of town officiating a family wedding. I wish I was able to have an Armenian wedding! The cost would have been prohibitive- we would have had to fly a priest in, put him up somewhere, find a church, pay rental fees, etc. So we just got married at the Baptist church my parents go to for $250. We could have gotten married out here, but this presented a whole other set of money issues. Weddings are MUCH more expensive out here, everyone would have had to fly out here, etc. It was more practical to get married in my hometown. God was still at my wedding, even though it was Protestant and in English.
It would have been a fight on some other levels with my odar husband, because it would have meant that he couldn't have his Jewish best friend as our best man. So... probably for the best that it didn't work out.
I actually missed our regular priest- the visiting priest's English wasn't as good, and he didn't really give a sermon at all, only a brief explanation of what we were celebrating, but Badarak today wasn't really any different than Badarak on other days.
Today was also the first day of Sunday School for the kids. They go to Sunday School during the service. My church is very open and friendly to kids- Der Hayr is a married priest, and has 2 teenage kids, so he is all about young people. This church apparently has a tradition of being welcoming to kids, young people, and newcomers, dating back to the former parish priest, who was born in the US, raised in Glendale, and just really loves kids and young people and is really passionate about getting people involved in the Armenian Church.
I am passionate about it too, but need to find the energy and strength to translate that passion into concrete service. I especially feel called to help make the church more welcoming. By "the church" I mean "the church" in general, not my specific church. I have some ideas for the other church I go to near my university, which isn't as friendly or young as the one near my husband's university.
We had a visiting priest today. Our regular priest was out of town officiating a family wedding. I wish I was able to have an Armenian wedding! The cost would have been prohibitive- we would have had to fly a priest in, put him up somewhere, find a church, pay rental fees, etc. So we just got married at the Baptist church my parents go to for $250. We could have gotten married out here, but this presented a whole other set of money issues. Weddings are MUCH more expensive out here, everyone would have had to fly out here, etc. It was more practical to get married in my hometown. God was still at my wedding, even though it was Protestant and in English.
It would have been a fight on some other levels with my odar husband, because it would have meant that he couldn't have his Jewish best friend as our best man. So... probably for the best that it didn't work out.
I actually missed our regular priest- the visiting priest's English wasn't as good, and he didn't really give a sermon at all, only a brief explanation of what we were celebrating, but Badarak today wasn't really any different than Badarak on other days.
Today was also the first day of Sunday School for the kids. They go to Sunday School during the service. My church is very open and friendly to kids- Der Hayr is a married priest, and has 2 teenage kids, so he is all about young people. This church apparently has a tradition of being welcoming to kids, young people, and newcomers, dating back to the former parish priest, who was born in the US, raised in Glendale, and just really loves kids and young people and is really passionate about getting people involved in the Armenian Church.
I am passionate about it too, but need to find the energy and strength to translate that passion into concrete service. I especially feel called to help make the church more welcoming. By "the church" I mean "the church" in general, not my specific church. I have some ideas for the other church I go to near my university, which isn't as friendly or young as the one near my husband's university.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
The Feast of the Holy Cross (Soorp Khatch)
Today is the last major feast of the calendar year- the Feast of the Holy Cross, or Soorp Khatch. Soorp means holy, and khatch means cross. This is a name day for anyone named Christopher, Christian, Christine, Christina, etc.
My first clue that something was going on was this huge tray of basil up on the altar (not on the altar, but on the "stage" (for lack of a better word) where the priest and the deacons are during the service. I asked one of my fellow choirmembers (who are always so sweet to explain things to lil' ol' ignorant me) what it was, and she explained that today was the Feast of the Holy Cross. She also said that basil is used because that is what they (the apostles? Mary?) found growing at Christ's tomb.
This feast is important because it reminds us that the cross is important to Christians because it reminds us of Christ's sacrifice. The Eastern Diocese of the Armenian Church (in the USA) provides a nice description of the significance of this feast, and one of the historical events that it celebrates.
The cross is important to all Christians (well, perhaps excepting those who go to nondenominational megachurches, who shun religious symbolism like crosses and crucifixes because they make people "uncomfortable."), but especially to Armenians, who even have their own style of cross. If you go to Badarak, you will see people crossing themselves all the time. The priest is always turning around and making the sign of the cross over the congregation. The act of crossing yourself is very important.
Sometimes it is hard to distinguish what rituals are based in religion, and what is mere tradition, but one of the other traditions of the day is eating harisa- this is a porridge of pounded wheat and meat, which is not nearly as gross as it might sound. Traditionally, it's made by the community, and people take turns stirring it over the night. I don't know much more about it than this.
If anyone else knows more about this, please jump in with the comments. I would like this blog to teach and inform as well as to be a place where I can learn as well.
My first clue that something was going on was this huge tray of basil up on the altar (not on the altar, but on the "stage" (for lack of a better word) where the priest and the deacons are during the service. I asked one of my fellow choirmembers (who are always so sweet to explain things to lil' ol' ignorant me) what it was, and she explained that today was the Feast of the Holy Cross. She also said that basil is used because that is what they (the apostles? Mary?) found growing at Christ's tomb.
This feast is important because it reminds us that the cross is important to Christians because it reminds us of Christ's sacrifice. The Eastern Diocese of the Armenian Church (in the USA) provides a nice description of the significance of this feast, and one of the historical events that it celebrates.
The cross is important to all Christians (well, perhaps excepting those who go to nondenominational megachurches, who shun religious symbolism like crosses and crucifixes because they make people "uncomfortable."), but especially to Armenians, who even have their own style of cross. If you go to Badarak, you will see people crossing themselves all the time. The priest is always turning around and making the sign of the cross over the congregation. The act of crossing yourself is very important.
Sometimes it is hard to distinguish what rituals are based in religion, and what is mere tradition, but one of the other traditions of the day is eating harisa- this is a porridge of pounded wheat and meat, which is not nearly as gross as it might sound. Traditionally, it's made by the community, and people take turns stirring it over the night. I don't know much more about it than this.
If anyone else knows more about this, please jump in with the comments. I would like this blog to teach and inform as well as to be a place where I can learn as well.
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