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Kevork Mesrob was a longtime teacher as well as prolific author and public servant both in the Ottoman Empire and Bulgaria.
His real name was Kevork Der-Mesrobian and he was born on May 1, 1881, in Bardizag. He studied at the local Nerses-Shushanian and then at the local American high school. Then he was admitted at the Seminary of the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem, which he finished in three years instead of the usual six (1899-1902).
Today, we stand united, hearts intertwined, as we remember the sacred memory of our Holy Martyrs, the brave souls of the Armenian Genocide. These were men, women, and children who, amidst the darkest hours, held onto their faith with unwavering love and dedication to our nation and homeland. They accepted the crown of martyrdom, and in doing so, they left us a legacy of indomitable spirit and courageous faith.
The Apparition of the Holy Cross is the first feast dedicated to the Holy Cross in the Armenian liturgical calendar. It is celebrated in remembrance of the appearance of the sign of the cross over the city of Jerusalem in 351 that remained in the sky for several hours.
Very often, we attribute our successes and good fortunes to mere luck. We say, “I was just lucky!” or “Wow, that was a lucky break!” But the scripture teaches us that our successes are not accidents of fate because “every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change (James1:17) The Apostle James calls out specific gifts in his letter in this very first chapter: wisdom (1:5), the crown of life given to those who …
Seiran Khatlamajian is considered one of the founding fathers of the abstract art movement in Armenia.
He was born on April 20, 1937, in the village of Chaltyr near Rostov-on-Don. His parents were dispossessed landowners. Since childhood, Seiran was fascinated by drawing and at the age of 14 started his studies at the children’s art school in Rostov-on-Don. He entered the Mitrofan Grekov School of Art in 1953 and graduated in 1959 with honors.
The last several years have seen peace and stability shattered across the world. Putin’s invasion of Ukraine occupied headlines, until pushed aside by Hamas’ terrorist attack on Israel and Israel’s assault on Gaza. But there have been other bloody conflicts ignored by the American media and America’s politicians.
Last September in the Caucasus Mountains of the former Soviet Union, Azerbaijan attacked a self-governing enclave called Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabagh), forcing more than 100,000 Armenians to flee a land inhabited by their ancestors for centuries.
The love of a mother is one of the strongest, most enduring loves we know in human experience. A mother’s love is instinctual, unconditional, and fierce. Yet, God says even if a mother could forget her nursing child, He will never forget us: “Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you,” says the Lord” (Isaiah 49:15). This is the unfailing love of God!
I pass by the Empire State Building almost every day. It’s an iconic landmark millions dream of seeing at least once. Yet, there I was, walking by it day after day, without lifting my eyes to acknowledge its presence. It had become just another part of my routine, blending into the background of my daily life.
But the other day, I noticed a group of tourists, their faces alight with excitement, taking pictures and marveling at the sight before them. Their joy, their awe, was contagious. For the first time in a long time, I stopped. I looked up.
I recently read a story about Henry Ford, the founder of the Ford Motor Company. One day, he was driving to work through the countryside in Michigan. He noticed a frustrated man by the roadside, peering under the hood of his Model T Ford. The car had broken down, and the man was struggling to figure out what had gone wrong. Henry Ford pulls over and offers to help. He bends over the engine, takes a look, and within a few seconds, he makes a small adjustment. Suddenly, the engine roars to life…
The fourth Sunday of Eastertide is known as Red Sunday (Garmir Giragi, Կարմիր Կիրակի). The name does not have an ecclesiastical origin. Red is the color of blood, and this may be an appropriate time to honor the memory of the early Christian martyrs.
