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The final days before Easter are noted on the calendars of most Christian denominations, but for the Orthodox churches, each of those days is endowed with special meaning.
On Sunday March 31, St. John the Baptist Armenian Church observed mid-Lent (michink) with a potluck of vegan dishes in keeping with Armenian fasting traditions and a talk by Rev. Fr. Panteleimon Dalianis from Saints Constantine and Helen Greek Orthodox Church in Wauwatosa.
French-Armenian actor and musician Grégoire Aslan was a versatile presence in film and TV sets, as well as on the stage.
He was born Krikor Aslanian to an Armenian family in Constantinople on March 28, 1908. They moved to Paris, and he made his professional debut at the age of eighteen as a vocalist, trumpeter and drummer with the dance band of Ray Ventura et ses Collegiens. He then launched an acting career under the name of Coco Aslan and also performed with guitarist Django Reinhardt.
He appeared in more than 110 films and TV roles between 1935 and 1979. His first film appearance, uncredited, was in Marc Didier’s Le Billet de mille (1935). His first credited appearance happened in Feux de joie (1939). During World War II he toured South America with actor Louis Jouvet and eventually started his own theatre troupe. He became a ubiquitous presence in many British and American films, mostly in the role of foreigner – Russian, Frenchman, Italian, German, Albanian, and Middle Easterner – with equal expertise.
Do you remember the cassette tapes? Back in the day, if you wanted to hear your favorite song again, you had to hit the rewind button. And sometimes, if you weren’t careful, you’d go too far back, and then you’d have to fast-forward and try to find the right spot. It wasn’t instant like today’s streaming, you had to be patient.
But do you know what was even worse? When the tape got tangled. You’d take out the cassette, grab a pencil, and start winding it back, trying to fix it. Some of you remember those days! But here’s the thing: life is not a cassette tape. There’s no rewind button to undo the past, no fast-forward to skip ahead to the good parts. All you have is this moment.
Paul Sagsoorian was a familiar presence in the publications of the Armenian American community, especially in the New York area, but also an accomplished illustrator in non-Armenian circles.
He was born in New York on March 26, 1923, to a family from the village of Havav, in the district of Palu (province of Diarbekir–Dikranakerd). He graduated from the US Army’s mapmaking school during his three years of World War II service in the European theater of operations. He received a sharpshooter’s medal during a military trip to Iceland and a good conduct medal while in Europe. He worked on maps for mine-laying in Iceland and their removal in Normandy.
The Gospel reading for the Sunday is the parable of the Unjust Judge. The judge is seen as hard-hearted and without principles, fear of God, or regard for people. A widow in the same town has been ill-treated and she has come to the judge for justice. Although her cause is just, the judge does not pay attention to her case.
On Saturday before Sunday of the Judge the Armenian Church commemorates the Forty Martyrs of Sebastia. Although the backgrounds and identities of the forty young soldiers are not certain, it is believed they came from Lesser Armenia and served in the Roman army.
I remember vividly the first time I heard Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. I was just a teenager, not knowing much about classical music. But when those notes filled the room, it was like they reached into the deepest part of my heart. I was captivated, and in that moment, I made a decision: I was going to learn to play that piece on the piano.
Here’s the thing—I had never touched a piano before. Not a single lesson, not a clue where to start. But something about that melody stirred my soul, and I couldn’t let it go. I got the music score and went to work. Day by day, I figured it out. I struggled to read the notes. My fingers stumbled over the keys. But six months later, after countless hours of practice, I could play the Moonlight Sonata by heart.
Ever since H.G. Wells published “The Time Machine” in 1895, people have been fascinated by the idea of traveling through time. The thought of stepping into a machine and witnessing the distant future or revisiting the past stirs our imagination. But the truth is, we are all time travelers.
Every second, we move forward, journeying toward an inevitable destination—one not crafted by human hands but by the eternal will of God. Unlike the fictional travels of Wells’ time traveler, our journey is real. We are moving through time at a steady pace, one heartbeat at a time, one breath after another. And at the end of this earthly voyage lies something beyond imagination: Eternity.
When I lived in Holy Etchmiadzin, Armenia, every morning, I would wake up under the great ring of the Cathedral bells. Those bells were calling the brotherhood to prayer, reminding us that before we do anything else, before we start our day, we come before the Lord. They called us to worship, to seek God, to remember what truly matters.
Now, here I am in New York City, and no bells are ringing me awake! Instead, I wake up to the shriek of an ambulance or the wail of police sirens. At first, it felt jarring, even unsettling. Where was the peace? Where was that gentle, holy invitation?
At the ancient Sevan Monastery in Armenia stands a remarkable khachkar—a cross-stone unlike any other. Most Armenian cross-stones don’t depict Christ on the cross because our faith doesn’t stop at the crucifixion. We don’t dwell on the suffering; we celebrate the victory! We proclaim the risen Christ, the triumphant King! But this one, dating back to the 13th century*, is different.
Carved into this stone, we see Jesus crucified. And at the bottom, we see the harrowing of hell—the moment when Christ, in His power and glory, descends to set the captives free! This is a reminder, my friend, that even in what looks like defeat, God is working a victory!
