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?