Trouble in the Air

63. Trouble in the Air (7 October 2024)

A sooty autumn sky dawns over Beirut
(seen from Geitawi - 7 Oct. 2024)

A song from the Negro Spiritual repertoire, sung by one of my favorite gospel ensembles, the “Wings Over Jordan Choir”, has been repeating and repeating in my ear:

Over my head I see trouble in the air.

Over my head I see trouble in the air.

Over my head I see trouble in the air.

There must be a God somewhere.

The song, “Over My Head”, is just one Spiritual from an entire genre that is a rich treasury of cries for freedom from oppression. Yet we see how people and nations effortlessly switch from being the “oppressed” to being the “oppressors” these days, having learned nothing – or having forgotten much – of how and why one must avoid falling into this trap.

Ceremony repatriating - from Rome - the
remains of Cardinal Aghajanian (1895-1971)
(Martyrs' Square - 12 Sept. 2024)

            Here in Lebanon there is constantly trouble in the air. The incessant droning sounds of killing machines (courtesy of the United States) have set the entire country on edge, and not just the “offending party” that our southern neighbors find so objectionable. Similarly, the jets cynically breaking the sound barrier over Lebanon’s north, south, east and west (again, courtesy of the United States) is a blatant declaration to the terrorized Lebanese of all political persuasions that, with apologies to The Outer Limits, “We control the horizontal. We control the vertical.”

            On clear nights I walk out onto the balcony and look up to see dim triangular points of light, hundreds if not thousands of them, blanketing the sky over Beirut. They cannot be heard, only seen. They are reconnaissance drones in a vast network, with eyes probing every square centimeter of the city, monitoring moves and tracking targets. Invisible to the naked eye during the daytime, I keep them in mind when I venture out of the apartment, and tell myself that I, too, am a mere assortment of data for a regime not interested in dwelling in peace and safety, but one bent on annihilating its adversaries, causing more than a little collateral damage (a.k.a. deaths and destruction) along the way.

As the trash piles up daily, one wonders,
"They collect it and dump it... where?"
(Khalil Badawi - 29 Sept. 2024)

            After another night of relentless bombing campaigns (bombs courtesy of the United States, also providing U.S. manufacturers with much-desired performance data), this morning I went out to the balcony to witness a thick blanket of soot covering the city, mixing with the cloud cover of early autumn. Reminiscent of the burning tires of the so-called “Cedar Revolution” of 2019, this morning’s acrid air was a reminder that only a short distance away neighborhoods were smoldering, and high-rise buildings were being reduced to rubble.

The late, lamented "Way In Book Shop",
now selling toilet paper and cleansers
(Hamra - 8 Sept. 2024)

            Everyone is familiar with the adversaries in the conflict of the past year, painted in the press almost exclusively as peace-loving citizens facing evil terrorists. The decades and decades of dispossession fueling the desperate brutality or calculated onslaughts of these groups are set aside in favor of harping on one date, October 7th, as if the world as we know it came into being on that day last year. As a person of faith, a Christian believer, I know that context is everything. But this deep awareness of context is missing from most reporting and commentary, as well as being completely absent from official declarations by the governments conducting their onslaught. It is a willful omission, certainly, because it would necessitate sympathy for those being oppressed, something that would empower the “peaceniks” and necessitate thinking diplomatically, and not exclusively militarily.

            As a Christian, my thoughts also go to the “just war” concept, which is frequently bandied about to justify the excessive military campaign the United States refuses to rein in. What has transpired this past year does not fit very well into the “just war” theory; at the same time these campaigns quite correctly fit the definition of “genocide”. Of course, casuists everywhere continue to enthusiastically argue in favor of the first and against the second, prolonging the torture of Palestinians as well as Lebanese, in order that “we achieve our goals”, as is being repeated ad nauseam. They are committed to destroying the enemies that they had a part in creating in the first place.

Refugee children taking a break from their
sales of tissues at intersections
(Mar Mikhael - 14 Sept. 2024)

            And who are the majority of these “enemies”, numbering well over 40,000? Unlike the 1,200 or so who were murdered a year ago, they are the nameless and detail-less men, women and children who cannot run fast enough from the “evacuation orders” before the fighter-bombers demonstrate their heartless power: rescuers trying to reach the dead and injured; a mother and her three daughters killed yesterday when their house was targeted; a man desperate to tend to his olive groves poisoned by white phosphorus bombings; a two-year-old whose legs were amputated, watching his friends run and play and asking his mother, “Will my legs grow back?” Practically speaking, these are the targets, for the most part.

            In the Old Testament, when God set a new standard for his people in dealing with offenses, he declared “eye for eye, tooth for tooth” (Exod. 21.24) to put an end to the disproportionate response to injuries so prevalent in the society of that day. He also instructed his people to designate cities of refuge, so that those seeking vengeance for injuries would not take it upon themselves to be judge, jury and executioner. Now, it seems there has been a huge step backward from this divinely-ordained standard; and rather than worshiping and obeying Yahweh, the Lord of all, obeisance is being done to Mars, the mythological god of war. This is without even addressing the standard set by Jesus Christ, who acknowledged the Old Testament rule yet developed it into one in which reconciliation is possible (Matt. 5.38-48).

LebCat 63: A wall just wide
enough for a kitten
(Mar Mikhael - 9 Sept. 2024)

            We are spending these days mostly at home, with necessary ventures to buy groceries, and having conversations with friends about the events of each day, or the preceding one, or the coming one. We listen to the fears of young and old, some declaring their loyalty to this besieged and beleaguered country, and others cursing their fate at being here at such a time. Enduring the sounds of earth-shaking bombing not far from home, a friend told me with tears how her seven-year-old son pleaded with her, “Mama, can we emigrate?” It is a struggle for many to keep clinging to faith, to hope and to love, focusing on the Author of those precious gifts.

            The final stanza of that Spiritual illuminates this struggle:

Over my head I see glory in the air.

Over my head I see glory in the air.

Over my head I see glory in the air.

There must be a God somewhere.

…And the prayer given us by the Lord Jesus: “Deliver us from evil (or the Evil One), for yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory.”  May it be so, dear God, and soon.  [LNB]

System Overload

62. System Overload (20 August 2024)

An artist found beauty in the colors
and shapes of Beirut rooftops and skies
(31 July 2024 - Mar Mikhael)

When you live in a country that makes you provide your own basic services – things that citizens of other countries can take for granted – you have to get good at guessing. For example, though we’ve been enjoying nearly non-stop electricity for over a year following the solar power installation on our building, there are still quirks. When the (currently nonexistent, pun intended) municipal current exceeds the normal 220 volts, a system overload occurs, and we are left in the dark. We figured out that we had to wait until the municipal power “calms down” to something under 240 volts, then switch the main power off and on to resume our electricity. Problem managed (not solved)! Other power interruptions still occur, and we’re still trying to guess why…

Finding a way to get the job done,
and nobody got hurt - I think
(29 Mar. 2024 - Geitawi)

            “Overload” is also a daily issue in a place and a community with a plethora of needs and concerns but a dearth of willing and capable hands. Those who are willing and capable can often (somewhat understandably) be very protective of their time and energy. Others may be on the job but lack the necessary capabilities. Still others are unwilling to learn or change. I regularly wonder how overloading is affecting those around me.

            So many people have left this region (the “dearly departed”) for a more balanced or safer or prosperous life, and those who haven’t (yet) left continue to care for the community and experience more system overload. Since I’m now (in a way) part of this latter group, I try not to think about the load-bearing that we are doing, and just continue to plug along. Occasionally we find a little bit of energy left to train and empower others who have the potential to work for the common good, with the hopes that they will continue to stay side-by-side with us and not take an offramp.

A sidewalk collage with a message...
whatever happens
(10 July 2024 - Gemmayzeh)

            I think that “system overload” also properly describes my thought world of the past year. I have been filled to overflowing with the barbarity and especially the counter-barbarity in the lands “South of the Border” to us; the genocidal onslaught on Armenia and Artsakh (to borrow another butcher’s words, “Who speaks nowadays of the destruction of Artsakh?”) by its neighbors, assisted by the resources of “the Middle East’s only democracy”, and emboldened by the inaction of its “friends”; the lack of depth, political sense or appreciation of heritage of those in power in the “Homeland”; the pervasive indifference and confusion of the Armenian Diaspora towards the existential threats it is facing; the diabolical contradiction between the words and actions of purported champions of human rights; all of this causes a huge “system overload” in my circuitry. Is this paragraph too long? That’s “system overload” doing its thing.

Far from Beirut's din, the peace
and majesty of the cedar forest
(22 July 2024 - Arz el Barouk)

            When surge protectors interrupt an electrical circuit, either the circuit stays off until the “reset” button is pressed, or they wait a few seconds before automatically restoring the current. Maybe all of us need surge protectors to keep us from these varieties of overloading, including the surplus data that is provided to our eyes and brains via our handheld devices. That excess of information, coupled with the lack of time to reflect on so many issues of substance, cause us to fall from our true humanity, in almost as insidious a way as Adam and Eve’s transgression did. And it may explain why in the past twelve months I’ve only managed to eke out one “Nshanakir”, and why I’ve been trying since April to write this one. Seems I’m having trouble locating the “reset” button on my surge protector.

            To switch the imagery and to do some self-correcting, something I tell those who say that they are in a pit or a rut is this: “When you find yourself stuck in a hole, the first rule is – Stop Digging.” Others may advise differently, like focusing on something positive, which may be particularly challenging when the “most moral army in the world” sends its warplanes over Beirut to terrify you, as we have been enjoying of late. Oh, right, stop digging.

            Yet searching for bright spots may be the best method to finding a way out of these many pits and potholes we encounter. Here are a few.

Newly-engaged, a bright spot needing
no electricity! (21 July 2024 - Geitawi)

            One bright spot is the occasional kind taxi driver that Maria encounters in her commute. These are usually “old-timers,” fellows who are not new to the job, who exude an attitude of politeness and caring, something in short supply these tense days. Of course, Maria has a distinct advantage over me in these exchanges, being that she can converse with them in Arabic. If nothing else, it gives me peace of mind and puts a smile in my heart when I hear that one of these gents has been her chauffeur that day.

            Another bright spot happened at a sweet shop on a hot afternoon last week, when I inadvisedly bought an ice cream cone. Almost instantly it turned into a colorful series of tributaries streaming down my hand onto the sidewalk. An employee rushed out of the store and put a stack of tissues on our table, then grabbed my cone and plopped what was left of it into a cup, speaking as if to reprimand the ice cream for making such a mess all over me. She shooed me into the store to wash up at the sink behind the counter, then made me tell her what flavors (of Arabic ice cream, of course) I had ordered. She had the ice cream server make up a new order for me in a cup, of course, with the cone sticking out of it at a rakish angle. After enjoying my ice cream I went back inside to thank her. “Walaw, walaw,” she politely dismissed my thanks. Based on her awareness and consideration, I figure she may have even told the guy inside to make sure to use cups whenever serving ice cream during Lebanon’s glorious summer heat.

LebCat 62 - "Will act cute for food"
(22 July 2024 - Deir al Qamar)

            It’s just like Fred Rogers’ mother told him as a little boy when he was frightened: “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” Bright spots are there for those who are looking for them.

            Of course, the brightest spot was indubitably Sevag’s annual month-long visit. It became even brighter when his girlfriend Rhoda arrived from Pennsylvania the last week of his visit and they surprised us by exchanging rings in the middle of a kebab lunch with dear friends. The happiness and brightness quotient soared that day, and there was no system overload anywhere to be found! A few days later we held a formal engagement ceremony in the Armenian tradition, placing the wedding bands on their right hands and invoking God’s blessing on their growing relationship.

            Thinking upon such bright spots definitely help us to bridge the “power interruptions” of these days!   [LNB]

Time and Flies

61. Time and Flies (3 February 2024)

A cloudy sunset in a cold and rainy winter
(1 Feb. 2024 - Manara-Beirut)

Among the unavoidables one encounters in life are time and flies. Both tend to fly, and in ways one would rather not experience. For example, all the miserable events of the past months rendered me incapable of harboring anything but angry thoughts, and the time for writing flew away just like that. Events like the brutal takeover of Artsakh, the desperate emptying of that Armenian homeland, and the disgraceful leadership of Armenia drained me of any desire or ability to express myself cogently. Sweeping the ethnic cleansing of Artsakh out of the news cycle was the brutal military incursion from Gaza into Israel, the unsurprising outcome of brutal occupation, repression and dehumanization by “the only democracy in the Middle East” and “the most moral army in the world,” the darling of the United States government. It added nothing but fuel to my desire to express nothing but outrage, and left me to watch time circle round and round above me like a vulture and regularly relieve itself on my head and shoulders. And through it all, having to witness the mendacity of world powers acting as if they are the defenders of the forgotten and downtrodden of the world caused yet more writer’s paralysis to freeze my fingers.

Planting hope at KCHAG conference center
(9 Dec. 2023 - Monteverde)

            What a trajectory: from our cautious optimism of this day seven years ago when we arrived in Lebanon (actual date: Feb. 1 – cf. Nshanakir No. 1), to today, when the humanity of humanity appears on the verge of collapse. People quickly get worked up about the potential threat “Artificial Intelligence” presents, robbing human beings of their agency and independence; yet the thirst and lust for destruction swirling about us springs directly from human hearts – no computer algorithms needed. A maelstrom is encompassing Lebanon, from the storms within, the self-serving “public servants”, the clash of a multiplicity of loyalties, the hopelessness of the population and the endemic lack of vision, to the simmering flames of war purposely being stoked in a country unable to deal with yet another crisis. Together these may form the “perfect storm” that will whip up winds to drive yet more of the youth and vitality Lebanon needs far from her shores.

How to tell you're not in Kansas anymore.
That and the McKafta burger (3 Sept. 2023 -
Nahr el Mawt)

            Speaking of storms, the abundant rain that has fallen (and continues to fall) this winter has brought about the collapse of infrastructure in every region of the country, with landslides, mudslides, and even Pigeon Rock-slides (the sidewalk alongside the road, that is). Recently, main roads flooded enough to cover the bottom half of the fire trucks sent out to rescue motorists from their cars. Long chains of trash wended their way down the Beirut River, flowing into the Mediterranean to join the trash sliding off of coastal “landfills”. These are just a few of the features of “Lebanon Winter Waterwonderland”.

            Since I’ve only gone skiing once in my life, and that was more than enough to eliminate any desire to continue skiing, I have adopted a new winter pastime: emptying water from car doors. It’s unlikely to be adopted as a sport at the Winter Olympics, but if it is, I may end up on the medals’ platform. Since the car’s rubber window seals are cracked and broken, heavy rains end up inside the doors, and when I do my usual evasive maneuvering while driving, the sloshing sound tells me it’s time to drain the doors. It’s a very small drain hole with an un-removable cover, so I stand, bent over, and hold it open for as long as 15 minutes until the trickle subsides. A couple of weeks ago the rain also ended up under the floorboards, so I got to sop up even more water. I just keep thinking about the medal that will one day hang around my neck.

From Quebec? Must have missed the turn
at Albequerque (18 Dec. 2023 - Beirut)

            Also on the subject of water, the other day the neighborhood dry cleaner, shaking his head at the nonexistent public works, remarked that Lebanon is a place where there is an abundance of water (referring to the rain and the flooding) but at the same time no water (the kind that is supposed to come out of the tap).

            Last week there was a yawn-worthy announcement in the news about driving in Lebanon. Apparently Lebanon has the most dangerous roadways in the world. Unmaintained roadways, poorly designed roadways, aggressive drivers, pedestrians crossing highways, pedestrians unschooled in the meaning of red lights, people at the edges of roadways (sidewalks? what sidewalks?) who are run over, increasing numbers of car thefts, cockroaches (actually motor scooters) weaving in and out of traffic in every direction, lack of proper signage, lack of people obeying what signage there is… the list just flies by at breakneck speed. While people behind you blast their horns because you are inconsiderately stopping for a red light.

            It was a cheerful moment last October, in an otherwise bleak year, to bring the Armiss choir back to the stage, even if only for two songs. Although it was a significantly smaller group than has performed in recent years, their musicianship and sincerity produced beauty in their singing. The occasion was the release of a book, “A Hundred Years of Lebanese-Armenian Choral Art” by Roubina Artinian. As we continue pursuing such artistic efforts as choral singing in these lean days it’s crucial to keep that longer perspective at the fore. We are part of a continuum in Armenian life and culture, and we must take advantage of that momentum so as not to lose heart and leave a legacy for those yet unborn.

A different view of the Genocide Memorial
and Research Institute
(25 Oct. 2023 - Yerevan)

            Not only has a hundred years flown by for Lebanese-Armenian choirs, the church Union in which we are serving is also begun its centennial year, joining a processional of centennials of Armenian churches, schools and institutions in the Middle East. For the Union, a June celebration is in the works that will be the next target event for me and the Armiss Choir. But it will be tinged with a bittersweet taste due to the reason behind the founding of all these community structures, namely the Armenian Genocide. It is there, lurking in the shadows of everything we do, not just as an historical memory from the early 20^th century, but also through the ongoing, contemporary annihilation of Armenian presence from its own homeland by perpetrators such as Turkey and Azerbaijan, and through the passivity of “friendly powers” that provide little more than pity to the ongoing human and cultural destruction of people groups (not just Armenians) in their native lands.

LebCat 61 - "Won't one of you
put down your phone long
enough to pet me?" (1 Feb.
2024 - Mar Mikhael-Beirut)

            I made a short trip to Armenia in October to see my sister and brother-in-law, and at every turn was faced with concern over Lebanon. “Is it safe there? Aren’t you going back to the U.S.?” And the least-informed question, “Why don’t they just stop bothering Israel?” Many people were sure that Lebanon was on the threshold of war, and few people accepted my observation that all was not as it appeared on the surface… just as the preoccupation with shopping and night life in Yerevan are not indicative of the precarious status of Armenia. Looking around while I was there, the impression I got was that Armenia has not a care in the world, even though Azerbaijan is preparing to wipe it off the map to claim what it brazenly calls “Western Azerbaijan”.

            Lest I forget, yes, there are the flies: drain flies, that is. Our building’s staircase has been infested with them for several months, and they occasionally find their way into our apartment. They aren’t disease-carriers, thankfully. But they are annoying. And since I can’t seem to locate where they are breeding and deal a deadly blow by dumping a bucket of hot water down their drain, all I can do is squish them on the walls where they alight. Too bad every intractable problem can’t be managed so easily.   [LNB]

Oh Wow Fives

60. Oh Wow, Fives! (23 August 2023)

Faces of loved ones sacrificed in the 2020
Port explosion – a pain and an injustice
continually ignored by authorities.
(4 Aug. 2023 - Beirut Port)

I went into a store here in Beirut to buy something, and as I prepared to pay in Lebanon’s official currency – the U.S. dollar – the cashier saw I had taken out $5 bills and exclaimed  (in English), “Oh wow, fives!” Her delight was due to the fact that as businesses, great and small, abandon the use of the Lebanese Pound, they are always in need of small denominations of U.S. currency to return change to their customers. I provided a much-needed resource to a small business, as people struggle to make their way through daily life unassisted by any authorities, swimming in that morass of disinterest and disconnection that is the country’s ruling elite. Courtesy of our son Sevag’s annual visit to us here in Lebanon, we enjoy the privilege of having small denominations of U.S. currency. Here I was, the hero of the moment, with my crumpled and discolored images of Abraham Lincoln, bringing a moment of joy in the middle of the hot, muggy summer.

But seriously, can't you tell that the
infrastructure has improved?
(11 June 2023 - Bourj Hammoud)

            One of the most distasteful aspects of my life today in Lebanon (though by no means the only one) is the necessity to focus or fixate on monetary issues. Lebanese, especially Beirutis, have always made currency exchange rates, values of precious metals, gasoline prices and more their daily small talk. Though there is so much more to life, though much greater depth is possible in conversation, but this is what one hears from each passerby, from men gathered at curbsides, from women catching their breath over a cup of coffee: the never-ending stream of analysis and “expertise” that has supplanted hopes, dreams and ideals – the very things that young and old should be actively investing in their country in order to push it toward a brighter future. Instead, materialism, reinforced by circumstances created by those in power and their cooperative external powers, is pushing the brightness out of the country just to dissolve in diasporas around the world.

Watermelon? Strawberry gelatin? Sevag and
I puzzled over this one at the Mineral
Museum. (1 Aug. 2023 - Mathaf, Beirut)

            The impact of all of this upon the Armenian community in Syria and Lebanon is what troubles me the most. As the Dons of this kleptocracy look for new ways to fill their stomachs – most recently by a farcical “helicopter tour” of the new oil-drilling rig off the Lebanese coast –small and “unimportant” groups such as the Armenian community are left to fend for themselves. It is interesting to see how a country can continue to appear as a functioning entity while running on “autopilot”. A bit of electricity here, some trash collection there, fixing a water main when it breaks, leaving NGOs to install street lighting and traffic lights, and repair the worst potholes as highways steadily deteriorate, while many, many employees in the public sector come to work but once every one or two weeks, as their monthly salaries hardly cover the cost of transportation – this is today’s Lebanon.

When gas prices rise too high, there are
still great ways to make use of your auto!
(3 June 2023 - Ainjar)

            We’ve been noticing one of the semi-comical expressions of that while driving around various parts of the country with Sevag. It’s the “LPO mode” that auto owners have entered: “License Plate Optional”. Earlier this year I began to notice an absence of license plates of some cars on the road. Now it is probably up to 5 to 10 percent of cars. The office that processes car registrations is clearly not functioning. But in classic Lebanese manner the population is facing the situation with humor. It’s considered a badge of honor to drive an LPO car, even to the point, some say, that people will remove their license plates just to be seen as part of the LPO club!

            This summer I walked into a store in Ainjar, the mostly-Armenian village in the Bekaa valley. Whenever we’re going to be there for a few days I’ll stop in to pick a thing or two, and often times, since this is Ainjar, and since, due to my position, I can’t remain anonymous, I’ll run into people I know including people who know me since the 1990s, or the 2000s, or current times. The lady behind the counter, who does not belong to one of the aforementioned groups, asked me, in Armenian of course, “Are you Ainjartsi (her intent: “originally from Ainjar, but visiting from overseas”)? My interest piqued, I said, “No, I’m not. Why do you ask?” With no hint of malice or sarcasm, just puzzlement, she said, “Well, lots of people are very happy when they see you.”

Providing an unintentional glimpse into
the dysfunction of the country.
(4 Aug. 2023 - Tabaris, Beirut)

            Amid such a negative environment I’m glad we can have positive encounters with those we meet, and grateful that our casual interactions can be uplifting. Certainly, this is not something we can automatically produce: without God’s encouragement in our times of frustration and discouragement we would have little to share with others. As well, without organizations backing us up it would be a challenge to remain positive in the enforced misery people are subjected to each day. So, I don’t mind being mistaken for an “Ainjartsi”, and I don’t mind that (most) people are happy to see me!

            During the summer a small group of young Lebanese-Armenians in their twenties, on their own initiative, approached Haigazian University in order to present a film series, seven items in all, ranging the gamut from practically “home-made” to professionally produced. Their emphasis was on increasing the public’s knowledge of Western Armenia and elevating the use of the Western Armenian language. They delivered their introductions each evening in flawless Western Armenian as well as English, and it was clear that they cared deeply about the entire project, and plan to expand their efforts to develop other materials that would interest young Armenians in their heritage, using modern pedagogical methods in a technologically accessible way. The name with which they christened their platform is “Hnarti” /Հնարդի, combining the Armenian words for “old” and “contemporary”. Despite the hemorrhaging of young blood from the Middle East, vision and vitality can still emerge from this community.

LebCat 60: Every pharmacy should have a
watchcat at the door.
(14 Aug. 2023 - Hamra, Beirut)

            In eight weeks I’m hoping to bring the Armiss Choir back on stage to sing one or two numbers. Hopefully a couple other Lebanese choral groups will also perform. A colleague and dear friend has just published a book on a century of Lebanese-Armenian choirs (1920-2020). The dedication of the new book will happen in October, and part of the dedication program will be vocal selections. From real choirs singing in harmony. Live – which is how music is best done. So, it’s time to get things organized and underway, and to invest a bit more in the health of the country and in a couple of its modest but essential components, that is, the arts, the Lebanese-Armenian community and the Armenian Evangelical Church.

            Finally, something to talk about besides currency rates!   [LNB]

Messiness

59. Messiness (31 May 2023)

Even the utility poles are puzzled.
(9 May 2023 - Geitawi, Beirut)

It’s not unusual to hear someone comment that “life is messy”. Relationships are messy. Theory applied to real life is messy. Faith in action is messy. International relations are messy. So much messiness. So frustrating.

            Local messiness – that is, life in your own neighborhood – aside from potentially being frustrating and somewhat infuriating, can also be intriguing, and even sometimes beguiling. The month of May being the “Marian” month, we often heard recorded Maronite chants loudly filling the neighborhood, both from stationary (the small church behind our building) sound systems as well as mobile ones (huge speakers sitting on a car roof, as it led a mini motorcade snaking around all of the area’s streets). Although I have all but discontinued listening to recorded music, these melodies fascinate me, even when they are Arabic words set to familiar Western hymn or orchestral tunes.

A beauty of a building in beastly
condition (16 May 2023 -
Ashrafieh, Beirut)

            The street in front of our building is the main artery connecting our neighborhood, with its two major hospitals, to the neighborhood of Mar Mikhael, the dollarized drinker’s Shangri-la. Which means in addition to the late night, loud conversations as people walk between their apartments and the bars, we also get ambulance traffic, complete with sirens. And so, yesterday the ecclesiastical chants boomed from speakers behind us while sirens wailed from the street in front of us. It was a strange effect, the messy “music” of our neighborhood, both off-putting as well as fascinating, both alarming and strangely comfortable. A moment of eternity and human fragility. In an audible way it epitomized our neighborhood as well as our lives.

            Maria occasionally says, “Everybody around here knows you, don’t they?” We, too, have become part of the backdrop of this neighborhood, sought out by producers for their movies and soap operas. When I pass through these streets seated in the back of a taxi, shopkeepers will occasionally wave to me as I go by, just proving my wife’s point. I find that being part of the local messiness allows me to wave a greeting to shopkeepers and continue on my way without feeling obligated to submit to their entreaties. No offense intended, nor taken.

When walls talk...
(23 May 2023 - Khalil Badawi)

            A nearby bakery is run by a fellow who was formerly chef at a fancy restaurant, along with his wife and son. The menu at any local bakery throughout Beirut is very predictable: small pizza-sized manouché, with either zaatar (thyme) or cheese on top. Plus lahmbajiin (lahmajun for us Armenians), mini pizzas (with the inescapable canned corn topping) and spinach pies. Occasional variants are out there, but this is mostly it – the typical Lebanese breakfast food. This baker, however, features his wife’s home-cooked dinner entrees for lunch. Each morning I receive a photo of the whiteboard on the easel out front with the plat du jour written on it.

            One day recently I went to get two portions of this “slow food served in a hurry” – something made with flat beans, a few cubes of beef, swimming in lots of its juices. You have to understand, whenever I stop there to get the plat du jour, or even just to inquire about it, Tony (name not changed to expose the guilty) nonetheless insists on feeding me a soup spoon full of whatever the main course is. Although I’m going to be eating that exact dish in a few minutes, I am required to sample it right then and there in his shop! Well, that’s where my American logic kicks in – not pure logic, but suburban American logic, which considers this kind of behavior as unnecessary, unhygienic and imposing. You know – the logic that prohibits all the things that help people feel they are part of a community. Until now I was able to emerge from these force-feedings unscathed. But last week the plat du jour did me in. Tony placed almost the entire spoonful into my mouth, but a bit of the juice ended up running down my shirt. Not a problem, he handed me a tissue to wipe it off… So, the rest of the day I wore that badge of honor on my shirt, a tribute to our messy/friendly/business relationship. Each time he feeds me a spoonful of the plat du jour (even if I don’t buy it that day) is followed by “Good, no?” in his borderline English. To I invariably answer in my borderline Arabic: “Akeed!” (“Of course!”) or “Tayyib!” (“Tasty!). And it is! Messy and tasty!

How many languages do you need to get the
message? (30 May 2023 - Bourj Hammoud)

            I’ve experienced similar encounters all around the neighborhood, each one deepening the connection. At the falafel place up the street I am called “Abouna” (“Father”) by the owner, who also invariably hands me a piece of falafel to munch on while he makes the falafel sandwiches. A bonus! At another bakery the baker knows my usual order and rather than me ordering my usual “cocktail” (round flat bread, thin and a bit crispy, with half zaatar and half cheese), when I enter he says, “Cocktail?” and all I need to do is smile and nod. At the mini-markets around here I am also a known quantity, but I enjoy seeing the puzzled look on the shopkeepers’ faces when I show up in clergy garb, knowing I have messed up the category I have been inhabiting. The next time I enter the store they are clearly unsure about how to address me…

A mini-marathon to celebrate 80 years of
Armenian Evangelical Education!
(20 May 2023 - Ainjar)

            None of this is an excuse for the mess that passes for a government here, or the absence of public utilities that brings ever more electric wires to the mess of wires overhead to make up for that absence, or the lack of desire to pursue the common good, only the advantage of your own group's “boss” (witness the recent elections in Turkey). And I haven’t even begun to speak of the state of Armenian communities, organizations and institutions the world over, including Armenia, swimming in money and expertise (and, in the case of Armenia, tourists), but lacking the clarity that comes from a well-studied and broadly accepted national direction.

            We Armenians caught a brief glimpse of unity 105 years ago when, despite the shortcomings of officialdom, Armenian leaders organized troops and volunteers to put a stop to the genocidal enemy’s plan to overrun and annihilate Eastern Armenia along with its Western Armenian refugees. The battles in May 1918 at Bash-Abaran, Kara-Kilise and Sardarabad are a paradigm of wise strategy and unity in the midst of disarray and discouragement in the wake of the “ethnic cleansing” perpetrated by Ottoman Turkey. Today, as the same enemy continues the same genocidal efforts from Artsakh to Armenia, we are amazed at the country’s indifference towards these existential threats, and its inability to find, foster, or choose leadership with these qualities and this far-sightedness. What a mess our people are in!

LebCat 59: "This is Tony's bakery, right?
He uses cheese, right?"
(19 May 2023 - Mar Mikhael, Beirut)

            Messiness is how life is. But being a mess is simply irresponsible.

            As we do our daily adjusting to the messiness of existence and all the predictable unpredictability of life in Lebanon, we of course keep in mind the training we dutifully took as part of our appointment here, which instructed us to avoid having the same daily routine, to change our commuting routes each day, to have contingency plans at the ready, to be on the lookout for threats, and so forth. And we scratch our heads. And we trust God.   [LNB]

Hesaid-Shesaid Disease

58. Hesaid-Shesaid Disease (30 April 2023)

It's springtime, and the Mediterranean is not
too cold for a swim. (2 Apr. 2023 - AUB, Beirut)

Supermarkets in the U.S. have (or used to have) bulletin boards near the entrance, a place to post community activity announcements, job advertisements, lost dog posters, Fire Prevention Week fliers, you name it. Occasionally I would notice someone standing and examining each notice; but usually these bulletin boards were merely something to pass on your way out or your way into the store. Now, times have changed, and the bulletin board as well as its relative, the newspaper gossip column, have transformed into a new, electronic format, eagerly consumed by people the world over.

“Lake Laziza” – stagnant waters
collecting in the site of yet another
useless construction project.
(27 Mar. 2023 - Mar Mikhael)

            Social media platforms guide the thinking of so many people, young and old. Sometimes it guides its users to access well-thought-out writings about important issues or events. Often it entices us into habits that divert us from looking deeply or critically into topics. I would propose that our God-given minds and consciences are also “platforms” to help us consider what is true, or beautiful, or healthy, as well as what is “good, acceptable and perfect” (cf. Romans 12.2). The condition of today’s “marketplace of ideas” – a condition that predates the Internet – swarms with lies and half-truths, as well as with vested interests, mixed together with Truth. Separating the worthwhile from the worthless is akin to trying to separate the ingredients of a tabbouleh salad once it is mixed.

            But effort must be spent in separating the good and bad, no matter how painstaking the task. The discipline of deep thinking, including research and debate, is crucial to avoiding a relativism, antagonism and shallowness. And it is a rare, perhaps endangered, species.

Another sign of spring, high in the mountains
of Lebanon (10 Mar. 2023 - Azzounieh)

            At one time newspapers and periodicals bristled with the pointed tips of journalistic and academic inquiry. They played an essential role in in piercing shells of deceit and kept the “He said-She said Disease”, so prevalent in partisan and entertainment “news”. It pushed back the waves of mendacity of the powerful, and challenged vested interests. Where there should be courageous truth-telling, too often news reports are filled with “he said this, but, on the other hand, she said that”. A shrug of the shoulders, and on to the next story.

             And this is why April is the bitterest month for Armenians. They suffer from the “Hesaid-Shesaid Disease” that runs rampant in popular and populist media. Their just cause, and the unacknowledged and unpunished crime against them, has been turned into a target of the propaganda war by those responsible – the governments of Turkey and Azerbaijan. The Armenian nation, in its struggling Eastern portion, and its exiled Western portion, has been seated at a table replete with impotent statements of sympathy from world powers demonstrating their prowess in verbal gymnastics.

And this is why we now have 24-hour
electricity. And a working elevator.
(6 Apr. 2023 - Geitawi, Beirut)

           Caught in such a worldwide web as this, it is no wonder that militant groups have emerged from among all subjugated people groups, and not just from Armenians. Those who are silenced or sidelined from public forums can often see no other way than this: to force the powerful to pay attention to (and sometimes feel on their own skin) the injustices that are freely roaming the streets of every city and country, easily ignored by an otherwise occupied public. Sadly, the chronic disenfranchisement of such people groups leads to their disarray, dismemberment and dissolution, something widely observed among my people. 

        Allowing “Hesaid-Shesaid Disease” to spread unchecked may be intentional. It enables genocidal regimes to bend the wills of “great powers” who don’t want to endanger their access to resources. It allows Turkey and Azerbaijan to declare historic Armenian lands and culture as its own. It emboldens them to claim that Armenia and Armenians never existed. It gives them a green light to persist in their genocidal policies, both “soft genocide” and “hard genocide”. It gives credence to Hitler’s dismissal of concerns over his genocide against the Polish people, telling his generals in 1939 to abandon their humanitarian scruples: “Who speaks nowadays of the annihilation of the Armenians?”

Armenian scouts headed to their Saturday
meeting, while street lights are being
replaced with solar-powered LED fixtures.
(15 Apr. 2023 - Khalil Bedawi, Beirut)

            The disease has no cure. It is as old as the dialogue between Adam and God in the Garden of Eden (cf. Genesis 3.9-13) and ingrained within the human heart. Although it cannot be eradicated, it can – and must – be kept at bay. As mentioned earlier, deep and rigorous thinking is one of the necessary treatment regimens. Another is careful and considerate listening, something that takes time and commitment. And time is one of the casualties of the information/entertainment glut engulfing the world. The third treatment is to “make love your aim” or to “follow the way of love” (cf. I Corinthians 14.1). Loving others as yourself. Loving the truth. Loving (including a fear of) God. 

LebCat 58 - Not sure how I got into this
building (UAECNE HQ). Could you provide
me with an escape route? Please?
(26 Mar. 2023 - Geitawi, Beirut)

                            April 24th – Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day – has come and gone, with various and sundry observances here in Lebanon and in many places throughout the world. It was noted by the diseased as well. The governor of Istanbul forbade its observance for the second year in a row. Azerbaijan increased its propaganda about the nefarious designs of the Armenian government, and intensified its military aggression against Armenia and Artsakh. Therefore, I have no choice but to do my part to combat this disease with faith in God, for the sake of my descendants and the inheritance of their rightful legacy.   [LNB]