Listening for Joy

66. Listening for Joy (31 August 2025)

Trust the Lebanese to find humor in the 
threat of bombing. (5 July 2025 - Antelias)

It almost never fails. From a nearby balcony on Sunday afternoons I can hear the sounds of children laughing, playing, splashing, arguing, making up, and the occasional sound of adult intervention when needed. I’ve never seen these children, but I know that they are an integral part of the soundscape around our Geitawi apartment on Sundays. It seems that this family does not go up to the cool mountains, like so many Beirutis do, but content themselves with their apartment (I don’t even know which building they are in!) and their games on the balcony. I can tell that one of them is a boy, because since I’ve started innocently eavesdropping a couple of years ago, one of the voices has started to get deeper and gruffer. The joy of their play brings me joy, as well as a bit of longing to be able to witness firsthand their innocent and fierce childhood interaction.

Adding some color to the usual drab 
concrete - not a bad idea. 
(2 July 2025 - Geitawi, Beirut) 

            How is it that they are able to be so carefree, when Lebanon, the region, and beyond is in such turmoil? Isn’t it because they are children, and they have not yet been burdened with the cares and woes of adolescence, youth and maturity? Nearby are their protectors, the elders of the family, and there is no need to think beyond the moment. It is as it should be.

            Since returning from the U.S. this summer, each night my mind has been occupied with the antithesis of these children’s world: the security situation in the country, the threats from Lebanon’s erstwhile “neighbors”, with their warplanes and their self-justifications. Images of children and adults being deliberately starved and bombed for no particular objective other than to create misery and usurp their homeland. Additionally, my mind is crowded with reports of the actions of the elected leaders of “our homeland” (as we Armenians like to call the land which has never been “home”), ceding the past, future and present of Armenia to those who have repeatedly betrayed us; relying on smiles, promises and handshakes; increasingly suppressing dissent from current governmental policies and proclamations. Add to this the careless rush of so many individuals and people groups toward a more mechanized, inhuman and technology-ruled future…

Works perfectly, as long as there is no 
emergency. (18 June 2025 - AUH, Beirut)

            The cacophony that occupied my jet-lagged mind in those weeks contained no joy. Though my jet-lag has mostly passed, but the inner cacophony continues, since the present, tragic condition of this world shows little evidence of substantial improvement or hope. Enduring nightmarish nights, I eventually realized I must seek joy elsewhere, after the morning’s light, when I could intentionally focus on life and hope. And intentionally do the same during my evening prayers, making the nights more tolerable. To focus on the joy that I can discern.

            Like a child beginning to walk learns by walking and experimenting with the best way to keep his balance, I am finding a way out of the funk of each day by squinting expectantly in this direction or that. Something is bound to suggest to me that, yes, there is joy to be found.

Mirrors and mosaics at the refurbished 
"Jim's Steaks" (5 Aug 2025 - Philadelphia)

            To start with, I am learning to watch and listen for joy amid the noise, and not wait for things to improve in order to shift my focus. Here is some of what I found.

            Recently at a school program I had a friend’s three-year-old on my lap as we waited for the program to start. I was enjoying interacting with her, perhaps a bit too much. Soon I realized that I was undermining the careful guidance her parents had instilled in her. I also realized that I was relishing the moment too much to help her behave… or to behave myself! But it was a potent injection of joy!

Somebody has some wild ideas for a new 
sidewalk design. (19 Aug. 2025 - Geitawi)

                              When visiting elders at the Armenian Sanatorium, a few of us pastors went into the room of a bedridden woman, and heard her singing, unprompted, the very same song of assurance that we had just been singing outside. It was a message from God that he was present in her room before we showed up, reminding us of his care. Another influx of joy and peace!

            Driving back from exercising one night I noticed red and blue flashing lights. In my (North American) experience that could mean only one thing: an emergency vehicle, perhaps a police car, or a fire engine, or an ambulance. I should be pulling over and letting it pass as quickly as possible, right? However, this is Lebanon, and as I approached the flashing lights, I realized that the “emergency lights” were something else. A taxi, with its shiny chrome accessories and colorful garlands around the windows, either picking up or dropping off a customer. It could have also been a water delivery truck, or even a coffee van, both of which make use of those red and blue strobes. I used to be bothered by this “misuse” of emergency lights. Now I just smile and shake my head. Smiling is not a substitute for joy, but it helps calm things down inside.

LebCat 66 - Keeping a watchful eye over 
shoppers on Arax Street. 
(22 Aug. 2025 - Bourj Hammoud)

        On a recent night when I was taking the trash to the dumpster across the street I was taken aback by the illumination on our building’s usual pitch-black section of the street. I looked up, and on the utility pole was a brand-new, solar-powered street light! Whirling around to the other end of our building I saw a second street light, shining in the darkness! For some reason, the municipality finally replaced those two lights, which had been burned out and covered with overgrown trees for at least as long as we’ve been here in Lebanon. Fortunately, I wasn’t so disoriented that I forgot to dump the trash.

            The other week I was alone on the balcony mid-day, with the sound of traffic, and horns, and trash trucks, with the hammering and yelling from a nearby construction site, and the incessant rumbling of private generators all around me, when I heard… the laughter and chatter of children’s voices. Could it be? It wasn’t a Sunday, but like a bird chirping in the middle of a rainstorm, there it was! A moment of joy, a vicarious participation in the carefree play of those neighbor children.

            So perhaps those glimpses of joy are always there, and what I need to do is to calm down and pay attention so as to hear or see these points of joy, and then to be refreshed and encouraged to carry on. And to realize that when I continue my work in a positive and loving frame of mind, I can provide others with a glimpse of joy to see and be encouraged by.

            I think I’ll make this a habit.   [LNB]

Welcome Home

65. Welcome Home (14 April 2025)

"MLGA" - doesn't roll off the tongue very
nicely. I wonder how it would look on a cap?
(14 Apr. 2025 - Bourj Hammoud)

It has been almost four weeks since our return to Beirut from our “home assignment”, and we are relieved to be back. Not because everything is rosy or easy, but because we have a sense that we are where we are supposed to be, where we are called to be. Yes, the electricity and water supply is still unstable. Yes, the Internet is sometimes there, sometimes not, but always slow. Yes, the roads are full of people who care even less than before about how they drive. Yes, they still think that their car horns will magically cause the traffic in front of them to disappear. Yes, buildings continue to ascend to serve those who do not feel the pain of ordinary Lebanese. Yes, the economy is still in tatters, banks are continuing to abuse depositors, and we have to carry around dollars for larger purchases (such as groceries at the supermarket). Yes, the disparity between rich and poor is stark, and people mostly don’t notice the poor around them. Yes, drones still ply the skies overhead on behalf of “The Chosen”, to take note of and eliminate “The Rejected” and crush and kill “The Unlucky”. And, yes, the attacks by our war-mongering southern “neighbor” continues to be cheered on by the Machiavellian foreign policy of our home country. After we shared the news of the first attack on Beirut since our return, our son Sevag wrote to us: “Welcome home.” Sincere and ironic at the same time.

The end of another old building,
the beginning of another high-rise.
(25 Mar. 2025 - Ras Beirut)

            Sunday, April 13, marked a half-century since the Lebanese Civil War. It was a war, for sure, but the “civil” moniker is a debatable point. Wars are never polite, but more than that, it was not merely the outcome of local, societal tensions, but rather a product of regional conflicts, fueled by powers outside the region. In recent days we watched and read some remembrances and news commentaries, with lots of archival footage reminding us of that era in Lebanon. We lived through just a few – nine months’ worth – of the Civil War, when I was a theology student at NEST and Maria was a nurse at the American University Hospital. Perhaps it was at that time when Beirut started to occupy the quality of “home” in my thoughts and feelings. It was then that I had connected to something deeper than the misery and uncertainty of the war, something which some of my friends, now emigrated to the West, found puzzling. They would express their wonder: “You love this place more than us!”

The joy of children's "Hosannas"!
(13 Apr. 2025 - Qantari, Beirut

            But “home” is more than geography. It is geography plus people plus meaning. That is something we have found here, in this battered scrap of the remnant of Western Armenia. We regularly hear the comment, “Lebanon is such a beautiful country, but the people are trash! That’s the problem with this country.” Upon hearing this, a friend of ours countered, “But the people are beautiful, too! We have such dear ones around us, like you, to share a cup of coffee with!” Yesterday, during Palm Sunday services, I reminded myself that the presence of the children singing God’s praises, right before us, is more valuable than the memories of past Palm Sundays when there were so many more children, or when times were “better”.

Beirut ProTip: You can always find a place to
park if you look for the "No Parking" signs.
(11 Apr. 2025 - Hamra, Beirut)

            Living with contrasts and contradictions; that’s what it’s like to live in Lebanon. Some of the most beautiful springtime flowers in Beirut are the variegated orange blooms that come up amidst bright green leaves [Nasturtiums, for you gardeners] – and they are often seen proliferating… around garbage dumpsters. Or, to keep people from parking on sidewalks and to open up a place to walk instead of the streets, bollards are installed everywhere, to the point where you can’t walk on the sidewalks because the bollards take up all the space. Or, on Bliss Street, at the crosswalk across from the Main Gate of the American University, concrete blocks were placed in the street to keep people from double and triple parking and to improve the traffic flow. The result is that people double and triple park next to the obstacles, and so traffic on Bliss Street crawls more slowly in the narrow path remaining. And then there are the rubble-filled lots, or the bullet-ridden buildings that have been abandoned since the Civil War, that, thanks to nature, have given a bit of extra greenery to the crowded streets, while also serving as public toilets for taxi drivers. None of this is new to me, but it showed itself afresh as I reinstituted my daily walks, something I had scant opportunity to do while in the U.S.

 

Is Beirut still screaming? Shouldn't it be
louder? (28 Mar. 2025 - Gemmayzeh, Beirut)

           Last week while driving to the dojo where I work out I found myself stuck in a traffic jam, different than the usual evening rush hour. Motorbikes were weaving in and out of the rows of cars, some of them on delivery routes, but others of them with flags and Palestinian scarves. As I inched forward, I realized that I was headed into a demonstration. The wide sidewalk at Ain el Mraisseh was crowded with people, likely both Lebanese and Palestinians, protesting the war on Gaza. It seemed that those driving by were more in number than those on the sidewalk, though I didn’t stop and count. But as with all crises, including all the abuses perpetrated upon the Lebanese by their leaders, along with the rampant corruption infecting all spheres of life, things that may prove too entrenched to eradicate any time soon, those who just want to get on with their business (like me) will remain in the majority. Instead of resisting and raising our voices, we will merely complain and move on. But if it’s your home that’s at risk, shouldn’t you try to do more?

LebCat 65: Waiting for that one phone call,
that big break that will turn everything
around! (12 Apr. 2025 - Geitawi, Beirut)

            And so, my thoughts inevitably go to Armenia, both the part that the international community sort-of recognizes as well as the parts that are either ignored or considered inconvenient (even by some in Armenia’s officialdom). Calling Armenia “home” or “homeland” should lead us to do more than simply to hold a remembrance event on April 24. It must unite – in our thoughts, feelings and especially our actions – land, people and meaning, in the pursuit of what is just, not what is convenient. To that end, for the sake of “our homeland,” what am I doing? And what are you doing?   [LNB]

Who Are You Fooling

64. Who Are You Fooling? (11 November 2024)

A side street in autumnal Beirut
(4 Nov. 2024 - Gemmayzeh)

We’ve been telling people, “We will only be gone for four months,” as we prepare for our mandated “home assignment.” We’re going to the U.S. to have meetings and travel around to talk about our work, as well as to have our term agreement renewed. This was all supposed to happen next summer, but as Lebanon’s stability and safety became more questionable, and as Israel spread more and more misery around, our supporting bodies moved that four-month excursion to a fairly immediate departure, just four days from now. When we say to our colleagues and friends, “We’ll be back in four months,” are we fooling anyone with this hopeful but uncertain declaration? Who knows what monstrosities are yet to be perpetrated on peoples indigenous to the region, with the bloody complicity of the government of “the land of the free and the home of the brave”? Who are we fooling except ourselves?

Even Lebanon's cargo holders are painfully
crying "Akh!" (20 Oct. 2024 - Yerevan)

            Genocide, or “ethnic cleansing”, or “ensuring our security”, or the legion of other names assigned to it is so commonplace that we are no longer repulsed by the word – except when you are the one promulgating this policy. Exterminating those in the way of your expansionist designs is acceptable practice around the world, whether by Israel or Azerbaijan or Turkey (the ones that most immediately impact me as an Armenian, also linked together by their cooperative genocidal efforts). Brutality obliterates morality, and all the hand-wringing in the world will not protect the rescuers and witnesses trying to bring a modicum of humanity to this misery. As Israel targets hospitals, ambulances and journalists, and laughingly destroys families and lands, and as Azerbaijan (with Israeli technology) and Turkey destroy Armenian architectural heritage, convert churches to mosques or lying about their origin, they prepare themselves to richly receive the wrath of God (see Romans 1).

Political parties marking out their
territory, just like it was... 50 years ago.
(11 Nov. 2024 - Geitawi)

            Also puzzling are the regular announcements of an imminent cease-fire, an imminent end to hostilities in Gaza, the West Bank and Lebanon. Is the intent to fool a gullible public somewhere in the world? Or to raise hopes among those subjected to this sub-humanity, so as to shatter those hopes completely? Depending on who you talk to, this war will either be over in a couple of weeks, or will continue until Lebanon is also annexed and ceases to exist except on 20^th century maps.

            What causes me the most pain is seeing the long-term effects of this attack on Lebanon and the impotence or unwillingness to confront it, particularly as it relates to inter-communal relations. Apparently one of the aims of this war is to create internecine strife, pitting one community or demographic against another, trading blame, scapegoating, and so forth. It’s the “divide-and-conquer” approach of any occupying power throughout history.

Hopefully these children will be
just as enthusiastic about
actually reading.
(25 Oct. 2024 - Yerevan)

            Coming to an even more personal level, the wartime conditions further threaten and weaken the Armenian community of the country and region, and therefore the church, moreso than it already was last fall. Rather than us thinking ahead and building towards a more healthy and stable society, we are witnesses to the dismantling of what has been built for the last century. The saddest of all is the dismantling of families. Armenian parents actively encouraging their children to emigrate. Armenians with dual nationalities permanently, not temporarily, relocating. Skyrocketing numbers of divorces among Armenians. Rampant substance abuse, physical, sexual and mental abuse, wasting of income on legal and non-sanctioned gambling.

            Those of us in positions of responsibility must now focus on disasters at the expense of other non-urgent but important issues. Recalling the post-Genocide period, when the Armenian people were subject to similar stresses, the people in leadership intentionally looked at the community’s long-term needs and urgencies, not just immediate relief work, and built a legacy that endures till today. In this crisis if we must find a way not only to ameliorating people’s suffering from the war, but moreso to plan with faith for the future of what is the most important center of the Armenian Diaspora. Without visioning and planning we are only fooling ourselves into thinking that this community will continue its existence.

The faces and names of soldiers who fought
and died in the Artsakh war and
deportation, graffitied all over
the capital. (2 Nov. 2024 - Yerevan)

            One cannot help but feel a change in the capital, after the influx of a million internally displaced people on top of the three million residents of the metro area. Cars parked everywhere. Unfamiliar faces and dress. Arguments, fights and much worse over “squatters rights”. Generators catching fire from overloads while municipal electricity is scarcely supplied. The diffidence of what few police and army personnel are still visible. If Lebanon was a DIY country (see my previous post), then this is a DIY war, where the population is left alone to figure things out and survive by their own wits or connections, while bosses continue their decades old, self-serving political wrangling as usual.

            And when the war inevitably ends, what then? Will things magically return to their previous state, and people effortlessly drift back to their flattened villages? Will massacred families and clans magically reappear and reclaim their birthright? How much can one country fool itself? I say “one country”, although Lebanon is not really one country but an amalgam of tribes living within one political boundary. The building and rebuilding of society and the development of a healthy social contract where none are marginalized is one of the greatest challenges facing Lebanon in the coming decades, and is something that has been waiting to be addressed for its entire history.

LebCat 64: Intensely focused on birds
flying around... and certainly aware that
it is only a reflection? But they're so close!
(9 Nov. 2024 - Bourj Hammoud)

            Meanwhile, our friends’ faces bear fearful and questioning looks when we tell them about our change in plans. “You must know something, that’s why you’re going,” they say outright or imply non-verbally. Try as we may, we are unable to assure them that we have no insider knowledge about what is to come, something that contradicts their doubts concerning why we are leaving now instead of later. We cannot fool them into thinking otherwise, nor do we want to. And we hope we are not the fools, either. Only through hope in God can we look forward to their fears being disproved.

            So, without any self-deception, but with faith and hope we lovingly say that in four months we will be willing and able to return and continue our part in that work, “with God’s permission”, as the Arabic saying goes (“bi’izn Allah”).   [LNB]

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 points of light in the sky over Beirut. Are they stars overhead, or something more sinister? Reconnaissance drones, with eyes probing every square centimeter of the city, are monitoring moves and tracking targets. Mostly invisible in the bright daylight in this area of the city, 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]