Same But Different

69. Same But Different (4 August 2026)

A memorial walkway, with one olive tree for
each one who died, and their name engraved 
on a plaque (4 Aug. 2026 - Port of Beirut)

For the past six years the same scene on the coastal highway of Beirut plays like a rerun. Crowds gather on the “autostrade”, vehicle traffic is diverted from the protion astride the Port of Beirut, speeches are made and tears are shed for the hundreds killed or maimed in the 2020 disaster, for which not a single person has been held accountable. It’s always the same: crisis, death, tragedy, and no accountability.

            Maria, Sevag and I were visiting friends that day six years ago, enjoying some properly-masked, outdoor, Covid-era socialization, when in an instant the world changed. It was a day very different than the five anniversaries since: part summer beauty, part horror movie. And subsequent August fourths have been different, yet mired in the numbing sameness of impunity that blankets not just Lebanon, but all the countries of the region. How easy and how natural it is to conclude that nothing will ever change, particularly in the Middle East?

We were wondering, "What will open next to 
the Starbucks coffeeshop?" We returned to 
find that a "Latte Art" coffeeshop opened.
(18 July 2026 - Mar Mikhael-Beirut)

            After a 130-day stay in Armenia we returned home to Lebanon over two weeks ago. The reason I know that number is because each night my computer reminded me how long it had been since its last backup. So, arriving home and reconnecting the backup drive was particularly satisfying, and not the usual same-old same-old.

            Reconnecting with daily life in Beirut brought a strange sensation of being the same as any other day, like we had never left; yet something was different. Nothing seemed out of place, and we had no sense of disconnection. Everything appeared the same, save that it was cold then and stiflingly hot and humid now. Things we were following in the news since March, such as displaced families along the seaside and tent cities on open lots, were nowhere to be seen. Before our return they had been moved to other locations set up by the government, it seems. The construction of huge, meaningless structures has continued. Weddings, graduations and social activities went on without hiatus. The dollarization of the economy continued, as has emigration from Lebanon to the ostensibly “secure” West. Everything was just as it has always been. Or perhaps not.

The latest archaeological dig, right behind us;
and another dig to the left of the tall white
building. (21 July 2026 - Geitawi-Beirut)

            On the street directly behind our residence (and the church headquarters) two lots have been temporarily spared from having new apartment buildings erected on them, because Roman-era structures were found just under the surface of the soil. Archaeologists have expressed surprise at these findings, as they had no evidence that the city limits of Berytus (as it was called 2,000 years ago) extended this far east. Additionally, in these past months a Roman necropolis (cemetery) was unearthed nearby. I am sure that there is much more that could be found if there is a willingness – and funding – to do so. And the accepted history of the city will change!

One last coffee before our departure!
Smile! (15 July 2026 - Yerevan)

            One can be numbed by sameness, or near-sameness, and miss seeing the changes and developments that occur all the time. I try to take note of variations, whether in music or speech or ideas, differences that help me to maintain interest in things that seem deathly stable. Even when dealing with people who “will never change”, there, too, I can see changes, though it might be for the worse.

            “So, how was Armenia?” – I am excitedly asked by people who are tired of the daily challenges of life in Lebanon, expecting me to praise every detail of Armenia (by which they mean the Yerevan that they know from their 10-day vacations there) and do the usual, point-by-point comparisons, putting Lebanon down. When I try to point out both pros and cons, striving to present a more nuanced picture, they are often not interested, certain that the “Armenia-good/Lebanon-bad” formula is the unchanging standard. Our extended stay there enriched our appreciation both for what Armenia has, as well as what it doesn’t have. We understood more deeply that Armenia is more than a political entity; what is “Armenia” and “of Armenia” is also present in people and places outside those borders, not the least of which include Lebanon and Syria.

LebCat 69: "Oh, hello. Since you weren't
using your balcony for the past 4-1/2 months,
I kept all the strangers away, OK?" 
(26 July 2026 - Geitawi-Beirut)

            “So, what’s it like in Lebanon?” – I am also asked by those who assume it is better than life in Armenia. Their question is often tinged with regrets over the war, which may be thwarting their hopes for leaving Armenia. Others will ask how safe it is to be living in a non-Christian country and are surprised when I reveal that Arabs can also be Christian. My telling them, “It’s the same in many ways, but also different” does not convince them to appreciate the layers of understanding demanded by such questions, sure as they are that my answers will be the same as the conclusions they’ve already drawn.

            Definitely, it can be disconcerting to continually have to deal with what is familiar but not exactly what you expected. My guess is that the “same but different” principle not only keeps learning about things fresh and active, but it keeps human relationships that way, too!   [LNB]

Letters from Exile

 68. Letters from Exile (24 April 2026)

Year upon year this awareness is inculcated
in the hearts of the next generation
(24 April 2026 - Yerevan)

It has been 52 days since our “exit” from Beirut at the outbreak of the latest war on Lebanon, at the behest of our mission board. We have settled into a somewhat regular existence here in Yerevan, Armenia, contributing what we can online to the churches and institutions we were called to serve, while also offering occasional support in person to the Armenian Evangelical church union here. There are quite a few around us, clergy and others, whom we know from time they have spent in Beirut. There are also those who have sought refuge here in Armenia, sort-of “exiles” from their homelands.

Though in the distance, Ararat is an integral 
part of the Genocide Memorial
(24 April 2026 - Yerevan)

            “Homeland” is a contested concept for Armenians. The expectation of many non-Armenians is that Armenians the world over, without exception, consider today’s Republic of Armenia as their “homeland”. True, it is the only political entity that can be found on a modern map that provides that particular identity. Yet it also can be seen in the equivalency held by many Armenians as well, insisting that Armenians everywhere must think and feel that Armenia is their only homeland. However, many others, and possibly a majority of Armenians, carry a dual loyalty. They hold today’s Armenia in a special place in their self-understanding, while also remaining deeply rooted in their Diaspora homelands. Additionally, they often bear yet a third, precious “homeland” in their hearts, one that is rooted in the soil of Western Armenia. So, an Armenian who was born and raised in the Middle East can be deeply connected to the Republic of Armenia, visiting it often and caring about its present and future; and said person may also feel a strange magnetic pull when visiting various sites in today’s Turkey and seeing the people and places from which their parents, grandparents and even great-grandparents were driven. They are – that is, we are – ever children of exile, the descendants of those whose roots were pulled from their native soil, whose roots have been repeatedly replanted: belonging to more than one homeland, yet not fully belonging to any of them.

The ECA/AMAA delegation presenting their 
floral wreaths (24 April 2026 - Yerevan)

            Today, Armenian Martyrs’ Day, as we recall for the 111^th time national displacement and loss, and inhabit the collective trauma that is yet a further, possibly universal, “homeland” for Armenians, I cannot help but experience regret. I regret all of the fragile root tendrils my elders carried, tendrils that I could have cared for in my childhood and adolescence, but did not, or was not encouraged to. Because collective amnesia (not just by the perpetrators, but also by those who suffered) is sometimes the only way to deal with a history too ugly to recall. Still, those tender roots that I did cultivate over the years have nevertheless sustained me and helped me to bear days like today, in such a situation in which we find ourselves. One thing that this extended stay in Armenia has shown me (the longest stretch we have ever had in Armenia), is that with God’s help my heart can stretch such that I can call this place “homeland”, while also calling Lebanon “home,” and the United States, too. Each has its own flavor and its own pull. Each has its own frustrations and disappointments. I do not have to close my heart towards two of them in order to embrace the third. This is not a revelation, of course; it is what it means to be a “third-culture” kid. (Look it up.)

Assyrian-Armenians preparing to ascend to 
the Genocide memorial; a shared struggle 
(24 April 2026 - Yerevan)

            Today I joined my Armenian Evangelical colleagues and friends, and mixed together with many Armenians, Armenian-Assyrians, Armenian-Yezdis, along with a smattering of Europeans and Americans (aside from me, that is), to make the long climb to the Genocide Memorial, the “Fortress of Swallows”, and remember, and reconnect, and rededicate ourselves to our rightful place among the living, and refuse to be a relic or an oddity in this world. I pray my descendants, whether by blood or by choice, will honor their ancestors by carrying forward a legacy of wisdom, sacrifice, service, creativity and faith. Easier said than done.

A symbol of what is, can, and should be 
Lebanon: Lent and Ramadan fasting 
on the same days this year 
(21 Feb. 2026 - Port of Beirut)

            Last week we ran into friends from Artsakh, friends we hadn’t seen since before the Armenian population was blockaded in 2023 and then “allowed” by Azerbaijan to abandon their centuries-old homeland. Seeing them and hearing about their children and grandchildren was heartwarming and hopeful, and they seemed to be adjusting, bit by bit, to their new homeland, Armenia. We weren’t completely lost as we conversed, since they spoke to us in Yerevan Armenian rather than their Artsakh dialect. That is, until a friend of theirs from Stepanakert approached, and they immediately switched to the language of their homeland!

LebCat(s) 68 - The butcher's window; 
better than watching CatTV 
(27 Feb. 2026 - Mar Mikhael, Beirut)

            This friend said to me, “I am sad for our lost homeland, but you know what makes me sadder? Seeing the way things are today in Armenia.” I asked him to say a little more, and he obliquely hinted at the divisions that are making Armenians intolerant of one another, dividing into factions and thinking the worst of others. Being that there are parliamentary elections in 44 days, this atmosphere will likely only intensify and will be unlikely to recede following that day.

            As our exile from Lebanon grows longer, we are also concerned about that which is dividing the people in our Lebanese homeland, and the increasing intolerance we are catching wind of. Certainly, nobody wants the country’s misery to continue, misery that has only grown in the thirty-five or so years since the end of the Civil War. But not tolerating unrest and war cannot be at the cost of the intolerance of others, people who also call Lebanon their homeland.

            And as God teaches in such times of exile, we are learning to seek the peace of the cities of our repeated displacements (Jerem. 29.7) and to hold each place in our hearts as a beloved homeland.   [LNB]

But Will It Make a Difference?

67. But Will It Make a Difference? (24 February 2026)

Billboards everywhere, anticipation 
abounding for Christian and Muslim alike 
(2 Dec. 2025 - Autostrade Bourj Hammoud)

For several weeks in November an unusual air of excitement wafted through the air as the country realized that the rumors of Pope Leo XIV visiting Lebanon were true. The more optimistic among the population imagined that this visit would herald a complete cease-fire from the near daily Israeli bombings. Those more realistic surmised that the papal visit would merely bring a respite from drone and warplane attacks for the duration of his time in Lebanon. Nonetheless, there was a pervasive sense that, for a change, something positive would happen in Lebanon. It buoyed the spirits of much of the country, not unlike that of children awaiting the arrival of Papa Noël.

Armenian school students lining the Pope's 
path to the Beirut Port Blast site (2 Dec. 
2025 - Autostrade Bourj Hammoud)

            It seems that Lebanon – that is, the people of Lebanon, merely by virtue of residing in this land, are compelled to pass their days in the no-man’s land between anticipation and reconstruction. It might be anticipation of the outbreak of war, civil unrest, or terrorist attacks; or perhaps anticipating possible steps toward reform, accountability for criminal acts, or enforcement of equal treatment under the law. Some might envision environmental cleanup, or affordable food, housing and health care, or even the country putting the common good before self-interest.

Artsakh women are making a 
difference with their artisanship
(30 Dec. 2025 - Gemmayzeh)

            And on the opposite border of this no-man’s land is reconstruction. This is something that Lebanese are constantly doing, or planning to do: spending emotional, mental and financial energies gathering the pieces of their lives torn apart by regional or international conflicts, internecine local struggles, or pervasively poor governance, reinforced with each election cycle. And when they attempt to rebuild their homes, villages and orchards, predictably our “neighbor’s” war machine grinds into action and destroys bulldozers and building equipment, preventing the Lebanese from recovery. At the same time, this “neighbor” is haunted by real or imagined threats, while they rebuild their homes, illegal settlements, watchtowers and walls, largely unmolested, justifying their racist actions as “self-defense”.

            The Holy Father’s visit itself, from Nov. 30 to Dec. 2, 2025, came together smoothly, appearing to the casual observer to have been the result of months of planning. In reality, it came together in a matter of weeks, and it included meetings with Lebanon’s officialdom, a pilgrimage to the St. Charbel shrine, an interfaith gathering in the city center, a massive youth rally at the Maronite Patriarchate, a visit to a mental care facility, a prayer at the scene of the 2020 Beirut Port explosion, and an open-air mass for thousands at the Beirut seaside, in addition to private meetings. Pope Leo’s message was consistent in each instance: to highlight the people’s longing for peace with justice, calling people and leaders alike to play a positive role in making that peace a reality. It expressed the theme of his visit, namely, Jesus’ words “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matt. 5.9). The Pope repeatedly, even scoldingly, stressed this to local and regional leaders: “Listen to the cry of your peoples, who are calling for peace!”

Making a difference in my nourishment  
with my favorite grilled liver sandwich!
(31 Dec. 2025 - Nor Hadjin)

            So, will leaders take up the challenge? Will they cooperate with each other for the sake of the people, and develop an ethos of service and trust? Will young Lebanese – Arab and Armenian, Christian and Muslim, villager and city-dweller, take the Pope’s challenge to them to heart and choose the hard path of staying in Lebanon, and be “artisans of peace”, active in changing the present culture of strife and selfishness to a culture of caring and constructive engagement? The country, along with the region, waits in anticipation of the outcome of the reflection to which the Pope called his audiences; translating thought into action.

Making a truly Beiruti Christmas  
from old tires, rather than 
burning them... (16 Jan. 2026 - 
Mar Mikhael)

            Pope Leo considered his visit to Turkey and Lebanon as efforts toward “religious diplomacy”, using his physical presence to express the moral authority of the Vatican, such as it is, in the pursuit of justice, mercy, and mutual acceptance for the good of all. In a world that is intoxicated with the pursuit of self-enrichment while malevolently nurturing a culture of destruction and oppression, it is up to the individual to become convinced of this call to be a peacemaker. It may not make a difference immediately, but it will grow in strength and influence as those individuals become a tribe and focus their influence to compel leaders to change.

            When the people pray to God for deliverance from their sojourn of misery in this no-man’s land, they, knowingly or not, are appealing to God to change each human heart. As Ebenezer Elliott’s poem, “When Wilt Thou Save the People?” so plainly expressed, “From vice, oppression, and despair, God save the people!”

LebCat 67 - Keeping watch over 
comings and goings at the 
American University of Beirut 
Medical Center! 
(22 Jan. 2026 - Beirut)

            Cynically, within an hour of Pope Leo’s departure for Rome, the “neighbor’s” drone overflights and bombing resumed. Peace would not come that day, or that month, or even that year. So, we await with faith the transformation of this world, and we heed the Lord Jesus’ call to live as agents of peace, nurturing hope for the renewed earth that God has promised to the blessed peacemakers.   [LNB]

(apologies for the 2-1/2 month delay in posting)