Where Credit Is Due

39.Where Credit Is Due (29 October 2020)

A hotel clad in metal sheeting, similar to what Beirut’s
banks did to guard against protestors. But this has a
message. (28 Oct. 2020 - Downtown Beirut)

Here from crisis-ridden Beirut, as Maria and I look anxiously toward war-stricken Armenia and Artsakh (Karabagh), while living in a world reeling from a pandemic, while refugees flow unabated from their impoverished and unstable homelands like tributaries of a sorrowful river, and while second-class citizenship in “first-world” countries hangs like a cloud of fear over people of color, we struggle to comprehend how quickly we got mired in misery so early in this ill-fated century.

            They say that one should avoid speaking ill of the dead. Yet, it is impossible to avoid recounting the dead people who prepared this dish that this region is “eating” today. One of those dead people of course is Josef Stalin, who in the early 1920s tried to win the support of Turkey, as well as cut down the aspirations of the Armenians struggling to their feet after the Genocide, and perceived as a risk to the Soviets, capable of asserting themselves at some point in the future. Well, guess what? Here we are in that future, and the nightmare that Father Stalin and Beria (both Georgians, btw) cooked up for us has come true. Those two demons are peacefully decomposing, and we are struggling to exist. Their calculated act of “giving” historically Armenian regions to the rule of Turks or Turkic peoples set up the scenario that is playing out today.

Someone with a musical sense of
humor created a group that is
trying hard to cover up Beirut's
wounded heritage buildings before
the winter rains wreak their havoc.
(29 Oct. 2020 - Gemmayzeh, Beirut)

            To those who rely on others to think for themselves (including those who play at editorial roles), I am compelled to remind them that Stalin never gave non-Armenian lands to Armenians; it was always the other way around. (Please, please, don’t take my word for it; read some history for yourself to check what I’m saying.) The Azeris got Artsakh and Nakhichevan. The Georgians got Javakhk. The Turks got Kars and Ardahan. And Europe and the United States got their oil access.

            Oil access for the West plays such a central role in the sordid history of the Middle East, but is too often footnoted, ignored or denied. From a safe distance people (including Diasporan Armenians) shake their heads and say, “Why is there never peace in the Middle East?” Is it because Middle Easterners are wild and untamed people, unable to be as wise or developed as Europeans or Americans (or other regional allies)? Or, as history has shown, is it because the West has for at least 200 years been in a tug-of-war (emphasis on the “war”) over who will be able to benefit the most from the reserves of crude oil that regrettably exist in abundance underneath the surface of these lands? Figuratively as well as literally, oil lies under the surface of so much of the Middle East, but it is pumped out and taken away from our view, so that discussions of current events ever remain on the top layer.

Lots of banners in lots of languages, expressing
hope that Lebanon will overcome its
overwhelming difficulties (29 Oct. 2020 -
Gemmayzeh, Beirut)

            There was a recent interview with chess grandmaster Garry Kasparov, born in Baku, Azerbaijan SSR, to an Armenian mother. He likened Stalin’s incomprehensible and unjustifiable assignments of Armenian territory to a chess game, which Stalin expected to end in stalemate, since of course the USSR was going to last forever. Stalin’s aim was also to bring Turkey to the Soviet side, but the West moved Turkey’s piece on the chess board, granting it concession after concession, including their promised protectorate of a Cilician Armenian homeland. If shame existed in western culture, those countries would be hanging their heads right now.

            But since Armenians have no natural resources for outside countries to exploit, it remains ever the pawn in these international playing boards. Realizing this fact is not defeatism but realism, and if fully comprehended can enable Armenia and Armenians to formulate their strategy – hopefully – in dealing with this “Game of Thrones”. It has brought about unprecedented unity among Armenians worldwide, though sometimes tainted by fervent devotion to one or another political party in their countries of residence. Armenians are hearing the war being waged against them in the Caucasus portrayed as a “conflict” between equal forces, a “dispute”, something that they have been going at for “a looooong time”, an action of “rebels” in a “disputed territory”, and the deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure (residences, churches, hospitals, schools, museums, etc.) as either accidental or “Armenian propaganda”. Anyone with the ability and the will to think and dig deeply will see how preposterous these statements are.

For obvious post-blast reasons, Salaam
Sweets, our favorite Arabic ice-cream shop,
moved from its original location. About the
same distance from us, thankfully.
(24 Sept. 2020 - Mar Mitr, Beirut)

           Thinking for oneself is an uphill battle in this world, where people have access to so much information – true, false, partly true, blatantly but boldly false, or too nuanced to survive in social media feeds. My highly unscientific view ascribes this allergy to deep thinking to the lack of a reading public. No longer do (many) people have the appetite or patience it takes to read a book or an extended essay. If something can’t be grabbed in a short glance as you scroll down your devices, then it’s “very complicated”. Our reward for adjusting our human capabilities to the least common denominator is that we have leaders and followers who are apparently incapable of thinking of the common good, and pour their efforts into shouting down or shaming anything or anyone who says differently. For this, we must give ourselves the credit.

Refurbishing, refurbishing, refurbishing. One
day I will get back into my office. (28 Oct. 2020
- Geitawi, Beirut)

            We are viewing all of this in a Lebanese context. One year has passed on the “revolution” – a year largely of failures, and a few bright spots of hope. Those who might have taken a different tack and led the country out of its sub-sub-divisions into a common goal for the benefit of all were sidelined and ultimately rejected by the established parties and powers. So, to no one’s surprise, the prime minister who resigned a year ago at the start of the “uprising” is back, and working on forming a “new” cabinet.

            Taking a walk through the broken streets of today’s Beirut brings upon me a heaviness that is difficult to describe. I noticed this early on that I am viscerally affected by what I see, and I audibly wince as I look about. It puzzled me for a while, but it made me realize that this amount of destruction displayed before your eyes draws you into the pain of others. Add this to your own pain, and you have to express it somehow. My expression is audible. And mental. There is still no credible explanation as to whom we can give the credit for the ruination of Beirut, or of Lebanon.

LebCat 39: Pre-freshman enrollment
in the AUB "Cat Club" is now open.
(22 Oct. 2020 - Bliss St., Beirut)

            Rarely in my life (so far) have my exhausted days and sleepless nights been so filled with the sorrows of existence. It has turned my heart with a renewed and urgent focus toward a scripture that was my favorite from childhood: “God is our refuge and strength; a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46.1). If we experience any peace in this world or in our lives, the credit is due to the Lord.   [LNB]

It's a Sign!

28.It’s a Sign! (6 Oct 2019)

Children in uniform, and parents carrying school bags. A sure
sign that fall is here. (1 Sept. 2019 – Shushi, Artsakh)

For years our family has had a running (inside) joke. When we see street signs or billboards, especially ones with the name of a city or country on it, we call out, “It’s a sign!” Perhaps not particularly funny… except that I’m a pastor, and one of the features / challenges of pastoral life is the ever-present possibility of relocation. And behind that possibility is the art of determining what constitutes a sign from God, particularly regarding a “call”, and the related relocation from ministry in one city (or country) to another. The joke is that if you are looking for a certain answer, sooner or later a “sign” will appear, confirming what you have already decided on your own. And then you can credit God for the sign. One of those Achilles’ Heels of believers everywhere.

An “old” sign, lying face down on the ground,
defeated by a new pole and by the company
that bagged a contract for replacing every. single.
pole. in the city. (18 Sept. 2019 – Khalil Badawi)

            In recent months in Beirut there has been a sprouting of metal posts and brand-new signs on sidewalks all around the city. Considering the narrowness and impassability of most sidewalks in Beirut, this has been an unwelcome intrusion to us walkers. And considering that the existing, if somewhat beaten-up, collection of traffic signs throughout the city was doing its job just fine, it makes one wonder whether there is something more behind this proliferation of poles than traffic concerns. In such an opaque and … not altogether “clean” … system as exists here, who knows? Rumors about this and a slew of other topics are pretty much all the general populace has to go on, as it tries to make sense of the rough road it has been on for decades.

Will they be able to break Mr. Sevag? An intense scavenger hunt at
the Children’s Conference. (7 Aug. 2019 – KCHAG, Monteverde)

Having the thrill of my life, leading a trained choir in concert, the
“Varanda” ensemble, while Zakar looks on. I wonder what he’s
thinking? (5 Sept. 2019 – Shushi, Artsakh)

            As a sign of how full the summer has been, two and a half months have passed since my last blog post. Why? Meetings and more meetings. Sevag’s month in Lebanon, including some vacation time with him, and a week in KCHAG, with Sevag in the children’s conference, and me in a bungalow, pretending to get studying done. Work in Armenia and time off in Artsakh. So much has come and gone. That trip to Artsakh (or Karabagh) was a memorable one, especially as Maria and I enjoyed the cultural and interpersonal riches of that region. I’ve reflected more about it in another place, but a highlight was definitely my being invited to conduct the “Varanda” childrens/youth choir in “Hayrenikis Hed” in concert.

 

Maria’s niece and family, recently relocated to
Armenia. And a penguin. (29 Aug. 2019 - Yerevan)

           We were driven from Yerevan to Shushi by a young taxi driver who talked quite a bit about the hopefulness that is permeating Armenia since the so-called “Velvet Revolution” of last year. Yes, lots of things still need to be “fixed” in the country, but he insisted that the current government will get to it in due time. In contrast, a week later, on the taxi ride back to Armenia we had a different driver: an older, university educated man who worked in the Soviet system and the post-Soviet system, and is now witness to the current setup. His view of things was subtly skeptical, since there is movement going on, but not necessarily progress. He asked us a lot about Lebanon, and laughed, “So it seems that there are many, many similarities between the two countries!” He was referring to human potential, but moreso to the shared pitfalls.

Wait, is this town called "garlic"? The French side of the sign
reads like that Arabic word. Oops, my mistake. Good thing I’m
learning to read/understand Arabic! (10 Sept. 2019 – N. Lebanon)

            Armenia – and increasingly Armenians everywhere – speak enthusiastically about one Armenia for all. The Armenian Diaspora (the majority of Armenians in the world) is frequently relegated to a temporary and passing reality. Yet, once upon a time, in recent memory, the slogan was, “A strong Armenia with a strong Diaspora.” No more is this heard. Once upon a time Armenia had a Diaspora Ministry (usually aimed at connecting Diaspora finances to needs in the homeland). Though the channeling of resources, human and otherwise, continues, that Ministry is no more; it was closed up last year and its work subsumed into the Assistant Prime Minister’s portfolio. The Western Armenian language is a “threatened” cultural treasure, but the only serious attempts to strengthen it are coming from Diaspora organizations. (Armenia also closed its Ministry of Culture last year.) These signs betray a lack of depth of understanding of the importance of the Diaspora for Armenia as well as for Armenians everywhere. And a lack of depth in the thinking of the disorganized Diaspora as well as official Armenia.

LebCat 27: I’m looking fine… but don’t those two guys in the back
know how to pose for a selfie? (26 July 2019 – Beirut Cat Café,
Mar Mikhael - Beirut)

            Here in Lebanon, a sign that summer is over and the fall is here is the appearance of children all over the city in their school uniforms and toting their book-bags. We are all carrying another weight, though, as we closed of one of our schools this summer (shrinking income and galloping debt). It is a sign, not that Armenian Evangelical education is no longer needed, but that this vision is being challenged by other factors outside the church Union’s control. In fact, all Armenian schools outside of Armenia face this challenge. As historian Dr. Yervant Kassouny states in his recent book (Reflections on … Diasporan-Armenian Literature, 2019), “Closing an Armenian school in the Diaspora is equivalent to closing an Armenian army base in Armenia” (p. 11, translation mine). The Armenian school, along with the Armenian church and the Armenian family, is the place where this particular nation (in the cultural, not the political, sense) trains for the battle to survive and thrive in a world that works hard at homogenizing everything, not just milk.

            Keeping your eyes open, paying attention to the signs of these times, staying awake and prayerful – these are the means we employ when facing days like these. “A little sleep, a little rest, a little folding of the arms, and your poverty (including your spiritual and cultural poverty) will come upon you like an unexpected traveler, or an armed robber” (Prov. 24.33-34).   [LNB]