I remember a priest standing on the steps of St. Stephen’s Church with his arms folded and a disgruntled look on his face, glancing at his watch as I hustled about with my camera in hand.
We were running late for a wedding and he was growing impatient. “Take your time,” he said. “We don’t have all day.”
Why was I to blame? Could I help it if the bride dallied at the house, making sure every strand of hair was in place and the gown was perfect. Truth is, it’s always the wedding photographer’s fault.
Der Torkom was a stickler for punctuality and precision. A 4 o’clock wedding didn’t mean 4:15 or even 4:01 and there was no such thing as a bride being fashionably late to his altar.
I remember a priest with fire in his eyes whenever he delivered a Sunday sermon, be it the theme of spirituality or patriotism, family love or community action. Sometimes he would incorporate all four facets into a plausible homily that had his congregation fixed to the pews.
I recall a priest who would take the back row of the Komitas Choral Society and exercise his lungs like nobody’s business, a robust tenor who treated his music with a passion. His gangling figure made him a conspicuous sight in that chorale—a voice that reverberated off the walls and into the ears of rapt listeners.
I cannot forget the sight of a priest sitting in the stands of an AYF Olympics as his three daughters ranked up points in the pool and track. The girls were his heart and soul. On this day, he was not a church pastor but a proud dad when the medals were presented.
Odd that he would succumb in the midst of the 76th annual Olympics. Health permitting, he would have been there cheering on the kids of his community.
I remember a priest peering down at a lesson prepared by a student at the St. Stephen’s Elementary School he started 25 years ago, which grew from seven students to more than 200 now.
Der Torkom loved nothing better than to transgress throughout the halls of his institution and hear Armenian spoken from youngsters. Whenever it came time for a Sunday School or Armenian School hantes, he had a front row seat.
That same pride was evident in the Armenian Cultural and Educational Center he helped foster during his 33 years as pastor. Yes, his outreach remained uncompromised, a job that had no timetable, no rest for the weary.
When AYF basketball games were held at the ACEC, his presence was undeniable. Watertown had its very own cheering section.
Whether it was a wedding or a funeral, a hantes or a picnic, Der Torkom carried out his duties responsibly and without bombast, like the true legionnaire he was in the mission of his church. Had you put a battalion in his charge, he could have passed for Khrimian Hairig.
I remember a priest in his dwindling years, showing up in church next to his successor, Der Antranig Baljian, and serving as the perfect complement for any occasion. Der Antranig often deferred to his senior counterpart when it came to offering words of wisdom.
The two were like Harry and Tonto. Even in retirement, Der Torkom was an energizer by his mere presence alone, never resting on his laurels but always looking for a reason to prove his mettle.
I remember a man whose voice for democracy and human rights never waned, whose unquenchable thirst for recognition of a genocide always prevailed, whose love of God and Christianity were contagious to his flock. Der Torkom was a good shepherd.
In a day and age when clergy are few and far between, Der Torkom brought new life to his profession, encouraged its practice to both deacon and acolyte alike, and was an ambassador for his kind.
He brought immigrants to sponsoring families, interpreted their language, organized food, fuel and medical supplies in times of emergency. He burned the candle at both ends and immersed himself in his own incandescence.
I remember a priest who once told his congregation that priests serve, then pass on. Only the church is everlasting and only the Armenian nation was eternal.
Over his tenure, some 900 weddings and 1,300 christenings are testament to his service, not to mention a host of funerals. Whether they were single acts or multiple, Der Torkom kept his momentum in place and seldom wavered from fatigue. What he did behind the scenes will always be kept that way.
Well done, good and faithful servant.
Tom Vartabedian
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What a great piece that capture his personality so well. Thank you Tom for honoring my grandfather. Best, Tamar Kanarian
What a beautiful tribute to a great priest and man. You will be missed.
I remember him from syracuse,n.y. and went to armenia together with his wife a wonderful priest will always remember him sebouh bogosian