Let us offer a simple but casual prayer to our future generation.
“Blessed are the babies who exercise their lungs each Sunday in our Armenian churches. While we’re at it, may God comfort the ears of those who stand and pray within proximity.”
I’ve heard it said that babies are angels whose wings grow shorter as their legs grow longer.
Ironic as this may appear, the Merrimack Valley cities of Haverhill, Chelmsford, and North Andover all have young pastors with young children. So young and beautiful in fact that if eyes are drifting from the altar to admire the beauty of such children before us, God might understand.
In North Andover, on came Der Karekin Bedourian a year ago to St. Gregory Church, bringing with him his Yeretsgin Sevan. The two welcomed a child named Megheti to the family and seldom does she miss a Badarak, right there in the first pew with her mom.
When her dad chants a sharagan or delivers a sermon, the infant takes notice. Her arms reach forward and out comes a cacophony of sounds that only a six-month-old could make. But more often than not, this child is content simply to look, listen, and become mesmerized by the surroundings and attention she might receive from other pew-dwellers.
Der Karekin wouldn’t have it any other way, being the dutiful dad that he is. Seeing his daughter before him is stimulating, he says. Even the sermons tend to be more spirited, knowing she’s there taking in the monologue.
A baby in church is a breath of fresh air. It denotes a healthy presence, a vitality that promotes new life. Often, it becomes an infusion. Out of it comes a potential activist, maybe a deacon, trustee member, or your next priest. It all starts from a genesis.
I recall once when the late Der Vartan Kassabian was pastoring St. Gregory Church. An infant seemed to be overly vocal this Badarak, causing the mother to scramble from her seat and hightail it out the door.
Just then, the priest interrupted his sermon and caught the woman in her tracks.
“Deegeen,” he said. “Please don’t be so hasty in leaving the church with your daughter. She has every right to cry. I’m enamored by such sounds in God’s house. It’s music to my ears. Let her cry. Some day they shall be tears of happiness.”
I never forgot that from the good shepherd Vartan. He had a standing rule in his church. Bring on the babies and let them develop accordingly. Removing them is not an option.
The other day at a genocide commemoration in my city of Haverhill, I was introduced to eight-month-old Mari who rested comfortable in the arms of her mother Lusine while Der Vart Gyozalian conducted his memorial service at Church of Hye Pointe.
The child glanced over the crowd with eyes as big as plums and showed her approval with a smile. Though I do not attend that church, I learned from others that she’s a show-stealer when she makes her entrance each Sunday.
No doubt the new pastor here is also mesmerized by his daughter’s presence in the front pew as she takes her baby steps in the Armenian church.
At Sts. Vartanantz Church in Chelmsford, Rev. Khachatur Kesablyan has been pastor for four years, arriving here from Holy Trinity Church where he interned and was joined by a considerably younger Yeretsgin.
Welcomed to the family was Maria, now five, who was literally raised in the church.
“I enjoy the best of both worlds—that of a proud father and a proud priest,” he tells me. “I’ve seen her as a baby and now she’s in Sunday School. The early years were precious indeed but each generation cultivates its own beauty.”
Der Khachatur recalls seeing his daughter in a porta-crib as Yeretsgin Anna was singing in the choir. The music impacted the child to the point where she would swing her arms in cadence to the music.
“It was as if the child was conducting the choir,” he recalled. “It’s so uplifting to hear the voices of children, even infants, in church. Several Biblical scriptures acknowledge that presence.”
What can be more demoralizing than a church void of a younger generation, ready to take command? Or a sanctuary without the precious sound of an infant? The nicest thing about being a baby is that everything you do is wonderful, even a cry!
Too bad every day wasn’t like Easter or Christmas when one baby’s sound beckons another, as if they are competing with the choir. Such moments are meant to be packaged and preserved forever.
Tom Vartabedian
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And blessed are you, Tom Vartabedian, and Der Karekin. The church has come a long way from the days when I, as an 8 year old, would hear the priest stop the badarak and sternly request that the mother remove her crying child from the sanctuary!
Excellent article…one that every DerHayr and choir director should heed our late Der Vartan’s great ways. This includes Choir directors, too. We are aware that children are our future Christians and we are blessed to see them in church. Thank you Tom and Der Karekin.