
This is a question that consumes thoughtful minds in the diaspora. Sociologists often regard dispersed peoples as living on borrowed time. Of course, there are diasporas with a homeland, like Jews, and some that are stateless, like Kurds—who have managed to carve out semi-autonomous regions within sovereign states. Armenians have fallen in the former category since 1918; however, for 70 years during that period, Armenia was a captive nation under Soviet rule. This is significant, since the homeland plays an important role in diaspora communities—as a source of replenishment, inspiration, education and repatriation.
Since Armenia’s independence in 1991, the homeland-diaspora relationship has become more traditional. One school of thought suggests that the diaspora has become constrained, with resources rightfully redirected towards nation-building (perhaps beginning with the 1987 earthquake). During the Soviet era, Armenians in the homeland lost their freedom, but the diaspora—in its infancy—was free to direct virtually all its resources toward its own communities and infrastructure.
There is no doubt, however, that the challenges of maintaining dual responsibility—toward both the homeland and the diaspora—have been lessened by the incredible growth in wealth among Armenian-Americans. We bear a larger responsibility, but our collective capability has also increased. Most Armenians willingly support investment in the homeland because they understand the importance of fulfilling the dream of a free Armenia—and its transformative impact on the diaspora. While the nation-building process has continued over the last 30 years, thousands of diasporans have become part of the homeland through visits and repatriation. This revitalization is a critical element in sustaining the diaspora’s long-term viability.
While the presence of an independent and accessible homeland has provided a life-changing boost to many diasporans, the challenges of continuity and viability remain the priority of every community—from California to the East Coast. How do we measure success? Financial resources are significant but not always an indicator of a community’s strength. We have churches with substantial financial assets but very few parishioners—similar to an inheritance with no beneficiaries. Our people respond to financial appeals in times of crisis, but day-to-day operations are maintained by far fewer. We are thrilled by the crowds during major events and holidays, only to see the tides recede the following week. Which is our reality? Can we always count on the invisible plurality to emerge at the right time?
It is inspiring to see the commitment of our youth and the positive results of our immersion programs. But are there enough dedicated young members to maintain our sizable community base going forward? Will we have enough deacons, choir members and teachers to offer quality to potential parishioners? Some of the metrics we use can be interpreted to fit many narratives. For example, our church membership has been flat to down nationally for many years. When normalized for population growth and new communities, we are in decline.
But is membership an indication of a community’s health? Many Armenians offer stewardship to a parish but are not members. Recently, the Diocese has expanded a program allowing parishes to combine membership and stewardship, with some promising results. Another metric is “active” membership. One can maintain official membership to a parish but remain inactive by not attending services or events. What does this mean for the functioning of the community?
Most communities complain about money, yet the real issue is active participation. Years ago, I was told by a mentor that our churches and organizations do not fail due to a lack of funding, but rather, a lack of adherents. We have a cadre of resources that emerge in times of financial crises, but when a critical mass of participants fails to materialize, the community falters. Whether you are a major benefactor or a humble servant of the community, the key to sustainability lies in forging an emotional connection to our missions. This is why we have lasted across generations.
There are two dimensions worth exploring when it comes to measuring success. First is the communal dimension: we subordinate some of our individuality to join a greater purpose. This can be difficult when you factor in entitlement and egos, but our communities function at their best when we work together as equals. What unites us is the mission, and from that, we gain the social benefits of lifelong friendships and relationships.
The other dimension is individual: when we join a communal effort, we don’t lose our individuality—we simply integrate it within the context of the whole. Our individuality is the source of the value we add to our groups. Our potential is always greater than the sum of our parts, due to the integration of our collective skills. We are generally more comfortable reflecting on our communal behaviors than our individual actions. There are times when we hide and confine our analysis to safe areas, such as financial issues or organizational symptoms. It is much riskier to delve into our personal or familial responsibilities to the community.
One challenge is examining our responsibilities as parents. From an Armenian community perspective, what is our most important responsibility? There is a tendency to focus on one or two aspects that may not be controllable. For example, we talk about intermarriage and the importance of marrying an Armenian. Certainly, it establishes a sense of pride and joy, but we all know Armenian couples who are aloof from the community—at best, at the periphery. Likewise, many couples that include a non-Armenian spouse are functioning members of the community. Percentage of ethnicity is not a reliable indicator. In fact, it may inadvertently limit our ability to integrate our increasingly diverse community. Intermarriage is a natural outcome of living in a host society, and we must focus on welcoming non-Armenian partners by increasing knowledge and defining roles.
Another popular topic is fluency in our mother tongue. Armenian is a beautiful language, but we all know individuals who are blessed with this skill and are absent from our communities. There are also many dedicated Armenians who have limited fluency. It is admirable to fall in love with an Armenian and build a life together. It is also important to maintain our language. Yet these things, in and of themselves, are not at the core of our responsibilities.
We cannot control their future choices, but we can invest time in them from an early age—gifting them a love of our identity.
As parents, we must instill a love and respect for Armenian heritage in our children. We cannot control their future choices, but we can invest time in them from an early age—gifting them a love of our identity. Whether it’s through language, faith, politics or education, it takes commitment and daily choices about how we raise our children. If we instill that love in their hearts, then we will have fulfilled the most important responsibility of parenting Armenian children—and given them a bond that will shape their adult lives. Our children’s participation in the life of our global nation is a critical measure of success.
How do we do this? To use a football analogy, it comes down to “blocking and tackling.” In other words, we must integrate this exposure into the essence of family life. It means attending church regularly, acting as role models and making youth activities a priority. It means taking your children to Armenia to build emotional bonds with the homeland and encouraging them to return for education, volunteering and internships. There is no substitute for participation and commitment. Be patient with your children. If you build that emotional connection, it may emerge at a variety of times in their lives. It will reveal itself and guide them into roles that contribute to our sustainability.
The future of the diaspora depends on embracing our increasing diversity, not lamenting it. Whether you are 100%, 25% or don’t have an “-ian” at the end of your name, your identity as an Armenian is a choice. Our children will make that choice, but it is our responsibility to prepare them. Ask yourself each day if you feel you are preparing your children to find their emotional link to their heritage. Our children will grow into both dimensions of communal life—membership in a community and formation of an individual identity. Our choices today will directly impact their choices as adults. Give them that gift through your commitment—and ensure your legacy.
Steve- Very well written as always. We have known each other and my family for decades. On the topic on the flat to down trend on participation, I can comment on that across at least 3 churches, maybe 4 across the country I have been a member of. A paying, involved, committee participant member. That goes back since the ‘late ’60’s.
The issue that myself as well as my family has had and most recently even my Odar better half that lived in Worcester as one of her locales, loves the Armenian culture, cooks it, and tries to embrace the Badarak. Nope..it does not work. It mostly does not relate to everyday life and God knows how challenging that is these days or at least since January 20th. But long before that, the beautiful, rich, oozing with beauty and love Sunday service does not hit the mark as far as people and their struggles and concerns. Might I be so bold as to say, not even close.
I completely understand the restrictions to “opening that up” and appreciate the reason, but that does not solve the issue of relating to your congregation.
In a nutshell, that is it. And without motivation beyond just cultural connection from this writers’ perspective the status quo will remain just that.
Thanks and keep up the great work you always display.