Are your roots deep or shallow?

A few years ago, New England experienced a very damaging storm in our region with driving rain and high winds over an extended period. In the aftermath, residents of our neighborhood emerged from the shelter of their homes to assess the damage. Debris was scattered across our lawns, with fallen trees cluttering the landscape. What struck me as odd was the selective nature of what had been uprooted. Some species of trees and bushes were undisturbed, while others were strewn across the yards. The cleanup was beyond my ability, so I hired a tree service. The contractor was an arborist and made some interesting observations. The trees and bushes that we lost were essentially shallow-rooted and more rigid in their structure.

Fortunately, our yard has several oak trees with a deep root base that tend to bend with the wind. We also have several giant arborvitae that were planted as individual trees and matured as a unit that becomes a border wall. They are a very hardy plant that is incredibly flexible when covered with snow and ice. It is rare that they break under the weight of precipitation. I learned two important aspects of the sustainability of trees and bushes from the natural elements of New England: a deep root structure and flexibility are the keys to experiencing full maturity and longevity.

The following day, I was sitting in our backyard, observing the revival of our yard after the devastating storm, when the connection became clear. I discovered the metaphor of our recent yard experience with the Armenian diaspora. Our biggest fear is that, as a community, we live on borrowed time. Most sociologists believe that ethnic communities in a dispersed state function effectively for a limited time (three to four generations) without sustained replenishments (new waves of immigration). As Armenian Americans, we can certainly attest to this reality. 

Over the last 125 years in the Armenian American diaspora, we have been blessed with timely immigration that has replenished and revitalized the community. In the late 1950s and early ‘60s, there was the immigration of Egyptian Armenians to North America, and through the ‘60s, a similar wave of Armenians from Turkey. During the ‘70s and ‘80s, we witnessed the influx of our brethren from Lebanon, Syria, Iraq and finally Iran. The oppression of Armenians in Azerbaijan led to the resettling of Armenians from Baku, while economic transitions in newly independent Armenia created movement into North America. Each was caused by a political and economic stimulus that resulted in population movement. What was a loss for their home communities became a benefit for the Armenian American diaspora. Where would the Armenian community in the U.S. be today without this replenishment? Our reality would probably be a lot closer to the standard sociological model. 

I kept thinking of the two variables that the arborist told me years back—root structure and flexibility as critical survival factors. In thinking about the Armenian diaspora, it became clear that the vibrancy of our community is the trees that are deep-rooted and flexible. Exploring our roots requires delving into the past. For many young people today, history has become less relevant. We do not really teach it as an identity marker.

Advertisement

If history becomes an endless list of facts and dates from the past, rather than a mechanism for the fulfillment of our own identity, then I can understand the current estrangement with our youth. I would suggest that our history can deepen our roots by connecting our past to who we have become today, thus enhancing our personal identity. It is less about being stuck in the past than using our past to answer today’s questions. 

Several years ago, I taught a class on identity at the diocesan St. Vartan Camp for our youth. It consisted of a series of questions and a process for finding the answers. It was an investigative game for campers to unravel the puzzle of who they are. Typically, it would start with a simple question: “Where do you live, and how did your family arrive there?” Eventually, the conversation would evolve to the immigration point in their family tree. Assignments were designed to understand their Armenian homeland legacy and the family development up to their entry into the family. Some of the campers held dialogue as a group with family members or pursued genealogy research. In all cases, young people learned more about themselves, as they realized they are a branch of a large tree.

This past week, I read a superb commentary from Victoria Atamian Waterman that appeared in the Weekly on the crisis in Christian Armenian education and the need for innovation to reverse the trends. A deep root structure in our Armenian Christian heritage starts when our children are young in our institutions, such as the church and in our homes. Many parents lament the loss of interest of their children in our heritage, but that realization is usually in hindsight. The challenge must be addressed as an integral part of their upbringing in their home life and participating in community institutions. Frankly, there is little value in regret years later.

The other attribute that the arborist shared with me was flexibility—a word that captures the essence of the diaspora. Change is a constant in our environment. As a case in point, compare how our community has changed in the last 125 or so years. We have evolved from community churches to commuting structures. We are multilingual in our daily lives, with English being the primary language in many institutions. The mission of passing the torch and generational transition remains the same, but our methods have changed. The need for innovation to effectively reach each succeeding generation must remain a top priority. Our ability to adapt has been a critical variable in our survival. We exude great respect for our traditions, but does anyone believe that our traditions have remained static? This is not a recent phenomenon. 

Armenia and Armenians survived for centuries based on our ability to adapt and remain flexible. Local customs, dialects and provincial traditions are examples of evolving flexibility. The idea is to retain a common core of culture while adapting to new environments. The Armenian world we live in today is much different than the world of our grandparents, but the core values of our heritage remain intact. It is a struggle, but it is our mission. It is easy to state that we must adapt as we retain the core, and it is much more difficult to implement this vision with regularity. In our own families, we are all painfully aware of our losses when our roots become shallow. We live with the risk of becoming an uprooted tree when confronted with the choices of retaining our heritage or assimilating into the tempting world of secularism and materialism.

Engaging in this evolution of building deep heritage roots, coupled with appropriate flexibility, always starts in the home. Bring your little ones to church. The random outbursts of a child should not be an embarrassment to a parent, but rather, the sound of a church alive with a future. It is helpful to speak with your children at home early on and in the community about the advantages of our hyphenated lives. Children with a solid grounding in their Armenian Christian heritage are generally more prepared for life’s challenges. Our role as parents is to prepare them to successfully leave the nest. Building that sustainable root structure should be considered one of the preparatory routes.

I believe that the best way to understand our opportunities is to start by looking in the mirror. It is not for us to judge others but to take care of our own responsibilities. Based on that approach, “Are your roots shallow or deep?” If you feel they are strong enough to sustain the branches we call children, then you are prepared for the challenge. If your roots are shallow, you can strengthen them by reading, participating and prioritizing. We all begin as individuals and contribute as a community. It is difficult to be a contributor to an institution, such as the church, without personal faith. Likewise, as parents and parents to be, the most effective way for our children to succeed is to raise them in a loving, committed home. 

As we enter an important part of our community calendar year, let us resolve to strengthen our tree from the roots up through knowledge, commitment and respect. Each of us has value to add to solve the puzzle of flexibility. What worked yesterday is not necessarily the answer for today and tomorrow. We have a remarkable heritage and a loving faith to share. Define the tools that work most effectively for your audience. Flexibility in how we pass on our faith and heritage is one of the reasons we exist today—it is one of our traditions.