The man on the train from Tbilisi to Yerevan chatted away busily on his cell phone. He then turned with equal devotion to a laptop computer. But, when we struck up a conversation he was, like most Armenians, quick to define his country's identity in terms of the past rather than some high-tech future. "Armenia is the oldest Christian nation in the world," he announced with pride.
Looking out the window from my hostel in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, I can see cranes everywhere, lined up against the massive backdrop of Mt. Ararat, where Noah is said to have beached his ark after the flood. In Armenia, and the Caucasus in general, there is construction all around and you'll find the new and old constantly juxtaposed in ways that help explain what's going on.
The three countries that make up the Caucasus — Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan — are each in recovery mode. Squeezed in between the Caspian and the Black seas, they boast ancient cultures, impressive monuments, and sublime mountain landscapes. And yet in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union a series of wars have consumed them. For the most part, these conflicts are rooted in ethnic and religious divisions.
Armenia stands out in the Caucasian mix. While Georgia is closely, albeit uneasily tied to Russia with a common Christian Orthodox heritage and Azerbaijan's Muslim identity connects it to both Central Asia and the Middle East, Armenia is more of an island. And as a distinct people in an isolated land, Armenians have been submerged in the conflicts of the past century.
I flew into Baku, Azerbaijan, en route to Armenia. Coming from the airport, we passed thousands of abandoned oil wells littering a desolate suburban landscape. Oil has changed this region in the last hundred years, and since 2000 at an unprecedented pace. Downtown Baku teems with fashionable boutiques and new money. Despite an 11-year-old ceasefire treaty, the war between Azerbaijan and Armenia means that the border is closed and all travellers between the two countries must pass through Georgia. My next stop was Tbilisi, Georgia.
Tbilisi is the poorest of the three capital cities in the region. Potholes the size of craters seem to confirm the fact and transform regular taxi drivers into slalom driving maniacs. While kidnapping has subsided in the last few years, Georgia remains a dangerous place for foreigners. Still, recent developments suggest a brighter future for the country. Earnest preparations for a visit by U.S. President George Bush in May, such as the landscaping of American flags at traffic hubs, served as a reminder of how enthusiastically Georgia has tried to orient itself in a Western direction.
Ever since the people of Georgia rose up in the so-called Rose Revolution of 2003 to overthrow a dictatorship, Washington has taken initiative to cultivate good relations. With the political change in Tblisi pro-American democratic forces are gaining momentum in the area, from Ukraine to Central Asia. A huge oil pipeline project running from Baku through Georgia to Ceyhan, a deepwater port on the Turkish Mediterranean coast, offers another reason for the strengthening of diplomatic ties.
"Don't believe what you read in the newspapers. It's all the same here," explained Vladimir, a Russian living in Baku. "Whether you are in Azerbaijan, Georgia or Armenia it makes no difference. Everywhere you will find very bad corruption. We have no hope of good government. The oil won't change that. It will make it worse. Many Westerners can come here if they want. Nothing will change."
The border between Georgia and Armenia is relaxed. You cough up 20 dollars for a visa on the spot; no problem. But the shift from one Christian country to another is significant in spite of what is straightforward and similar on the surface.
While in Tbilisi I met George, a businessman who exports hazelnuts to Europe. After lamenting the lack of North American interest in Nutella, the chocolate hazelnut spread, he answered my questions about Christianity in Georgia and Armenia.
"Orthodox?! The Armenians are not Orthodox. We are different from them. Our church here in Georgia is Orthodox. We have links to the Russian Orthodox Church. They have funny ideas over there. Armenians are heretics. They don't believe in the Trinity. You should be more careful about theology if you go there."
He is right about the Armenian Church not being in line with the kind of Eastern Orthodoxy on display in the Russian or Greek Orthodox churches. But my hazelnut exporter friend was all too quick to dismiss the amazing story of one of the most historic churches in the world. Actually, "the most historic church", as Armenians will tell you.
In Yerevan, I speak with Father Dajad Davidian, a retired priest from Massachusetts who now resides in Armenia helping the church in a variety of ways, notably as resident theologian and visionary at Vem Radio, a new venture in national Christian broadcasting.
"You have this double whammy in the early 20th century," he tells me with no-nonsense Armenian-American flair. "When Turkey carries out the Armenian Genocide [in which between 1.5 and 2 million Armenians were killed] and then Soviet forces invade, swallowing us up into the Soviet Union. Those two blows forced many Armenians to go abroad, greatly enlarging a diaspora that already existed. There are Armenians almost everywhere in the world now."
Davidian goes on to describe how the faith of Armenians has helped them to hold together through not only the troubled 20th century, but also a long history of adversity that stretches back to wars between the Roman and Persian Empires. The Armenian Apostolic Church and the Armenian language, created in the fifth century by St. Mesrob, a monk, have enabled the survival of a nation without a home for the past 600 years. The declaration of the Republic of Armenia on September 23rd, 1991, inaugurated both a new state and a new era in the history of wandering Armenians.
The Armenian Apostolic Church itself is exceptional. It stands outside of the three major branches of Christianity: Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox. As one of six Oriental Orthodox Churches, Armenian Christians are independent but closely linked to such eastern churches as the Egyptian Coptic Church, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and the Syrian Orthodox Church, among others.
In The Eastern Orthodox Churches: A Brief Survey, Ronald Roberson details the intricate differences between these various churches, from the vast expanse of the Russian Orthodox Church to the tiny Assyrian Church of the East. The Oriental Orthodox Christians are renowned for rejecting the Council of Chalcedon in 451 and denying the two undivided natures of Christ, both divine and human. Roberson suggests that what was once regarded as heresy is more and more recognized as "only verbal" disagreement and that "in fact both parties [Chalcedonian and non-Chalcedonian] profess the same faith in Christ using different formulas."
Father Davidian identifies three distinctive characteristics of Armenian Orthodoxy. First, Armenian Christians stress the wider community rather than embracing modern Western individualism in the way that Protestantism has done. Second, in the Armenian Apostolic Church worship and liturgy are more important than preaching. Finally, he describes the respect for authority and obedience to elders, which Armenian Christians practice in contrast to Western culture.
"We are in a church that has just awoken from a slumber of 70 years," explains Davidian. "We are rediscovering our faith and we are rebuilding. Under the Communists, the church here developed a fear of change because any change could destroy it. Survival was the key. Those who were religious became superstitious. There was no Christian education. A priest without a beard was seen as a KGB agent. Now we're in the process of re-educating, and yet resources are inadequate to meet the challenges. We need reformation but it won't happen overnight."
Next I visit the office of Thomas Samuelian, a Harvard-educated Armenian-American who practices law in Yerevan and has also translated works by Armenian theologians into English. He is active in leadership in the Armenian Apostolic Church.
Samuelian emphasizes the mystical theology of the Armenian Church as a key distinctive in its identity. "It's a simple version of the faith really," he offers. "It's not legalistic. Armenian theology can be described as mystical. It takes a more spiritual approach to the mystery of God rather than the cognitive and rationalistic focus of the Western church, whether Catholic or Protestant. It's about practical Christianity, everyday stuff. You'll find a serious consideration of such things as prayer and penitence and much less doctrinal or didactic content."
On my second day in Yerevan, I hop aboard a marshutka, mini-buses that keep people zipping throughout the Caucasus, and head 20 minutes outside the city for a visit to Etchmiadzin, the holy see and ancient residence of the Armenian Catholicos (or patriarch). Etchmiadzin is the geographical and leadership centre of Armenian Christianity.
Deacon Vazgen Kesablyan, Secretary for Inter-Church Relations of the Mother See of Holy Etchmiadzin, shows me around the huge complex, including a seminary, the living quarters of the Catholicos, Karekin I (elected in 1995), and the cathedral of Etchmiadzin, which boasts a number of famous icons, among them the spear that pierced the side of Jesus.
Deacon Vazgen highlights the challenges facing the Armenian Apostolic Church. The national government provides little support, financial and otherwise, to the church and even restricts its privileges. Religious groups from the outside, which he called "cults", such as the Jehovah's Witnesses, come into Armenia and entice people away from the national church. The challenge of keeping young people in the church is also prominent.
"The Armenian Church does not have enough money to meet all the needs," he explains. "We have hundreds of church buildings to rebuild and we rely on diaspora money to do that. We can't afford it. We need more priests. It will take time."
Back in Yerevan, the rebuilding proceeds at a more breakneck pace. The profusion of cranes marks the outlines of a more prosperous future. Armenians from the diaspora, Canada, the U.S. and Europe — among them, Atom Egoyan, the Canada filmmaker — have returned to visit and more. Real estate prices in Yerevan have doubled in the past few years.
But Armenians will not soon abandon the church and the faith that has stood at the centre of their endangered culture for centuries.
On the marshutka ride back to Tbilisi, Georgia, I talk to Louisa, a 29-year-old Armenian employed by an international development organization doing advocacy work among women. She lived in Chicago for two years while studying.
She tells me she goes to church only a few times a year, on special occasions. But she also speaks of her faith in God. The two American Peace Corps workers she is travelling with seem almost surprised. Then she describes the experience she once had of worshipping in an Armenian church in the U.S. after being away for some time.
"It was so powerful. I walked in and heard the music in Armenian and it was like I was back home again. I cried and cried. Being in church reminded me of where I come from and who I am. It was so good to be there."
The new and old intermingle freely in Armenia; change alongside continuity. Armenia may no longer be threatened with extinction and the country may be opening up in many ways, but it seems certain that the Christianity that is so deeply embedded in the culture and manifest in the Armenian Apostolic Church will endure well beyond the life-span of recent high-rise developments and high-tech innovations in Yerevan.
