The other church

by Tom Vartabedian

Published: Thursday April 23, 2009

In an effort to get the New Year started off on the right foot, I attended service at another Armenian church.

I figured it would be in my best interests to practice some unity in my life and give others a reason to take notice.

I've written about church unity, spoken about it too. Time I put my words into action.

The "other" church is located about five miles from my church – up one street and down another. An echo could probably reach there. The fact one seat is in Antilias and another in Etchmiadzin doesn't make one church any better than another.

Now here's the rub. Both are about ready to launch major construction plans with money that's tough to secure these days. Two of their churches combined forces into one. Our church is functioning on its own.

While touring Armenia this fall, our group went church-hopping. In one vank and out the other. We prayed together, lit candles together, and drew a parallel with our Armenian faith.

No one questioned an affiliation. One God. One church. One Armenia.

"You're going where?" my wife proposed.

"I'm off to the ‘other' church," I said. "Maybe if I take an initiative, others will follow. It's about time we laid our differences aside and worshipped in one church. Think about it. If you merged both congregations, it wouldn't even come close to filling one sanctuary on a Sunday."

As embarrassing as this may seem, my wife and I attended a badarak Armenian Christmas Eve. We were joined by two others in the congregation, a priest, one deacon, two choir members and an organist. We were soon joined by my daughter and her husband. That was it. We could have all fit into a broom closet.

I had a plan. I wanted to make a noticeable presence and therefore chose to sit by myself in the front pew. I walked in the door and shook some hands.

"To what do we owe this privilege?" said the board chairperson, who was passing out bulletins.

"No particular reason other than to follow my heart," I told him. "Perhaps we can begin to patronize each other's church and therefore be part of the same flock."

Another thought I had come there as a disgruntled parishioner. One other assumed I had lost my

Eyes turned as I sauntered to the front. And there I remained for 90 minutes while taking an active role in the worship. On any other Sunday, I was the one who took a rear seat and followed the flow. Now the flow was following me.

The Hayr Soorp delivered a sermon on humility and our eyes crossed more than once. It was as if he was directing his remarks toward me as an occasional smile was met.

After receiving Holy Community and reciting the final prayer, downstairs I went to the coffee hour where I took the liberty of shaking hands with a new year's greeting.

I must say, the hospitality was both wonderful and not unexpected since many of the parishioners were familiar to me. They've attended our picnics. We've patronized their fairs. Both Sunday Schools have conducted joint sessions in the past.

So why is it that we cannot function from one church? It would be our church, not the other church. We could take the money being raised for one construction project and send it to Armenia to rehabilitate our homeland.

Or else, invest it into our own welfare with both sides together.

I understand the red tape. Or maybe I don't. If I did, I probably could find a solution as to why the hierarchy cannot make ends meet.

I can only say that the best way to improve our plight is by one individual at a time. Each of us should take the initiative to cross barriers and wage a personal fight toward unity.

Word quickly got around town that I had changed churches to the point where one clergy member even called the other.

From my own vantage point, I do look upon strangers with a bit of curiosity when they walk into my church. They're accepted like our own and we make everyone feel at home, whether they belong or not.

Do yourself a favor this Sunday. Try a different church, even if you don't feel the urge. Take time to look around. It's too short a day to be intolerant.