-=Father Dajad Davidian=-

[MosJan]

http://www.townonline.com/specials/candle/art/davidiancover.jpg

 

Father Dajad Davidian's decision to become a priest, though against his father's wish, was in perfect keeping with his family heritage.

 

His mother's father was a village priest in eastern Turkey who was mercilessly butchered in the town square during the 1915 Armenian genocide.

 

Father Davidian's parents were both orphaned by this first ethnic cleansing of the 20th century that claimed at least 1.5 million lives.

 

Yet, says Davidian, by the time his parents met, married and had a family in Worcester, Mass., they taught love, not hate. And so, as if with the mantle of his grandfather and his parents' message of hope over bitter experience, Father Davidian set out, in his words, to serve God and to serve his people.

 

Father Davidian's commitment to that mission was never stronger than in this, his last year as pastor at St. James Armenian Apostolic Church.

 

"The church is the only Armenian institution that hasn't come and gone for 1700 years. Wherever Armenians go, the first thing they build is a church, the last thing they tear down is a church," says Father Davidian.

 

While their Christian faith has helped Armenians endure, the Armenian Church has helped them maintain their identity.

 

"You're born, you're married, you have children, you die. The church is there. It unites us. With the same rituals we share the same memories."

 

Father Davidian's Sunday services are steeped in tradition. Air thick with incense and lit in part by candle, the liturgy is beautifully sung and chanted in Armenian. The prayers, the music, the smells, even the sight of the priest's elaborate crown and robe is familiar to the increasingly diverse group that attend. A 90-year-old genocide survivor sits beside a 30-something American couple and their two children, who are behind an extended family from Turkey, Azerbaijan or Armenia.

 

Father Davidian's sermons, given also in English, are a brilliant blend of scripture, scholarship and humor. He often, whether discussing the Resurrection, Columbine High or the Turkish earthquake, makes the same point: that all in the pews before him are Christian, Armenian and, above all, human beings.

 

The greatest evil, in his view, is tribalism, the highest good to put aside differences in love and respect of one another.

 

 

Nurturing the church community is central to the life of any local priest. For Father Davidian it is a passion not without its burdens. In addition to his role as counselor, friend and spiritual leader, Father Davidian's job requires endless hours of paper work, phone calls and meetings.

 

The intricacies of running the largest Armenian parish in the eastern half of the United States involves budgets, hiring and managing staff, running a grounds and facility, and the most daunting task - trying to keep everyone as happy as possible. Like any executive, Father Davidian's time can be taken as much by people's petty complaints as by their crucial needs. Church politics has absorbed much of Father Davidian's time. Locally he has helped heal rifts between different Armenian congregations, and he meets regularly with pastors from local churches of all denominations. As a player on the national and world stage, Father Davidian has advocated liberal changes, such as admitting women to the ministry. He is often, by his own admission, a gadfly when he enters the halls of power.

 

"Since I am a people-oriented individual," Father Davidian once said of himself, "I tend to take on more than I can handle. I only wish that I could occasionally say no."

 

On any given day he may minister to the depressed, the recently divorced or bereaved. He will make time for a newly arrived immigrant looking for work and home, make a late-night stop at Mount Auburn hospital to bless newborn twins or the stricken aunt of a parishioner.

 

He has helped a couple through the intricacies of adopting an Armenian baby, and escorted the parents of a troubled teen to court. He loves introducing well matched single men and women and has helped many network in their careers, whether they're in business, politics or the arts. He coordinates fund raising for broken schools and churches in Armenia as well as for the sick and needy at home. He teaches Sunday school and marriage classes, oversees choir groups, youth athletic activities and bible study. He attends Men's Club meetings, helps the Ladies Auxiliary plan its Mother's Day program, meets weekly with Harvard Divinity School student Jason Demerjian, and much more.

 

Father Davidian will admit that he has a particular affection for children. At an ice cream parlor, on a special field trips or at choir practice, he wants to be seen as a mentor, not an authority figure. By serving as a positive role model during their youth, he hopes even those who rebel against their church and culture will one day be more likely to come back.

 

Though he claimed to be less energetic than he was when he started at St. James 30 years ago, that was not apparent to anyone who followed him day in and day out. His decision to retire was less about a loss of zeal than a need to do something else.

 

 

Bittersweet was a word Father Davidian used often in the weeks prior to his last day at St. James on Sept. 21. It could also be used to describe the emergence of a new Republic of Armenia from the ashes of the Soviet Union in 1991.

 

"I would like to spend an extended period of time in Armenia, the suffering homeland of our people," Father Davidian announced in his last pastor's annual report. "In Armenia today there is both opulent consumerism as well as despairing poverty. Our ancient tradition of faith is in danger in its own native land.

 

"I would like to preach the Christian Gospel of hope that I learned from our Church; to teach the Christian ethic of compassion and fidelity that I was taught; to instruct parish priests on the ideals of a priesthood that desires to serve rather than be served. Will I change the world? No, I know I can not, but perhaps I can touch another person. "'Better to light a candle than curse the darkness.'"

 

The mission of Father Dajad Davidian, born in the hearts of his ancestors, will come, no doubt, to illuminate the lives of those he touches in the new Armenia....

 

 

 

web page