Remember What?
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(Armenian Genocide Memorial Day)
Psalm 42
Ninety-five years passed
since the crimes that the Turkish government committed towards our nation. For
95 years we Armenians have been crying out to all nations to recognize our
Genocide. So far more than 20 countries
have recognized it and others ignore or deny it for various unjustifiable
reasons.
We commemorate the Genocide
every year. The question I ask myself is: “What do we remember? What do we
commemorate?”
First, we remember the pain of our forefathers and
foremothers.
As many of you did, I grew up
with the horrible stories of the Genocide. Each of you has his/her own family
story. Some people including my
grandfather wrote down some of his memories that we later published. When he
was five years old, he was attacked with a sword and was left alone because he pretended
to be dead. I hear from my wife about her grandparents who lost many family
members. Her grandmother one of thousands of women who were obliged to put their
newborns under a tree hoping someone would rescue them. She had to cover her
face with mud so that no one would find her attractive and rape her. She tried
to throw herself in the river and die, but somehow God rescued her.
We read about the
assassination of the intellectuals of the society, starting from the teachers,
writers, priests and pastors. Last year I was introduced to the book “Armenian
Golgotha” by Peter Balakian. One can imagine how vicious crimes were committed
against humanity, and the world is silent about it.
When we look at the Bible, we
read about the suffering of another nation
who lost their land. They were
exiled and could not worship God at the Temple in Jerusalem. In Psalm 42, the songwriter, the psalmist
is in Jordan, on the heights of Mount Hermon and not in
Jerusalem. He is remembering the days when he could worship God in the
Temple with his fellow worshipers.
The psalmist is in tears (vs.
3). His tears have become his food day and night.
Like a deer that is so
thirsty searching for water, his soul is thirsty for the living God. (vs. 1)
The imagery is so vivid; it reminded me of the days when our ancestors had a
similar experience in the deserts of Deir Zor. Yes, like thirsty deer, they too
searched for water, searched for food, searched for security and shelter. Yes,
similar to the psalmist’s experience, their eyes were full of tears that became
their food, and they were also mocked by the Turkish authorities saying, “Where
is your God?” (vs. 3)
When we are in pain or
suffering injustice even today some of us ask, “Where is God, where was God”.
Where was God in our Genocide?
Did God forget our cry? How can the God of justice allow such a horrible
tragedy to occur?
Similar statements and
questions are asked by the psalmist. “My soul is downcast within me” (vs.6); “I
say to God my rock, ‘Why have you forgotten me?’ Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy? My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?’”(vs.9,10)
The answer is in the same
psalm, which we will continue in English.