The eminent ethnographer Yervand Lalayan, in his article “Sacred Rites Among Armenians,” explored the origins and evolution of the “ritual of offering,” perpetuated among Armenians and other peoples around the world since time immemorial. Below, we present brief excerpts (the beginning was covered in previous articles)…

“Among the Greeks, there was a tradition where the services offered to the gods were the same as those needed by living beings; temples were considered the homes of the gods, sacrifices as their food, and altars as tables.”

In this context, it is possible to demonstrate that the food offerings made to the gods and those placed on the graves of the deceased share a common origin, as both derive from offerings made to the living…

“Among Armenians, when grapes are harvested for the first time (usually during the Feast of the Dormition), they are sent as gifts to relatives, the head of the household, dignitaries, the priest, and then brought to the church to be blessed, and the next day, to the cemetery for the commemoration of the dead. In the Shirak region and in other Armenian villages, during the first threshing, bread is made with flour from this wheat, called “chalaki” or “taplay,” which is offered to relatives, the head of the household, the priest, and distributed early in the morning to passersby as a portion intended for the deceased. When the first pears and early apples are harvested, they are sent as gifts to relatives, especially the son-in-law, the head of the household, the priest, and taken to the cemetery for the commemoration of the dead during Vardavar, placed in a bag or on a tray on the tombstone. All passersby take them, eat them, and pray for the deceased. When honey is harvested, a portion is reserved for relatives, the head of the household, the priest; candles are made from the wax and then brought to the cemetery and the church to be lit. A newborn lamb or calf is offered to relatives, the head of the household, or other dignitaries, consecrated to the church, or slaughtered to prepare the “bread of the soul.” The new wine is sent as a gift to relatives, the head of the household, or dignitaries, to the church for the communion chalice, and to the cemetery for the commemoration of the dead, where a little is poured on the tombstone before drinking a cup of mercy.”

The above-mentioned facts, observed in all countries, demonstrate that sacrifices are, by principle, offerings in the true sense of the word. Animals are offered to kings, slaughtered on graves, and sacrificed in temples. Prepared foods are offered to military leaders, placed on graves and on temple altars. The first fruits are offered to living military leaders, as well as to the dead and to the gods: in some places, it is beer, in others, wine, and elsewhere, chicha, sent to the visible ruler, presented to the invisible spirit, and sacrificed to the gods. Incense, once burned before kings and in certain places before dignitaries, is burned elsewhere before the gods.

Let’s also add that dishes, as well as all sorts of precious objects intended to gain favor, are accumulated both in the treasuries of kings and in the temples of the gods. We now arrive at the following conclusion: In the same way that offerings made to earthly rulers gradually evolve to take the form of state revenues, offerings made to the gods develop to take the form of ecclesiastical revenues.

“The Middle Ages introduced a new level in the development of offerings. In addition to what was necessary for the communion of priests and laypeople, without including what was intended for the Eucharist, it became customary to offer various gifts, which, over time, were no longer even brought to the church but sent directly to the diocese. Later, due to the frequent repetition and expansion of these gifts, which were supposed to be intended for God but were in reality bequeathed to the church, regular income for the church began to appear.”

Among the Armenians as well, the income of the church and its clergy has developed in a similar manner. Initially, pilgrims would willingly invite the church’s clergy to share their sacrificial meal, but gradually, they found themselves obliged to reserve a specific portion for the church and its clergy. Thus, nowadays, anyone offering a sacrifice is required to give the animal’s skin to the church, the right leg to the priest, and the head and stomach to the sacristan.

Spontaneous gifts of wheat, flour, oil, cheese, butter, olive oil, grapes, and wine offered to relatives, the church, and its officials gradually gave rise to ecclesiastical taxes, which we will discuss later.

In exploring the roots and subsequent developments of ritual offering traditions, the renowned Armenian ethnographer Yervand Lalayan cites the testimony of Movses Khorenatsi about King Yervand in his article “Ritual Rites among the Armenians”: “And Yervand offered abundant gifts and distributed money to each of them… And he did not become as beloved by those to whom he gave much as he became an enemy to those to whom he did not give with the same generosity” (Movses Khorenatsi, Book II, Chapter XXXV).

Let’s add a few more excerpts from the previously mentioned article.

“Up until now, we have discussed the offerings that individuals of lower rank present in order to gain favor from their superiors. However, we have not mentioned the gifts that those of higher rank give to their subordinates. The difference in meaning between these two types of offerings is particularly evident in countries where the custom of giving is complex, such as in China.”

“During the visits that leaders make to their subordinates, or after these visits, there is an exchange of gifts. However, those given by the leader are called ‘rewards’, while those from the subordinates are called ‘offerings’. This is also how the Chinese refer to the gifts exchanged between their emperor and other states.”

It is necessary to say a few words about these offerings, even though they do not have a ritual nature. Over time, political authority strengthens and controls the entire society, but there comes a moment when it must relinquish part of this monopoly to its servants and subjects. The servants and subjects, initially obliged to make offerings, are now partially subdued by the rewards they receive.

“It is evident that as the offerings from subordinates gradually take on the role of taxes, levies, and customs duties, the rewards given by leaders turn into wages.”

“In Armenia, kings and nobles used to reward the services of their officers by granting them villages, towns, and even provinces, called ‘pargevanqs,’ to distinguish them from lands known as ‘patrimony,’ which were hereditary properties. The ‘pargevanqs’ only conferred the right to collect taxes for life.”

For military service, neither the soldiers nor the commanders received a salary but were rewarded solely by the spoils. In Mkhitar Gosh’s “Legal Code,” it is stipulated “according to custom” that half of the spoils must be given to the soldiers and that “if a soldier captures the equipment, horse, and weapons of the enemy during a war, all of this belongs to him, but the armor belongs to the lord, the copper and iron and similar items to the soldiers. Gold, jewels, and precious fabrics in all circumstances belong to the king, and valuable silver items and fabrics to the lords, while lesser value silver and fabric items belong to the soldiers” (Mkhitar Gosh, “Legal Code,” Part II, A).

During the time of the Armenian meliks as well, neither the soldiers nor their captains (yuzbashi) received any salary, and the melik was obliged to distribute part of the spoils to them and, during festivities, various “khilats,” mainly clothing, horses, and weapons.

The table of kings, nobles, and meliks has always been open to visitors and servants. Phaustos Buzand says: “Among these peoples and the humble, those who were called agents were honored by being seated before the king, allowing the great chiefs and stewards, who were only nine hundred agents, to enter at the time of the temple feast to sit at the table, leaving those who waited standing in the service of the agents.”

Employees of certain modern public institutions, such as clerks, public weighers, bath cleaners, and sacristans, do not receive a salary but are rewarded with gratuities. For example, clerks receive a few kopecks for the New Year and a few eggs for Easter. Similarly, barn cleaners receive half to a pound of wheat, with the latter reward having become mandatory.

In both Kars and among the residents of Alexandropol, Akhalkalaki, and Akhatsikhé, it is customary for women working in public baths, the cleaners, to visit the homes of the bathhouse clients during the New Year. They are received and given a plate of dried fruit and 10 to 50 kopecks. When the new bride goes to the public baths for the first time, after being washed, the cleaners solemnly knock their basins together while leading her out of the baths, and one of them presents her with a basin of water. The new bride must drink a little of this water and place money in the basin as a gift for the cleaners.

Public weighers take a small portion of the fruits and foods they weigh.

It is also worth mentioning the gifts exchanged between individuals who are not in a relationship of superiority and subordination.

“Among Armenians, exchanging gifts between equals is very common. For almost every major holiday, gifts are exchanged, especially between families newly united by marriage, and some of these gifts are considered so obligatory that they are sometimes strictly required. It is also common in our culture for parents to give something to their children for the New Year, children to give something to their parents, and for relatives to exchange gifts. At Easter, it is very common to exchange red eggs. Young fiancés often give a decorated egg to their fiancée. During the Transfiguration festival (Vardavar), it is common in many places to exchange bouquets of roses as well as decorated apples with fiancées. (Here is how the apples are decorated: before they ripen, without picking them from the tree, leaves cut into various shapes or with initials are attached. The covered parts remain white, while the rest turns red.)”

Gifts exchanged between newly allied families through marriage, known as “p’ay” or “khoncha,” are particularly noteworthy and are considered absolutely mandatory. Thus, even if the wedding is held early, some of the main “p’ay” are still required. The “p’ay” or “khoncha” are sent from the groom’s home to the bride’s home during the Barekendan festivities, the first day of Lent, Mid-Lent, Palm Sunday, Easter, Vardavar, and Navasard. The “p’ay” consist of food, drinks, and various ornaments. In return, the bride’s family also sends various foods and drinks to the groom’s home, which is called “darts’vatsk.” Socks are almost always included among the gifts sent from the bride’s home, as they are a fitting gift for this occasion and many others.

In family life, certain gifts have also become obligatory forms of tribute. For instance, during childbirth, relatives are expected to send a “tsnndgavath,” which primarily consists of various dishes and pastries. The groom’s family gives the bride a monetary gift called “yeresttesnouk,” and the bride’s family gives the groom a similar gift. During the wedding, a monetary gift is also given to the bearer of the crown. Food is sent to the home of the deceased, a lamb and a black cloth are offered for the Holy Cross. Cakes are sent to someone going into exile, and upon their return, they also bring a gift.

Thus, the offerings that the early humans voluntarily presented to those from whom they wished to gain favor have, over time and with the development of society, become the source of many customs. The reason for presenting gifts to political leaders is explained by the fear they inspire and, in part, by the desire to obtain their help. These offerings, which initially attracted favor through their intrinsic value, later became symbols of loyalty and devotion.

Offerings of the second category evolve into donation rituals, while those of the first category first become taxes, then tributes. At the same time, the custom of placing food on graves to appease spirits develops, repeating on the graves of notable individuals and eventually becoming sacrifices on temple altars. Meat, drink, or clothing initially seen as beneficial to spirits or gods come to symbolize submission. Offerings transform into acts of respect regardless of their intrinsic value, allowing priests to subsist as intermediaries of divine worship, with sacrifices originally serving as church income. Thus, we have another example of how religious rites precede political and ecclesiastical structures, as the actions derived from rites lay the groundwork for other institutions.

Certain episodes from the ancient history of Armenia and its relations with other empires are often known only partially, through fragmentary mentions in foreign sources, but sometimes also through detailed information.

Throughout the tumultuous centuries, profound changes in Armenia’s political situation have left their mark and inevitable consequences on the country’s history.

In the descriptions of the Roman historian Tacitus (circa 58-120 AD), the events of a period filled with conflicts 2000 years ago take shape, recently recalled in certain European countries through exhibitions dedicated to Mithraism and the mysteries of Mithraic rites, mentioning the visit of the Armenian king Tiridates I to Rome and his meeting with Nero (who reigned from 54 to 68).

Due to its geographical position, Armenia was at the center of military actions by rival powers at different times, where decisive events took place.

Here we present an interesting article from the January 1913 edition (pages 10-12) of the magazine “BAZMAVE” published in Venice, describing Tiridates’ journey to Rome, accompanied by magi and the sons of Manavaz, his solemn arrival, and the ceremonies organized.

“Fragments of Armenia”

Under this title, we periodically publish writings on the history of the Armenian nation, drawn from both ancient and modern works by foreign authors. These writings may be useful not only for historical philology but perhaps even more so for shedding light on Armenian relations with other nations and providing our young art enthusiasts with a source of inspiration for their poetic, pictorial, theatrical, musical, and other creative productions.

The following excerpt is a page from Tacitus’ “Annals.” Tacitus left his last book, the sixteenth, almost unfinished and then moved on to his “Histories.” This gap has been filled by various historians drawing from other ancient sources. This page is presented to us by Brotier, who beautifully describes the coronation of Tiridates by Nero as King of Armenia. (H. Auger)

Stay tuned for the next article, which will feature a story about a donation related to the journey mentioned…

In 1916, following a conference held on October 27 at the French Embassy in London, an agreement was signed between representatives of the Entente Powers—Mark Sykes (representing England), Georges Picot (representing the French government), and Boghos Nubar, President of the Armenian National Delegation. Based on this agreement, the “Armenian Legion” (1916-1920), an Armenian volunteer unit within the French army, was formed in 1916.

The Armenian legionnaires, numbering over 4,500 soldiers, were to participate in military operations against the Ottoman Empire under the command of French forces on the Syria-Palestine front, and later on the Cilician front. In return, France promised to grant the Armenians of Cilicia autonomy after the Allies’ victory, based on the “firm guarantees” given to Boghos Nubar.

The Armenian Legion first took part in combat operations on September 19, 1918, in Palestine at the heights of Arara, achieving a glorious victory.

“Men! You know, tomorrow morning is our wedding day, the day we have all been waiting for. Every soldier must be ready by 4 a.m. sharp. This is the hour of revenge and righteous retribution. It is for the liberation of the Homeland that we will fight this sacred battle. This is the only service we can offer to our unfortunate nation, to make it happy through the price of our blood.

I don’t know how many of us will fall on the battlefield when tomorrow’s curtain drops, but I am certain that the proud Armenian brow will not taste the bitterness of shame! Our past must inspire us, and let the future instill faith in us all.”

With this message, delivered late at night on September 18, 1918, Armenian officer John (Hagop) Shishmanian, serving in the French armed forces, addressed the Armenian volunteers of the “Eastern Legion” camped on the slopes of Mount Arara in Palestine, announcing the attack on the “Turkish and German positions.”

On April 24, 1927, during the unveiling of a memorial dedicated to the Armenian volunteers in Jerusalem, former “legionnaire” Hagop Arevian, the delegate of the American and Cairo “Legion Union,” recalled this event in his speech. This excerpt is taken from his address, published in Cairo in 1928 by the “Armenian Legion Union” in the book “The Volunteer: On the 10th Anniversary of the Victory at Arara.”

The memorial dedicated to the Armenian soldiers who perished in the Battle of Arara is located in Jerusalem (photo courtesy of the National Archives of Armenia).

“On the evening of September 18, 1918, the news spread among the legionnaires that the next morning they were to launch an attack on the enemy army. Everyone was joyfully preparing, as if they were attending a wedding. Their excitement was boundless. Finally, after two long years of continuous training, they would show the enemy their military prowess.

It was the morning of September 19 when the order for a lightning attack was given. Ignoring all dangers, even death, they charged at the enemy positions, and within an hour, the designated positions were captured. All that remained of the enemy were lifeless bodies. Unfortunately, not everyone was fortunate; about a hundred comrades fell heroically. Despite their severe wounds, they were never demoralized and shouted to those advancing ahead with voices filled with boundless vengeance: ‘Hagop, don’t forget me!’ or ‘Galust, avenge me!’

Here you see the memorial to 23 of them, whose remains now rest here. They closed their eyes forever with joy, but with vengeance in their hearts.”

Honor to their immortal memory!

The battle lasted approximately twenty hours, during which the enemy fiercely bombarded the lost positions and attempted to retake them with a counterattack. But the Armenian soldier remained steadfast at his positions, and with his rapid-fire rifles and machine guns, thwarted the Turkish “Yıldırım” (meaning “Lightning,” K.A.) army, which was the force opposing the advancing enemy columns. They lived up to their name only when it came to retreating.

As you can see, it was on the eve of the ceasefire that the legionnaires received their baptism by fire. However, they more than made up for it by fulfilling their military duties. They remained at their post for another two years, during which they faced many other challenges, and the number of their martyrs far exceeded twenty-three, surpassing 123. But the last of them were left without graves, resting in some desolate corner of unknown fields. They faced many unequal battles, sometimes at great sacrifice, but always emerged victorious.

This did not go unnoticed by their French commanders either. All the fallen had received their wounds either on their forehead or chest.

Every time there was a dangerous mission to be carried out, the “Hakobs” and “Galusts” would step forward from their ranks and whisper in their commanders’ ears that they had not forgotten the voices of the “Martiroses” and “Jingirians,” who had fallen on the hill of Arara, saying, “Avenge us.” And so, there came the days when the “Hakobs” and “Galusts” also heroically fell on the path of the great national cause.

When Galust lost his left arm, I kissed his forehead and tried to offer him a few words of encouragement, but I had made a mistake, for he did not need any encouragement. His response was, “It’s not my arm that hurts. You know I was supposed to fight for several people, and I haven’t satisfied my vengeance yet.”

As you can see, even the very last to fall had not yet taken their revenge. Therefore, it remains for the new generation, as a fraternal inheritance, to exact that vengeance, and should the opportunity arise, to once again deal ruthlessly with the enemy…

“WITHOUT WATER, NO SEED CAN GERMINATE ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH…”

Across the entire Armenian Highlands, numerous ancient pilgrimage sites are scattered, where, since time immemorial, Armenians have gathered to continue the traditions of their ancestors, celebrating national holidays and rituals with special festivities.

The most beloved celebration was the feast of Vardavar. During the summer heat, pilgrims from various places—groups, families, and clans—would make their way to their sacred site, whether it was an ancient temple, mountain peak, cave complex, river, spring, or a majestic standing tree. There, they would praise Water, the gift of Nature—nourishing, cooling Rain—and also honor love and its patrons: the affectionate, rose-bearing goddess Astghik, and the brave, valorous Vahagn (as noted by the priests of the Haykian Brotherhood, Kurm Mihr Haykazuni and Kurm Harut Arakelyan).

The sacred sites remaining in Western Armenia are no longer standing. After the Armenian Genocide, pilgrimages to these once-crowded holy places ceased. However, the Vardavar festivities and other celebrations have been immortalized in the pages of writers from different times, in the memories of participants, and continue today in slightly altered forms on the small piece of land that remains of present-day Armenia…

The Vardavar festival on the slopes of Khustup in 1919.

As a continuation of the festival of “New Harvest,” “New Fruit,” the Earth that ripens the crops and the Life-giving Water were also glorified.
Water…
The Water that enables fertility and growth, Life and existence itself—without which there is no growth, blossoming, development, or prosperity…

“…Remove the water, take away the moisture from every living thing, and it will immediately wither.
And withering is the consequence of death and obliteration.”

“Without water, not a single seed can be fertilized on the face of the earth,” writes Atrpet, and continues:

“…The gusans (minstrels) glorified Astghik’s love and tenderness through their songs—her image and beauty, her vitality and energy, which filled people with spirit and emotion, allowing them to lead joyful lives. Thanks to this feeling, people transformed the earth into a paradise, embracing and loving one another with the flames of love, entering a rose garden of happiness to spend days filled with joy and delight.

Without the abundant love and emotions bestowed by Astghik, they found life sad and unbearable. Without the pleasures she granted, all the scenes of nature would turn bleak and dark. Just as Astghik gave life and bright eyes, they attributed rosy cheeks, ivory chins, amber breasts, cypress-like stature, arched eyebrows, shining foreheads, beating hearts, and trembling muscles to Astghik’s grace.

Another group of singers, with their gusans and dancers, in turn began to sing of Anahit’s genius, her wisdom, and the gifts she brought to humanity—the beautiful arts with which humankind turned the desert into a paradise, adorning the valleys and mountain slopes with countless blessings and colorful flowers, even decorating the rocky cliffs.”

Some praised the hammer and the anvil, others extolled the axe and the saw, while some marveled at the cart and the carriage. Others admired the plow and the plowshare, the horse’s bridle and horseshoe, the bow and arrow, the ladders and the pulley, the painting and the sculpture, the harp and the flute. In short, all the arts and tools that humanity had gained through the ingenious wisdom granted by Anahit.

Each time the minstrels sang a verse, the dancers would repeat it, moving back and forth with enthusiasm, linked arm-in-arm, brimming with fervor. The gentle breeze caressed and invigorated the youthful faces, flushed with excitement, their hair and chests, while the sun’s bright rays reflected in their fiery eyes, golden hair, and smooth skin…

“…Before the offering had concluded, forty maidens clad in apricot-colored garments, dedicated to the radiant Astghik, descended gracefully from the hilltop. Their amber-like hair cascaded over their shoulders, their heads crowned with roses, and their bare necks and wrists adorned with strings of beads. They approached the musicians with delicate steps and began their song and dance.

The minstrels, surrounded by the maidens, sang numerous hymns dedicated to Vardeh. As they danced with increasing fervor, exchanging graceful movements, the sun had already ascended to the highest point in the sky, and the air grew so intense that pearls of sweat adorned the foreheads of both the minstrels and the dancers.

At this moment, groups of maidens and young men took jugs and pitchers, splashing water on their beloveds to cool and refresh them. They endlessly sprinkled water over one another, shouting, laughing, and running away, but no one could escape getting drenched.”

«It’s the Festival of Roses!», they shouted, spraying the cool water relentlessly from head to toe.
The singers, dancers, musicians, and the crowd continued their joy without changing positions until their clothes dried under the sun’s rays. The youth and teenagers endlessly carried water and poured it over the heads of the pilgrims, who, either exhausted or lost in thought, had withdrawn to the side.

— Today is the Festival of Roses, a day of laughter and dancing, — shouted the water-sprayers, leaping and jumping.
— Today is our protector’s festival, it’s Vardavar, we must only sing, dance, and laugh, not doze off and slumber.
— If only that water rained down from the heavens, — sighed the elderly in response, — we too would rejoice in spirit.

The teenagers drenched the pilgrims so much that, to escape the soaking, everyone joined the circle of dancers and began to sing and leap with them.

The dance lasted until the sun set. Though the last of the pilgrims sat on the green grass to dine, the songs, music, and dancing did not cease.
After playing the evening lament, the pilgrims lit great fires near their tents, around which, until midnight, they sang, played music, and listened to the stories of the bards, who passed down the tales they had heard from their ancestors to their grandchildren…

THE VOLUNTEER

“To all our elite, who fell for the land of Armenia…”

During the First World War, thousands of Armenian volunteers from various parts of the world came together to bravely fight on all fronts. Many publications dedicated to their heroism remain unfamiliar to the wider public.

On February 12, 1919, a joint Memorandum of Armenian demands, signed by Avetis Aharonian and Boghos Nubar, was presented at the Paris Peace Conference. The document emphasized the role of the Armenian nation as a “belligerent party,” arguing for the re-establishment of an independent Armenian state. It delineated its territory, including the seven vilayets of Western Armenia (with Trabzon considered as it was the only significant outlet of the entirety of Greater Armenia to the Black Sea), uniting with the Republic of Armenia and Cilicia.

“Armenia has earned its right to independence through its direct and voluntary participation in the war on three fronts—Caucasus, Syria, and France,” the memorandum stated.

“The Volunteer” (Avetis Aharonian)

Dedicated to all our chosen ones who fell for the Armenian world…

1.
Who is the volunteer?
He is not merely a soldier; he is more than a soldier.
He is the iron will, clenching his powerful jaws against the curse of life.
He is neither born, nor does he die.
He is eternal—like suffering, and undying—like the flame erupting from the fiery forge of reason.

Prometheus was the first volunteer.
He, who pitied the miserable human race stumbling in darkness and cold, dared to face the wrath of the cruel gods and stole the heavenly fire to bless the soul of the world with light and warmth.
And later, bound to the rock by the gods’ fury, he offered his liver to the eagles to tear apart, without a single sigh.
The volunteer does not groan, for his will is the relentless effort of self-destruction—boundless and indestructible.

Do not defile the motherland’s soil with oppression.
Woe to you if her pain rises with her sweat from the depths and clouds the just rays of the sun.
Why has the tall plowman suddenly halted, thoughtful and brooding?
He gazes afar at the endless fields, and the wind lashes his gloomy brow.
The folksong has silenced; the yoked ox snorts in the furrow.
For whom is the plowing done?
Why has the blonde shepherd, lying along the green path, suddenly trembled and sat up?
Forgetting his flock, his dreamy gaze searches through the mist on the mountain slope.
He listens, his ear to the sound. Whom does he await?
Yesterday, three lambs were missing from his flock.
The calf is bellowing.
A lone traveler passes through the sad, dark valleys.
He opens his soul to the winds, like a flower bud at dawn, and gently speaks to his horse:
“Calm, my soul, soften your hoofbeats, the gorge is treacherous.”

In the midst of the meek and obedient silence of the bent-backed masses, a mysterious bell always rings with a harmonious and powerful rhythm.
The traveler, the shepherd, the plowman, and the sun listen closely.
Do not defile the motherland’s soil with oppression.
Woe to you, for in her womb, the pains of motherhood are already writhing.
It is the storm’s alarm.
Souls have drunk fire.

In the silence, a bell chimes, and beneath the distant cottage, the churn hanging from the ceiling moves back and forth. The old mother weeps softly.
She had a dream last night.
Who is threatening her sweet child?
Her tears drip onto the churn, falling drop by drop.
An eagle circles above the plowman’s head.
The shepherd raises his fist to the sky.
The lonely traveler searches the treacherous gorge.
Cry, mother, ah, your tears are for the world.
The lambs are gone, and in the fields, the calf cries, bereft.
The churn moves back and forth, and in the distant cottage, a mother weeps.
She had a bad dream last night.

The world-conquering army, the gray mass of humanity trained under the cold whip of law, is the curse of history.
The volunteer is the conscience of nations.
It is he who casts the veil of mythic fire over the savagery of battle, spreads love over the wounded fields, and embodies the spirit of the homeland’s mountains.
Standing against oppression, sword in hand, like an angel, he wrests the secret of death to hurl it into the storm of the ages.
He is the only master of freedom’s forge, and his craft is unique—to shatter chains beneath the victorious blows of his hammer, all chains.
He forges the life of a thousand generations by sacrificing his own to the all-encompassing, sovereign flame of the universe.
The volunteer is the conscience of nations.

The only just war is the one fought for the homeland and, more broadly, for human freedom.
All the great revolutions of nations are the work of volunteers.
All the grand legends, by which humanity is sustained and lifted toward its ideals, are crafted by volunteers. Like the spring flood that erodes mountains, they carve deep furrows in the pages of history.

Garibaldi and his thousand men are an eternal song, a gust of storm that will echo through the centuries, each time tyranny and evil weigh heavily upon the world.
Prometheus stole fire from the heavens…

2.
It was nearly forty years ago when I saw him—the first Armenian volunteer. He was a dark-skinned young man, with a strong physique, eyebrows like black clouds, and eyes burning like embers.
He came, opened my door, said “hello,” rested for one night like a bird searching for a nest, and at dawn, without a word, he set out toward the dark Bardoghian mountains, just as quietly as he had arrived.
Volunteers do not like to talk.
They are always silent, like the pale Nemesis.
He left and never returned.
Volunteers never return.
If they do come back, they will leave again, and again… until they fall beneath a stone…
And so the dark-skinned young man left.
It was Goloshean…
He fell in the gorge of Chukhur.

And after?
… After, the tormented conscience of a suffering nation thickened and erupted like a storm.
A mysterious bell tolled over the oppression reigning beyond the mountains—terrifying yet captivating.
And for thirty years, from this side of the border and beyond, our wounded land and our sweat gave birth to giants from its just depths—muscular, brave young men who marched one after another against the dragon entrenched in our mountains.
The sorrow-filled lullaby of our mothers stirred the souls of their sons.
The cradle’s weeping became the most powerful song of war.
The sobs heard from swaddling clothes under the oppressive hand of tyranny are the very anvil on which the volunteer’s armor is forged.
Thousands followed in the footsteps of these titans, they went, and never returned.
Beneath which stone, in which gorge, are they now dreaming the dream of the homeland?

And the courage of rebellion, accumulated for thirty years, rose like a dragon in the gorges of Gharakilisa, in the fields of Sardarabad, and in the battles of Arara, roaring in defiance:
“You shall not pass! Here, our spirit is a fortress of granite.”

What an assault, what bravery… In Gharakilisa, four thousand of the elite broke the arrogance of the Turkish hordes with their sacrifice.
And in Sardarabad, where thousands of years stared from the ripples of the Araxes, the Armenian volunteer brought the ancient enemy to its knees.
And in Arara, a handful of selfless Armenians astonished foreign and ungrateful nations.

Gharakilisa, Sardarabad, and Arara will remain as unbreakable monuments, where the wounded and forgotten Armenian people once again imprinted their ancient military valor on the great book of universal history.

The old mother has long since died. She dreams no more.
The empty churn moves back and forth, breathing with the winds.
The young widow, in a rage of mad grief, let her veil be torn to shreds by the winds, wiped her tears, and laid her soul upon her fertile womb, where her child trembles within.

The mighty oak forest has been devastated by a destructive storm, but the new shoots are rising towards the sun.
And from one end of Armenia to the other, in all the mountains, in all the valleys, in all the villages—whether prosperous or ruined—lives the powerful legend, the endless tale of those who have passed and those who are coming…

Who can strip from our soul our golden Legend—our free Homeland!