Cymbals

The day was glorious as Krekor Vartician and his youngest son Garabed rode high up the mountain to pray at the family crucifix and view the valley below. This had been part of his spiritual tradition for as long as Krekor could remember.

The valley was breathtakingly beautiful from this vantage point. The trees and wildflowers were in full bloom and the warm spring sun shone on their faces as they dismounted to pray, rest, eat, and drink from the nearby stream.

Krekor had wanted to show Garabed this view of the valley. His son was in his ninth year and the youngest of Krekor’s twelve children. Although he loved all his children and treated them all kindly, Garabed held a very special place in his heart. It wasn’t just that he knew there would be no more children, it was much more. Garabed was special. Garabed, young though he was, was gifted. His keen mind and quick wit surpassed anyone Krekor had ever met. But more than his intelligence, Garabed had a quality about him that made Krekor love him even more. A gentle old spirit seemed to possess his young body. Krekor did not believe in reincarnation and had no explanation why his son was the way he was, he only knew that his son was loved by everyone who knew him.

“So Garabed, what do you think of our home from up here?” questioned his father.

“Father, it looks so small and so beautiful! Look at the smoke rising from our house that looks so tiny; see how small the pasture and our horses look.”

Krekor delighted in his son’s awe and pleasure. Each spring he and his sons had taken the ride up the mountain, just as he and his father had done each year to celebrate the coming of the good weather and to give thanks to God for the gift of surviving another winter. All of his family, his workers, and his neighbors had had enough to eat last winter, sickness had been minimal and only two of the elders had passed on. God had blessed him over and over.

But this sojourn was different from years past. His remaining sons were miffed when Krekor told some of them that only Garabed would be accompanying him. They had all enjoyed the ride up the mountain, and a day to break the routine of their daily toil. Life for these men, women and children was work. Day in and day out.

Krekor had been longing to be alone with his youngest on this small journey, and for time away from the rest of the family. A feeling deep inside him was telling him to share all his knowledge, little though it was, of the outside world with this keen youngster. Krekor always trusted his intuition; it was the one thing he had complete faith in.

So, the father and son said prayers of thanksgiving for times past and offered prayers for times to come. When done, they mounted their horses and started for home.

“Father, where does this trail lead?” Garabed asked. He had never been this far up the mountain or this far away from his home, neither had he been aware of trails leading to distant places.

It was exhilarating to be away and alone with his father; still, Garabed was slightly anxious. It was a new experience for him, the first of his lifetime, to be away from home. Did this mean he was becoming a man? Would there be a change of his status in the family? All these thoughts filled his head with wonder.

“This road leads to our village, villages beyond and then to great cities,” stated his father. Krekor himself had traveled to almost all the cities in Turkey to trade. He had heard about foreign and exotic countries and the many wonders of the world beyond.

“Garabed, it takes an hour to get to the village, the traveling is a little rough. There is nothing between here and there and the direction is to the south. Four days ride from here is Erzerum, where your mother’s family lives.” Garabed smiled thinking about his extended family and felt like a man of the world, knowing he had distant family in distant places.

“Your mother’s name used to be Hagopian. When we became betrothed, my father and I went to her city. It was the first time I traveled so far. We brought your mother back and she has never wanted to return. The journey was terrible and too difficult for her.

“Once I traveled to the great city of Constantinople. Too many people for me. I had a hard time understanding them when they spoke. I felt uncomfortable, yet it was a wonder to behold. I went to the cathedral: such beauty I could only imagine in heaven. Many shops, delicious food, and traders with lots of things to buy and see. Too rich for me!”

Garabed laughed as his father was the richest man in the valley. To think that anyone could be wealthier than him struck the boy as impossible and comical.

“Many schools in that city too. Maybe someday we’ll go, and you’ll learn about the letters and books, and you’ll be the first Vartician to read and write.”

Krekor smiled adoringly at his son. He had finally voiced his secret dream for Garabed and his family.

“I think you are destined to be far more than a horse trader, boy. No one can know the future, but I feel somehow your life will be very different from your ancestors.”

The boy smiled and was glad. He loved his father and believed every word he spoke, as Krekor never spoke frivolously. Whatever was asked or required of Garabed he would willingly do.

As they rode, Krekor spoke about their ancestors and their country, sharing stories that Garabed had heard since he was a baby. Stories of how Noah’s Ark came to rest on Mt. Ararat in Armenia after the great flood, of how God had chosen Armenia to give rebirth to the whole world. How Armenia had been the first country to convert to Christianity under the rule of King Tiridates in the third century. How this happened after St. Thaddeus and St. Bartholomew had converted most of the country.

Then he spoke of how St. Gregory the Illuminator saw a vision: the heavens opened and a blazing flood of light poured upon the earth. Through that light, a parade of angels came down to earth led by a tall and glorious figure, the Lord himself, the only begotten son of God. He carried a golden hammer in his hand, and when he struck the earth with it, a majestic cathedral arose in the Holy City of Etchmiadzin. This is what made his people unique, for once again God had chosen them to be the first country to believe in Him.

Krekor passed on his wisdom, telling his son, Trust no one outside your family, and never let anyone know what you have. To survive you must never let your guard down.

Garabed listened intently to his father. For as long as he could remember, his father had repeated these teachings to his children so that they would never forget and Garabed knew each word before his father spoke it.

Knowledge was a valuable thing and his father was a wise man. As they continued down the mountain, Garabed felt that of all his days, this was the best day of his life and he wished it would never end.