Keeping the Khachkars

 

Ansel Oommen

anseloommen@yahoo.com

26/9/13

The Cross is arguably the most familiar symbol of Christianity, but nowhere is this iconography as crucial or culture-entrenched, as it is in Armenia. Wherever you go, thousands of khachkars, or cross-stones, pervade the mountainous conscience of the world’s oldest Christian nation, providing a rare glimpse into the art of spiritual expression and its modern desecration as a cause of strife with neighboring countries.

The medieval monk Thomas à Kempis, on the subject of the Cross, once remarked, “In the Cross is salvation; in the Cross is life; in the Cross is protection against our enemies; in the Cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness; in the Cross is strength of mind; in the Cross is joy of spirit; in the Cross is excellence of virtue; in the Cross is perfection of holiness….”

With all these attributions, it is little wonder then that the Cross could serve as a champion symbol of Armenian national identity and union. Starting from the 4th century, the conversion of Armenians, and the instatement of Christianity (and by extension, the Armenian Apostolic Church) as a state religion in AD 301 issued a new era of national consciousness.

This burgeoning perception of Armenia as an entity distinct from the surrounding Zoroastrians was consolidated by several factors of the time: the invention of the Armenian alphabet, the effacement of the former pagan temples, and Gregory the Illuminator’s evangelical reign as the first head of the Armenian Church. The latter (now Armenia’s patron saint) particularly catalyzed the movement, and in an effort to distinguish and preserve the Armenian identity, ordered the creation of the first khachkar.

Upon initial inspection, the khachkar bears resemblance to other forms of Christian art, namely the Celtic High Cross and the Lithuanian Kryždirbystė. A type of relief sculpture, it features a variety of floral, vegetative, and geometric motifs, as well as tableaus of famous biblical scenes. Beautiful, yes— but in order to understand how a medieval stone became so charged with the Armenian spirit, a lesson in iconology is needed.

 The Cross was not always a well esteemed symbol; it once represented the basest form of execution, reserved for the disgraceful. The resurrection of Jesus however, and the persecution of the early Armenian Christians, transformed the cross into an image of soteriological victory: an emblem of triumph over the mortal vale.

  At the same time, mountain worship was prevalent. The mountain, as a biblical location, connoted austerity, reverence, and closeness with God. Moses, for example, communicated with God through the Burning Bush on Mount Sinai. For the early Armenians, there was no better way to claim this new Christian heritage than through the mountains, for which their land was replete (Armenia’s ancient territory included several biblical mounts). Gradually, the mountain worship evolved into a stone stele that could be conveniently erected near the home or church.

  When Gregory the Illuminator envisioned the khachkar, he believed it had the power to impart holiness into the air by sanctifying the immediate vicinity. Because religious and secular agendas were intrinsically at odds, the Cross, by virtue of the khachkar, was seen as a mediator between the Christian and the pagan. In turn, it began to assume various ecclesial functions– as gravestone, hallowed effigy, intervening spirit, talisman, and commemorative shrine of events, among others.

Thus it was only fitting that the khachkar turned into a uniquely Armenian fixture in graveyards, monasteries, cathedrals, residences, roadsides, and eventually, everywhere.

From an artistic perspective, the creative medium of rock boasts a powerful statement. Indeed, the rock has enjoyed several iconic references in the Bible. Jesus in a famous discourse quotes, “The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone” and at another time, tells Peter (petra being the Latin word for rock) that “…on this rock I build my church….” Such strong imagery was necessary for the Armenian Church’s survival; qualities such as permanence, stability and grounded faith were perpetuated by the physical three-dimensional embodiment of the cross-stone.

 Of course, practicality would also play a huge role. Armenia, with its vast mountain ranges and dormant volcanoes, would have no trouble sourcing the slate and tuff, both relatively workable, for construction purposes. In a region prone to earthquakes, man-made structures would have to prove sturdy. The rock, as a substrate of spiritual expression, signified the eternal and the infinite, amidst an unpredictable future.

 But the substrate, no matter how remarkable, is nothing without the craftsman. In the case of the Armenians, anyone with religious and moral conviction could erect a khachkar. Moreover, khachkars were commissioned for a number of social, spiritual, or individual reasons– anything from the planting of a garden to victory in war. Some were dedicated to saints, but all were meant as a source of pride for the artist and the patron, the country, the church, and ultimately, God.

Today, the biggest threat facing khachkars (some a millennium old) is their destruction in Turkey and Azerbaijan. The last of the largest collection of khachkars, the Armenian Cemetery in Jugha in the Azerbaijani held exclave of Nakhchivan, was purposefully annihilated in 2005. The method of destruction: sledgehammers and shovels by Azeri soldiers. Likewise, Turkey has ordered its own elimination program, with khachkars turning up as building stones, gravel, and other debris.

 “The destruction of Nakhijevan’s Armenian cultural heritage at state level is a crime not only against the Armenian nation but against all civilization. The annihilation… is defilement of sacred tenets of all religions,” commented the late Dr. Armen Haghnazarian, former director of Research on Armenian Architecture (RAA).

Needless to say, the violence is representative of the larger Armenian Genocide. Some might contend that while unfortunate, the death of these religious artifacts remains only a cultural casualty. However, it is in fact equivalent to the loss of human life. When something so ingrained with cultural self is so forcefully expunged, it is a direct assault against that culture and its humanity. It is in essence declaring, “Those people did not exist– they never have.” And when history is read like a fable, it only takes one generation for it to turn fiction.

Does this mean then that the Turks and Azerbaijanis are the clear-cut villains in this parable? It can be rather easy to nurture a profound prejudice in the light of wrongdoing. However, the issue was never really an Armenian or a Turkish or an Azeri one: at its very core, it whispers something primal. All types of organizational beliefs run the risk of group polarization. This is lessened to some extent if there is an inherent variability in population and if freedom and tolerance are upheld.

But with tight government censorship, these factors are oppressed, breeding a cult-like system where anything that is unlike the government is against the government. We know this is a dangerously flawed mode of thinking, yet it persists like a weed, even in an internationally conscious community.

 Why? Quite simply, nationalism and similar phenomena operate by appealing to the vulnerable self. Exerting charisma and exuding promises of identity and solidarity, they seem a quick fix for individual shortcomings. But by joining the group, personal inhibitions are dangerously lowered and the self is compromised. Discrepancies are silenced in order to gain the benefits of a social construction: purpose, protection, and sense of belonging. Those that are marginalized become the new enemies. Thus, group mindset slowly replaces individual accountability, causing members to commit acts they normally would hesitate to do on their own. Polarization can be so dangerous as to make people forget that others, outside of their affiliation, are in fact humans as well. And when they forget, inhumanity abounds.

Once again, the ancient khachkar is summoned as a symbol, though this time, it is just as much invested in the Turkish and Azeri people. When the last of this cultural cornerstone is gone, they too will lose something precious.

Source:

Independent