COMMUNITY REGROUPS AFTER ITS PASTOR’S DEATH
By Tom Vartabedian
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April 8,2009
Weeks after his death, a community continues to mourn the loss of
its beloved pastor.
The passing of Der Vartan Kassabian March 12 has sent the Merrimack
Valley reeling with aftershock and cast parishioners from St. Gregory
Church into a bereaved state.
It’s not something anyone can forget overnight, much less an
eternity. But like he would have wished, grief must be replaced by
healing and the congregation must persevere.
If anything, this pastor always preached vitality and encouraged his
flock to settle for nothing less.
As Sunday School students come to grips with reality, several are
looking to the church for strength. The priest who once humored them
with a casual Sunday sermon is no longer there.
He taught them well. Hopefully, the lessons will guide them toward
greater maturity.
Local genocide committees will miss his sturdy presence at
commemorations where prayers will mourn his loss. If anything, they
will remember the man for his oratorical brilliance and the knack
for always finding the right words in a dire situation.
Two years ago, when vandals destroyed some genocide billboards around
Greater Boston, Armenians everywhere were aghast.
Could this be another vile Turkish prank? Such vandalism made the
Boston papers with pity.
As the Armenian public criticized the act, Der Vartan found a positive
side. In an invocation he delivered, he told the audience that such
acts were "a blessing in disguise."
"The publicity we received from this caught the eye of every
sympathetic reader and underscored nine decades of intolerance by
our people toward Turkey," he pointed out. "You can’t buy this kind
of press. They did us a favor."
With his pearls of wisdom, Der Vartan was like a firefly on a moonless
night, casting certain radiance where there was none.
The elderly continue to wallow with grief. Each Sunday, he would
regale them with words of inspiration, whether it was from the altar
or during a coffee hour. Shortly after his father’s death, Mgo walked
into an Armenian School class and sat with the younger students.
His place, he felt, was with them as words of encouragement flowed from
his mouth. A year ago this time, his essay on genocide recognition took
first prize. As another contest took effect, he urged the students
to enter, get involved, make a difference in their church, much the
same way his father had intended.
As another phase of a renovation project takes place inside the
church, there seems to be greater initiative than ever to get the
work accomplished in his memory. A better tribute couldn’t be possible.
The Easter season took on greater significance this year as in the past
with the death of Christ resurrecting an entire Christian nation. In
some ways, the same could be said for Der Vartan’s demise.
Life after death.
Visiting clergy continue to do their part until a replacement is
named. Every promise has been made by the hierarchy to find a suitable
pastor. To walk in his shoes would be a daunting task for any cleric.
Meanwhile, a congregation has been enamored to carry on the work he
so delegated to others.
Jesus Christ died two centuries ago. Presidents like Abe Lincoln
and John F. Kennedy are gone. Our rich, classical composers, Bach,
Beethoven, Mozart set their own standard.
Are they really dead? Are not their words and music still heard?
Der Vartan had no illusions of grandeur, yet he was grand in his own
humble, charismatic way. The man some predicted would never make a
good priest was fit to be a prince of his church.
It isn’t the quantity of life-the number of years-that matters, but
rather the quality, how that life was lived. Der Vartan lived his 51
years exceptionally well.
In an age of takers, he was a giver. Like the coin of life, his
life was dedicated to two sides, his family and his work. For that,
he leaves behind a rich legacy we have all grown to appreciate.
He took the time to love and laugh-to serve and enjoy countless
friendships. He took the time to dream, play and reflect a little
more than we ordinarily would.
Der Vartan didn’t need a clock in his timeless journey, or a schedule
to maintain. He killed time by working it to death.
What you do for yourself unfortunately dies with you. But what you
do for others lives on after you. A man such as Der Vartan will never
die in the eyes of a grateful community.