Armenian Traditions Through Diasporan Eyes (Part 1)

It was 4:30 in the evening, on a cold February day. A large crowd was slowly gathering at the Surb Amenaprkich church in Nor Hachn, Armenia. Somber expressions and an almost unanimous full-black wardrobe choice were clearly indicative of one thing: a funeral was set to take place. Within less than an hour, more than 100 people had congregated around the small yet ornate church.

Some were engaged in conversation, standing in rather uncomfortable close proximity so as not to speak loudly. Others stood in silence, scrolling through their phones, smoking, sometimes both. Faint sounds of weeping could be heard from inside the church, in stark contrast to the seemingly cheerful chirping of the birds outside.

Funeral wreaths arrived just in time, one after the other. The men present at the scene were quick to rush toward the carriers, helping them set up the easels around the entrance. As all of this was happening, I felt my girlfriend's fingers grab my arm. "They're here." I looked at the end of the street we were on and saw the hearse (referred to as a catafalque in Armenia) approaching from a distance, escorted by another car with the deceased's sons inside. Everyone went silent in complete unison, holding their breath in preparation of what was to come.

The hearse carrying the body of Rosa Tati stopped outside the church as weeping commenced, much louder and more pronounced than before. A number of men approached the vehicle, pulling out the open casket from the back compartment. Accompanied by the closest family members, they carried the casket inside the church on their shoulders. One of Rosa's grandsons followed them in, holding a framed portrait of his late grandmother. The rest of the crowd, including myself, entered the church after him.

Same Heritage, Different Approaches

What I have just described is the commencement of an all-too-common funeral procession in Armenia which happens on a daily basis. The thing which made it special to me, however, was that it was the first local Armenian funeral I ever attended. Not only that, my girlfriend being the deceased's grandchild gave me an intimate look at how Armenians in Armenia go through the process of grieving over the loss of a loved one.

The vast majority of Armenians have been living outside of Armenia for more than a hundred years, especially those who fled the 1915 Genocide at the hands of the Ottoman Empire. As a result, their culture has been greatly influenced by the culture of their host countries. Even though all of us identify as Armenians by heritage, our approach toward things as mundane as a funeral differs given what cultural background we have been raised in.

This is why I, while understandably upset, was also intrigued as to how the burial ceremony would unfold. To my surprise, the people in Nor Hachen had not gathered at the church for burial purposes, but rather for a day-long wake (hogehangist in Armenian) during which the body was prepared for viewing purposes, elegantly placed in a casket, with the relatives and visitors sitting around it. The funeral would take place the next day. This was curious, as where I am from, the hogehangist and the burial (taghum) take place on the same day and the casket often stays closed. Armenia, being the first country to adopt Christianity as its state religion in 301 AD, has stuck true to the teachings of the Apostelic church and most of the religious traditions in the country are influenced by Apostelic doctrine. The three-day funeral procession is conceived to mimic the interment of Christ, which is also why women do not attend the burial and visit the site a day after the deceased is laid to rest.

More traditional families opt to do the viewing in the deceased’s apartment, where all reflective surfaces are covered in white cloths, nightlong vigils are kept beside the casket and depending on which region of Armenia the funeral takes place, relatives refrain from wandering outdoors, washing their clothing, and engaging in gardening activities. More well-to-do families will bring duduk players to play mournful music at both the wake and the funeral. If the person is of higher societal status, the procession will follow the hearse in the streets, complete with pallbearers, music, flowers, and the whole nine yards.

It is also a custom, I came to find out rather embarrassingly late, that when toasts are raised in honor of the dead after the wake (at what is called the hogehast), one should not clink the shot glasses. Rather, the glasses are held tight in the fist and everyone basically fist-bumps before drinking. And by everyone, I mean everyone. Even children as young as 15 years-old (boys exclusively) drink at the hogehats, and only two types of alcoholic beverages are allowed: vodka, and cognac. The food served is often khashlama, a traditional Armenian dish. Not partaking of the hogehats is considered by many to be offensive.

A Clash Between Modernity and Tradition

Upon discussing these Armenia-specific ceremonies and rituals with locals, I came to find out that things have changed quite significantly after COVID-19. The pandemic and the ensuing lockdowns forced burials to be quick as the number of deaths rose at catastrophic rates. There was no longer any room for flamboyant, traditional funeral processions. After the dust settled down, people seemingly “got used to the new way of doing things,” as my girlfriend’s grandfather put it. Overly traditional funerals during which the viewing is done at the deceased’s home are scarce these days, being limited only to the most conservative communities along the regions.

That being said, traces of the old ways can still be found. A lamp is kept on at all times outside the building where the deceased lived, the wake takes place a day before the funeral and the body is open for viewing in the church, and women attend the burial site a day after the funeral has taken place. The hogehats, the khashlama, the vodka and cognac are all still inseparable parts of the grieving process, as are the toasts in honor of the deceased.

Nevertheless, going through an experience such as a local’s funeral in Armenia can be eye-opening for Armenians born in the diaspora, as can any other tradition such as weddings and baptisms. This gives a lot of room for thought as to how different cultures intertwine and influence one-another, and how one’s identity is shaped by them, regardless of the shared Armenian heritage that Armenians have around the world. It is a learning curve and can potentially open up new areas for discussion around what it means to be an Armenian in a postmodern, decentralized brave new world, and how we can dig deep down to discover which traditions are unique to Armenia, and which were influenced by the cultures and people with whom we have been interacting for many a millenia.