Tags
Armenian, Australia, dreams, incarnation, jazz, party, sabbatical, surfing, theology
So there I was with a small group of travelers on the southwestern coast of Australia. Half the group were Armenian-Americans and the other half were not. We were scheduled to meet Erol Hammer, a friend who is a theology professor at the University of South Africa. I didn’t know when Erol arrived or what he was doing in Australia—after all, Pretoria to Perth is more than 5,000 air miles, but I assumed that he was on a sabbatical.
Our guide took us to the beach and assured us that the professor would meet us at the beach. As we watched the ocean, a surfboard arrived and off jumped Erol. “Let me show you more about surfing,” he said. “In fact, I’ll be glad to give surfing lessons later.”
Haikanush Der Mergerian asked, “Menk’ lchi mot yenk’: Inch’pe՞s karogh e lchi vra nman hzorut’yun linel;” which translated from Armenian means “We are near a lake. How can there be such power on a lake?”
“We’re not near a lake,” I tried to respond in Armenian. “We’re at the ocean—and besides that, the Great Lakes in the United States have waves and surfers.” But my Armenian language skills are not that good and I mixed English and Armenian in my response.
Meanwhile my theologian friend was explaining his understanding of how surfing is connected to his understanding of Incarnational theology. We cheered, toasted one another with raki and beer, played traditional Armenian music on duduks and ouds, and then we played jazz with electric kazoos, saxophones, and other instruments. Somehow we mashed all the instruments into a musical jam that seemed to connect the dots and spaces between Alla Rakha, Sayat Nova, and Artie Shaw. By then the police arrived because we were making too much noise for the Australian neighbors. When we explained to the police about surfing and theology, they decided to join us.
Wasn’t it a party? but I woke up.