The Armenian Quarter in Jerusalem is a unique cultural enclave, reflecting centuries of Armenian presence in the place. We had heard about how the Armenian church service was sung, which sounded interesting, so we went along to check it out. Unfortunately, we had it all wrong and it wasn’t a happening thing at that time.
Sitting outside the church, figuring out what we would do next, two gentlemen dressed in flowing black robes were walking past and approached and asked if they could help. We told them how we had hoped to attend the church service. They looked at each other, and one said, “come with us.” So, we did.
Our dear friend Andrea, otherwise known as Slim, engaged them in conversation as they walked ahead, Lisa and I following just behind, wondering what was coming. I looked over my shoulder and saw that a troop of young men in blazers, walking in line, were following.
We went down narrow lanes and under low archways until we went inside a dark set of rooms that purveyed a sense of really spooky mystical oldness. Allowing the following young men to enter before us, we joined a woman with two children in a side room. It was clear one of the young men was her son and they were there to see him do his thing.
The young men changed from their blazers into red and gold robes. Some were carrying staffs of some sort. What ensued was obviously a big deal ritual with lots of mumbling and chanting echoing about with incense wafting everywhere.
I was reluctant to take photos, believing it would be disrespectful, but the woman’s oldest child, about 12, was filming with a video camera so my trusty Nikon was, sensitively, called into action. Avoiding using flash, I was able to make some sense of the procedures and position myself accordingly without being too obvious. I think the pics sort of show how spooky it was.
