by David Zenian
Nashville, Tennessee - A small group of worshippers gather at a church. They join a priest in prayer and move on to an adjoining hall to socialize over coffee and biscuits.
A scene repeated every Sunday in thousands of communities around the United States.
But this one is special. The occurrence is unique, because the worshippers are Armenian "refugees" from Azerbaijan who are re-discovering their heritage and faith - some for the first time in their lives.
Few speak Armenian and fewer understand the meaning of the divine liturgy, but they like the "coffee hour" - a side kick to the "mission parish project" of the Diocese of the Armenian Apostolic Church designed to meet the spiritual needs of small Armenian communities which cannot afford a permanent church building.
In the absence of an Armenian church in Nashville, the congregation gathers at an American Orthodox church once a month. The visiting priest is Father Nersess Jebejian from Dallas, Texas, whose "beat" also includes New Orleans, Atlanta, Albuquerque, Memphis, Kansas City, Minneapolis, Columbus, and other cities.
Once a month - and often more than that - Father Nersess visits these communities, helping set up youth and senior citizens groups and bringing people together who otherwise might drift away from their heritage.
In Nashville on a recent weekend, he chaired a meeting of the newly-formed parish council.
One item on the agenda was a request from an Armenian refugee for a church building and a community center - a gathering place.
"Many of these new refugees were atheists and did not want to come to church when we first located them in the Nashville area in 1991, but loved the social gatherings," said Ms. Nancy Terzian-Fox, who along with fellow community activist Helen Fakhourian are building a new community from the ground floor up.
"We needed to do something for them, and in the process we have energized ourselves too - a win-win situation," Ms. Fakhourian said.
In the less than five years since their arrival in Nashville, home of "country music" in the heart of the "Bible belt" - the newcomers have settled down. They are no longer refugees. No one is on welfare, and only a few are unemployed.
"Maybe a bit of Nashville has rubbed in already. People out here are more honest by nature and they have solid work ethics. This is not a jungle like New York or other big American cities," Ms. Fakhourian said.
One of the early several hundred refugees, once a successful music teacher in Baku, now works as a seamstress at an area hotel. A former dentist is now employed as a dental technician. A doctor has become a laboratory assistant, teenagers are graduating from high school and many are on their way to college.
"All our children are in schools and we are getting back on our feet. But we still need a lot of moral support," says Vladymir Koushmanian, a medical doctor now working as a pharmacy assistant at a local Veteran's Hospital.
"We have to stay together as a group and expand within the larger Armenian family so that our children will grow up with a new sense of identity," Koushmanian said.
Like other fellow Armenians from Azerbaijan, Koushmanian's choice of Nashville as his adopted home was planned by others - in his case the only choice offered by the Catholic Charities refugee resettlement program.
Like thousands of Armenians, the Koushmanian family escaped from Baku as a result of persecution, harassment and death threats.
"Our first escape from Baku was after the 1988 killing of Armenians in the Azerbaijani town of Sumgait. Earlier, Azeri gangs had beaten up my wife and threatened me several times," he said.
Their first stop was Yerevan, but due to the economic hardships in Armenia, Koushmanian took his family back to Baku, hoping the worst was over.
"The Soviet army had entered Baku but we soon realized the troops were not there to protect the Armenians," he said.
With the help of some friends - "all Azerbaijanis are not bad" - Koushmanian and his family escaped a second time. The destination this time was Moscow where they spent a whole year in a refugee camp outside the capital.
As stateless Armenians, the Koushmanians were granted "refugee status" and arrived in Nashville in the winter of 1991. For the first three months, their non-Armenian sponsors paid their rent, found them work and placed their children in area schools.
"Then we were on our own. That experience taught us to be independent, and we are very grateful for that," he said.
Today, Koushmanian's daughter is a marketing major at Belmont University, while his son has enrolled into the same university's biology and pre-med program.
The newcomers have survived the American test.
"Come and see us in a few years. We will have a church and school where our children will learn Armenian - and maybe even teach a few words to our elders too.
"This is how Armenian communities start - with a few people," he said.
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Armenia: A New Era
