As I looked around the room, last weekend, when the community of St. Sarkis gathered for a special evening called “An Evening of Love & Laughter,” celebrating my 20th anniversary as pastor. I saw a room full of familiar faces, dear friends, and loving parishioners. I reflected not just on these past 20 years, but on our remarkable journey together.
The evening reminded me of a scene from Curb Your Enthusiasm (yes, I occasionally find inspiration in surprising places!). In one episode, a character watches his own memorial service while still alive, hearing what others would say about him. Coming into this event, I wondered if it might feel something like that—but instead, what I experienced was far more humbling: a true celebration of community, shared faith, and the relationships we’ve built.
I’ve never been one for personal anniversaries. But as the evening unfolded, I realized this wasn’t about marking “my” milestone. It was a reflection of what can happen when a church family commits itself to growing, worshiping, and serving together. The past twenty years have been a tapestry woven from countless moments—joys and sorrows, challenges and triumphs—and, most importantly, from the contributions of so many of you.
For that, I am deeply grateful.
I want to offer heartfelt thanks to:
I want to thank the team that organized this event (even though I initially resisted the idea!). It was a beautiful evening, and your efforts did not go unnoticed.
Of course, none of this would be possible without my partner in life and ministry, Annie. From the very beginning, she believed in my calling (even when I was still unsure!) and has walked every step of this path with me. Her unwavering support and love continue to be my greatest blessing.
When I think about these twenty years, the phrase that comes to mind is pastoral presence. My aim has been to be present with you through celebrations and struggles, seasons of growth and times of uncertainty. If I have succeeded, it is because of your grace and openness; if I have faltered, I hope you know my heart remains committed to serving you.
I concluded my remarks that evening with a reflection drawn from an unlikely source: geometry. I was never fond of geometry as a student, but the idea of parallel lines—two paths that run side by side yet never meet—took on new meaning when I encountered the music of Canadian artist Loreena McKennitt and her album Parallel Dreams. It helped me see how personal experience and spiritual journey can run in parallel, informing one another and shaping who we become.
Years ago, in the early 90s, when this church was facing severe financial hardship, I was just beginning my seminary journey in a distant town. Looking back now, I see how those two paths—mine and this community’s—were moving in parallel, eventually converging in a way only God could orchestrate.
Life is often like that. What may seem like a coincidence is often divine guidance at work, gently leading us where we need to be. I invite each of you to reflect on your own life. Consider the moments that, at first glance, may have seemed like mere coincidences—but in truth were instances of divine guidance, shaping your path. It is in these reflections that we recognize God’s presence and love.
God is holy. He invites us into a relationship; in that relationship, we are constantly renewed, becoming better people and deepening our desire to worship and serve.
So let us continue worshiping, growing, and building this church together.
I love you all.
Fr. Nareg