“And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.”
–Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch
The first time I read this quote from The Goldfinch, I cried because of how viscerally I understood the idea behind it. Today, I feel it. That visceral feeling that was once emotive from the mere power of words is now visceral because I fully understand an emotion with my entire being. Beautiful things are a reflection of beautiful people. They are the blood, sweat, and tears of architects. It’s just a building. It can be rebuilt–a sentiment I grasp fully. I’ve walked through Ground Zero and felt the haunting absence of every soul whose life was tragically taken that September morning.
But with Shushi’s Ghazanchetsots Cathedral, it’s personal. It’s unexplainable because it’s all in me. It is all in my soul. It feels personal because this idea of beautiful things is transcendent through its effect on humanity. The Ghazanchetsos Cathedral wasn’t just where I was Baptized, but those who’ve come before, those who’ve come after. It’s millions of prayers. It’s the spirit and love of every soul who’s entered it leaving behind a piece of themselves to our history. God isn’t the church, it’s the people, but where there’s immaculate history and grace, God is at its forefront. When a church is attacked, its people are, too–every single one who’s ever loved it, near or far.
Every single attack from Azerbaijan has been personal. Every single innocent soul that was lost in battle cut through our bones. It’s an attack on all of us, our souls, and our hearts. But we are a nation that’s learned how to stand up again and again–a nation who’ll always take care of beautiful things.
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