Latest / The Story of Armenia: Survival Through Empires and Genocide — Fexingo History / The Armenian Cross-Stones: Sacred Art of a Nation
Transcript
- Lucas: If you've been following these conversations about the Caucasus with us, you know we've spent a lot of time on battles, treaties, and the political survival of Armenia. But there's another thread that runs through the whole story — something you see all over the landscape, literally carved into the rock. Luna: You mean the khachkars? Those stone crosses with the intricate patterns? Lucas: Exactly. Khachkars — literally 'cross-stones' in Armenian. They're everywhere in Armenia, in cemeteries, monastery walls, even by the side of the road. But they're not just gravestones or decoration. Each one is a unique piece of sacred art, and the tradition goes back over a thousand years. Lucas: The earliest surviving dated khachkar is from the 9th century, but the form probably developed earlier. It's a fusion: a cross, usually carved in relief on a rectangular slab, surrounded by a rosette, geometric borders, and often vine or pomegranate motifs. The cross isn't just a symbol — it's the Tree of Life, and the rosette represents the sun or eternity. Luna: So it's pre-Christian imagery mixing with Christian. Like the sun symbols you see on Urartian artifacts. Lucas: Right. Movses Khorenatsi, the 5th-century historian, talks about ancient memorial stones called 'vishapakar' — dragon stones — that had carvings of animals and celestial symbols. The khachkar absorbed that tradition and reworked it. By the time of the Bagratid kingdom, especially under Gagik I in the 10th century, Ani became a center for khachkar carving. Some of the most beautiful examples come from that period. Lucas: One famous khachkar from Ani, now in the Armenian cathedral complex there, has a cross with elaborate interlacing — almost like Celtic knots — and a border of grape leaves. The carvers were known as 'varpet', master craftsmen who often signed their work. That's rare for medieval art — the carver's name, sometimes with the date, carved right into the stone. Luna: Did they have a symbolic language? Like certain patterns meaning specific things? Lucas: Yes, to a degree. A cross with a stepped base — the 'Golgotha' — represents the hill of crucifixion. A cross with a circle behind it is the 'glorified cross', showing Christ's victory. Pomegranates symbolize fertility and resurrection. The rosette — often an eight-pointed star — goes back to the sun god Mihr in Zoroastrian-influenced Armenia. And sometimes you see birds, maybe doves representing the Holy Spirit or the soul. Lucas: The tradition spread beyond Armenia proper. In the medieval Armenian kingdom of Cilicia, khachkars were carved in the fortresses and monasteries of the Taurus mountains. And later, in the diaspora — in New Julfa, in Isfahan, the Armenian merchants commissioned khachkars for their churches and cemeteries. It was a way of saying: we are here, we remember. Luna: But with all the destruction over the centuries — the invasions, the genocide — how many survive? Lucas: Tens of thousands, but countless more were destroyed. The Mongols, the Safavids under Shah Abbas I, the Ottomans — they all targeted khachkars because they were symbols of Armenian identity. One of the worst losses happened in the 20th century in Nakhichevan, at the cemetery of Jugha. That was the largest collection of medieval khachkars in the world — thousands of them, from the 9th to the 17th centuries. Luna: Oh, I've read about that. The Azerbaijani government destroyed them in the late 1990s and early 2000s, right? Lucas: Yes. There's photographic evidence from satellite images and from Iranian journalists who filmed the destruction. The Armenian authorities and UNESCO protested, but by 2006, the entire cemetery was leveled — turned into a military training ground. It was a cultural genocide, an attempt to erase not just the living but the historical markers of Armenian presence. Lucas: That's one reason why the khachkar has become such a potent symbol for Armenians worldwide. It's not just art — it's testimony. In the aftermath of the 1915 genocide, survivors would carve khachkars in refugee camps, in their new homes in Syria or Lebanon. It was an act of resilience. Luna: And now UNESCO has recognized khachkar carving as Intangible Cultural Heritage. That happened in 2010. Lucas: Exactly. The UNESCO designation helped raise awareness. But the craft itself is still alive in Armenia. There are master carvers today — people like Artush Papoyan or Samvel Petrosyan — who train apprentices in the old methods. They use the same tools: hammer and chisel, with different tips for different textures. A single khachkar can take weeks or months to complete. Lucas: You can see their work in modern Armenian churches, in memorials for the genocide, and even in public squares. It's a living tradition. And that's something we try to highlight on this show — not just the wars and the politics, but the culture that people are fighting for. Luna: It's one of the reasons I love this show. We don't just talk about the suffering — we talk about what endured. Lucas: That's exactly the idea. And you know, we deliberately don't run ads on Fexingo. We want these conversations to feel like what they are — two people sharing something they care about, not interrupted by a commercial break. If you want to support that choice, the link is buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure, just if the show matters to you. Luna: Yeah, it's nice to know the history comes first here. Lucas: So, back to the khachkars: one of the most famous modern examples is the 'Praying Hands' khachkar at the Geghard monastery complex. It was carved in the 13th century and has a pair of hands emerging from the cross — a rare motif. Scholars think it represents the donor of the stone, or maybe the carver himself, reaching toward God. Luna: That's beautiful. So it's personal — the carver puts himself into it. Lucas: Exactly. Each khachkar is unique. There are some in the cemetery at Noratus, near Lake Sevan, that are completely covered in carvings — crosses, animals, saints, even scenes from daily life. One from the 16th century shows a wedding procession, with the bride and groom on horseback. It's like a medieval photograph. Lucas: And of course, the most famous khachkar of all might be the one at the monastery of Geghard itself — the one with the lion and the cross, from 1215. It's been on stamps, on tourist brochures. But even that one, as iconic as it is, is just one of many. The real richness is in the variety — a thousand years of Armenian history, carved in stone. Luna: You mentioned Noratus — that's the largest surviving khachkar cemetery, right? Lucas: Yes, with over 800 khachkars, dating from the 9th to the 17th centuries. It's a UNESCO tentative site. But even there, many are damaged — worn by weather, or deliberately defaced. In Soviet times, some were taken for building materials or used as paving stones. It's only in the last few decades that restoration efforts have started in earnest. Lucas: There's also the khachkar of Grigor Narekatsi, the 10th-century mystic poet. His tomb at the monastery of Narek — now in Turkey — had a khachkar that was described by pilgrims as one of the most beautiful. But the monastery was destroyed after the genocide, and the khachkar is lost. All we have are descriptions and sketches. Luna: So the khachkar tradition is also about memory — remembering what was lost. Lucas: Absolutely. And that's why the craft continues. Every time someone carves a new khachkar, it's a continuation of that memory. In Stepanakert, the capital of Artsakh, there's a modern khachkar monument dedicated to the fallen soldiers of the 2020 war. It's a direct link from the medieval masters to today. Lucas: So next time you see a picture of an Armenian church or cemetery, look for the khachkars. They're not just stones — they're the spine of a culture that refused to break. Luna: I'll never look at one the same way again.