St. Paul writes, “We are the temple of the living God” (2 Corinthians 6:16). We know this verse so well that it can easily pass by us. In English, temple is familiar. We understand the image: God dwells among us. But the Armenian translation gives the verse another layer of beauty: տաճար — tajar.
Some early and medieval Armenian writers loved to hear within that word another expression: տա ճար — ta jar — “give a remedy,” “give healing.” It is not simply a definition of the word, but a spiritual way of hearing it. And suddenly Paul’s words become even more demanding: We are the tajar of the living God. We are called to become places where God’s healing can be encountered.
But what does that actually mean? What is a tajar meant to offer to the person who enters it?
Think of what happens when we enter a church. Almost everything tells us that we have stepped into a different kind of space. Our eyes meet icons, candles, the altar, the shape of the sanctuary. Our ears hear prayer and chant—or sometimes a silence deeper than ordinary silence. We smell incense. We touch the cross, perhaps the wall, perhaps the hand of someone beside us. Even our body behaves differently: we slow down, bow, stand, kneel.
A tajar speaks to the whole person. And perhaps that is why a church can become a place of peace for a tired soul, refuge for a mind exhausted by judgment, healing for a wounded heart. It does not always solve the problem. Sometimes it simply receives us. It gives us room to breathe. It listens without interrogation. It reminds us that pain is not the only thing present—God is present too.
But Paul does not say only that the church building is God’s temple. He says we are.
That means another person should sometimes be able to experience something of a tajar in our presence.
Can someone come near us carrying shame and leave with a little more dignity? Can an anxious person feel calmer because we listened without rushing? Can someone wounded by harsh words encounter gentleness in ours? Can our homes, our parish, our conversations become places where people taste the peace of God?
To be God’s temple is not only to carry His presence.
It is to become, by His grace, a ta jar—a place that gives remedy.
