Armenia’s hidden Jewish cemetery tells a story of peaceful co-existence

The warm wind blows steadily in August in Yerevan, Armenia, wrapping the city in a blanket of heat and dust that seems to suspend time. The road leading to the small village of Yeghegis, located in the mountainous region of Vayots’ Dzor, winds through hills and mountains, twisting through steep curves and over interrupted stretches of asphalt.

The landscape appears almost sculpted, made of rocks, grassy slopes and streams hidden among the trees. Travelling in Armenia often means facing rugged paths and this road is no exception.

Yeghegis is about 96 kilometres south of Yerevan, a region known for its rugged but picturesque landscapes, where every stone seems to tell a story. This small village, seemingly peaceful, carries the weight of a long history intertwined with the ancient caravan routes that connected East and West. Thanks to its proximity to the Ararat Valley and its relatively short distance from the Iranian border, Yeghegis was a cultural and commercial crossroads for centuries. In addition to merchants, religions, peoples and cultures all met and mingled here, creating a mosaic of human experiences and exchanges that shaped the character of this region.

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, which broke out in the 1990s during the collapse of the Soviet Union, left deep scars in Yeghegis. The village, which until then had hosted a significant Azeri population, became a symbol of the ethnic violence that devastated the region. The Azeris were forced to abandon their homes, leaving behind a past of coexistence that seemed forever lost. This layer of recent history overlaps with the older one, giving Yeghegis an aura of intertwined memories, where the scars of war blend with those of time.

Yet among the silent hills surrounding Yeghegis lies an even more remote and surprising testimony: the Jewish cemetery, a place that tells a forgotten story of coexistence and mystery. Located on the outskirts of the village, this ancient cemetery is one of the few material proofs of the existence of a Jewish community in Armenia during the Middle Ages. Although some ancient sources mention the presence of Jews as early as the 2nd century BC, traces of these communities virtually disappeared in the following centuries. Thus the cemetery remained buried under vegetation for centuries, forgotten by travellers and scholars, until it was rediscovered by chance in 1996.

To reach this place visitors must leave the paved road and follow a cobblestone path winding between trees and shrubs.

Crossing a small bridge that spans the river of the same name, one is immersed in wild nature, almost symbolising the distance that separates the present from memory. At the end of a steep climb, one arrives at the cemetery, once buried under mounds of earth, stones and roots. It is difficult to imagine how this place could contain such a precious testimony of a lost community.

Bishop Mkrtchyan, together with his brother, discovered the site while preparing a camp for orphans of the Nagorno-Karabakh war. The discovery of 64 gravestones, some of which bore inscriptions in Hebrew and Aramaic, shocked historians and the academic community. For centuries, nothing had been known about medieval Jews in Armenia, and suddenly this cemetery brought to light a long-buried history. The gravestones, decorated with symbols and inscriptions, date the site between 1266 and 1347, suggesting the existence of a prosperous Jewish community for at least 70 years.

Many questions remain. Where did these Jews come from? How did they arrive in this remote region of Armenia? And why did they disappear so suddenly, leaving no traces in written history? The cemetery, with its silent stones, remains mute on these matters, fuelling the mystery surrounding Yeghegis’s Jewish community.

Subsequent studies following the discovery, conducted by historians and archaeologists, such as Professor Michael Stone of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Dr Davit Amit of the Israel Antiquities Authority, revealed fascinating details.

The inscriptions on the gravestones show names and dates but do not explain the reason for the Jewish presence. Some suggest that the community might have been an isolated branch of larger Jewish communities in Iran or northern Caucasus.

Theories abound, but the Yeghegis cemetery remains an unsolved enigma, a place where history seems to have stopped.

Beyond its mystery, the cemetery also represents a symbol of peaceful coexistence. In an era when wars and persecutions were commonplace, it seems that the Jews of Yeghegis lived in harmony with the local Christian population.

It is moving to think that in this remote corner of the Caucasus, Jews and Armenians could share everyday life, even if only for a brief period.

The cemetery has been restored and is now surrounded by a fence with a gate bearing the Star of David. It has become a place of pilgrimage for historians, archaeologists and curious visitors seeking to uncover this forgotten piece of history. The ancient stones, worn by time and the elements, speak of a community that, despite isolation and hardships, sought to keep its traditions alive. Their disappearance remains a reminder of the fragility of human life and civilizations.

Jewish history in Armenia does not end with Yeghegis. Only between the 19th and 20th centuries, and particularly during the years of the Soviet Union, did a few hundred Jews move from Russia to Armenia. In the Caucasian state, discriminatory pressure was less intense, and they could share a life with the ancient Armenian people sufficiently distant from pogroms and, more generally, from repressive policies. However, it involved only a few hundred people, and even today, the Jewish community, mainly settled in Yerevan, remains small.

The allure of this place lies in the mystery that surrounds it, but also in the fact that every trace of shared life between the two peoples, Armenians and Jews, inspires and moves. It does so because the fate of both has been dramatic, especially in the 20th century. The massacre or genocide of the Armenians was completed exactly a century ago. The genocide of the Jews followed the example of the first. Two peoples who, in this region, probably supported each other and ultimately met a similar fate. The journey to Yerevan is filled with thoughts. The mountains seem more imposing, the landscape vaster.

The mystery of Yeghegis has not been solved, but this makes it even more fascinating. In an era where we seek quick and certain answers, Yeghegis teaches us the importance of accepting uncertainty, listening to the voices of the past, and respecting the silence that surrounds the mysteries of history.