Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia)

Our first visit this morning was to one of the top highlights of our whole trip. What is most impressive about Aya Sofya is the SPACE inside, the architecture. It’s the domes, the gallery, the sheer height (altitude!) of the building. There was a huge scaffolding right in the middle so it was hard to take in everything as one would have wanted to. Still, to stand there, with that much immensity of space above you! This church was constructed in the 6th c. AD by Justinian. It was ready to use within five years of being commissioned. One wonders what it would have been like to celebrate Liturgy here. This would not be an intimate communion. It’s not hard to imagine what St. Vladimir’s envoys would have felt and why they thought they had found heaven on earth.

So the space, the design, the architecture — the domes, the columns, the vast gallery. All of this makes its impression and overawes you. You almost have to close your eyes and just “feel” it.  But then…. what of the rest? What of the use to which this building has been put? What of its decor, its furnishings? Now comes the tragedy. It is a relic, a dinosaur, a museum. Truly, this place lives no longer. It is dead, not a ruin, but a skeleton, a place built for worship — perhaps the most magnificent place on earth for worship — and yet it is not worshipful in the least. One does not pray here.

When Mehmet conquered in 1453 he turned it into a mosque. The building went through a whole long period of redecoration, repair, and modification to serve as such. One sees the remains of this conversion everywhere. Yet today Aya Sofya is not a mosque, either. When Ataturk took over Turkey to form it into a modern state, in the early 20th c., he turned it into a museum, which it has remained to this day.

I have heard rumors that one of the proposed conditions to bring Turkey into the EU would be for it to let Aya Sofya become a Christian Church once again, as a token acknowledgement of Europe’s Christian past. Part of me thinks this would be great. Part of me thinks this would just be silly. Constantinople is not a Christian city — Istanbul. Turkey is not a Christian country. There are barely any Christians in the whole place. Would the Turks allow a live Christian community to be built up here again??

What remains of Hagia Sophia’s Christian past is a handful of 12th c. mosaics, presumably preserved under the plaster when the Muslims covered them over. There is a very nice Theotokos enthroned in the half dome above where the altar must have been. St. John Chrysostom and two other saints have their pictures along the outer gallery wall very high up along one side. There’s a nice set of mosaics with the Empress Zoe and hubby #3 along with St. Irene, her son Alexis, and I think one of the Comneni. And in the exit part of the inner narthex, there’s a lovely mosaic of St. Constantine offering the city and St. Justinian offering Hagia Sophia, to the Mother of God.

But the most amazing mosaic icon is the Deisis, esp. Christ Pantrocrator, with a mostly ruined Theotokos to the left, and St. John the Baptist to the right. This Christ is Christ! He sees. He knows. His eyes follow you. His presence commands Hagia Sophia, certainly the small corner of the gallery where the icon is located. But even better, He commands worlds, and human hearts. How many people I saw who came to look at this icon, who really stopped to look, get caught by it. People sat down on the base of the nearest pillar. They leaned against the wall. They stood. Still. They stared, and Christ looked back at them. Even in this desecrated, mostly dead place, here Christ still has the power to touch the human heart. “The Kingdom of God is within you,” He said. It is not in great buildings, either the greatest Church ever built in Christendom or Solomon’s magnificent temple in Jerusalem. Only the Living Christ Himself is Pantocrator and head of His Body.

So to see Aya Sofya was an experience of a lifetime, but really, I came out with no more than what I went in with, a knowledge that Christ and His Church exists and is alive and is knowable by all of us wherever we are. The Christ mosaic at Hagia Sophia is Holy Wisdom, all right, to remind us of that fact. But we know it already.

Chora Church

We took a taxi up to this “church in the country.” (It’s in the north part of the old town just south of the walls.) The architecture was immediately familiar from what we had seen in Greece: Byzantine. Inside are both frescoes, many of them faded, and mosaics. Note: if you want to put icons on walls that will last, use mosaics. However, you have a find a way to keep people from chipping away at the tiles!

Among the frescoes there is a marvelous (big!) set of Church Fathers, St. Basil among them. His face was barely visible, but I imagined his large hand blessing me. Above is the wondrous Anastasis — Resurrection. Christ yanks Eve so forcefully out of her tomb she’s practically flying through the air! I love this fresco.

In the other parts of the church, there are stunning mosaics covering most of the upper walls and domes. THIS is what Christian churches must have looked like during Byzantine times. My favorites were Peter and Paul on either side of the doorway leading into the main church. What was truly odd about the rest of the mosaics was that I recognized the subject matter of almost none of them! Some were Christ’s miracles, for example, the wedding at Cana and several healings. Everything else must have been Old Testament or historical. There was a series with Sts. Joachim and Anna, the birth of the Theotokos, and her presentation in the Temple (I think), so Mary figures prominently here (unlike in Cappadocia). But I did not see the feasts of Christ. Perhaps they would have been in the church proper (nave). That room was bare except for a nice Dormition over the doorway. Mary again.

All in all, the Chora Church was a rather odd experience. Again, this church was turned into a mosque, then made into a museum.

Walls

Nick really wanted to explore the walls. One hears so much about Constantinople’s famous walls, which protected the city for 1500 years! But they are actually unimpressive to see [up north where we looked - the sea walls, as we drove out of town later, looked more like one would have expected]. Of course they are mostly in ruins, with only stretches of them [or parts of them] intact. Who knows how high the walls should have been or how they were defended? All in all it was disappointing. Nick loved Rhodes, which is a far better place to see real medieval/ Renaissance/ post-Crusader fortification.

Phanar - Orthodox Patriarchate

We did find it finally, after a lot of meandering about the hilly streets of the north parts of old town Istanbul. Before we did, we ran into this amazing red brick, ornate facade stretching along a steep hillside just up off the boulevard that runs along the Golden Horn. We walked (climbed) up to it, and I think it must be the old/original Patriarchate complex. There was a great sign in Greek which said Patriarchate Megali - Great Patriarch? Walking around behind the place brought us to the entrance to a mosque. Apparently this complex, whatever it once was, is now Muslimized.

St. George, the church at the Phanar, is all gilt and chandeliers, incredibly ornate. It’s not a great huge church, but reasonably big as modern day Orthodox churches go - St. Dimitrios in Thessaloniki would dwarf it, however. It has a few icon treasures, many of a highly realistic/Russian style, which sort of surprised me. The place looks 19th c. Exciting was to find three tombs (reliquaries), for St. Euphemia, St. Theophano, and what looked like St. Colomon? St. Colophon? All women. I have read the story of St. Euphemia. She rocks! :) I prayed to her to help look after our embattled Church and help us make good decisions.

So that was cool. Much construction was going on outside St. George, to other buildings in the courtyard and up the street. Who knows what that’s all about. Nick by this time had a headache, so we went back to the hotel where I’m now writing. Midday here in August is sticky hot with lots of sun and humidity. It’s good to be inside now.

Dinner at “Dubb” down by the Cistern. It was Indian food, a welcome break. The best was eating on the terrace - a climb up about 5-6 floors around a winding staircase. We had a perfect view of Aya Sofya as the sun set. Behind was the Golden Horn. To the right we saw the Bosphorus and even part of the Sea of Marmara. The view! I can think of no more fitting close to our trip into the heart and soul of Greece and Turkey.

Istanbul

I can easily understand how one could fall in love with this city once one came to know it. Character it has got in spades. We walked around all afternoon trying to take our bearings. Luckily, the city is fairly small [the old, original city]. Distances are not great, but there is a maze of winding streets, all cobbled, filled with shops and people. There is a little bit of tour bus and taxi traffic right around the main “square” area by Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque, but elsewhere traffic is light. This is not a place to drive.

After taking in the exteriors of Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque, we decided to check out the Basilica Cistern. This is a mind-boggling place. It is deep down in the ground, huge, and beautiful with slender columns and capitals spaced evenly to support a vast, manmade underground cavern. There is only a foot or so of water in it now, but if the whole thing were full, it would hold an enormous quantity of water. The area of the cistern expanse is staggering. What is so mind-boggling is how it could possibly have been constructed, and how it could still exist in the near-perfect state it is in today. Justinian built it in 532 AD.

Next we headed over to the Blue Mosque. It is more impressive from the outside actually, but is very beautifiul inside, a huge space with domes and every surface covered with elaborate and intricate tilework, all in shades of blue and green. Very pretty, but it hardly feels like a place to worship to me.

Next we wandered up towards the Grand Bazaar. The Bazaar itself has 4000 shops, but you have to understand that the stores and shops continue outside the Bazaar along every street, for hundreds and hundreds of meters.  Who needs the Mall of America when you’ve got the Grand Bazaar!? A shopper’s paradise, esp. for those who like jewelry, leather goods, carpets, antiques, and specialty Turkish items: textiles, ceramics, hanging lamps, and so on. We also found the book bazaar, just outside. Most things were in Turkish, of course, although I saw some English. This would take a lot of poking around to find anything fabulous.

Next we worked our way over to the Spice Bazaar. This is a lot smaller place, really, only two shortish streets, but I LOVE it! The smells are wonderful here. Here is where we will probably do most of our shopping for take-home gifts. They have pungent spices, Turkish Delight, teas, and all kinds of goodies, mixed in with shops that sell the usual tourist type items and linens.

The plan is tomorrow to see Aya Sofya first thing, then take a cab up north to the walls and walk our way back, seeing the Chora Church and the Phanar (Ecumenical Patriarchate) on the way. We should also be able to check out the Golden Horn and some of the bridges, and maybe swing back by the Spice Bazaar.

Finding St. Basil 

One final note about Cappadocia, which struck me as we drove to the airport this morning. As I left central Turkey, I realized that for all my hopes of “finding” St. Basil (my patron saint), I had not found him. The place(s) where he used to live and fight for the faith as monk and bishop are no longer Christian, no longer Roman or Byzantine, no longer even civilized to the degree Basil would have known. And yet, St. Basil has transcended his locality. As a genuine Father of the whole Church, he is now in and belongs to the whole Church across all the world, all of time. We have him in minds and hearts, in his Liturgy, his writings, his prayers, his teachings and defense of orthodoxy. We have his prayers for us. St. Basil lives now in ways that he never did as a man, even a most special man, beloved pastor and saint, in central Anatolia.

St. Basil, pray for us! 

After some errands this morning, including buying a flashlight!, we drove to Kaymakli to tour the underground town. Nick is having a grand time. He loves caves! We hired a guide at the entrance who took us around and showed us how 7-8000 people could live underground safe from their enemies for three months. There was a place for animals, common areas, private family bedrooms, a church, kitchens, pantries, wine presses, grain milling, mortar & pestle - a large stone which no one can figure out how the people got it down there because it’s basalt (a different stone from the rest of the caves) and bigger than any of the tunnels. The stone, with indentations on the top where one would grind spices, probably doubled as a place to melt lead or metals.

There were 30 deep ventilation shafts cut down 60 meters, the total depth of the town, down 6-8 levels in a rotating pattern. The air circulates very nicely. It is cool, but not hard to breathe inside. It does not feel particularly claustrophobic. At the bottom of each shaft, there is water which may be hauled up from an underground river or reservoir. We also saw the entry to a 10 km (!) underground tunnel leading all the way to the underground city at Derinkuyu. So these underground towns were connected to each other! They are accessible from the village homes above, and people from the countryside would come in whenever enemies were sighted. Defense was a primary concern with large, round stones that can be rolled only from the inside. They have a hole in the middle through which to shoot at the enemy. Ventilation shafts were hidden from the top as were smoke stacks, which dispersed the smoke first so it would not be seen as it escaped.

Our guide finally answered one of my questions about the kind of stone used to make all the landscape and carved out dwellings and churches. It is tufa, which is a soft volcanic rock that is easily carved. In the air, however, once exposed, it hardens to become solid and sturdy so it won’t cave in. For special purposes, the inhabitants would find large pieces of basalt within the tufa or haul them in from outside.

This afternoon we rested, had an early dinner, and came back to watch the sunset. We tried the local winery, hoping to send some Cappadocian wine to my dad, but they don’t ship to the US. At least we got to taste it. Tomorrow we make for Istanbul, our last stop.

Beautiful Valley 

Today we picked up our rental car and drove to Ihlara Valley. This is a long valley running between steep cliffs on each side. The river runs through, beautiful and green with enormous fallen boulders from the cliffs everywhere. One does not come here for the few rock-cut churches, but for the pleasant walk along the riverside. There are a few churches, but they are badly ruined. In fact, around the valley there are probably dozens of churches in various states of decay, many perhaps hidden or covered over by rockslides. Once there was a thriving Christian community in this picturesque valley. It would have been an idyllic lifestyle. The weather is pleasant, the sun is bright, the sky is blue, the river runs cool, as does the wind through the valley. There is room along the banks for small farming plots here and there. In fact we saw farmers on siesta with their burros tied to a tree. Some kids were swimming naked in the river. There are only a few tourists, mostly at either end where cars can park.

This would be an ideal place to come for a visit for a day or a picnic. If only my legs weren’t so stiff from yesterday’s adventure!

Selime

Shortly before the Ihlara turnoff, we stopped at Selime “cathedral” and “monastery.” No frescoes here, but this was once a thriving place with a whole hillside full of large rooms. The most impressive thing was the two-storied cathedral with galleries along both sides and the back. There are HUGE columns here. The rock-cut architecture is stunning [the whole thing is carved right into the middle of the mountain — think a small-scale Moria from Lord of the Rings]. Before coming to Cappadocia I could not imagine what a “rock-cut” church would be like. We only have experience with built churches, made of various materials. Here, whole “cathedrals” are carved out deep into the rock itself, in the huge conic hills that make up Cappadocia, or into the cliff faces themselves. The Selime cathedral was probably 60 feet deep at least, cut into the hill, and 20-30 feet high, including the galleries.

One climbs around from the outside into various chambers, kitchen, storage, livestock areas, chapels, meeting places, refectories, etc. Or, you can crawl back behind the rooms further into the mountain through tunnels, stairs, and passageways to get from one place to another. It’s like a warren built into the mountain! We did not have a flashlight with us. Next time, this is a necessity. But often you can feel your way through a short passage [if you are brave] and emerge on the other side where there is light. Many holes are carved in strategic places to offer light, air, and an exit for smoke. The kitchens are badly smoke-stained on their ceilings. That, along with great storage cubbies and pits carved into the floors and walls, give a clear indication of the room’s usage. 

On the left gallery, back in the corner, Nick discovered a stair going up. I followed him a little way, but with the wear of time, the passage was a steep, slippery climb, even where the steps themselves had not completely eroded. Nick continued on without me and climbed literally up through the heart of the mountain almost to the top, where from the outside you can see a man-made window or portal with a carved balcony. At places, Nick was literally rock-climbing through vertical tunnels and steep stairs with nothing but handholds worn into the rock, or by pressing himself (his back) against one side of an ascent and his feet against the other side, and inching his way up. He said at places the drop was 20-30 feet! We have pictures from the outside of the mountain, up to where he climbed. He also took pictures from inside as well.

Crazy!

In all, this is a hiker and mountain climber’s paradise. If all you want is a nice stroll along the river through the trees and wildflowers, with maybe a picnic lunch and a soak for your feet in the stream, that’s very doable, too. 

Adventure

Word to the wise: rent a car. The bus-shuttle from Goreme to Urgup is not very easy, but it is cheap!

We first saw the open air museum in Goreme. This is very interesting to see the rock-cut churches - with arches, columns, domes, apses all carved into the sheer rock. There are both wonderful, colorful frescoes and also red-only iconoclastic designs - geometric, crosses, some plants and animals. The best churches were the Apple Church and the “Dark” Church (which we had to pay an extra admission for). The style is wonderful, colorful, iconography everywhere, on every panel. There is some damage, of course, but esp. in the Dark Church, much (most) is intact. It all looks so familiar! All the main feasts are represented, except I did not see Pentecost, or any feasts of Mary. In fact Mary is somewhat downplayed here. She is definitely present in all the traditional ways (Nativity, Ascension), but Christ is center. The Ascension is big, the Last Supper, Transfiguration, the Nativity, the Betrayal, Entry into Jerusalem, and others. The Dark Church had a particularly fine Anastasis - Resurrection. JOY! On the floor of every church were graves - open, long pits - empty now but the dead, the saints, were kept in the community.

Outside the gate is the Tokali Church. This is very different, the frescoes are an entirely different style, very detailed and fine, like the folds on the robes. A bright blue background! [Someone said, or we read, that the iconographers for this church were brought on special commission from Constantinople.]

We saw a nice refectory with table and seats all carved of stone, with a fresco of the Last Supper at the end. This whole place was full of worshipping, eating people! :)

It is hard to know what to make of these churches, the only sign of Christianity we have seen in Turkey (except for some vague references to Paul and John in Ephesus - and the visit to Mary’s house). There were real communities here. The churches date to the 11th-12th century (or the current frescoes do). They were never converted to mosques, but there is the characteristic destruction of eyes and faces. Nick says the red, iconoclast frescoes would be 8th-9th century. These churches were once very alive. Now they are a museum. What makes a place a church? The sacred place? The frescoes? The community, the people? A living faith? Or a traditional place, with a past, people, saints who WERE there, filling the place with prayer, worship, incense, the presence of God? Can God ever go away from a place?

Ahmed

Now the real reason for the “adventure” title above. After the open-air museum, we crossed the road to check out the Sword Valley, one of several special valleys around Goreme. We hiked up to some cave homes and around past the first set of rocks. Back behind we were looking for a way around. We came down into some agricultural plots, and a man there - Ahmed - motioned us onto a sandy trail. Then he began leading us along it. “Come on, my friend! This is the way!” We found ourselves in a dry river channel that wound its way (historically) between high cliffs on either side. At a couple points the channel actually goes completely underground, so we had to use Nick’s cell phone for a tiny bit of light. In places we scrambled up over rock barriers and cave-ins. I did not have the right shoes on for mountain climbing! Nevertheless, intrepid Ahmed led us on through this special hidden place, and we emerged after maybe 1 km on the other side. After that we followed a farming road and some other footpaths up and over several different valleys and look-outs - the Red Valley, the Rose Valley. We saw Uchisar and Cavushin castles in the distance, the towns of Avanos, Cavushin, Goreme, Orthisar, Urgup, the entire Cappadocian region! The landscapes are incredible, sort of like the American southwest, or maybe the badlands of South Dakota, but breathtaking in the rock formations, esp. the “fairly chimneys” and coloration.

Ahmed also showed us a sheep pen and upstairs pigeon house inside a fairy chimney; a house, complete with defenses (a rolled stone) and a communication window with Cavushin castle; and a two-level old church - again, none of which is written up in any of the tour guides. Only the locals know about these things. He said there are other churches and ruins, some in the process of restoration, others virtually unknown. The first level of the church was accessible, and the carving from the rock was as good as any church we saw in the open-air museum. It had only red decorations, not color frescoes. Ahmed showed us the huge pillars/columns were hollow! A friend of his, an archaeology student from Istanbul, had measured that they are hollow down 20 meters! How? How could it have been carved such? Why?? Ahmed suggested advanced acoustic “technologies” used by the ancient Christians. It was a marvel - again, unknown to the tour guides or even many of the archaeological researchers, whom Ahmed thought were sleeping. Probably he is right. What are the incentives, motives, politics of archaeologists in a place like Turkey with untold ruins, sites, artefacts, interests? 

Ahmed had some interesting opinions about why people are so short and weak today. It’s all our technology - makes us soft! - and moral decay (smoking). We have lost the ancient technology and life from the earth. He cited the great ages of the patriarchs of the Bible and Koran. He also thought the peoples of the Christian era here would have been bigger and stronger.

Later, while waiting for the bus, we talked to another gentleman who owned a hotel and restaurant. He commented about the quietness of the tourist season this year, due to potential unrest in the Middle East, he thought, and also the struggling European economy. He didn’t think entry into the EU would be good for Turkey, which is very different culturally and demographically from Europe. It is Muslim, 75% of its population is under 25, it is still largely agricultural, etc. But he seemed optimistic that Turkey is on the right track.

(Ahmed had also commented that he didn’t like Iraq or Iran because they were not democratic. He liked Americans and mentioned several friends of his from the States.)

Last, in the evening, we stopped into a carpet shop in Urgup at the behest of the shop owner who needed help deciphering an email from an American customer. We helped him and then were treated to chai and hearing about all his experiences with the struggling tourist season and the impact of the big tour companies and operators, which cut out small businesses and shop owners. Tourists are carefully shepherded and controlled to spend their money only in certain places, and there is a whole system of kickbacks. We fell into this very system ourselves on our carpet-buying escapade in Kusadasi. I have learned my lesson!

It was get-to-know the Turks day. 

We took the bus from Amasya through Turhal, Tokat, Sivas, then on to Kayseri, then switched buses to Goreme, then taxi to our hotel in Urgup.

Turhal is supposedly the location where St. Basil had his Pontus retreat [and where his family’s estate was]. It is a good-sized town today, not much there of interest to the visitor, but the natural scenery is suggestive. From Amasya we came through beautiful, green mountains down into a huge valley, witih Turhal at one end and Tokat at the other. Dramatic mountains loom in the distance alternating north and south from the Yesilirmak River. There are stark rock outcroppings and cliffs and mini-mountains here and there. The river channel in the town of Turhal has been concrete-stabilized. It looks quite industrial now. But it is a green river and flowers fairly fast. The valley looks fertile. In my imagination, St. Basil’s family estate of Annesi, traditionally located on the south side of the river, took in the whole valley or a good part of it. St. Basil himself may have established himself in some cove or any of a thousand secret hideaways north of the river or further back up the Yesilirmak into the mountains between Amasya and Turhal. We took many pictures through the bus window, which will hopefully be at least suggestive of the region. What was heartbreaking was to see the mosques. St. Basil fought so hard to make (and keep) Cappadocia Christian and orthodox.

The middle of Turkey as we drove from Tokat to Kayseri is all agricultural with great spreading valleys of fields. There are mountains in the distance, murky and looming, but dusky and far away. The land without irrigation seems brown, dull, dead — and yet after the straw/hay harvest, there are piles golden yellow of stocked, drying grass. One can easily understand how these plains were prime horse country. Cappadocia was prime horse country in ancient times. Emperors, generals, and conquerors would come here to acquire stock for their armies. We saw one paddock with horses. They looked spirited. We might have been transported to the plains of the western US, Wyoming perhaps.

The first thing that strikes you coming into Kayseri is the hundreds of apartment buildings! They are like honeycombs spaced in clumps here, there, everywhere. Some are five or six stories, others twelve. All seem to be designed in the same, exact pattern. Kayseri itself is a large, sprawling city. Our guide book says a half million people live here. It must be growing. St. Basil was bishop here. The city of his time must have been considerably smaller, but still no doubt, a regional capital. Again, the mosques and the scarf-clad women, signs of Islam, are somewhat heartbreaking. Basil fought so hard as bishop. Not all his city was Christian, of course. In the fourth century there were pagans (cf Libanius in Antioch) and Jews - a famous episode from his Life has St. Basil converting a family of Jews on his death bed. But convert people he did, and engage with emperors and Roman governors, and fight for Orthodoxy against Arianism and Eunomianism, and every other manner of heresy. Now Turkey is 98% Muslim. The fraction of Christians left, a few Greeks in Istanbul, a few persecuted and dying communities of Armenians in eastern Turkey, is tiny.

From Kayseri we drove out into Cappadocia proper, this strange lunar landscape with rock outcroppings, cliffs, valleys, and ancient warrens of human occupation dug into the stone. It is troglodyte. One is reminded of some of the native American cliff houses in the US Southwest. Here again there is a “presence,” as of a place with a known religious (Christian) history. How many hidden Christian churches are here? There are several (known) underground cities - capable of hiding thousands of people, a place of refuge in time of persecution. Did St. Basil know these Christians? Did he shepherd them? Who were they? Who did they run/hide from? What happened to them? Were they orthodox? How did they live? How did they pray?

Our bus day was long and exhausting, and a little stressful because no one speaks English in these parts. (They do here in Cappadocia, which is more highly touristed.) But seeing the country, one can’t but be impressed with its future. Turkey is a clean, prosperous, friendly country. The people seem industrious. Families are strong. It is religious/devout, not corrupt/decadent. There seems to be a strong national pride and sense of heritage. What a mix of traditional lifestyles - how many people we saw with pitchforks in the fields, men in traditional vests and caps, women in long skirts and scarves. Side by side there were modern, new tractors and farm equipment. There is much road construction - the building of infrastructure - modern, new, immaculate petrol stations. Modern buses and organized transportation. Turkey is a study in contrasts, both within itself and with the larger world, with the US, with Europe, with Greece, with the Philippines — places I know and have been. If one could construct a society, what would it be like? What was Ataturk’s vision? What part of Turkey’s present prosperity and future potential may be attributed to him?

Here is deep, deep past. Here is a strong present and presence of people, of culture — not Christian. Here there is also future, of a melded west and middle east. 

Islam

I slept very hard last night, and long, but at one point in the middle of the night — or maybe it was the crack of dawn — the muzzein, or whoever he was, was coming over the loudspeakers, very loud, very eastern, plaintive. It was like a dream. I did not hear the Orthodox call to prayer at Meteora, but I saw the wooden boards and mallets (I forget what they are called), when I was in Greece. You can hardly miss the calls to prayer here. If yesterday is any indication, people do go — and many do not.

What would a place be like where people did go? Where a whole society revolved around prayer through the day? Would we all turn into monastics? Do Muslims have monasteries? Or are they all expected to be monastics — hence the loud calls to prayer? Isn’t prayer five times a day one of Islam’s main obligations?

I have heard that the Muslim Ramadan derives from the Byzantine Great Lent. What other derivatives are there? Is Islam more successful today in keeping up its religious practices?

12:30 pm

This morning we hiked up to the Pontic tombs — tombs of the Pontic kings, “sea kings.” The Black Sea in Roman times was the Pontus Euxinus. It was quite a scrabble over the rocks from one set of tombs to the other. Apparently there were wooden structures erected on the ledges around in front of the cave openings. You can see the indentations in the rocks.

Then a stroll through the old residential area, then the cafe, a stop at the grocery store next door for water and a snack, and back to our room for a quiet afternoon.

From the mountainside overlooking all of Amasya, I counted about 20 mosques - a lot! By the frequency of intermixing with houses and shops, I would say Amasyans put a high priority in their life on religion. It is well blanced with home and family life, business (light here, necessity-based for the most part, and not overly touristy), and the cafe (lots of these, and the local people frequent them). The mosques seem to be active and in use throughout the day — men’s meeting places? social uses? religious instruction? The town is known for its medresses or religious schools.

Nick said the large mosque here, where all the festivities were occurring last night, is a combination worship center, school, and soup kitchen. Combine that with social functions and you have a thriving community base.

In places like Amasya and Kastraki one can see that small town life is healthy. It keeps a person’s focus on the right things. The people here all seem relaxed and happy. Many are out and about on the streets. Even those working (as at the cafe) do not seem perturbed. The physical setting is pleasing. The weather is near perfect. The only thing missing is wildlife, although high up near the tombs we saw hundreds of snails on the bushes, both a conical type and a swirled type. I have seen no dogs or cats here. I have not heard any chickens, owls, or other animal life as we did in Kastraki — except for last night up on the mountain as it got dark. The birds (or bats?) made a noticeable racket as they came home to roost (left their roosts?). The beating of wings echoed eerily off the cliffs. As we climbed this morning, two supersonic jets (military) roared over the valley. As the sound of the jets echoed, the whole valley almost shook. The noise and airborne incursion seemed from another world. I hope it was a routine training mission. Things are very hot in the Middle East right now. For the most part, we remain out of touch with the news. [At the time, we did not know of the escalating military operations in Lebanon. But even when we did find out, we did not see any indication of the conflict affecting Turkey, other than these jets.]

Ah, the call to prayer over the loudspeakers breaks in again. It can never be far from your consciousness. I am envious that we do not have this kind of religious focus at home. Then again, if it were not the right kind, or if it were forced on us, it would be oppressive. Religion and culture. How badly they are needed, yet how prone to deviance and misuse. Do we have the same problems with material necessities, food, family life, sex, shelter, clothes, as we do with religion and culture? Yes, but ideological and material challenges seem to work differently. Or, maybe not. Sin is sin. Separation from God, darkening of ourselves, body or soul, clouding and besmirching holiness, is always the outcome. It happens to societies and communities as much as for individuals.

I struggle with whether the combat against sin is more strategic - lifestyle decisions, big picture priorities and understandings - “values” - “worldview” - or whether it is simply one thing after another as it’s met each day, each hour, each minute, the vigilance of the ascetic. The censor swings toward us offering blessing, again, again, again. Bless the Lord, O my soul! Is sin any different? The enemy as he approaches must simply be rebuffed, again, again, again. We learn by doing. The big picture emerges. It is inductive wisdom, not a conceptualized big picture constructed from above and then imposed from the top down.

Are societies constructed inductively then? Materially? Ideologically? Ataturk was a top-down guy with a vision. The American Founding Fathers were semi-top-down with their pragmatic Enlightenment vision (if that is not an oxymoron). Is not RELIGION - if anything EVER is - top down??

3:30 pm

A quiet afternoon. We are sitting in the room of our Turkish house napping and reading. I feel very close to Elder Porphyrios as I sample his book. More “weirdness.” When he went to Athens to work at a hospital, he stayed on Omonia Square for 33 years. When we stayed in Athens, our hotel was just off Omonia Square. In some fantasy of mine, I had rather hoped a monk would find me on this trip. Perhaps one did. His book is telling me very good things, at least one in particular that I really needed to hear, since it would have been this thing that I would most have wanted to talk to a monk about. Our Lord is very, very, very good to us. You are a merciful God, and You love mankind! Thank You. Holy Elder Porphyrios, pray for us.

7 pm

We toured the old house museum and a very nice student practiced her English in taking us around. I asked about the celebration yesterday. It was Mohammed’s birthday — a special day for Muslims, one of their great holidays. She explained a little bit about Islam, prayer, fasting, asking God for forgiveness of sins. She wants badly to study in England and become a tour guide. I wished her good luck.

Tomorrow we take the bus all day to Cappadocia. I hope it passes through Turkhal so I can at least glimpse the location of St. Basil’s retreat. It was good to stay here in Amasya, which would have been “the” town near St. Basil. It is ancient and has been an important center since the years/centuries BC. Strabo the geographer was born here in 63 AD. Neocaesaria was not far from here. Did I mention that one of the bridges here is Roman? You can see the arches. But the river has risen and so there are pilings built on top of each arch with the current bridge now built across the pilings. But the Roman arches are still visible, the tops of them, above the water.

10 pm

I have finished the biographical part of the book on Elder Porphyrios. How grateful I am to have found this saint! (for him to have found me) How many saints are with us on this journey. God is wonderful in His saints! 

Weirdness

While waiting yesterday we stopped at the bookstore on Tsimiski, and I found the book Wounded by Love by Elder Porphyrios (d. 1991), which M. [my godmother] had recommended to me. His biography begins in Evia (Euboia), which we flew over on our way to Athens. He took ship when a young boy (12yo) for Thessaloniki in an attempt to get to Athos. We were flying out of Thessaloniki. In the latter part of his life, he spent many years in Athens or just outside it, where we had spent a day and were going. He spent his youth on Mt. Athos and eventually returned to die there.

I did not think I would see Mt. Athos. As our plane took off, I looked out the window and saw only sea, beautiful, blue. As I read snippets of Elder Porphyrios, I tried to pray. His holy life had happened on the very ground of Greece we had traveled and which was now below me as I sat on the plane. I chanced to look out the window again, and what did I see? A long finger of land, water, and another long strip of land behind it. It was slightly hazy. Was there water behind it and another finger? I could not quite make it out. But I did see a mountain, a large, white-covered (treeless) mountain rising there along what would have been the third finger. It loomed large and visible, majestic. Could it be the mountain of Athos? I had not realized that Mount Athos is truly a mountain, not just a high, rocky peninsula. It must have been! An answer to prayer. It was a lasting glimpse, visible, strong. Holy Elder Porphyrios, pray for us. Holy Fathers of Athos, pray for us.

So many new dear saints. They want to be known to us, to help us, to pray for us, to let us know they are there, with sympathetic ears, to turn to. How desperately our world needs all their help and prayer.

Thank You, God. Thank You.

7 pm

Amasya

Flight to Samsun, bus to Amasya. Pretty town! With St. Basil’s river Yesilirmak (Iris River, Green River) running through. The country is mountainous with large cliffs. We sit at a cafe after dinner across the river from the cliff with the Pontic tombs — which will be lit up at night. Our hotel, Ilk Pansiyon, is an old converted Turkish/Ottomon house, a little bit adventurous but very fun.

We have not been able to find tourist info, and there seems to be no rental car, so exploring the countryside may be out. I can only hope the bus [when we leave to go to Kayseri in Cappadocia] will pass through Turkhal, where St. Basil’s Pontus retreat is supposed to be. At least I am seeing the general countryside around here, and between here and Kayseri (ancient Caesaria), where Basil was bishop. The bus is good for that.

The people here are also extremely friendly and beautiful, but very little English! One is spoiled by traveling abroad only to highly “touristic” places. Tomorrow we have the day here. We’ll explore a little and take it easy. Must make sure to line up our bus ride for Saturday.

10:30 pm

After dinner we strolled along the riverfront and waited to watch the sunset and the lights to come on in front of the tombs. The river is peaceful and pretty at night. Lots of people stroll up and down, including women, families, couples, kids. This appears to be a very safe place, even at night.

On the way back we got the idea of stopping in to a “Tur” or “Turizm” shop to see about our bus to Kayseri on Saturday. One shop directed us to another, which directed us to another! Very helpful, friendly folks and NOBODY speaks English. How patient they were with us.

In the second store, we waited on the owner to return. He was at the mosque (there is one, huge mosque in Amasya and many, many smaller ones). As we waited the two men there showed us the service or meeting or whatever it was on TV. Eventually we realized something big is going on here tonight. Earlier there was a parade of cars and buses going by. I noticed many young boys, all dressed in white satin, along with their families in the buses. They seemed to be carrying special scepters. The police cordoned off a part of the street around the mosque, and there were tons of people there when we walked by. I read somewhere, or V. told me, about great circumcision ceremonies. Maybe this is one.

As we passed by a smaller mosque on the way home, I saw men worshipping in there. [The door was open.] They were all bowing and then stood up. The minarets all have loudspeakers on them and when the muzzein (?) calls, it blasts all over the town. It sounds just like you hear on TV or in a movie.

Maybe a big imam is visiting, or maybe it’s some sort of rally. It doesn’t seem to be political. Everybody seems very calm, cheerful — eating ice cream! The shops are all open. It just seems to be a big night when everyone turns out. My guess is the circumcision ceremony.

Nick and I tried to discuss a little bit about Turkey’s secularism vs. its Islamic faith (98%). Many/most of the women here wear headscarves.  But it doesn’t seem to be an oppressive place at all, not to women or children or anybody. Most everyone seems very easygoing, content. I do not feel uncomfortable at all, or like anyone is staring at me. The men all seem to act normally. Of course, Nick is with me. There are a few tourists (identifiable), but not many. Some teens dress just like they would at home, girls and boys hanging out together. Some couples hold hands.

Altogether it seems an extremely wholesome, family-oriented place. It’s a place where people are comfortable, not hard up, adapting well to development and growing businesses with western technologies and tourism (internet cafes, hotels). With all the mosques — apparently used — it’s a place where either nominal or active faith plays a strong role. Secularism and Islam seem to coexist. The people are Turkish and yet one sees all the western way of life.

Along the waterfront are statues (busts) of some of the great leaders, sultans and so forth. It seems Amasya was the training ground for the heir apparent [for the Ottoman Empire]. The young heir would come here for education and then reign as governor until his father the sultan passed away. Then he would become sultan himself. There are busts for Mehmet and Murad. Mehmet conquered Constantinople if my history serves.

Amasya has long been an extremely important city/location historically. Today it seems a sleepy backwater, a little town on the verge, but it has a long, venerable past with connections of various sorts — political, religious — in every era. It’s like a little geographic microcosm of the history of Turkey and the Middle East as a whole. Layers upon layers, just as everywhere else in this part of the world.

St. Basil, pray for us. You, too, call this area home.

Orthros and Divine Liturgy this morning at St. Dimitrios! It was balm for my soul. I did not understand much of the all-Greek service, but I could follow along the basic order. In a way it helped just to rest there with no thoughts, just the chant, the incense, the priests (two of them) doing the service, and the peace and beauty of the place. I hated to leave when it was over.

Today is a travel day. We will hang out in Thessaloniki until 3 pm, but we have no where in particular to go. We decided to skip the last two churches here. We saw both museums yesterday. It is very hot out, and we are tired to walk - much up and down here. We fly to Istanbul tonight (via Athens) and an overnight at the Istanbul airport hotel. Then to Samsun early tomorrow morning. Then our Turkey adventure begins!

St. Basil, please pray for us.
St. Gregory Palamas, please pray for us.
St. John, please pray for us.
Most Holy Theotokos, save us.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.
St. Dimitrios, please pray for us.

2:30 pm

Monks (or priests) on the street today - at least four so far. There must be something going on today. Or maybe it is a normal state of affairs here. Yea! Orthodoxy seems to live in this town, quietly under the surface, but all the churches are alive. There is a presence here. A lady (young woman) crossing the square this morning in front of St. Dimitrios - I assumed on her way to work (she did not enter the church) - crossed herself three times. The bells rang just then. I don’t know if she crossed herself because of the church or the bells. It was good to see, a totally naturally movement.

People entering the churches cross themselves, light candles, and venerate icons. There were prostrations in Church this morning. Yes, some faith is alive here. The two priests serving the Liturgy this morning were young and from what I could tell fervent. The services were not shortened and were carried out with solemnity. There were again many people in Church, lots of old ladies today, but some men, younger women, and a couple children also. Many people received communion.

Part of me dreads going to Turkey where Christianity is dead. How can the faith in LIFE die???

~*~*~

Several more monks today, and an Orthodox priest on our flight to Istanbul. He sat kitty corner to the right in front of me. 

Morning agenda:

• Hotel Pella - breakfast
• Sweet shop at the corner - Nescafe medium sweet with milk (wait for laundry to open)
• Bubblefish laundry across from sweet shop - deposit laundry, 7 euros per load!

Churches:

• St. Dimitrios - we came in during Liturgy! We stayed through a service afterward, in commemoration of the relics of St. Gregory ?? (not Palamas). Was it his feast day? Tour of the church.
• St. David - we walked far and high up in the nicer part of town (Ano Poli) searching for it, and almost gave up…

… In desperation, I said a quick prayer to St. Gregory Palamas (he used to be bishop of Thessaloniki). We turned a corner, and there was a sign!! It’s a tiny place. A yia-yia showed us the church: very, very, very OLD, small, dark, musty. Fifth century. St. David’s has a fantastic mosaic in the apse above the altar of a young Christ Pantokrator with symbols of the four evangelists. The lion’s head for St. Mark was magnificent peering out at us. The straps on Christ’s sandals were golden, twinkling. Just incredible! The Turks had converted St. David’s to a mosque, of course, and plastered over the mosaic, which is probably the reason it is so well-preserved. Thank God for unintentional favors. There was a modern iconostasis and icons. The Church is in use today. What a life span: 5th c. - 21st c.

Then coming down we ran across:

• St. Elias - Eli’s church (closed, we took a picture)
• St. Katherine’s - Kate’s church (closed, we took a picture)

They are both nice, old Byzantine-style churches plopped right in the middle of the city. St. Elias is on a main street (Olympiados), and St. Katherine’s is off the same street a little farther down, back a block, with a nice courtyard and flowers.

Then: 

• back to Bubblefish - picked up laundry and went to the hotel to cool off

I prayed before the relics of St. Dimitrios. He made me cry, too! :o] There were maybe 50 people attending Liturgy, men, women, young, old. Some people came in to venerate or to light a candle. Tourists came in toward the end. They just walk on through even in the middle of the service. I suppose one could think this rude, but I honestly believe they simply have no clue. They’re all gazing about, up and around at all the wonder. The church, the icons, the incense, the chanting. One young man with a large backpack, clearly a pilgrim, stayed at St. D’s relics on his knees for a long time. May God bless him and grant him peace. I will go back tomorrow morning 7:30-9:30 for Orthros and Liturgy if I read the sign correctly.

6 pm 

Two Museums - Too Many! 

Nick and I are icon’d out. It’s all too much now. The riches and religious grandeur and devotion are too much to take, both quantity and quality. One would need to live in this part of the world for ten years to appreciate it all. But would you? Would you get used to the immersion and not appreciate it until you went to the spartan United States where we have virtually nothing like this at all? No church on every corner. No ancient icons. No relics (whole bodies). Very little presence of Orthodoxy anywhere.

Athos Museum

First we stopped in at a special exhibition from Mt. Athos. We were lucky to hear about it in a local cultural guide and find the place. (It’s in Thessaloniki until November.) It was an amazing collection of illuminated books, manuscripts, religious objects, a few models of churches, and of course icons! Many wondrous icons, including the pair of enthroned Christ and Theotokos I got for Kate for Christmas. Many others were familiar from Mt. Athos monasteries. The Deisis was amazing - the familiar one with the John the Baptist you recognize.

Part of the exhibit was on the Protaton, the Church in Karyes, the administrative center of Athos. Here is where the iconography of Panselinos is! [This is an iconographer I discovered I really liked. I had heard he was “Macedonian,” not realizing that this part of Greece is Macedonian… or at least it’s Thessaly. Anyway, it’s north. Panselinos is the one who did the famous icon of the Descent into Hell or Resurrection, the one which you usually see only in detail, the one with a rounded, robust Christ — not a wispy one — pulling Adam up from the grave.] I saw a few icons of his, but not the Anastasis [Resurrection] I love so much. I tried to find a book, but the cheap one did not have it either. Another book, The Treasures of Mt. Athos, looked good and relatively cheap for a huge, hardcover book, but how to carry it? I can probably order it at home.

Byzantine Museum

Next we walked all the way over to this award-winning museum. (On the way we made a quick stop into the modern church of Panagia Dexia, which was very dramatic with black marble and bright, new iconography.) I was not as impressed with this museum as with the Athens version, or with the collections at Meteora or the Athos exhibition. [I was seriously museum’d out by this point.] It was laid out nicely in periods and included early Roman Christian artefacts (marbles, floor mosaics, funerary items), but secular museums do not seem to “get” the religious culture of Byzantium. There was quite a bit of everyday stuff, a room on castles, and so forth. Two (donated) special private collections covered engravings and a truly amazing set of icons, most relatively small and a lot of them later in date, but some unusual subjects (e.g. of the Three Magi) and some very dramatic, e.g. one of St. John the Baptist.

Nick noticed particularly the shift from Roman to Byzantine style/feel across the 6th-9th century (iconoclasm) jump.

I noticed that there was not a single reference to any of the Councils or to Justinian in the whole museum. (How can you have a Byzantine museum without Justinian?) [This is something I have long noticed in the way “the Middle Ages” are presented or taught in schools and in books for children. It is taught as “culture”: castles, knights, feudalism; and never as history: Councils, emperors, popes, that is, specific historical figures.] An exception to the rule: Thessaloniki and Constantinople were noted throughout, but the focus was on Byzantium in Thessaloniki. There was one display referring to Andronikos II and III, including a daughter, Sophia, who married a Serbian prince (Milutin), and Andronikos III (?) who married Anne of Savoy (French?). At this time period (14th c), the emperors or empresses were often in and ruling from or governing from Thessaloniki. This same time period includes the life of St. Gregory Palamas, who became Metropolitan of Thessaloniki. It would be fascinating to read up on this era and the complex relations between Thessaloniki, Constantinople, and the West, the various influences of the Crusades, Italian trade and art, late Scholasticism, and so on. St. Gregory Palamas was not working, praying, teaching, fighting for Orthodoxy in a cultural or political vacuum or any simple historical context.

The other thing I noticed was the marked influence of western artistic style beginning after the Crusades, especially post-1453. It would be interesting to compare Byzantine iconography of the different periods of influence - Roman, Islamic (iconoclastic), western, etc. — and with Russian art.

I have decided I really like, as an example of “textile art”, the epitaphios. We have seen so many incredible ones. They are a beautiful sign of the most intimate devotion we Christians have to Christ.

Finally, there was an informative little computer program at the end of our museum tour explaining the origins of “the museum,” starting in a couple instances BC with displays of archaeological remains (even the ancients had their own ancients and ruins), then including some medieval and early modern private collections of artefacts, manuscripts, and “curiosities” up to the time of the Enlightenment. At that point the concept of the “museum” really takes off. It figures that museums are creations and products of the Enlightenment, just like encyclopedias. What is desired is not lived knowledge or culture, not inherited knowledge or culture, not even evaluated or valued knowledge or culture (critiqued or adopted). Knowledge is merely collected and studied. The goal is objectivity, to make everything an “object.” I have wondered throughout this trip about the difference between seeing icons in museums and icons in churches. It needn’t even be a secular museum. There was a museum on Patmos, and there were museums at Meteora (Great Meteoron and Valaam). Icons remain icons! But… they belong in churches. They belong where people can venerate them, not just “look” at them, study them. But what about preservation? What about education? What about making them available to the public to see? It becomes a large question in my mind.