Our Pilgrimage to South East Turkey: Nusaybin and Mor Yakup

street cleaning in Nusaybin

Those who know me well will realize how much I campaign against litter! The very first thing that struck me about the town of Nusaybin was how clean it was. Here I had my first sight on this trip to Turkey of a street cleaner complete with wheelbarrow, brush and shovel, and he was doing a very good job. For the first time everywhere looked so well maintained and cared for, including some public gardens that looked very neat and tidy. . I wonder what makes the difference? Why does this town care so much more than others we have been through?

The border post here with Syria is now closed and has been for quite some time because of the civil war in Syria. There is a Byzantine ruin near the border which we cannot visit. 

Instead we are here to see the recently excavated 4^th century church of St Jacob - Mar Yakub - which is now re-established. A number of ancient buildings have been revealed by the excavations, in addition to the Mar Yakub church, which was the center of the famous Syrian Theological School, founded by St James of Nisibis in 350. His sarcophagus is still in the crypt. We are told that the town mayor has encouraged the excavations, which he hopes to use as an educational opportunity; to show people the variety of religions and cultures of the area over time. The more we can educate everyone, from all cultures and faiths, about our differences and indeed our common ground, the more hope there is for interfaith harmony and understanding.

But first we have lunch. It’s an excellent local restaurant – really busy at lunchtime with locals, which is always a good sign. My salad is superb, with pomegranate juice and dressing, and again the wonderful fresh flat bread which always seems to be readily available at meal times. And they made a menemen again for me – this time it’s spread thinly over a large concave metal skillet, and is simply delicious. In this warmer southern part of Turkey we have been drinking plenty of ayran – a salted yoghourt drink – I love it and it’s wonderful when the weather is hot. And I love it when they serve it in cool pewter mugs!

The Mar Jakub site is quite extraordinary. There is still plenty of excavation going on and we are not allowed to take photos of the work in progress – within the church itself we have a guide, and our own tour guide Gilgud translates for us. Through her he tells us that his is the only Christian Syriac family in the town. And he gives us a brochure on The Nusaybin school and Mor Yakop Church. It's a very informative booklet and I hope to be able write a little more about this impressive project at a later date.

Mar Yakub church

On the excavation site we had spoken to an extremely well dressed and well spoken lady who was there with her daughter. She explained in perfect English that she was a Kurdish Syrian from Damascus and that her daughter could not go to school here as this was not allowed by the Turkish government. I'm not sure that the daughter was as concerned as her mother! We wished them our blessings and hope for peace and a better future, said how sorry we were for the situation they found themselves in, promised to pray for them both and waved goodbye. As we walked away from the site a refugee family on the roof of the building above us waved.

inside Mar Yakub church

So we set off again, westwards towards Mardin, and our accommodation for the last two nights of our tour - this time at Mor Hananyo monastery, otherwise known as Deir Zafaran, Deyrelzafaran or the Saffron Monastery. The monastery was once the seat of the Syriac Orthodox Patriarchs of Antioch from 1293-1932 when the patriarchate was moved to Syria because of limitations imposed by the Republic of Turkey on religious activities. I am led to understand that the Turkish government would like the Patriarch to leave Damascus and relocate back in Turkey. Is that right?

view from the Saffron Monastery

Anyway, the monastery really is quite simply magnificent, 
nestling as it does under the cliffs amid lovely gardens looking down across the great plain of Mesopotamia towards the Syrian border, some 5km east of Mardin. The beautiful honey-colored stone glows in the special light in this part of Turkey, particularly at sunrise and sunset. Later we are allowed up onto the top roof, with suitable care required, to look over this scene. The view in all directions is awesome.

the saffron monastery 

We are now in the middle of the Tur Abdin region, the middle of Mesopotamia, 80 kms from the Tigris to our East and the Euphrates to the West. We arrive at the monastery hot and tired and in need of our rooms and a freshen up, but before the accommodation is sorted out, we have the usual small glass cups of cay handed round and a chance for our host to exchange pleasantries and latest news with us. We all introduce ourselves briefly. The welcome seems more relaxed, warmer, than at Mor Gabriel. Perhaps we were less shy this time around, more used to the procedures on arrival at a monastery. Bishop Philoxenus had left that morning for a meeting abroad, but we were made very welcome on his behalf by Chorepiscopus Gabriyel Akyűz, (Father Gabriel - not many of us realized at the time that he is a distinguished Syriac historian, author and poet.) from the Church of the 40 Holy Martyrs in Mardin, where we shall visit tomorrow.

The Monastery of Mor Awgen, Tur Abdin

We have covered so many miles and so many sights, it seems hard to realize that this is only the sixth full day of our pilgrimage to the Armenian and Syriac Orthodox churches of Eastern Turkey.
The day begins as usual with the very early morning service followed by the customary breakfast of cucumber and tomato slices, black olives, a hard boiled egg and plenty of white flat bread and cay. Sadly we have to pack today and leave the monastery to journey onwards. I have really enjoyed my stay here – the atmosphere has been amazing, the hospitality wonderful. But we have an exciting two days ahead of us before we head for home again, and journey on we must. Mor Timotheus Samuel is there by the coach. We all thank him for his hospitality and he waves us goodbye.

We leave Mor Gabriel eastwards towards Cizre, then cut through to the main Cizre to Nusaybin road via Oyali and Ozbec and so westwards towards Nusaybin. All around us from the coach we see signs that Christian villagers returning from Switzerland and Germany are putting their money into grand new housing; but new priests are also bringing western ideas of worship into the region. Is this a good thing? I wonder.

We drive along the main road across the Great Mesopotamian Plain. We can see it is very fertile and also very flat, with not so many stones. We hear that there is enough grain harvested in two months of the year to fund holidays away for the rest of the year. Don’t the farms need any care during the long absences? I suspect they need at least some caretaking. I wonder? The road is running parallel and not far away from the Syrian border to our left, and the sentry lookout posts all along the route are clearly visible. We see tank activity and vehicles stopped but we carry on without interruption. Before reaching Nusaybin the coach turns right off the main road to Girmeli.

There are plenty of helpful villagers who look askance at this big luxurious coach heading into their village, all anxious to tell us that we cannot make it to the monastery in such a big vehicle. We know. Under the watchful and curious gaze of villagers, children and a flock of geese, we offload in the centre of Girmeli into two pre arranged minibuses for the drive up the narrower lane towards the monastery. 

We are making our way to Mor Awgen or Mor Augin (Eugene) monastery. This is an important place of worship, nestled up in the steep cliffs of Mount Islo with its wonderful views across the Plain of Nusaybin. It was newly inhabited in 2011 by three monks after being abandoned for almost 40 years. Until about ten years ago this monastery was a dangerous place to visit. It is so encouraging to see the sheer tenacity and perseverance of the monks in this part of the world as they labor tirelessly to restore the traditions of the monasteries again; traditions of hospitality, education and worship.


But worship is the wrong word to use here. Eastern religions are not touched by the western renaissance and followers live to be in touch with God – they don’t have to understand, they just “do.” Our western faith is far more intellectual.
Legend has it that this monastery was founded in 340 by Saint Eugenius or Eugene (Augen), an Egyptian pearl diver from the Red Sea. One of the oldest monasteries in the region, Mor Augen is known locally as ‘Deyr-Marog’. It stands 500 meters above the plain on the slopes of Tur Abdin, and consists of both caves and buildings. It was originally a Nestorian monastery, but sometime before 1838 ownership was transferred to the Chaldean (East Syriac) Christians, and by 1842 it was in Syriac Orthodox ownership.

view across the plain towards Syria

When Gertrude Bell visited here in 1909 she reported that there were ten monks, mostly living in the caves. It was very dangerous to visit here until about ten years ago but now it is perfectly safe. It is clear from photos found on the internet of the monastery in ruins that the latest renovations are an incredible feat, due in no small part to the hard work and vision of Father Yoachim.
Father Yoachim likes the visitors to his monastery to walk up the long, steep and dusty path as pilgrims. He sees this as an important part of our act of worship, akin to the hardships of fasting and ascetism. Of course some of us are physically unable to make such a journey on foot and the minibus can carry us to the entrance. Others of us are dropped off early and make the last kilometer or so on foot. It is hot and dusty and the climb steep. But

as the path ahead zigzags upwards, we hear the clear sweet song of a nightingale accompanying us. I start singing “we are pilgrims on a journey…” but no one else seems inclined to join in so I hum it quietly to myself as we continue our walk. 

After greetings and a warm welcome from Father Yoachim, who has been waiting for us as we complete our climb, we begin our visit by going into a large bare space or grotto, approached through the lowest of doors. We gather silently and have some group prayers and singing. There is a 1466 chapel above the church reached by a narrow and steep set of steps. An inscription around the roof offers prayer for those who built it and says that it is offered to the Glory of God. Every week the monks pray for the saints and the builders of the monastery.

Outside again on a terrace and looking above us we can see a cell high up in the cliff face, seemingly impossible to get to. There a hermit monk lived, in silence, until he died, eating only once a day on a limited diet sent up to him in a basket pulled up by rope. The last monk died here in the early 1970s, since when the monastery was deserted for 40 years before reopening in 2011. Now there are 2 monks again with Father Joachim, with 3 students, from Istanbul, Italy and Germany. Prayers are said four times a day, at 6, 11, 5 and 9, and some attend from the village below, with more on Sundays.

After this tour around the monastery and when we have received the customary hospitality of water, cay and biscuits, we clamber up the steep rocky path above the courtyard. There is a very sure footed horse grazing high above us, and we pass small entrances into caves that were used in the past as hermit cells by monks. From high above the monastery we can see far away into the distance towards Syria, cloaked in the heat haze of the late morning sun. The animals on the plain below are healthy, the grazing good. But the monastery’s own garden is sparse and looking very sorry for itself. The winds buffeting the plot have burnt the crops. Higher up the slopes we can see early attempts at restoring the terracing for further cultivation, but it is obviously a labor of love: the terraces are hard to reach, the cultivation there is challenging, so it is hardly surprising that little progress has been made. Back in the courtyard we see the remains of monk cells exposed when the rubble was cleared away after a massive landslide. We can clearly see niches where the monks would have kept their bibles and lamps.

A trip to the toilet blocks is quite a surprise. They are luxurious, with the latest modern fittings. The money comes plentifully from the diaspora we are told.

Our visit ends beautifully with prayers in the church of St Mary where we are joined by some people from the village below and by a few tourists who have made it up the steep path. As we leave and look back, the buildings gradually melt into the surrounding cliffs, the camouflage complete.

Father Yoachim had a deer here that gave birth to twin fawns so he gave one to Mar Gabriel. There it has been adopted by one of the nuns who cares for it and we saw it ourselves during our stay there. It had not been too well but was clearly getting better, as it trotted faithfully after the nun across the courtyard. It has developed a curious crab-like sideways manner way of going up and down the monastery steps.

We have to hurry back to our minibuses – they are needed to pick up school children. So we arrive back in the village, and once back in our own coach we make our way to the bustling town of Nusaybin (the ancient Nisibis), right on the border with Syria, to visit the exciting Mar Jacob excavations there...

caves where the monks once lived

Our Turkish pilgrimage continues - the churches of Midyat

We make our way into the church; the silence is total as we are all awed by the sacred space around us.

In the hushed atmosphere our bishop leads us in prayers and we all say the Grace together: “May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all evermore.”

We are in one of the three churches at the restored Mor Abraham Syriac Orthodox Monastery in Midyat. The oldest church, dedicated to Mor Hobel (Saint Abel) and probably built in the late 5th century, is now the Beth Qadishe or House of Saints, where relics of saints are housed. A larger and later church is dedicated to Mor Abrohom (Saint Abraham) and then there is the Mother of God (Yoldath Aloho) church.

The land behind the monastery has been given by the church to serve as a camp for Syrian refugees and we see the newly built shelters. This was originally intended for 10,000 Christians but it is now to provide shelter equally for Christians and Muslims.

Mor Basomo

Leaving the monastery we make our way to the Syriac Orthodox church of Mor Basomo (Saint Barsumas in the West) in the old town centre of Midyat. Mor Basomo was an influential Syrian monk who attended the Second Council of Ephesus in 449 AD, and died in 457 AD.

The courtyard is full of children playing. Apparently these are local Assyrian children who come here every afternoon to learn how to read in Aramaic. We are shown into the 1500 years old church by an elderly gentleman who may be the caretaker. In fact much of the church is a 1943 reconstruction, faithfully preserving the Tur Abdin church style. Its minaret-like bell tower and its entrance are beautifully decorated with intricately carved stones.

After these visits some of the group have to make an urgent shopping trip into the town for essential sunhats – and one has to get a sandal resoled. They take the local minibus service into the shopping area while the few of us remaining have some appetite for seeing yet another church! So we make our way through the old town to the Protestant church. This is very large, and occupies a high and prominent position in the town. Our guide is able to obtain the keys to let us through the locked gate leading into the church grounds, and then into the church itself. This is a sad moment. Protestantism was introduced to the area by Western missionaries in the 19th century, but it would seem there is little demand for the church now as it appears to be little used at the moment, if at all. We are moved to impromptu prayers led by one of our priests.

Walking through the town afterwards as a small group is a fascinating experience, giving us a chance to observe some of the local color and customs. 
There are women in a sewing machine room, the door open to the street to try to keep cool while they are busy making dresses – for what market I wonder? A tethered cow stands by the side of the pavement. It has water and food but is very nervous and would surely have preferred to be grazing in an open field. We see the local lads playing what looks like a variant of hopscotch – in a wider area of the main road – dodging mopeds as necessary; I recalled how I amused myself as a child with similar simple games in the streets of Manchester all those years ago. A Kurdish woman is carrying a bunch of faggots on her shoulder and there are more women making flat bread in an outhouse – they wave happily to us as we go by and do not seem to mind having their photos taken. More women are walking down the narrow street leading a goat on a rope – I feared it is going to be sacrificed for the Islamic feast of sacrifice, and my heart goes out to it. I hope its end is swift and as pain free as possible. Does no one else care about the cruelty we inflict on our animals?

Midyat used to have a large pond; it is still mentioned in many guidebooks to the consternation of travelers who look all over for it and cannot find it! It became so full of litter in the “troubles” that it was filled in and replaced with a new public park and car park. We all meet up on the coach and go back to the monastery for evening prayer at 5pm.

The concept of generous hospitality is an important part of our pilgrimage,
for us to take away with us and hopefully learn from. It has largely been lost in our own busy urban societies. The word “pilgrimage” is derived from the Latin peregrinus or “foreign”, from peregre meaning “going” abroad, originally derived from “per ager” or “through the fields” – that was largely what we did today. In the larger picture, we are all abroad on a journey.

prayer shawls ready for use 

It is hard to describe the quality of the light here in the very south of Turkey.

The depth of the blue sky must be due to the clean pure air. The sun glinting on the vines as we drive along makes the green colors of the leaves take on an almost fluorescent quality. The stars at night under a clear sky are as clear as I’ve ever seen them; there is absolutely no light pollution here. Then I realize that what I thought were trees distressed by the summer drought may perhaps have been the small oaks cultivated for the acorns used for animal feed, and they are simply displaying their autumnal deciduous colors!

Tomorrow we will sadly say goodbye to Mor Gabriel monastery and make our way towards Mardin and the Saffron Monastery, where we will stay for two nights while we explore the western Tur Abdin region.

The Road to Mor Yacoub and Yoldath Aloho, in Tur Abdin

Mor Gabriel at break of day

Today we have a treat to start the day at Mor Gabriel. After the usual morning liturgy we celebrate our Anglican Eucharist in the church before heading for breakfast. That is such a great experience - and a privilege for our priests to be allowed to use the sanctuary, with incense as well!
I have to confess that I am finding it hard to get into the liturgy of Mor Gabriel. I discuss this with our bishop, and realize that I need to feel the mystery of the Eastern Orthodox tradition. East and West need to meet on this, the western tradition being rather more ritualistic, lacking in some of this mystery that is second nature here. It is hard for me to find that here just yet. There have been so many experiences to assimilate. Perhaps I just need a little more time and space. This is almost certainly why I enjoy the use of incense in church back home, although it is not generally popular with our congregation – that’s such a shame!

the church sanctuary at Mor Yacoub

With ablutions and breakfast over, we are ready to go, and are joined for the day by one of the teaching monks (malfonos) from the monastery and his brother from the village. So we set off on the road again, this time to visit the early sixth century monastery of Mor Yacoub (Yakub), at Saleh. Fr Daniel here was kidnapped for two days a couple of years ago but was released unharmed. He is not here when we arrive; he is probably out on the fields farming and will not hear his phone, we are told. We explore the site, making our way first to the church. It is very wide, with a transverse nave, which allows maximum room for the congregation to prostrate themselves in prayer. The church was built in 512. Its roof is very similar to that seen in the church at Mor Gabriel, except that here the stone arches in the roof are painted to look like bricks! This was all in ruins not so long ago and has been rebuilt. Five years ago the rubble of the ruins was still being cleared out – so we see that astonishing progress has been made; yet another example of the incredible resilience of the Christian communities in this part of Turkey. But there has been a problem with the renovations; the acids in the concrete used on the roof have damaged the original roof coloring.
We saw two churches at this monastery, the second older than the first. In the grounds we also saw the ruins of what may originally have been an old pagan temple, although this is not certain.

Mor Yacoub

So we retrace our steps and turn back onto the road towards Dargecit. This is a new road, being redone. We pass a village on the left as we turn off to the right onto a very poor dust road. As we drive up to Anitli or Hah, a remote village seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we are met by excited children waving to us. I wonder how often they see large coaches coming through their narrow roads? Not that often I think. It is here that Gertrude Bell was robbed some 102 years ago while visiting the area. The soil here is very rich but stony. Bulldozers have transformed the agriculture here by cleaning up the fields and enabling walls to be built with the stones. Grapes, pistachio, olives, figs, several types of berry and fabulous pomegranates are all being grown. The farmers also grow and harvest acorns for animal feed. This explains what I had thought were fields of miniature oak trees seen from the coach. Perhaps they really were! I discover later that many animals feed on unripe acorns on the tree or ripe ones that fall on the ground. These animals include pigs, squirrels, bears, and deer as well as birds such as pigeons, jays and ducks. They are rich in carbohydrates and proteins as well as many minerals and vitamins, although the tannin in them can be toxic. I’m sure the locals will know this.
But litter is still a problem, as I have mentioned elsewhere... it is such a shame to see countryside polluted and despoiled in this way.

possible pagan ruins at Mor Yacoub?

Dating back to the 6th century, the beautiful Yoldath Aloho (Mother of God) Church or Church of the Virgin Mary in Hah (now Anitli) was until 613 AD the seat of the region’s first bishop, and was again so between the 11th and 13th centuries. There is a bell tower and a striking two story square structure above the church, both of which were built in the 20th century. The church sits within a courtyard, known as abeth slutho, or house of prayer. I believe that this is used in the excessive summer heat when the inside of the church is too uncomfortable to use for prayer. The church has the transverse nave structure as seen at Mor Yacoub earlier in the day.

the beautiful Yoldath Aloho at Hah

I wonder why the bishopric was once located in such a remote place, why this is such an important church. In an extension of the Christmas story as recorded in the Holy Bible, of the Three Kings who followed the star to Bethlehem to find the infant Christ, legend says that there were actually twelve Kings. At Hah, only three out of the group proceeded to Bethlehem, and on finding the baby and handing over their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, they were given a band from the swaddling clothes in which Jesus was wrapped. Bringing this back to Hah, they burnt it so that the ash could be divided between the twelve kings, but there were no ashes, only twelve gold medallions remained. The Kings put these into the foundations of the church built to commemorate this miracle. The church within the monastery has conserved some of its original details, which are thought to date back to the 3rd century AD. This makes it one of the oldest churches in the world, and perhaps the oldest of all if the Syriac legend surrounding its original founding is true.

Ancient lectionaries in the courtyard? 

The Mother of God church is a very beautiful church and I wanted to linger here, soaking up the spiritual atmosphere. We were once again treated to our Deacon singing the Lord’s Prayer in Syriac, (a dialect of Aramaic, which is a group of many related languages: the diversification is complex due to its long history, its extensive literature and its development in different religions through that time – much more detail can be accessed on the internet).
But we have to move on. So we climb up to the terrace above the church where under the shelter of a very modern gazebo to protect us from the harsh midday sun, we are treated to the traditional cay before being led to lunch in a room below, hosted by the mukhtar or mayor of Salah, Habib Doghan.
The lunch was superb, but we must soon be on the move again. There are other remains of churches and monasteries to see around the village and the mayor comes with us to proudly show them to us:

ruins of Mor Sobo

First there are the ruins of Mor Sobo Basilica. We are told these date back to the sixth century, but some sources date them as from a century or two later than that. These have been the subject of excavations by archaeologists from Mardin over the last 3 years. Part of a cross on one of the walls is pointed out to us. This was once one of the largest churches in Tur Abdin and used to house an ancient illuminated gospel manuscript, pained in 1227, which is now kept at Mor Gabriel. It seems that the church may at one time have been used as a mosque, the square bell tower as the minaret.
Then we walk through dusty pathways through the village, flanked on each side by stone walls topped often with prickly branches; I suspect these are constructed to keep livestock in their enclosures. Similar branches also seem to be stored and used as fuel. Here we find the little church of Mor Shmuel and the ruins of a former monastery dedicated to Sts Sergius & Bacchus (789 AD).

at the monastery dedicated to Sts Sergius and Bacchus

a path in Anitli

We were given a grand farewell by the mayor and some villagers who showered us with pomegranates and grapes before we climbed into the coach and set off again. Back onto the main Dargecit road we made our way towards Midyat; to see more churches and more of the important Syriac architecture of the region...the day still had plenty to offer ...to be contd...

Mor Gabriel Monastery, Tur Abdin

In the late 1990s the road up to the Mor Gabriel monastery had to be closed at dusk because of the civil war in the region. The local kurds would shoot anyone driving up after dark.
As we make our way there in the coach now we are reminded that we are in a feudal area, ruled by overlords, Agha or Kurdish chieftains. In the worst of the troubles, the safety of the monastery and Christians in the area was threatened and 90% of the Christians emigrated, many to Sweden or Germany. The 20,000 Christian population dropped to nearer 2000. We also learn that there has been a bad relationship between the villagers and the monastery over land ownership.
Recently though the Agha system has been collapsing and there has been a massive improvement over the last 2-3 years in the local situation. Just from our coach we can see a building boom all around, the checkpoints have gone, where they used to be every 4-5 km, and villagers are coming back to their villages. There may now be five to ten Christian families again in each village. The plain is so fertile for arable crops that the farmers can work very hard for a few months of the year and then afford to go away for long holidays somewhere warm during Turkey’s harsh winter.

the entrance to Mor Gabriel

We are to stay here for two nights. Mor Gabriel, (otherwise known as Dayro d-Mor Gabriel or Deyrulumur and the seat of the bishopric of Tur Abdin) is the greatest of the Tur Abdin monasteries. This monastery has strong links with the Church of England through the Tur Abdin Focus Group. We are formally greeted by Mor Timotheus Samuel, who has been the Archbishop of Tur Abdin since 1985. For our leader Stephen Griffiths this is like a homecoming; he clearly feels very comfortable and at ease here. He has spent many years studying this part of Turkey and its Syriac Orthodox religion, getting to know the people well. Immediately on arrival we are invited to sit in a huge circle on the balcony in the shade. We are served the usual small glasses of cay by boys, students and lay workers at the convent, and we sit around talking for quite some time. We are not used to this style of welcoming and hospitality in our hurried western world, but here we are to become very used to it over the next few days. On this first day we seem reticent to speak and somewhat daunted by what seems a strained atmosphere.

The Archbishop is chatting with the Revd Stephen Griffiths, Abba Seraphim, (Primate of The British Orthodox Church within the Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate), Archimandrite Deiniol (of the Wales Orthodox Mission of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church) and Bishop Christopher of the Anglican Diocese of Southwark, updating on the local situation particularly about the land dispute with the Turkish government that threatened the monastery's very existence and which is very much on everyone’s mind at present.
Then our accommodation is sorted out. There is a new wing and an old wing. I’m in one of the old rooms, which seems good enough, although with 4 single beds very close together albeit with our own modern bathroom this would have been quite uncomfortable with 4 females. Fortunately there are only two of us!

guidance for visitors

There is very little parking space for cases, clothes, and the general clobber of 2 women, let alone 4!! But it was fine. The new accommodation is apparently very much nicer with tables to write at, much more space and lovely views to the south over the Tur Abdin region.
But when one reflects on the plight of so many refugees not so very far from here in refugee camps how can we complain? 
Once the greeting and accommodation is all sorted out we have a tour of the monastery. Established in 397, this is the oldest Syriac Orthodox monastery in the world, and the most vital, with some 15 nuns, two monks, several lay workers and always providing hospitality to visitors from overseas. It is very much a working community, with productive gardens and orchards, and
its primary purpose “is to keep Syriac Orthodox Christianity alive in the land of its birth by providing schooling, and ordination of native-born monks." 
On occasions it has provided physical protection to the Christian population during the civil strifes.

This is such a fascinating area of Turkey, and the tenacity and perseverance shown by monasteries such as Mor Gabriel through the difficult times they have suffered is surely an inspiration to us all...

For those interested in looking at the situation of the Christians in Tur Abdin in more detail, I can recommend the following links:
For a very succinct explanation of the political situation as it has affected Syrian Christianity in the Tur Abdin region of South East Turkey there are the reports from 1997 onwards from the Revd. Stephen Griffiths on the Tur Abdin Focus Group website – for example see  http://www.focusmorgabriel.com/articles/article0002.php for his first visit in 1997, with much detail of the history of the Syriac Christian Church up to that time: http://www.focusmorgabriel.com/articles/article0012.php for more on the political background. Also http://www.focusmorgabriel.com/articles/article0011.php Will the Christians be driven out? for even greater detail and analysis…
Also http://theorthodoxchurch.info/blog/news/2013/10/turkey-religious-freedom-and-the-current-state-of-christian-muslim-dialogue/ for more background to the current status of the church in Turkey
and for the land dispute see http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/gem-of-christian-history-at-risk-in-turkey for the detail on the land dispute and the latest somewhat more positive update at http://theorthodoxchurch.info/blog/news/2013/10/return-of-mor-gabriel-monastery-land-approved/

the deer that lives at the monastery cared for by one of the nuns

Hasankeyf on the road to the Tur Abdin

The River Tigris

We are journeying, we are told, to the Syrian Orthodox area of Turkey, across the Tigris into Tur Abdin, and the traditional homeland of the Syrian Orthodox Church. The monasteries we will be visiting are supporting refugees of the current civil war, with their traditional monastic hospitality. We are warned by the bishop to display the very best of our natures to our hosts for this next stage of our pilgrimage, in view of our hotel experiences last night. Monasteries are not hotels! This is a timely reminder to us all.

As our journey takes us further south and we lose altitude, we can feel the climate getting ever warmer. We drive through a dramatic gorge following the course of the Bitlis river that will eventually find its way into the Tigris. I see small oil pumps in the distant fields. On the road through Kurtalan towards Batman we see a small convoy of tank transporters to remind us that all is not totally peaceful and well here. Earlier we passed an army checkpoint, but are waved through with no problem. Kurtalan and the surrounding area is colored orange on the UK’s Foreign and Commonwealth Office map for travel advice through Turkey; warning us that all but essential travel is not advised through this area. Looking at a map it seems it would have been hard to avoid this area and we came through unscathed.
We are crossing a high plateau amongst the mountains. The vegetation is noticeably increasing and we are driving into much larger scale arable farming than we have seen thus far. There are large scorched fields where the farmers have burnt off the stubble. At Ikikopru we drive over another small tributary of the Tigris, the Yanarsu Cayi. Here we are crossing the line between Eastern and Western Syriac Christianity. Army camps seem more frequent here. The large scale farms are using very old John Deere farm implements.
So we drive down off the plain towards Batman, which we see sprawling below us as the road hairpins down. Once a small village, this exploded in size following the discovery of oil in the 1940’s and it is now a vibrant town with the largest oilfield in Turkey located just outside the city.

Hasankeyf

It seems quite unbelievable that the Turkish government would want to flood and destroy a significant and beautiful part of their ancient heritage, which is such a tourist attraction as well. But this is what they intend for the Kurdish city of Hasankeyf, or Hasankale, on the River Tigris, when in 2015 they begin construction of the planned Ilisu hydro-electric dam. Local people face eviction; in fact over 37 communities will be displaced and in 2013 there are signs of the new city already being built to re-house the population. This is in spite of huge opposition to the plan, locally and internationally. We stop for a photo opportunity but sadly have no time to linger. Here we have one of the most important cities of the Middle Ages, with castle, mosque (once a byzantine church), palaces, thousands of cave houses, and the enormous ruined arches of the old bridge across the Tigris; and all in the beautiful honey colored rock of the region.

Hasankeyf

This is a simply heartbreaking place.
There are plenty of websites that can be visited and supported to try to stop this sacrilege. See for example the opposition from the Nature Foundation who have a petition online, and an excellent blog dedicated to Hasankeyf  which is a very good source of information on the site and a discussion of all relevant issues. Here also can be found a petition to make the site a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
We are now into the Tur Abdin region,

The River Tigris

the South East region of Turkey flanked by the Tigris to the East, the Euphrates to the West, and stretching down to the Syrian border in the South. In Syriac the words translate as Mountains of the Slaves, although current romantic interpretations like to think of slaves as servants, and guide books often refer to the Mountains of the Servants of God. The area is significant for the number of monasteries and churches, and the majority of the inhabitants of the region live in small villages. Syriac Christians may be variously known as Syriac Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, Assyrians, Arameans, Syriani; whatever we call them they are custodians of some of the earliest surviving churches in the world, and we are in their homeland, in what was once East Syria. On the coach we hear about the “sons and daughters of the covenant” committed to celibacy and ascetic lives but dedicated to church life within the community. They were an important part of early Syriac Christianity, forming the basis of the monastic system in the area, before the advent of the monasticism which developed in the deserts of Egypt. There is an invaluable spiritual tradition embodied in the Tur Abdin community and its spiritual and cultural value to the wider community is important and increasing, as we will see and hear for ourselves over the next few days.

Impressions and reflections on Turkish Hotels: our pilgrimage continues...

We check into our hotel for the night, tired and hungry, and everything seems to be wrong with it.
First impressions are unfortunate. The water is cold, the beds lack clean sheets, the duvets are distinctly grubby, some room bins have rubbish in them from previous occupants… Our guide lists our complaints and the hotel staff look bemused but promise to try to put things right, while we have our evening prayers. Meanwhile our supper is getting cold.
And everything is put right, more or less.
The lads who comprise the hotel staff were well intentioned if untrained to Western standards of hotel management. 
The food was good, although the choice was limited to two dishes - fish or meat - plus my vegetarian tomato/onion/pepper casserole with couscous, which was very good. All the food was plentiful and well cooked, albeit cold on serving, some said, but again this was to some extent our fault. Our impromptu half hour evening prayers when the staff were clearly ready to serve us our supper was perhaps unfortunate timing. Anyway the meal concluded with unlimited quantities of typically Turkish syrupy cake and cay – so I was very happy!
Tomorrow was to be the start of the next stage of our journey, and something completely different; a few days experiencing the hospitality and liturgy of a couple of Syriac Orthodox monasteries whilst we explored other churches and monasteries of the Tur Abdin area of Southern Turkey down towards the Syrian border.

the view from our window

When I woke up the next morning, drew back the curtains and saw our position right on the shore of the beautiful Lake Van, with splendid views over to the glistening snow capped mountains beyond the other side of the lake, I felt more than a little contrite. We all seemed to have so much to complain about last night when we checked into this hotel. And what a panorama we woke up to! A simply fabulous view of the lake was there straight in front of us – we were right on the waterfront. We had been so tired and grumpy the previous night on arrival that we had all noticed only the bad, not seeing any good in our situation.

the view from our window

The wifi in our room worked very well, we had a lake view (those on the other side of the hotel fared less well) the room was large, with both a double and a single bed, carpeting and well decorated. The beds were comfortable once we had made them up with the clean sheets supplied, the room was very quiet and we enjoyed a really good night’s sleep. Yes the modern bathroom was scruffy and moldy but this could so easily be put right. Yes there was no hot water on arrival but these hotels cannot afford to put heat on until guests arrive – quite reasonably! Our itinerary said we were staying in Bitlis, and from the map I see that this is some way inland from Lake Van. The hotel was in fact in Tatvan, a town on the far South West corner of the lake in the province of Bitlis. (actually Bitlis itself, I now read from a guide book, has one of the highest concentration of restored historic buildings in Eastern Anatolia, so that seems like a good place to visit on another trip). I don’t think any one of us expected this hotel to be on the lake. Hence my own confusion, and my total surprise and delight at such a lovely view.

Lake Van from the hotel grounds

The hotel has been operating for 30 years, we are told, and is in fact in a wonderful scenic location. Sadly, wondering down to the lake before breakfast, I see that the hotel frontage is in a sorry state, and in desperate need of much repair and cleaning up. It could be so lovely again, given its position on the lake. I also do believe we have to be careful that we do not judge others’ hotels in different cultures by the standards of our own. That said, it would not take much effort to tidy up the lake frontage outside, clearing up the piles of litter, mending and re-laying the odd broken and uneven paving slabs, tidying up the grass areas and the edging plants. Perhaps it has a good tidy up at the start of the season. We are after all now heading into winter. And proper toilets not squats in the public “lavabos” in the downstairs foyer would be good!
Breakfast was OK with not the greatest choice of foods available, especially for a veggie like me. But the cay was brewed early, and I was able to take a cup to my room mate before she rose; tea in bed is not a luxury the monasteries will provide, I’m sure!

In one of those curious moments of synchronicity I was reading Freya Stark's Riding to the Tigris at this time, where she recounts her experiences on a journey from Lake Van to the Tigris, mostly undertaken on horseback. In Chapter 3, on Van, she writes: "The Turks, with the most splendid, varied and interesting country in the world, are naturally anxious to obtain tourists, and their difficulties in this respect are caused chiefly by the quite phenomenal badness of their hotels." This she attributes mainly to their lack of training in hotel management. OK this was written about her travels in the 1950s, but it is clear that some hotels could even now do well to heed her words! Although I must add that the efforts of hotel staff everywhere we went were invariably well-intentioned and the traditional Turkish hospitality could rarely be faulted.

an early glimpse of the Tigris river

We have an early start and another long drive ahead of us. Our journey on the coach begins with a short version of morning prayer, and a wisdom reading from the Holy Bible, Ecclesiastes Chapter 6, on balancing gratefulness with generosity - carefully chosen by the bishop and very pertinent to our experiences last night. I listened with contrition. I wonder if everyone on the coach felt as I did? Anyway it was a good way for pilgrims to start the day, as we made our way South towards the Tur Abdin region of Turkey.

A Pilgrimage to Syriac and Armenian Christianity in Eastern Turkey

Istanbul is in a unique location geographically, bridging Europe with Asia. Not only that, it is centrally located on the historic Silk Road and has served to meaningfully connect very different civilizations and cultures over millennia. 

We were coming to Turkey at the time of the Islamic Feast of Sacrifice, an important annual occasion for Muslims, symbolizing the obedience of Abraham to God and the submission of Ishmael. We were to experience this holiday festival first hand much later in our travels when we arrived in Tur Abdin. Whilst the idea of such animal sacrifice now seems anathema to the Western Christian, there are more similarities between Christianity and Islam than many realize. For a start they are both Abrahamic faiths, sharing the same God, although some would claim that Islam is merely a heretical form of Christianity. Then again some Muslims claim that the Christians are heretical in their Trinitarian approach to God, in Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Therein lie tensions and intolerances rather than the building of respect and understanding.

It wasn’t until I read William Dalrymple’s From the Holy Mountain that I realized the profound kinship of Christianity and Islam, the close affinities between these two religions, how the Islamic culture was forged in the Eastern homelands of Christianity. 

Christianity was after all and first of all an oriental faith. We forget this in the West with our current demonization of Islam and the threat of Muslim fundamentalism. When Dalrymple underwent the travels which formed the basis of his book, in the late 1990’s, the Eastern Christians were fleeing to safer countries in the face of persecution and hostility from the Islamic establishment. Now the future looks a little more secure for Christians in this part of the world.


We were here as a small group from our Anglican Diocese, our intent to make a pilgrimage first to the abandoned ruins of Armenian Christianity in the North East of Turkey, then to experience at first hand the flourishing Syriac Church of the Tur Abdin region of South East Turkey, now showing signs of dynamic growth after decades of persecution and sad decline. 

I hoped that I for one would understand much more clearly by the end of the pilgrimage the dynamics and history of the two greatest religions of the world, from the places we were to visit.

As we flew from Istanbul eastwards to Erzurum the seemingly vast empty countryside and dark mountain ranges soon became hidden from view by white fluffy meringue clouds scudding by below us; the clear blue sky above gave little hint of the cold that was to confront us on touch down. As we neared Erzurum and came once more below the clouds there was a patchwork quilt of fields spread out below us, in all shades of green and brown, and for the first time in Turkey we could see snow dusting the distant mountain tops. The temperature when we left London was 16.5C. It was now 9C, and worse was to come. I was glad I’d packed some thick warm cardigans but they were deep in my suitcase. Gulgun met us at the airport. She was to be our able guide for the next nine days, with Mustafa our driver behind the wheel of the comfortable and spacious coach we now boarded and which was to accompany us throughout the trip.
Over the course of the next few days and weeks I shall be telling the complete and fully illustrated story of our pilgrimage.. 
Do join me on my journey and I welcome comments as long as they follow normal rules of decency...

The photo by the way is the view from our first ski resort hotel room near Erzurum looking out to the ski slopes waiting for their first snow...