A morning bus ride took us from Antakya to Tarsus, hometown of Saul.  Upon arriving, we approached the St. Paul Church (because you KNEW there had to be one of those!) in Tarsus.  The building was occupied when we arrived so we sat in a garden outside, finding some highly valued shade from the heat, and were led in a discussion about the life of Paul.  Much of the discussion centered on how the supernatural and natural phases of life interact with each other.  For example, Paul’s life and path included supernatural visions and gifts.  At the same time, a simple fact like his Roman citizenship played a key part in his road several times.  The natural and the supernatural may not be as far apart as we sometimes like to think.

Upon entering the building, we were told quietly by Charles that this building is a church but not a church.  It was a church, but the Turkish government refuses to allow it to be a place of worship now.  So three Italian nuns look after it as it serves officially as a museum and pilgrimage site.  Here’s where the story gets dark.

How do you suppose a church that was once a church ever stops being a church?  Well, all those who were once part of this community left.  Where did they go?  A number of them were of Armenian blood.  In speaking of them, Charles kicked me right in the gut.  During and after World War I, Turkey’s Ottoman government took action against undesirable groups, including the Armenians, many of them Christians of Catholic or Orthodox heritage.  What does “took action” mean?  I dare you to look up “Armenian Genocide”.

All the images and feelings you’ve ever felt about the Jewish Holocaust—how would you feel if you heard of another such event?  One that you’d never even heard mentioned before?  The fact that it killed “only” a quarter of the number of Jews in WWII is irrelevant.  I felt completely kicked in the gut.  Honestly, I felt shaken.

Apparently, when Hitler was brewing his plans for Europe’s Jews, an adviser of his asked him how such plans would be executed once the rest of Europe found out.  It’s reported that he replied, “Who even remembers the Armenians?”

And for nearly 100 years, almost nobody has.

But, as Charles said today, the truth pushes to the surface relentlessly.  New research is being done, evidence coming forth, testimonies of past soldiers and family members—one book has been written recently that has received no response in the academic world.  Why no responses?  Because nobody knows what to say.  The evidence put forward has stunned historians right in a state of shocked silence… for the moment.

So back to St. Paul’s church.  Those who called this home were either Armenians who were driven away.  Or they were non-Armenians who decided that conversion to Islam was safer than remaining.

I really don’t know what else to say about this.  It made my heart heavy to listen—heavy as in I-need-to-sit-down heavy.  The day’s other events have reduced some of that feeling, but I can never forget hearing what I heard.  And I certainly intend to learn more about these events.

From St. Paul’s, we walked to a Roman temple dated to the 2nd century AD.  Mystery surrounds this place for historians.  Nobody knows exactly the spot was used for.  It’s a large structure using the Roman version of cement of the day.  It was likely covered in marble at one time, but that has all be stripped off.  From what is known, two dominant theories have arisen.  One: It was a grave of some sort.  The second is more intriguing.  Roman history sometimes speaks of “mystery religions”.  Some speculate that this temple may have been dedicated to an Egyptian god who was “all the rage” back in the day.  Some within Rome’s empire may have seen the significance of this foreign god in Egypt and decided that a temple to him in Tarsus would raise the city up, bringing blessing and prominence.

As I said, discussions like this are all about theorizing and debating, but our group has enough knowledge among its leaders that we get to see this speculation and discussion right in front of us.  It’s enlightening to see how the whole process of trying to interpret history plays out, whether we get the right answers or not.

The rest of “Tarsus time” was spent visiting a church that was converted to a mosque in the 1500’s, the ruins of a Roman bathhouse from the 200’s, and a well that’s supposedly dated back to Paul’s day.  We also saw the plot of land that some traditions say Paul lived upon when he was here.  Nothing but tradition to build that on, but it was the old part of town, so the odds that he lived somewhere near there are pretty good.  And that’s a bit crazy to think about!  We also stopped by a plot of land in the middle of town where a Roman road from NT times has been excavated.  There it sits with ruined columns on either side.  Who knows that Paul didn’t walk those stones with his own feet?  Again, crazy just how close history is in places like this!

Lunch consisted of fish on a deck hanging over a small waterfall in town, and that was followed by a bus ride to Nevsehir, which we’ll call home for the next three days.

For now, my bed is desiring me to call it home.  And I am compelled to listen!  Good night from Cappadocia.  More tomorrow…

By 6:30 AM, we were in the bus. Our destination? A mountain peak made famous by Simon Stylite, also known as Simon the Younger. His dad had a similar “gig” in what’s now Syria. What “gig” am I speaking of? Well, Simon lived in the 300’s, and felt strongly called to pursue God intensely. His desire drove him from the city to the mountain, where he lived out what we typically call “desert spirituality”, the pursuit of a pure heart through solitude and silence. This whole stream of spirituality is very significant in the history of Christianity, though it receives petty attention in the West as compared to in the East. Frankly, I’ve always felt some sense of connection to these movements. I don’t know exactly why, and as I’m about to describe, they can appear downright odd. However, I see something powerful and beautiful there that I find absent from much of what my faith experiences hold.

So here’s where the oddness comes in.

Around Simon’s private pursuit of God gathered others with similar desires. A small community formed. Soon, other forms of seekers began to visit the mountain. Hearing of the “holy man” of the mountain, people came seeking words of wisdom, healing, and help. The crowds became so intense that Simon was forced to build a pillar on top of which he lived. The pillar stood 6 feet tall in the beginning and was added on to over time to become much higher. For this reason, such figures in church history are labeled as “pillarites” or stylites. They are typically understood by us in the West as psycho-ascetics whose approaches to spirituality make no sense and serve no purpose. This morning while atop the mountain, at the foot of Simon’s pillar, Charles gave us a very thoughtful presentation on desert spirituality and then allowed us time to wander the mountain top and its ruins (a building once surrounded the pillar to allow places for visitors to stay) in silence.

I must say that this was one of my favourite places so far. It’s not exactly a “Bible place”, but it reflects the fourth century believers having similar struggles to our own: They lived in a society that was not lacking churches, yet some intense seekers craved more. Church buildings with people meeting in them doesn’t necessarily equate to people bowing themselves before God in humility and eagerness for Him to do beautiful things in their lives. Men like Simon couldn’t bear the desire any longer and took their pursuits to new levels. What follows is a touch of what we discussed at the mountain this morning.

We speak often in our churches (and rightfully so) of the desire to reach the masses. A term like “missional” is hot right now in discussions because it speaks of “getting out there” and “being out there”. It’s focused on the world and expresses our desire to make a difference to them. Yet many churches feel a frustration. The crowds don’t really seem to want what we’re bringing. The necessary connections don’t seem to happen, and we wonder what we’re doing wrong.

Then you look at the pillar and see Simon. All he wants is God. He burns with desire to be united with the Divine. And in his seeking, he is driven up a pillar by the crowds that sense something where he is. In contrast to our struggle to draw people in, he can’t keep people out! So while our 21st-century Western minds struggle to know what to do with a guy living his life on top of a pillar, there’s another thing we best place our minds upon: Why don’t the crowds sense real power and true wisdom in the churches of today?

Another spin on the same question came at our second stop of the day. We visited an Orthodox church called the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul. Galatians 2:11 speaks of these two men having a sharp disagreement in Antioch. Whether it was resolved as peacefully as the artwork in this church suggests is up for debate. But they both got their names attached to the building regardless. This church is unique because it houses both Orthodox and Catholic communities of faith. That is nearly unheard of and speaks of how tough things are on the Christians in this region. They are a tiny minority, and when things are tough, you huddle together. Differences that used to matter a lot fall right off the charts, and names like “brother” and “sister” are handed out more acceptance.

The discussion from Simon’s mountain continued in the courtyard of this church as we remembered that the name “Christian” originated in Antioch. While some of today are tempted to escape from this name because of all the baggage it carries, it remains a beautiful nickname thrust upon the first believers in this city. The people around them couldn’t figure them out. They marched to a different beat and lived for another Lord. What do you do with such people? You give them a nickname: “Christians”—the ones who follow Christ. They are like him, and they are visibly “of him”. The simple thing about nicknames though is that they’re always given by someone else. You can’t pick your own nickname.

If the watching world were choosing a nickname for the believers they know, would they give us the nickname “Christian” today? We use this name ourselves to label things—we speak of Christian education, Christian books, Christian music, Christian whatever. But it is us who stick the label on. But how does the world around us see us? That is the question.

It’s not that we’re out to please men or seek human approval. It’s just that the crowds, even the unbelieving crowds, could tell that God was present and active on Simon’s mountain and in Simon’s life. The crowds aren’t as out to lunch as some might like to think. So to sit and think of what nicknames the crowds might give our churches—this exercise has the potential to be both humbling and telling.

The rest of the day included an afternoon hike through a Roman water tunnel near Seleucia (Acts 13:4). This tunnel was constructed by the Romans before 100 AD to direct a river’s flow away from the harbour, in the hopes of keeping the silt in the river from filling the harbour. It is basically a huge tunnel dug right through the rock, and to see it is to behold an astounding piece of engineering and construction. Trust the Romans to make your jaw drop two days in a row!

We followed up a sweaty hike with a quick swim in the Mediterranean Sea. I hadn’t planned to swim, but the extent of the aforementioned sweatiness made a swim irresistible to nearly all of us.

From the Sea, we hopped in the bus to get back to Adana. We didn’t arrive until 10:30 PM, at which time we had supper! It’s now past midnight, and we’ll depart tomorrow morning at 9:30 for Cappadocia.

The trip’s been wonderful thus far, and we’re just getting warmed up!

We departed our Istanbul hotel by 6:30 this morning to make our 8:30 flight to Adana, a city in the south central region of the country.  Upon arrival, we boarded the bus that will now gradually carry us all the way back to Istanbul.  While the original plan was to just hit the road for Antakya, we were sidetracked on the way out of Adana by two sights along the way.

One was a grand-looking mosque called Sabanci Merkez Cami.  It was only constructed in the last few years, but it is modeled after two of the region’s most famous mosques, and it is said to be the largest mosque between Istanbul and Saudi Arabia.  As we walked inside the building, snapping pictures and visiting quietly, we were approached by an intelligent-looking young man, who turned out to be the “man of the mosque”.  He recited for us (“sung” is more accurate) a few portions of the Koran, which our Turkish guide translated for us.

On an aside, our Turkish guide is a wonderful man.  In his mid-thirties, he is very quick to smile and seems genuinely tickled to show us his homeland.  We call him Dell, which is short for a more complicated name.  Our Canadian guide, Charles, has never dealt with Dell before, but he is quite tickled about him so far.  As far as we know so far, Dell was raised Muslim and came to Christ as an adult.  We’ve only heard slivers of his story and anticipate that he will share more with us as we go.

The second sight we saw on the way out of Adana was a bridge.  It crossed the river right near the mosque and dated back to the 100’s or 200’s.  Constructed by the Roman Empire, it has been shockingly durable, being used for traffic (buses and more) up until last year!  When the last time you got 1800 years of use out of anything?!  Those Romans!

The bus ride to Antakya was uneventful and a bit dozy, as we all caught up on a few sleepful moments missed last night.  Truth be told, the whole day was a little bit dozy.

Arriving in Antakya, we had a quick lunch at a donair shop before taking in the Archealogical Museum.  Most of this museum is filled with mosaics discovered in the floors of ancient homes in this area.  Some are shockingly detailed.  They are signs of the wealth of some, for sure, but their images also teach much about the religious ideas of the days as many of the mosaics depict gods and goddesses of the Romans and Greeks.  While the mosaics were something, the most interesting room in the museum was the one that was easiest to miss: It contained artifacts from way before Christ’s time.  One was a large stone with carvings that showed Assyrian soldiers coming.  It was dated to the 600’s or 700’s BC.  Another was the front steps and carvings from a Hittite temple, dated back to the 1200’s BC.  Those dates blow my mind when I stop to think about them.

We followed up the museum with a trip to the Cave Church of St. Peter.  Some claim this to be the earliest “church building” in the world.  Its appearance has been altered in centuries gone by, but some believe that this is where Peter himself used to regularly meet with Antioch’s first-century believers—wild to even think about when you’re standing right there!  While we were there, one of the men with us (a New Testament professor) shared about his thoughts on the early church in Antioch.  I confess that those were the hundred-pound-eyelid parts of my day, so I relieved there’s no test on his presentation.

We ended the day with a visit to the peak of Mt. Silbius, which overlooks the whole city of Antakya.  We were there in time to catch the end of the sunset and to hear the evening prayer calls go up from every mosque in the city.  I don’t know why, but I found those few moments some of the sweetest of the day: Hearing the musical, Arabic invitations to prayer rising up from all over a city of Regina’s size, with the first cool moments of what was a cooker of a day… somehow it just seems special.

Today was a long day, so I expect a far better sleep tonight than last night—hopefully, I’m not disappointed.

Good night from the city once known as Antioch.

Made it safely to Istanbul and to our hotel.  I haven’t met too many of the group yet, but people seem nice enough.  But upon arriving at the hotel and having supper, a few of us felt like exploring a bit.  So I now know Whitney and Jane, both from Calgary.  A bit of exploring led us to a trendy area of cafes and shops.  Time was short, but perhaps we’ll hit the area again on our way back through here in three weeks.

Tomorrow, we head for the South and right into our “real” trip, starting with Antioch (now known as Antakya).

Until then…