Act 5 | Turkey

In flying to Turkey I was moving from the Middle to the western edge of the East (aka 'Quasi-Europe'); From my perspective as a Christian pilgrim, that meant switching from looking for Jesus' footprints to searching out the Apostle Paul's.

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But before I got to any (of the many) historical biblical sites in Turkey, I found myself travelling down a black and white road, through fields of green and (wattle) gold, making my way towards ANZAC Cove (Gallipoli) for ANZAC day - with mixed feelings.

My feelings were mixed on account of the fact that I tend to think of 'militant nationalism' the same way that most people think of 'institutionalised religion' - what i'm saying is that I think militant nationalism has been the driving force behind the majority of the mass atrocities suffered throughout recorded history (this is certainly true of the 20th Century in which more lives were wasted in war than in all the other centuries combined).

As a result of the above belief, and also because of my commitment to Jesus (who resisted the urge to take up arms at every stage of the revolution he was (and still is) leading), I have adopted a heavy lean toward seeking conflict resolution through 'non-violent resistance' (that actively seeks justice where a thorough-going 'pacifism' does not), which made the idea of attending ceremonies to remember war events just a bit strange. (The reason this event was on my itinerary at all was that I was still travelling with Malcolm and Vanessa at this time who were very keen to attend the ANZAC services in the places where the events remembered originally took place.)

As the day unfolded, through the main dawn service, and the Australian and New Zealand services which followed (in that order), I became increasingly comfortable and pleased to be where I was, because time and again, those who led the proceedings in speech and prayer failed to glorify war and succeeded in spelling out the folly of such activities.

I really appreciate that the day set aside in Australia and New Zealand to remember war events is historically linked to death & defeat – a big loss rather than a big victory – which determines that our ceremonies not only honour those who admirably made the ultimate sacrifice for others, they also highlight the pointless stupidity of war.

We took a guided tour through the sites of importance the following day (after the crowds had left) which gave further opportunity to become familiar with the details of the story and reflect on their significance. (It was on this tour that I learned my favourite fact about the ANZAC campaign: the most successful part of the whole operation was the withdrawal of the troops after the orders to retreat were given.)

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The first point of intersection between the Apostle Paul's jounrney (made some 2000 years ago) and my own was the ancient ruins of Ephesus.

The biggest and best things on show there were the library (above) and the huge theatre (below), in which a riotous crowd spent two hours baying for the blood of Paul, because he dared to oppose the local deity and - indirectly, but more importantly - the commerce structures supported by the worship of the false goddess (see Acts 19.)

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I was really enjoying Turkey, so I decided to stay a little longer than originally planned and head inland; This meant breaking up the band and going solo a few days before the scheduled end of the tour as Malcolm and Vanessa needed to be elsewhere before I needed to be anywhere.

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My first stop inland was Pamukkale, where naturally occurring hot-springs have produced white cliffs of calcium that are visible from many miles away. (The ancient city of of Hierapolis, now in ruins, was built up top and considered to be imbued with heavenly powers on account of the cliffs below.)

In the background of the photograph below you will see a fine example of the rather slutty poses that all the girls from Eastern-Europe tend to adopt when in front of a camera (whether fully clothed or in a state of undress).

(My guess is that the posing is a consequence of openly and obviously selling porn on nearly all the street corners of Eastern Europe; Another consequence, this time affecting the male population, are rubber necks and wandering eyes - I saw two guys get slapped by their partners for paying way too much attention to other ladies passing them by, on both occasions the original offence was remedied by a barrage of public kisses.)

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Within viewing distance of Pamukkule lies one of the seven churches addressed in the opening chapters of the book of Revelations, Laodicea; The excavated ruins yielded another opportunity to read scripture in a place related to its inspiration. (The township of Colossae is also nearby, it has yet to be dug up, the letter written to the Colossians was also to be read to the Laodiceans, so that's what I am reading in the photo below.)

Red poppies grow wild throughout most of Europe and are spectacular; I regularly needed to redirect my attention from the flowers (of fleeting lifespans) back to the ancient stones at the archaeological sites I visited . (I don't know what that says about my sense of significance &/or beauty.)

Laodicea is the church that is described as being 'luke-warm' by the letter addressed to it; the letter also contains the passage wherein the Spirit is described as 'standing at the door knocking,' hoping for an invitation in 'to sup'.

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I spent several days in Cappadocia, where my favourite 'early church fathers' thought impressive thoughts and lived out faithful lives, surrounded by incredible landscapes.

People in these parts have been living in houses chiseled out of the soft rocky cliffs for thousands of years; I chose to stay in a hostel that housed its' clients in rock caves.

A large monastary, for monks and nuns, was also established in the area; the sanctuaries established by this community were decorated with elaborate paintings of biblical scences about a thousand years ago and are mostly intact.

I also saw a large underground city in which Christians hid during the few years that they were being actively pursued and persecuted in the area.

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The strangest interaction i had on this leg of the trip was being approached by a couple of young Turks (literally) while staring at a map in a tourist area, who didn't want to sell me a carpet (or a leather jacket).



As it turned out, they had just finished a basic English speaking course and wanted to practice what they had learned with a native english speaker; The larger, more intimidating guy was actually a hair dresser who was learning English so that he could migrate to Canada and start a business there. (Following our long ... slow ... but enjoyable conversation, had over a round of Turkish tea, I was given a free ride to the where their favourite shwarma sandwiches were sold, it was easily the best 'kebab' i have ever eaten.)

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The Hagia Sophia is a really impressive structure (even for someone like myself who knows almost nothing about architecture and its history of development) that has a history not uncommon to beautiful buildings in these parts: it was built as a church after Rome legalised and then adopted Christianity as its' state religion; converted to a mosque after the Islam took the area (by force); and most recently turned into a public museum by a secular governmental forces. (I am sure that given enough time, the sway of public opinion and popular worship will ensure that all such buildings finally evolve into shopping malls.)