Our final week in Izmir

 The past week has, again, been quite busy.

 I had to take a funeral on Wednesday – details of which were very slow in coming (I was getting calls from someone – the funeral director? – in Turkish) until a contact at the Catholic Cathedral called me. So I had less than 10 hours to prepare a service etc. I was told they just wanted prayers by the graveside. They arranged a car to pick me up from the church, and fortunately there was an English-speaking woman also travelling, who could interpret for the Turkish driver. I had no idea where we were going, but discovered that there is a Christian cemetery on the outskirts of Izmir. There were around 30 people waiting; and we had a short service, with some of them, in the very small chapel – which had an altar, and a crucifix. We then processed to the grave, and the interment was very similar to one in England. (So I have now taken funerals in France, Corfu, Germany and Turkey.) This also meant Jo had to facilitate and lead the Bible Study in my place, which was good. I got back to the church in time for the last 25 minutes.

 After all that stress, we felt we owed ourselves a complete day-off, and took ourselves to Foça, a delightful harbour town to the north of Izmir. It’s an ancient site –Greek Phocaia was base for much exploring, and its voyagers went all round the Mediterranean, founding colonies, including Massilia (Marseilles). It’s an attractive town, with a lovely setting. It’s also got some fine fish restaurants, and we enjoyed an excellent meal of fried sardines.

 After a rather slow start, our time in Izmir has gone quickly, and this morning was our final service. The congregation was around 25, the usual mixture of nationalities and languages. Jo and I were probably the oldest people in church. It’s always refreshing to see new people, some just visiting out of curiosity, others more seriously attending. After the service we were asked to pray with a Turkish woman with some problem with muscle pain; and then with two Azerbaijan women who felt they had been put under some kind of curse. Ministering to non-English speakers is always a problem, but we had two excellent interpreters!

 After church, we joined with a few people for lunch at a local restaurant – a nice opportunity to talk and listen. Then a walk by the Kordon, and return to the flat to begin packing, as we move tomorrow to the Ibis hotel, in time for Fr James to return. We fly out on Wednesday morning.

 Initial thoughts: we think we have been able to contribute something to St John’s. People have been very welcoming and receptive, and it’s a refreshing change to worship with keen young believers and seekers, who have probing questions to ask. We shall be glad to be home in many ways, but we will miss many aspects of church life here – though some things about Izmir (noise, dust, crowds, traffic…) we won’t miss so much!

 

 

 

 

OUR WEEKLY PATTERN

I thought we might report on our regular pattern of activities – if only to prove that we’re not here for a holiday! (stimulating though our time here is.)

Sunday worship is obviously central. St John’s has a fixed liturgy (to allow for a Turkish translation on the facing pages and uses a rather mixed hymn book (BBC Hymns of Praise). Choosing hymns is not too easy, as there is no choir to lead, and half the congregation find it difficult to sing English hymns anyway. But it’s always an interesting experience:  most weeks in the congregation there are some young Turks, who have come out of interest or curiosity. Almost everyone comes to coffee or tea, with biscuits, in the church hall afterwards, and most stay for an hour or so.

 There are other activities each week. On Tuesday mornings, Jo and I join the Lighthouse Church for their weekly English language prayer meeting (though half the prayers are in Turkish!). This usually lasts an hour. That evening we have an Anglican evening prayer service – still on-line, partly because the daughter church at Bornova, where this service was held formerly, is undergoing (very slow) restoration. Last week we had four participants beside ourselves – two of them in the USA.

 Wednesday sees the weekly Bible Study. We usually read through and discuss the following Sunday’s lessons, which can provide helpful pointers for the preacher! We meet in the Church Office beside the church, with six or seven people; but it is streamed, and there is usually at least one person joining us on-line. It’s an interesting, and valuable event.

 Jo and I always start the day with Morning Prayer in the flat; we often then walk down to the Kordon before breakfast, usually buying a gevrek (a local version of simit, a sort of bagel) for breakfast, either from a street seller, or from a wonderful bakery round the corner, where one can watch them being made, and baked in a large brick oven, to be sold still hot.

 We haven’t this time yet travelled outside Izmir; we are re-visiting some of the areas in the city we have seen before. Last week, two of the Lighthouse church leaders took us to another district, to an unassuming local restaurant, which produced excellent, traditional bean dishes. It was good to have a chance to talk to them. Alsancak, where St John’s and the chaplain’s flat are situated, is not the most salubrious area, with a wide variety of shops and small businesses among apartment buildings, most of which have five or six floors. It’s busy and crowded; the next street is being ‘improved’ with new paving – with the result that it’s difficult to walk down, and parked cars accumulate a thick layer of dust. Traffic is everywhere; walking on pavements can be hazardous as one is quite likely to be overtaken by one of the ubiquitous delivery scooters.

 We were invited to a delightful wedding last week. One of the Lighthouse church leadership team, a young Zimbabwean, was marrying a girl from Mexico. The service was in St John’s, which was packed, with most of the Lighthouse church members attending; the basically Turkish service was interpreted via headsets in English and Spanish. The bride’s attendants (male and female) danced down the aisle at the beginning – to be followed by the groom and then the bride and her mother; at the end bride and groom danced exuberantly down to music and applause. It was unlike any wedding I’ve officiated at (though the essential vows and blessing seemed to be modelled on the traditional wording of our Anglican service.)

 We do have time for ourselves, though surprisingly little. It remains very hot, which can limit activity, though we aim to walk as much as we can, sometimes going down to the Aegean to see the setting sun. Good cheap public transport makes it relatively easy to get to other parts of the city. Our time here is passing very quickly – only nine more days.

A Rather Unusual Week, part 2

 I said in my last post that the past week has been a bit different.

 While we were reflecting on the death of our Queen, the people of Izmir (most of them) were celebrating the 100^th anniversary of the city’s ‘liberation’ from the Greeks by Ataturk. Large parts of the Kordon were taken over for scaffolding towers with lights, speakers and displays screens. For several days we were treated to loud low-flying fighter planes and helicopters – reaching a climax with the main event on Friday evening, which was attended by many thousands. Part of the attraction was a concert by a highly popular singer. And there were large lorries selling merchandise connected with the armed services. The Turkish flag was everywhere, together with many portraits of Ataturk.

 It's an ambivalent event for some residents, and a reminder of how complicated interpreting history is. In the days of the Ottoman Empire, Smyrna was a multi-cultural city, with various European communities, largely composed of business and trades people. These were the Levantines. (It was the British Levantine Society which first provided an English chaplain for the Anglophones – the list in the church porch goes back to 1636) There were also sizeable French and Italian communities, as well as Greek and Armenian Orthodox from within the Ottoman realms. Indeed, Smyrna was often described as an infidel city, because there at least as many Christians as Muslims – and several Jewish synagogues. The different faiths lived fairly harmoniously together.

However, after the Ottoman Empire fell at the end of the Great War, the Greek government sent troops to secure the Western coastal area and hoped to restore Istanbul to its original Byzantine status. This move was supported by the British and French governments. It did not win favour with Kemal Mustapha (Ataturk), who had risen to prominence with his effective leadership of the victorious Turkish army in Gallipoli. His vision was of a unified Turkey, and when the Greek troops started to move eastwards, to gain more ground, he moved against them, to drive them back, and to secure Istanbul. The final victory was at the Battle of Dumlupinar, on August 39^th, 1922 – and that day is celebrated as a public holiday throughout Turkey. On September 9^th his troops reached Smyrna, and enforced the retreat of the remaining Greek troops. A large part of the centre of the city was destroyed by fire – each side blaming the other for the conflagration. Many Orthodox churches were destroyed, and there is today little mention of the Armenian area, much of which is now a large park – Kulturpark, which each September hosts an International Fair.

 St John’s Church, together with the RC Church of St Polycarp (the oldest church in the city), and some others survived the fire, and it is still the case that Izmir – as it was promptly renamed – has probably more Christian churches than other Turkish cities. I have several times mentioned the general atmosphere of tolerance that prevails in the city. One Greek Orthodox church remains in use, and the Greek Consulate-General has been given a face-lift in recent years. But official histories and museums are very reticent about Smyrna’s long existence as a largely Greek city.

 Ataturk was a moderniser, and no great admirer of Islam. Under his firm hand, Turkey became a largely secular state – or more precisely, like France with its concept of laicité, neutral with regard to religion. The army used to see itself as the guardian of this, and at times this produced a hostility to all religions. The government of Recip Tayyip Erdoğan has been assertive of Islamic values and practice – and this is very visible in the reclaiming of Istanbul’s Ayia Sofia as a mosque. But alongside this, some Christian churches have spoken of a greater tolerance at government level. (St John’s has received funding from the local authority for church repairs.)

A Rather Unusual Week

 

The past week has been one of contrasts – and so will merit two blog posts!

 This first one, naturally, focusses on the death of Elizabeth II, which has touched us all. My initial reflection was that one of my very first memories of anything outside my experiences at home was hearing that ‘the King’ had died – in February 1952. Aged 4, I knew almost nothing about this ‘king’, apart from seeing some photos of him in the newspaper, at something called the ‘Festival of Britain’. But I was aware something significant and sorrowful had happened. That means that I grew up in the emerging ‘New Elizabethan’ age. The Queen was always there, visible in so many ways – on coins, stamps and bank-notes; appearing on papers and TV in countless situations.  As time passed, I became aware of her profound and firm Christian faith and came to admire her integrity and concern for all her people – in contrast to too many of our other public and political leaders.

 Obviously, her death was not given the prominence in Turkish news as in British, or European media. But it was noted. She had made at least one state visit to Türkiye, and had come to Izmir many years ago (in the days when there was a British Leyland factory here, as well as visiting the NATO base.) For most Turkish people she must have been a fairly distant figure. However, on Saturday we held an open afternoon at the church, with a book of condolence waiting to be signed. Not many came, though the Catholic Archbishop wrote a thoughtful letter, and the British Consulate next to the church flew its flag at half-mast. But among those who came, there were two women from established Levantine families, who had been introduced to the queen when she visited the city; and a young man, with British citizenship, who had continued his grandfather’s practice of sending the queen a Christmas card from Izmir each year, which had been acknowledged from the Palace, especially when the queen noticed that the name of the signatory had changed. He brought a lovely cross-shaped wreath to place beside the Queen’s portrait. There was a Kurdish man, who had worked in the hospitality industry; he wrote a long tribute, to the queen’s smile, and her ‘tireless efforts’ for humanity and for peace and was clearly very moved; he also copied out, in Turkish, some words sent by a cousin who lives in Europe. A couple of American Christians, long-standing members of a Turkish evangelical church, commented on Elizabeth’s faith and faithfulness. I had a conversation with an academic at one of Izmir’s Universities, who had been born near Exeter and attended Hele’s Grammar School – which was one of the constituent members of the High School all our children attended! 

 On Sunday morning, like all British clergy, I found myself leading a service which had been re-structured at short notice, and preaching a sermon written the day before, to provide opportunity for thanksgiving for her majesty’s life and expressions of sadness at her death; Jo wrote suitable intercessions, and we tried to fit hymns to the theme. But, unlike my colleagues in Britain, I was leading worship in a large Turkish city, and before a congregation of nearly 40 people, of whom fewer than a quarter (including Jo and me) were British citizens. For as always, the service was a microcosm of the universal church, with an Iranian and Korean sides-persons, Turkish and American readers and musician, and a Lebanese server; the congregation included a family from Iraq, and the usual Turkish members. Our Kurdish visitor came. There were some representatives of the small British contingent at the NATO base, including a young couple only recently arrived from a posting in Kenya. And at the end we British, at least (and I think some others!) sang, for the first time in our lives, ‘God save the King.’

We begin this week with a new monarch and a new prime minister of the United Kingdom. But God is unchanged; and Jesus Christ is the same ‘yesterday, and today, and tomorrow.’

 We begin this week, with a new monarch, and a new prime minister of the United Kingdom. But God is unchanged; and Jesus Christ is the same ‘yesterday, and today, and tomorrow.’

FIRST THOUGHTS FROM IZMIR

Our journey here went very smoothly. It was easier to get through passport control to enter Türkiye (as the country wishes to be called), than it was getting back into the UK after our pilgrimage in May! And the pre-booked taxi got us to our overnight hotel in good time. Now we are in the chaplain’s flat, on the sixth floor of an older building,  with its view of St John’s church, and beyond, to Mount Pagus (though that has been largely obscured now  by newly constructed tower blocks.) It’s been hot – up to 35° during the day, and around 25° at night.) We’ve done some basic shopping, walked by the Aegean on the Kordon, in the morning and in the evening, and our body-clocks have adjusted to the 2-hour difference.

What has changed since our last visit, three years ago? New blocks being constructed, and some older buildings being demolished; a few empty shops, but there seem to be a number of new coffee houses, which are popular. There has been marked price inflation – but the exchange rate means that nothing is more expensive for us, and some things seem absurdly cheap. I have forgotten much of the little Turkish I learned, but we’ve managed to get SIM cards, so we can keep in touch with locals, and have got a broken pump on the water container fixed (mains water isn’t recommended for drinking, so water is delivered in 17 litre ‘carboys’.) People are still very friendly and helpful. The city is still full of young people and students, and the roads are full of cars!

Izmir is a fairly tolerant and secular city. There are numerous mosques, and some large new ones have been built in the past decade. But it doesn’t appear, or feel, strongly Moslem. Relatively few women wear hijabs, and hardly any veil their faces. It’s good to see young women together, with a variety of clothing, including some with head scarves. And there are probably more Christian churches per head of population than in many Turkish cities: St John’s is very visible, and the building is shared by the Turkish/English language Lighthouse (Işık) Church; there are 7 or 8 Catholic churches, and a number of evangelical churches, some meeting in adapted shops.

Our first Sunday Eucharist went smoothly. The congregation was about 25, of whom we knew about 10, either from our previous visits, or through ‘meeting’ on the Zoom Bible Study. In many ways, it’s a typical Anglican service, taken straight from Common Worship, with hymns from BBC Songs of Praise. The only things that distinguish it are the Turkish parallel translations of the text, and the reading of the Gospel in English and Turkish. But more than half the congregation are Turkish or Iranian; the server is from Lebanon. Some live very precarious lives, with uncertain futures. It’s probably more like the mixture that prevailed in the early Christian house-churches, than what prevails in most of our comfortable Anglican churches today.

We are once more reminded how blessed we are, as Christians and Anglicans, to belong to a truly world-wide community of believers. Jo and I are fortunate to be able to move around the Diocese in Europe, offering ministry in  many different countries. (Our waitress at the hotel in Stansted was quite envious of us!) We look forward to getting more involved in the life of the St John’s community, and learning from, as well as contributing something to, them.

Returning to Izmir

Our first visit to Izmir was six years ago – our last was three years ago. Since then Covid-19 has prevented any further locum ministry.  So it is good, and yet a little daunting, that we are now returning for our sixth time, to spend four weeks caring for St John’s Church and its congregation, while the chaplain has a well-earned holiday. It will be interesting to see what has changed, and what remains the same.

In fact we had a glimpse in May this year, when, as part of an excellent pilgrimage to the Seven Churches led by our friend Geoffrey Marshall, we visited the Roman forum of Smyrna, and called in to St John's. Some of the church-members we know welcomed our group with refreshments, and Father James gave us a guided tour of the church, and talked about its origins and its current life. The pilgrimage was great, as it enabled us to see parts of Turkey which we had not visited – including the surprisingly attractive site of Laodicea (despite its being castigated in as a ‘luke-warm’ church.) We were reminded how important Turkey was in the first three or four centuries of Christianity, with the first four ecumenical Councils being held here, and producing the creeds we still use.

We have been in regular contact with some of the church members- thanks to Zoom, which most of us had never heard of before March 2020. Through this, we have joined in Bible Studies with some of St John's people, in Izmir and beyond - one regular participant now lives and works in Maine, USA. I've led some of those meetings, and even preached and celebrated for a couple of Sunday morning eucharists.

 So when we return to the church on the first Sunday in September, it will not be a completely new experience. Except that some things will have changed. There are new people in the congregation, for St John's continues to draw in newcomers to Izmir – among them refugees from other countries, and local Turkish speakers who have been attracted to its worship. And some we knew well have moved on; including one lovely family from Iran, who are now settling into their new life in Australia (thanks to friends of ours from Bordeaux days.)

And we have changed. We are six years older, if not wiser, than when we first visited; and all of us have been affected by events - the coronavirus pandemic, economic problems (Turkey's inflation rate is even worse than the UK’s), and above all by the shadows cast by the war in Ukraine - just across the Black Sea from Turkey - and the increasingly obvious effects of climate change.

It is, praise God, true that 'Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever.' But the context in which we affirm that belief does change, from year to year, and our present context is different from that which prevailed in 2019. If our preaching and teaching does not reflect those differences, we dishonour the God who is involved with us in all aspects of our daily life, and our teaching will not connect with where people are.

We hope that in this blog we shall be telling something of what we see and do in Izmir, and also trying to reflect on our experiences in the light of the Gospel.