Antakya (“Antioch” to the ancients, “Theopolis” to the Byzantines and “huh?” to Americans) is Turkey’s southernmost city, a vaguely Freudian offshoot between the Mediterranean and Syria.
Yet Antakya’s most remarkable feature isn’t that it dangles menacingly from the rest of country, but that it is a cosmopolitan home to people of many ethnic and religious backgrounds.
And while most nations proclaim distaste towards one minority or another (Poles, Mexicans, Turks, etc… check local listings to find your country’s scapegoat), Antakyans have managed to avoid the deep suspicion that keeps the first-world so “exclusive” and the third-world so “racist.”
Over the years, the city has passed back and forth between Greeks, Romans, Persians, Arabs, Crusaders, Ottomans, the French and pretty much anyone else with a sword, with each newcomer bringing not just fresh sword-wounds but a whole new culture making up today’s Antakyan mosaic.
‘Jeweler George’; Corç is about as ethnically-Turkish a name as ‘Churchill’ or ‘Toyota.’
Sights and Sounds of the Antakyan Mosaic:
Antakya was the first location the ‘followers of Jesus’ were called ‘Christians’ and Bible-readers might recognize Antioch as where Saints Peter and Paul began preaching around 50AD. The cave Church of St. Peter stands as a testament to when Christians hid in caves lest they sound silly to neighbors discussing Fortuna’s recent quarrel with Jupiter and how it would affect harvest.
One of, if not the, first church, St. Peters’ cave protected from both lions and ridicule.
Though once a Christian capital, most of Antakya’s history has been under Muslim rule, who over the years have grown accustomed to living with Christians as long as they are the quiet kind.
Liturgy at the Antakya Orthodox Church; Antakya’s Christians, now numbering only 1500, haven’t made a controversial statement since 1268.
Antakya’s Vakifli village is the only settlement in Turkey with an exclusively Armenian population.
Unlike most villages populated by non-Armenians, Vakifli boasts modern homes and charming streets lined with well-kempt flowers and tangerine trees. Scenic guest-houses lead up to the picturesque Church of the Mother Mary, where locals sell home-made strawberry liquor and walnut jam. The only way the village could be more adorably quaint is if smiles were the main form of currency.
Vakifli’s church is the cutest house of worship ever dedicated to a woman whose son was brutally crucified.
Of course, this might all be a façade as the less-quaint Armenian towns nearby were razed and their 5000 residents displaced to Syria when Turkey annexed Antakya in 1939. In Turkey’s defense, tolerance for minorities was not very fashionable anywhere back in 1939.
Speaking of which…
Home to 60,000 members participating heavily in public life during ancient times, today’s Jewish community only numbers a few hundred and boasts an unassuming synagogue behind a modest door alongside several apartments. The Jewish population is now so rare, if one does find any, the local tourism board asks that you refrain from scaring them away.
Most of contemporary Antakya is Muslim, with the population divided amongst Turk and Arab and the main denominations Alevi (a regional sect of Islam that focuses on liberal values and universalism) and Sunni (a global sect that usually scares everyone else), all living together peacefully.
The city even boasts Anatolia’s first mosque: the 7th century Habib-i Neccar mosque (pictured left). It now houses Habib-i Neccar’s tomb; a monotheistic carpenter living in pagan Antioch in the 1st century, Habib was visited by two of Jesus’ followers. One of the first Christian converts, he tried to convince an angry mob to spare the two visitors, who killed Habib instead, probably because tolerance hadn’t been invented yet.
A plaque in the mosque adds a Muslim twist to the story: Habib was actually visited by two angels who told him about Mohammed (who would be born 5 centuries later) and was thus actually the first Muslim. Proving, once and for all, God is one very impatient deity.
Almost every single store-keeper in Antakya owns birds they display in their shop, as if the Antakya chamber of commerce requires proof of bird-ownership before distributing licenses.
Either an ancient tradition with reasons lost to time, or the worst anti-theft protection ever.
Antakya teaches us that peace between different peoples can exist, as long as most of said peoples leave or at least avoid attention. Either that, or there is just something about the birds they aren't telling us.
