Touring Turkey: Part 3 “Cappadocia: Marginal and Mainstream”
The history of Christianity in Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) is a hopeful story.
But also a cautionary one.
Hopeful because the early Christian movement flourished in Turkey, due in large measure to the strategic work of Paul, his companions, and the few generations that followed.
For example, Paul preached in many cities, including Antioch of Pisidia, and trained church planters in Ephesus. A generation later Ignatius of Antioch traveled through Asia Minor on his way to Rome, where he was martyred. He wrote letters of exhortation to a number of churches there. Still another generation later Polycarp was martyred at the age of 86, having served as bishop of the church in Smyrna for some 50 years. In the third century Gregory Thaumaturgis worked miracles, helped establish the church in central Turkey, and served as an important bishop.
The impact of these early Christian leaders is incalculable, the spiritual equivalent to the architecture wonder of the Gothic cathedral.
But cautionary, too, because the Byzantine Empire (the eastern half of what was known as the Roman Empire) eventually absorbed Christianity, and, in the process, changed it, often at the price of the integrity of the movement itself. Not everything was lost, to be sure. The Byzantine Empire boasted a number of achievements favorable to Christianity, like the establishment of hundreds of monasteries and the construction of the Hagia Sophia.
Still, the cooperation—and sometimes collusion—of faith and empire was usually bad for faith, and eventually for the empire, too. It often dragged the church into the affairs of state as a willing partner, which led to compromise and abuse of power. Empire can justify almost anything in the name of God once it recruits the church to its side.
Still, there are notable exceptions. One comes immediately to mind.
During our tour of Turkey we spent three days in the region of Cappadocia. Located in central Turkey, Cappadocia played a major role in the Christian movement, especially in the fourth century.
Cappadocia boasts a stunning landscape, both rugged and lonely. It had cities, of course, and major roads snaked through the region. Still, cities and commerce flourished more on the coasts, not inland. The region was more marginal than mainstream.
In the fourth century Cappadocia was home to some of the greatest leaders of the church: Macrina the Younger, her brothers, Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa, and their good friend, Gregory of Nazianzus. Their influence has continued to this day.
They came from a privileged background. The three siblings enjoyed wealth and status. Moreover, Basil and his friend Gregory of Nazianzus studied for a season in Athens. I have read many of their letters, sermons, prayers, and theological treatises. It is immediately apparent that they were profoundly learned and highly cultured.
They served as formidable bishops, fulfilling their episcopal duties during a period of intense conflict in the church. The Arian heresy, presumably defeated at the Council of Nicea in 325, continued to plague the church for another 60 years, exercising such a dominant influence that orthodoxy seemed threatened with extinction. The Cappadocian Fathers, as they are called, resisted Arian dominance until the orthodox party was able to resume control of the church.
They also challenged the wealth and power of the empire. They demanded that the rich steward their wealth and privilege for the sake of the least of these, often preaching sermons so bold that one wonders how the wealthy tolerated them. They also took action. Serving as bishop of Caesarea, Basil founded what scholars consider the first Christian hospital in western civilization, which grew large enough to become its own city, taking on the honorific name “Basilead.” It not only cared for the sick but also trained people for jobs, helped settle refugees, and offered a safe haven for lepers. The Basilead became a model of care that other communities imitated.
Finally, they functioned as theological titans in the fourth century. Basil of Caesarea wrote a treatise on the Holy Spirit when the church puzzled over the relationship of the Holy Spirit to the Father and the Son. Gregory of Nazianzus, known as the “Theologian” in the Orthodox Church, wrote with such beauty that his theological works read as much like poetry as they do like prose. And Gregory of Nyssa laid the groundwork for mystical theology. They were master preachers, too.
What was the secret of their resilience and influence? They maintained critical distance from the culture, largely because of their deep involvement in monasticism. Macrina the Younger founded a monastic community that became the model for living apart, following a disciplined rule of life, cultivating godly habits of character, and engaging in spiritual practices that drove their root system deep in the life of God. Basil wrote a Rule that embodied many of the principles he learned from his older sister Macrina.
They resisted the intoxicating temptations of Constantinople because their true home was in the monastery, even though they spent much of their time engaging with cultural elites and involving themselves in ecclesiastical business and disputes.
It was in the monastery that they built life-long friendships, in the monastery that they developed a clear vision of the kingdom, in the monastery that they submitted themselves to a regimen of training. The monastery allowed them to follow an alternative way of life that helped them resist the lure of power and prestige. They were able to say a firm ‘no’ to cultural fashion because they said a resolute ‘yes’ to the life of the kingdom, especially as it was embodied in the monastery.
That monastery gave them the distance they needed to remain true. But why confine it to the monastery? It is what God intends the church to be.