The Church of the Mother of God at Vefa

On these days the church is open from early morning until six in the evening, and one’s presence at the church is bookmarked by festive, friendly mixing at the large courtyard.  It is in the courtyard where most of the conversations, cheerful and plaintive, take place, and where friendships are renewed with opportunities for sharing the pleasures and the burdens of life.  Especially after the prayers, people – young or old, male or female, religious or secular, wearing a headscarf or donning a short skirt, rich or poor, alone or among friends, as a family or as an individual, architects, lawyers, artists, businessmen, and artisans of all kinds – find themselves lingering in the courtyard.  Crowds mingle and chat, offering candy and chocolate when their wishes have come true.

It is here in the courtyard that religions also mix.  Women offering candy explain that the practice of handing out sweets after an auspicious event is Muslim, but that it fits well with the local tradition of wish-making and sprinkling of holy water.  Traditions, rituals, and practices are discussed as not the same, but compatible.  One woman in the courtyard offered: “In Islam, we practice ‘acele baci’ (a semi-religious ritual of cooking halvah, practiced among women at home where at least seven guests mix the pot of halvah and make a wish while prayers are read; when the wish of an invitee comes true, she then has to repeat the ritual with seven guests at her own house).  What do you do? Do you have similar traditions at home or do you make a wish only at church?”

Other regular visitors include the street salesmen and saleswomen who come to the gates of church early to set up their wares.  They set up long tables and top them with various boxes of nick-nacks in all shapes and sizes.  These are carefully labeled: for love, for wealth, for a house, for health, and for many other wishes the visitors might have.  The salespeople are jovial figures who are there on the first day of every month, well known not only to the caretakers of the church, but also to many of the habitual visitors who stop to buy a little “boncuk,” a small blue eye tied to a heart, and to get advice on how to make use of the object for best results.  “Now if you want a husband, you have to get this small heart, put it in your purse and go in to pray and make your wish.  Then you go home and put the heart safely in a place where you will not lose it.  If your wish comes through and you marry, please go throw the little heart into a body of water,” says one older salesman to a young woman.  To convince her further, he shows her pictures of couples who got married after he sold them hearts.

This is a preamble to the activities in the church.  It feels as though these transactions outside are the first cut, more market-oriented version of wish-making.  Once people set foot inside the courtyard of the church, a more fervent as well as formal attitude towards wish making and praying wraps everyone, and the outside street noise practically disappears, separating this world of contemplation from that of market operation.  Once inside the church, anyone who brings in the outside world with cell phones or loud chatter are reminded of the sanctity of the place.

Locals who know the best stories repeat them to newcomers, and teach them the ways of the church and the holy water – as well as the gossip of the neighborhood – and warn them about the respect and humility required in the space.

Everyone knows the rituals of this little Greek Orthodox Church.  As people first enter, they stop and buy a few metal keys, each symbolizing a wish to be made.  They then continue on to buy a few candles – a symbol of the light of Christ – which are then lit and placed into a stand.  As men and women stream in front of the lit candles, they take a moment to pause, hold their hands in imploration, and pray.  Christian men and women hold their hands folded, and Muslims have their hands raised and palms open, praying next to each other, different just in their particular ritual gesture of imploration.  Worshipers then often pass their keys in ritualized behavior over the small window boxes on the walls that contain old icons, following the edges of the boxes, circling a few times – some say three times exactly, others seven, depending on their religious and mystical beliefs.

When the circuit on the ground level of the church is finished, visitors move downstairs, where a fountain, more icons, and a small statue of Jesus are located.  Believers wash their hands and face with the holy water of the aghiasma, take small bottles of the water for home, and pray and often cross themselves in front of the statue of Jesus, before moving back upstairs to join the long line of people waiting to be blessed by the priest. A lot of this ritual is performed by individuals, going through the numerous behaviors on their own, praying to their God, but also furtively watching others to get the sacraments right.

While waiting in line, people mingle, share stories, gossip, and tell each other the history of their involvement in the church.  How many times have they come?  How many times do you need to come for the wish to take hold? Who first told them about the church? What do they believe will happen? They praise the priest, reenact their devotion to the space and the miracles of the holy water. They get carried away sometimes, letting the sounds of conversation and gossip take over the prayers and blessings of the priest. It is then that the managers of the Church, older Greek Orthodox women severely reprimand those who stray asserting the sacredness of the space and sometimes making disparaging comments about a new class of people who come to have fun.  At such moments, one can experience the tension that derives from the newly-found popularity of the space.

Even though some of the gestures and acts of worship are not strictly a part of the rituals, the mixing of traditions clearly surfaces in the details of the acts of devotion; the hand gestures, the washing of hands seven times, the distribution of candy – these things all attest to the ways in which Christian and Muslim traditions have mixed in this sacred shared site.  Many Muslim women also told me that from the Vefa Church, they go to the Sehzade Mosque (Prince’s Mosque in the Fatih district) and pray under the great plane-tree with their keys. This is supposed to appeal to the divinity in both religions.