Cappadocian Chapel

A childhood memory had led me, at the age of 50, to Cappadocia in Turkey.
Cappadocia is one of the most mystical places in the world to me. It is a region of exceptional natural wonders with its famed fairy chimney rock formations.
This area is a vast open-air museum that was home to ancient cave churches, as well as many of the monasteries of early Christianity.

I sojourned there for a time. (several times since this was penned)
From the night of my arrival, I could feel an unexpected destiny unfolding…Once there, I had little desire to go anywhere else. I stayed in a simple cave pension.
I couldn't shake the sense that this place felt like home in a curious way.
Many things felt fated, both for good and ill.
I met a man named Ali, a rug merchant by appearance, but someone who became a kind of spiritual guide.

One morning we were invited for tea at the house of Ali’s friend, Asil.
We walked through the sleepy village and headed up the rocky path to a series of caves that were hand-carved out of the mountain. We stopped once or twice to catch our breath and to gaze down on the rooftops of nearby Çavuşin. It was still cool as we gazed at the clear colors of dawn over the surreal landscape.
Our friend was waiting for us on the terrace of his home.
He invited us to wash our dusty feet and to rest with a glass of tea.
He and Ali exchanged some news in Turkish.
Asil’s wife brought us some fresh bread, homemade goat cheese and fragrant olives.
Asil asked politely if I was enjoying my stay in Cappadocia.
Asil was a gentle, unimposing man who radiated great intelligence and kindness.
Softly piercing eyes and voice and huge warmth emanating from his heart.
The air bristled with something indefinable. Time seemed to stand still.
There were long, pregnant pauses in our conversation.
It reminded me of similar encounters in Japan where silence is as important
a part of the conversation as the words.
In this atmosphere, God was accorded a space in the conversation, as well.
I felt, as much as heard, the words that were spoken.
I was hungry for this feeling…this atmosphere.

After our breakfast, Asil rose and invited us to meet some of his other family members.
We stepped back onto the stone path that wound around the mountain and soon came to another cave dwelling. This was the home of his cousin and her family.
We were warmly greeted and more tea was brought. I was shown around the interior of their home. It consisted of a small flat of rooms with a kitchen, living and dining area and two small bedrooms. Handmade carpets draped the walls and sitting areas.
Cushions provided the rest of the furnishings. It was simple, but lovely. After we shared tea and sweets and visited awhile, we headed up the mountain again to several other cave homes.
Asil, I found, had gradually purchased each home on the mountain for his large extended family. It took nearly twenty years of patient work to accomplish his goal,
but now he had the entire mountain under his care.
He felt an almost sacred duty to the place, to preserve it and their timeless way of life.

Each family was so gracious and welcoming even though they had no notice of our visit. Everyone honored us and showed hospitality. In all, we visited with nine families.
It was late afternoon as we made our way slowly to the summit. I was surprised at how many families lived on this small mountain. What a peaceful natural lifestyle.
A bit arduous, to be sure, but well worth the effort.

Just when I thought we had run out of mountain, my friends beckoned me onward
a little further. As we climbed the last bit of the way, we came upon one more arched door half-hidden in the rustic landscape. This time no one came out to greet us…

Instead Asil opened the door and pushed it open to reveal a small, perfectly circular dome room. He nodded for me to step inside. He and Ali stepped in behind me.
I wondered what this place was. It was completely empty of furnishings...
Just a pure white empty space.

That is when it hit me. It happened so fast I could not explain it further.
The room, though completely empty, felt full, as if the room was crowded with people…watching us.
They were invisible, but their presence was clear and strong.

In their presence, I suddenly burst into sobs...deep, heaving sobs that took me to my knees.
I was completely overcome, unable to stop for even a moment.
I could not understand or control what was happening.
I was just flooded…engulfed in this tremendous experience.
The weeping went on for a very long time.
I was in another world and did not know or care what my companions were thinking.
The intensity was unlike anything I had known... I was undone in a moment.
Too deep for words, faster than thought. Pure and powerful emotion generated
by the presences.

When the tears were spent and I was finally able to open my eyes and catch my breath,
I saw that the air in the room shimmered with an ethereal light.
I looked up at Ali and Asil.
They simply looked on solemnly. They understood everything.
They knew this place well and the power contained within this simple dome room.

I asked the only question left in the world. "What is this place?"

In his soft voice, Asil explained that this whole mountain had once been a large monastery.
We were in the chapel....

*************
originally published in Running Off with the Preacher’s Wife…available on amazon, etc