Upon Attending an Armenian Mass

.
I just got back from the first Eucharist in which I have been a communicant in almost two years. I attended Saturday Mass at the Church of St. Gregory the Savior (I am not making this up), an Armenian Catholic church built in Ortakoy in 1839, making it older than the iconic Ortakoy mosque. I have walked past the walls surrounding this church for almost two years and never seen them open. I have pressed the buzzer outside the doors many times and never received a response. Today, I attended Mass thanks to the first friend I made in Istanbul, Gail Chandyok.
.
Gail lived with her husband and son one floor above me in the apartment complex owned by MEF Schools in Umraniye, on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, where I originally resided; this is where Nancy and I lived before she found the apartment in Kurucesme. During the weeks before Nancy arrived, Gail was my sanity anchor. She is a native Indian and teaches math (they call it "maths" here). She is always well dressed and organized -- my polar opposite. The Chandyoks are devout Catholics, and now live in the MEF apartments in which I reside in Ulus next to the school.
.
Today was the second time I have participated in worship with them this year. On Good Friday past we, purely by chance, if one believes in coincidences, attended a Stations of the Cross service together in a Greek Orthodox church in Ortakoy. On Friday the 13th (gasp!), Gail and I happened to be sitting across from one another at lunch, and somehow the topic of prayer came up. (Since I am leaving Turkey in six weeks, and do not have a job awaiting me, I’ve been spending a lot of time praying.) Gail asked if I knew of the church mentioned above and I replied in the positive. She told me about Saturday’s Mass, so I came at 3:00 pm and there were she and Francis.
.
The service took place in an intimate chapel aside from the main church. It lasted about an hour, and was attended by the Chandyoks, seven women and myself. The priest wore an elegant white silk cloak adorned with a beautiful embroidered cross on the back. Since he spent most of the service facing east, away from us, I saw more of his backside (like an audience sees a conductor) than otherwise. Francis passed me his missal so I could read the lesson of the day in English. During the Eucharist, we communicants got the wafer, but only Hayk took the water-mixed wine. One woman came late and left early (I thought only Lutherans did this).
.
Afterward, in a shaded area between the church and the walls that protected it from the street, we had a tea party. There were eleven women and four of us of the other gender, including the priest. Slices of bread (of course), and unsweetened biscuits were served with constantly-refreshed small hourglass-shaped glasses of tea. Everyone but the Chandyoks, the priest and myself smoked cigarettes.
.
I soon realized that I was the main topic of conversation because 1) I am different looking; 2) I am from America; 3) I am Christian -- not Catholic, but still present for Mass; 4) I am associated with Gail and Francis (both of whom speak Turkish), and; 5) I was able to communicate with the priest, Hayk Aram, a handsome 70-something fellow, who happens to speak German much better than I do.
.
I learned that St. Gregory, according to legend, had been imprisoned in a well for 12 years, and had survived during that time solely on the bread and wine of the Eucharist. After excusing myself, I went back into the church to investigate the architecture, icons and the upper layers of the structure. The building is a small basilica with four faux marble pillars on each side of the nave, all with false capitals. The ceiling frescoes resemble recessed marble hollows such as in the Pantheon in Rome, and were painted by the artists who decorated the interior of the Dolmebahce Palace. In addition to a few representations of the Virgin, the wood-framed paintings that hung at intervals around the nave dealt with scenes from the life of St. Gregory. Interestingly, Jesus only appeared on the processional crucifixes.
.
The church boasts two balconies, the only such feature of any church in Istanbul, I was told. Both balconies have raised platforms—the first possibly for additional seating, although there were no pews, as there were on the ground floor. The second balcony has two raised platforms, which I would like to believe were intended for a large choir. All the windows, from top to bottom, feature metal bars on the outside, and metal shutters that could be bolted from the inside. Hmm.
.
Outside, near where the tea party took place, stands a silent wooden belfry with a large corroded bell. Behind the church is a barred stairway that leads to an underground recreation of St. Gregory’s well, now sadly considered unsafe for visitation.
.