The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch

"Yes of course! The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch! 'Tis one of the sacred relics Brother Maynard carries with him!" - Monty Python's Holy Grail

We woke up on this second day in Antioch, way to early. At 8. We left at 9. Big day ahead of us.

Our first stop was a synagogue. The building itself is small and unimpressive, tucked away in a little courtyard. Inside, there is seating for maybe 50, with a small raised platform for the women on one side. All seats are bench style, circling around a central Bimah. The ark is a walk-in arc, with no less than seven torahs, the youngest dating back 300 years. Each are presented in a more middle eastern style, encased in a cylindrical wood box, from which it is not removed, instead of keeping them in satin or cloth coverings.

Two men came to show us the synagogue. An older man gave a presentation about the building and the Jewish community as a whole. The former has been around since the 1870s, converted from a home for about 6 Palestinian Lira (no exaggeration). The latter has inhabited Antioch for more than 2,000 years continuously. Today, there are approximately 30 Jewish men left in town, the second youngest of which is no younger than 50. The youngest, Samuel Kohen, was the second man present. He's probably in his mid-twenties, and is about to bring his fiancée to Antioch in two months for the first Jewish wedding the city has seen in 25 years.

The Jewish community is dying out here, but not in the same way as in Europe. The Nazis never made it into Turkey to deport the Jews. Nor were there particularly anti-Jewish laws enacted in Turkey that were designed to get rid of Jews. In fact, both men kept insisting that Antioch has some of the most tolerant history of any place on earth, and that the people who live here are more accepting of each other than ever. It was mostly economic hardship, much of which had a wider circle of influence than just Jews, that drove most out. The older man, in his younger years, remembers a community of over 500 Jews. But that's just no longer the case, in this ancient city of Judaism.

I said Mazel Tov to Samuel on his wedding and we were on our way. Next stop, a catholic church.

We wound through street after street, down countless alleyways. Jean Pierre Carcar, our local guide and resident crazy, took us on twists and turns through the city. I think we were biding our time.

The church was in an alleyway off a main road. Jean Pierre or, as I began calling him at lunch to his delight, JP, brought us into a little courtyard. We walked up the steps to see the bell and look out over the roofs of the city. But finally we gathered in the chapel, greeted by familiar catholic imagery and an unfamiliar amount of iconography. Then in came Father Domenico Bertogli. 

The Father is Italian, but has been in Antioch since 1996. He heard years ago that the catholic community in Antakya needed a priest, and he was happy to oblige. In fact, it was here in Antioch that the disciples and followers of Jesus were first called Christians. Father Bertogli would know -- he co-authored the book on it. We all got a copy. I got it signed.

Next to the church was an adjoining kitchen. Our lunch was there, which was prepared by JP's mother, an adorable babushka with impeccable cooking skills. Never been so happy to have an all-vegetarian lunch.

We did a little mosque exploration after the catholic church. But the real jewel was what happened after that.

A short drive in our bus took us to the side of a mountain, where we found ourselves in the first church. Ever.

Founded by St. Peter, God knows how many years ago (he probably does know), the church is actually a cave, which at a time was plastered and fixed up. Several hundred years ago, someone had a stone façade installed in the mouth of the cave. Inside, a modest stone altar and an even more modest stone seat for the preacher stood at the back wall. To the left behind it, a tiny opening led to what was once an escape tunnel, but has since closed off in a minor collapse. We could only crawl up so far into it. It was apparently used in case of a raid by the local soldiery.

This place was simple, but amazing. A church founded by Saint Peter, in the city in which the Disciples were first called Christians. "Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I shall build my church."

We hit up a mosaic museum next,  which was the biggest in the world until the Zeugma museum... Impressive, but not THAT impressive.

When we got back to the hotel,  we fell asleep. Well, Jake, Sean and I did. We passed out. For an epic three hours. We missed the catholic mass that several people went to, which I heard was ok, as it felt to a lot of people like they were converting the Jews who went. But the Jews also insisted that the services were more like reform Jewish services than Catholic mass. 

Dinner at 7 in the hotel. JP was there.

JP Carcar is 18 years old, barely. He's incredibly tall and very religious. He was extremely to spend time with we Americans and was an endless source of hilarity. He found out before lunch my name was Marshall, and started chanting "We Are Marshall, We Are Marshall!" as the movie of the same name did. Eventually that wasn't good enough, so he began to take away our right to be Marshall and started some other chants. "We are Isabelle! We are David! We are Kate!" All in good fun, some people got a little annoyed, but I enjoyed it.

JP, Isabelle, David, Rhys and I went out around 9:30 and picked up a bunch of Tuborg  Special and Efes Xtra for 4TL each, relatively cheap for Turkey. They also bought a bottle of wine for 15TL, which I did not partake in.

We went back to Rhys and David's room and drank for a few hours, getting pretty rowdy while having surprisingly deep conversation.

Just before midnight we all broke up. As we separated, I had an epiphany. We are in Antioch! The site of the home of the world famous Holy Hand Grenade! I couldn't believe it, and resolved to watch the YouTube video from the Monty Python movie ASAP.

Rhys and I walked JP across the bridge towards his home, about halfway. It was a fun little 5-minute walk, and we took some nighttime photos on the way back. 

Jake and Sean and I watched some Monty Python YouTube videos and I read a bit aloud from one of my Simon Rich books, Free-Range Chickens. Bed at 2.