lintel of which is ornamented with bas-reliefs consisting of a cross
in knot-work and side ornaments of the same, very rudely executed. The
threshold is elevated, and the lintel of the door only three feet four
inches high, so that the worshipper must bend again before entering.
It was a gloomy transition from the bright October sunshine to the
dark twilight within, and even with the aid of candles the interior
was only dimly seen. It consists of a nave, about thirty-four feet
long, with a sanctuary, and a sacristy which also serves as the
baptistery, at the east end. The nave is lofty and without seats. The
worshippers stand during divine service, even the aged and infirm only
rest by leaning on their cross-handled staffs. In the nave, below the
screen of the sanctuary, are three altars. On one, the "altar of
prayers," the anthem books are laid; on another, the "altar of the
Gospels," is a copy of the Gospels wrapped in a cloth, on which is a
cross, which it is customary to kiss; on the third there is also a
cross. A very thick wall separates the nave from the eastern chamber,
which in its turn is divided unequally into two parts. This wall is
pierced by a narrow chancel arch, and there is a narrow platform
behind the altars of prayer, etc., ascended by three steps, at which
the people receive the Eucharistic elements. Through the arch is dimly
seen the altar, over which is a stone canopy, or _baldachino_,
supported on four pillars. In the sacristy is a narrow but deep font,
in which the infant is baptized by being dipped in the water up to the
knees at the name of the Father, up to the waist at the name of the
Son, and wholly immersed at the name of the Holy Ghost, the priest
repeating, "Thou art baptized in the name of the Father, Amen, and of
the Son, Amen, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen." Before the rite the
infant's forehead is anointed with oil in the church, and it is
completely anointed in the baptistery before being plunged into the
font. Every infant has two god-parents, who act as sponsors at its
subsequent marriage. These persons by undertaking this office are
placed in a relationship of affinity close enough to be a bar to
marriage. After the baptism the child is confirmed in the nave with
oil and the imposition of the priest's hands, and after being very
tightly bound up in its swaddling clothes is handed to the
god-parents. Infant communion is the rule of the Church, but the
elements are rarely received at the time of baptism.
Baptism is only valid when celebrated by a priest and in a consecrated
church. Private baptisms are unlawful, but there is a form of prayer
appointed for use if a child is dangerously ill, during which the
priest signs a basin of water with the sign of the Cross, saying, "In
the strength of our Lord may this water be of blessing in the name,"
etc. The mother afterwards bathes the child in the water, and if it
dies they "trust it to the mercy of God." If it recovers it must be
taken to church to be baptized in the usual manner. The Holy
Communion, the _Kourbana_, ought by rule to precede baptism in the
very early morning, and the baptismal rite ought to be administered on
the eighth day, but it is often postponed till the annual village
festival, at which the _Kourbana_ is always celebrated.[44]
The whole interior of the church of Kochanes is covered by a plain
vaulted stone roof. At the west end of the nave is a row of oblong
stone tombs, four feet high, in which several of the patriarchs are
buried; and a steep narrow stone stair leads from these to a small
door high up in the north wall, which gives access to a small chamber
in which the priest prepares and bakes the bread for the Holy
Communion. The flour for this purpose is preferably of wheat which has
been gleaned by girls. It is ground in a hand-mill and is mixed with
"holy leaven," handed on from sacrament to sacrament. The bread is
made into round cakes, a quarter of an inch thick and two and a half
inches in diameter, which are stamped with a cross. Great importance
is attached to the elements, and the water used for mixing with the
sacramental wine is always brought from the purest spring within
reach.[45]
On one side of this upper chamber, at a height of four feet, there is
the mouth of a sort of tunnel which runs between the flat exterior
roof and the vaulted ceiling of the nave. This is used for concealing
the Liturgies and the other poor valuables of the church in times of
peril. Secret as this hiding-place is, the Kurds discovered it some
years ago, and carried off and destroyed whatever of value had been
hidden, including a _firman_ and a knife which (it is said) were given
by Mohammed to a former _Catholicos_, and which are now in Stamboul.
The general arrangement of the church is a pathetic protest against
chronic insecurity and persecution. The interior, and especially the
sanctuary, are as black as smoke can make them, although very few
candles are ordinarily used, the clergy holding rolls of thin wax
taper in their hands when they require light on the Liturgies and
Gospel. There is little architectural ornament except some sculptured
stones, and two recesses with scallop-shell roofs at the sides of the
chancel arch. The church is in good repair, for if any rain gets into
a sacred building it has to be reconsecrated.
Towards five o'clock the sounding-board is beaten, and the Patriarch,
the two bishops, and some other men, all in secular dress, saunter
down to evening prayers, which are usually said by the Patriarch
himself, and consist of a few prayers, a short lesson, and some
psalms. The custom is for the people on entering to kiss the Cross,
the Gospels, and the Patriarch's hand, and to lay their daggers in the
church porch. Clerical vestments are not worn at these services. The
Liturgies and Gospels are magnificent specimens of caligraphy, and the
Syriac characters are in themselves beautiful.
It is appointed that the whole Psalter be recited in three days, and
though I imagine that some abridgment is made, the priests and people,
contrary to rule, are apt to sit on the floor during the antiphonal
singing of the psalms, owing to their extreme length. The chanting is
very discordant, as each man adopts the key which suits himself.
The "kiss of peace" is an interesting and decorous feature of the
daily worship, and is always given at the beginning, even if it should
be omitted at the close. On entering the church the priest crosses
himself and kisses the Cross, which always lies on the altar on the
north side, saying, "Glory be to God in the highest." After this the
people come forward and kiss first the Cross and then the priest's
hand, and each passing on touches the hands of those who before him
have kissed the sacred emblem and raises his own hand to his lips. It
is the custom always to kiss the hand of a bishop or priest on meeting
him in the road or elsewhere and the salutation is performed in a
reverential manner.
The church furniture and vestments show the great poverty of the
people. The altar cloth is figured white cotton. Two tarnished and
battered candlesticks stand on the altar, and a very sordid cross in
the recess behind it. The chalice is a silver bowl, tarnished, almost
blackened, by neglect, and the paten is a silver tray in the same
state. There are a bronze censer, an antique, with embossed scripture
figures upon it, and a branched lamp-stand surmounted by a bird, both
of the rudest construction, and greatly neglected. Dust and cobwebs of
ancient date, droppings from candles and bits of candle wicks offend
Western eyes in the sacristy and elsewhere.
The clerical dress is very simple and of the poorest materials. The
priest wears an alb, a girdle, and a stole crossed over the breast,
and at the _Kourbana_ a calico square with crosses in coloured cotton
sewn upon it, thrown over the shoulders, and raised at times to cover
the head, or to form a screen between him and the congregation. The
deacon wears an alb or "church shirt" with coloured cotton crosses on
the breast and back, a blue and white girdle, and a stole which is
crossed over the right shoulder and has its ends tucked into the
girdle. The only difference in the dress of a bishop is that he wears
a stole reaching to the ankles and not crossed upon the breast. The
ordinary attire of the clergy and laity is the same, and the same
similarity pervades their occupations. Even bishops may be seen hard
at work in the fields. The sanctuary is held in great reverence, and
Mar Gauriel, who is more like a jolly sailor than a priest, put on a
girdle and stole before entering it when he showed it to me. Strange
to say, the priests and deacons officiating at the Holy Communion
retain their shoes and remove their turbans. The graves round the
church are very numerous, and are neatly kept. One burial has taken
place since I came. The corpse, that of a stranger, was enclosed in a
rough wooden coffin, and the blowing of horns, beating of drums,
carrying of branches decorated with handkerchiefs and apples, and the
wailing of the women and other demonstrations of grief, such as men
jumping into the grave, beating their breasts and uttering cries of
anguish, distressing scenes which are usual at Syrian funerals, were
consequently absent. The burial service is very striking and dramatic,
and there are different "orders" for bishops, priests, deacons,
laymen, women, and children. The whole, if recited at full length,
takes fully five hours! Besides prayers innumerable both for the
departed and the survivors, there are various dialogues between the
mourners and the departed, and between the departed and the souls of
those already in Hades.[46]
In spite of the perils around, "marrying and giving in marriage" go on
much as usual. Mar Gauriel, Bishop of Urmi, has come up on nothing
less important than a matrimonial errand, to ask for the hand of the
Patriarch's niece, a small child of eight years old, the daughter of
Ishai and Asiat, for his nephew, a boy of fourteen. Girls may marry at
twelve, and the beautiful Asiat, the child's mother, is only twenty. I
was invited to tea when the proposals were made in a neutral house,
where Mr. Browne interpreted the proceedings for me. Mar Gauriel,
handsomely dressed in red, with a _khelat_ or "coat of honour" given
him by the Shah over his usual clothes, looked as blithe and handsome
as a suitor should. He sat on one side of the floor with a friend to
help his suit, and on the other were seated Sulti, Asiat, and the
child.
Conversation was general for a time; then the Bishop, with a change of
face which meant business, produced a small parcel, and laid on the
floor, with a deliberate pause between the articles, carbuncle and
diamond rings, gold-headed pins, gold bracelets, a very fine pink
coral necklace, with a gold and turquoise pendant, and finally a long
chain of hollow balls of massive filigree silver, beautiful enough to
"fetch" any woman. The mother and aunt sat rigidly, assumed stony
faces, and would not admire. But Mar Gauriel had other weapons in his
armoury, and produced from a large bundle articles of dress of full
size, among which were Constantinople gauze gowns sprigged with gold,
a green silk gown covered with embroidery, and lastly a sort of coat
of very rich cloth of gold, a costly thing. The child's eyes sparkled
at this. The Bishop looked up from it at the two women, but a look of
contempt alone flitted across their stony faces.
Then he began his plea, which was loud and eloquent. He said he could
get a hundred brides for his nephew, who would be good workers, but
the daughter of Asiat should be a princess, and have servants to wait
upon her, and have nothing to do. He said he would wait four years for
her, he only wanted a promise. He was not tactful. He set forth the
advantages of an alliance with himself too strongly for a suitor. The
house of Mar Shimun is very proud and its connection is courted by
all, and the ladies were obdurate and literally frowned on his plea,
looking with well-acted contempt upon the glittering display on the
floor. Two days later the Patriarch himself rejected Mar Gauriel's
suit, saying, "It would be a shame for the House of Mar Shimun--it
would be a shameful example to betroth so young a girl." There the
matter must rest, for a time at least.
An actual marriage is arranged, and this time the bride, Sanjani, is a
handsome and very attractive girl of fourteen years old, with a strong
will and individuality. She has been several times to see me, and I
have become quite interested in her. Yesterday a number of men were
seen descending the dizzy zigzags which lead from Jelu down the
mountain on the other side of the Terpai ravine, and later, after a
few shots had been fired, a party of Jelu mountaineers superbly
dressed came up into Kochanes, also on a matrimonial errand. Some of
these men are quite blond. They came on behalf of a youth of high
position in Jelu, and the bargaining was keen, for the girl is of the
House of Mar Shimun. Eventually they gave twenty _liras_, a mule, a
gun, thirty sheep, and a revolver for her, as well as presents to the
negotiators. She wept most bitterly at the prospect of leaving
Kochanes. The money is spent on the _trousseau_, and the bride's
parents give a present to the bridegroom.
Shortly after the betrothal, Mar Sergis, Bishop of Jelu, arrived, with
fifty Jelu men, the young bridegroom, and some matrons. The Bishop,
who is a grand-looking man, was dressed in a robe, red _shulwars_, and
a turban; the other men were in silks and gold embroideries, and
carried jewelled _khanjars_, revolvers, and long guns with the stocks
curiously inlaid with ivory and silver. As they climbed up through the
bushes of the ravine they simulated an attack by skirmishers, firing
guns and revolvers. A few Kochanes men fired as if in defence, but
most of the people decided not to show this "sign of joy," because
news had come that the Kurds had driven off the sheep of the father of
Asiat. So with this feint of attack and capture the brilliant throng
reached the top of the ascent, Mar Sergis and others riding mules,
musicians playing a drum and flageolets, and five or six men with
drawn swords in their right hands and leather shields on their left
arms escorting the bridegroom to the hospitalities of the Patriarch's
house. The roofs were crowded with villagers, but the bride was hidden
in her father's house. The father had beaten her on her head with a
long wooden spoon, and she was lying down!
On that and the two following evenings there was dancing in the house
late into the night, and the days were spent in feasting,
sword-dances, and masquerading. It is regarded as a very "good"
marriage for Sanjani. The marriage ceremony, which is private, was
performed in the church at sunrise on the fourth day. There were
present Mar Sergis the bridegroom's uncle, the bridegroom, "the
bridegroom's friend," and Sanjani and her mother, who were preceded to
the church by a fifer. The marriage service, which took half an hour,
was performed at the west end of the nave. At the conclusion wine and
water (but not as a Eucharistic symbol), mixed with a little earth
from the church precincts, were administered to the married couple.
The ring is used as with us. The most curious part of the ceremony is
that while the service or "Blessing," as it is called, is proceeding,
the groomsman holds up a light wooden frame, to which fruits are
attached. This is also hung over the bridegroom's head at the
father-in-law's house, and is carried with him when he goes out to
dance. It is broken on the last day of the feasting, and the pair and
their friends eat the fruit. The festivities were prolonged for three
days more, after which the bride, with music and firing of guns, was
taken away in charge of the matrons to her husband's house in Jelu,
where there were to be rejoicings and feastings for other seven days.
As the bride's procession passes, the bridegroom, attended by his
young men-friends, takes his place on a roof, with a store of apples
beside him, which, after signing himself with the Cross, he throws
among the crowd, the hitting of the bride being regarded as a sign of
good luck.
Bishops are not allowed to marry, but to priests after their
ordination both first and second marriages are permitted. The law of
divorce is very lax, even according to the Church canons, and Canon
Maclean says that the practice is very bad, and that it is a great
temptation to the bishops, several of whom are very poor, to grant
divorces for the sake of the fees.
Friday was a severe fast in the Patriarch's household, as in all
others. The fasts of the Syrian Church, it has been said, "can only be
described as prodigious." A Syrian fast means serious self-denial, for
it involves not only abstinence from meat, but from fish, honey, eggs,
milk, butter, cheese, and all animal products, and the Syrian eats
nothing but rice cooked in walnut oil, raisins, walnuts, treacle,
beans, plain potatoes, and bread. All Wednesdays and Fridays in the
year this strict _regimen_ is adhered to, and the members of the Old
Church also fast for fifty days in Lent, and twenty-five in Advent,
and keep the very severe three days' fast of the Ninevites. Most
adults keep also the fast of St. Mary, the first fourteen days of
August. No religious observance is more rigidly adhered to by the
nation than these severe and prolonged abstinences, and it is
difficult for the Syrians to believe in the piety of any who do not,
by the same methods, mortify the body and bring it into subjection.
Mar Auraham, son of Marta, a man of twenty-six, Patriarch-designate,
and a bishop without a diocese, has returned, and spent part of
yesterday evening in my room. He looks delicate, but has a bright,
intelligent, charming face, and his conversation was thoughtful and
interesting. He really cares about his church and its discipline, is
regarded as honourable and straightforward in a marked degree, and as
preferring the spiritual to the temporal interests of his nation. He
is apparently a warm friend of the English Mission, and if he should
succeed to the chair of Mar Shimun great progress might be expected;
but intrigues are surging round him, and the patriarchal family is not
without its ambitions, to which he may possibly be sacrificed.
The succession to the Patriarchate and Episcopate is the subject of a
peculiar arrangement, which makes these offices practically
hereditary. In the Mar Shimun family there has been provided for more
than three centuries a regular succession of youths called
_Nazarites_, who have never eaten meat or married, and whose mothers
ate no meat for many months before they were born. One of these is
chosen by the Patriarch as his successor, and then some of the
disappointed youths take to eating meat like other men. At the present
time, though Mar Auraham has been designated, there are one or two
boy-relatives of the Patriarch who are being brought up not to eat
meat. The same prohibition applies to a bishop. He also usually has
one or more _Nazarites_, frequently nephews or cousins, who have been
brought up by him not to eat meat, one of whom, if there be more than
one, he chooses as his successor. If he neglects to make a choice, the
Bishopric at his death falls like a fief to the Patriarch, who has an
enormous diocese, while three of the Bishops have only a few villages
to look after.
Bishops, priests, and deacons are very poor. Occasionally a church has
a field or two as an endowment, or the villagers contribute a small
sum annually, or plough the priest's fields, or shear his sheep, but
the fees given for baptisms, marriages, and other occasional offices
would be his sole dependence unless he followed some secular calling.
In some places there is a plethora of supernumerary priests, and it is
shrewdly said that these obtain holy orders from the Bishops for the
sake of the loaves of sugar paid as fees. There are great abuses
connected with ordination. One of the present bishops was consecrated
when quite a young boy, and deacons are often ordained at sixteen, and
even much earlier. Mar Auraham must have been consecrated before he
was twenty. The only qualification for ordination is the ability to
read old Syriac. The gaily-dressed and fully-armed young mountaineers
whom I have seen as representing the diaconate look far more like
bandits than deacons. In one large village there are at present fifty
deacons and fifteen priests attached to one church!!
[Illustration: SYRIAN PRIEST AND WIFE.]
The _Kourbana_ cannot be celebrated without the assistance of a
deacon. It is almost entirely confined to the great festivals and the
feast of the patron saint of each village. After the making of the
bread with the "holy leaven," and certain preliminaries by the clergy,
the congregation comes into church, summoned by blows on the wooden
sounding-board. The men stand in front, the women behind, all taking
off their shoes and kissing the Cross. When the elements are to be
received the priest advances to the door of the sanctuary, and a
deacon, completely enveloped by the curtain before the entrance, holds
the paten while the priest gives the bread to the men first, then to
the women and to the little children, held up either by father or
mother. The adults receive the cup in order from the deacon, who
passes it through a hole in a wall about six feet high, which runs
parallel with the wall of the sanctuary, but at a little distance from
it. On leaving the church after communion each person takes a piece of
ordinary bread from a tray near the door. The priests and deacons
communicate after the people when the sanctuary veil has again been
drawn. The Eucharist is always celebrated at or before daybreak,
except in the case of certain fast days and at funerals, when it is
considered a devotional act to fast till mid-day. During parts of the
communion service one deacon swings a censer and another "clangs" a
cymbal.
The _Kourbana_ as celebrated in the Syrian villages reminds me both of
the great communion gatherings of the Scottish Highlands and the
Church service which, in my childhood, ushered in the revelry of the
village wake or feast. The festivals which, as in England, fall on the
feast of the patron saint of the village are the great gaieties of
Syrian life, and even the Kurd cannot altogether overshadow them.
After the celebration of the _Kourbana_ at dawn, when the crowds are
frequently so great that the church is filled by several successive
congregations of communicants, the day is spent in visiting, and in
every house fruit, sweetmeats, and tea are provided for all comers,
and _arak_, if it be obtainable, forms a part of the entertainment.
Dances and games are kept up all day, and at its close many are drunk
and disorderly. These are the occasions when fighting with the Moslems
is apt to take place.
Men and women, of course, dance separately, and the women much in the
background. The dancing, as I have seen it, is slow and stately. A
number of either sex join hands in a ring, and move round to slow
music, at times letting go each other's hands for the purpose of
gesticulation and waving of handkerchiefs. It is not unlike the
national dance of the Bakhtiaris. The women not only keep in
retirement on this but on all occasions. They never sit at meat with
the men, but take their food afterwards in private--indeed, I strongly
suspect that they eat the leavings of their superiors. It is not,
however, only the women who occupy a subordinate position. Young men
treat not only their fathers but their elder brothers with extreme
respect; and when there are guests at table the sons do not sit down
with the fathers, but wait on the guests, and take their own meals,
like the women, afterwards.
The Syrians call Easter "The Great Feast" and Christmas "The Little
Feast." At the former, eggs coloured red are lavishly bestowed. The
festival of the Epiphany also receives great honour, but it is curious
that a people who believe that they owe their Christianity to the Wise
Men should not keep this feast so much in commemoration of them as of
our Lord's baptism. So much does the latter view preponderate, that
the Urmi Christians call it by a name which means "The New Waters."
Here in the mountains, however, it is called "The Brightness." During
the night before the celebration of the _Kourbana_ on the Feast of the
Epiphany it is customary to plunge into frozen pools! "One Lord, one
faith, one baptism" they hold with us, and it is of great interest to
recognise this fact in the midst of many superstitions and even
puerilities.