Stephan Efendi of Zinjidere
The Unknown Story of Stephanos I. Sirinides
He Left His Mark on a Remote Corner of Cappadocia
By Thomas Cosmades
Chapter 6
The Difficult Years of Ministry in Zinjidere
Stephanos Efendi started his remarkable pastoral service in Zinjidere in 1878. This ministry would leave an indelible impression on many memories until this very day. He started pouring himself unreservedly into the service of his Lord. He concentrated his labors on the pulpit ministry and on pastoral service to many families. It ought to be remembered that he had no formal theological training. His knowledge of English was extremely limited. But he had a heart for the church that he had built and he was an exemplary family man. True to the tradition of Anatolia, he and Sofia had many children. His preaching was Biblical, simple, yet thought-provoking. Ordinary people from the town or surrounding places listened to him with great delight. He was an effective communicator before people had ever heard about the art of communication.
Stephanos was gifted in many ways. He was a true pastor to his congregation. Their joy was his joy; their sorrow his sorrow. Furthermore, in Zinjidere he became a very effective community leader. He could deal with people’s needs concerning various legal snags, health matters, even problems parents were facing with their children. His services reached out to everybody; not only to his own church people, but also to the Orthodox and even Muslims. His willingness and ability to help people became known in other towns, as well. One evening a man knocked at the door. He was accompanying a sick fellow in great pain, sitting on a donkey. They had come from a distant town called Everek, fifty kilometers away. They had been told that in Zinjidere there was a certain Stephan Efendi who offered assistance to people with problems. Stephanos could not extend any immediate help. But he provided lodging for the night in a small room adjacent to the school under the church. Sophia prepared a meal for them. The donkey was also given shelter and fodder. By the following morning Stephanos had a clear concept of what to do. The agonizing man was promptly taken to the American hospital, where the doctors saw that he was in great pain. They took him in right away and soon ascertained that he had acute appendicitis. So without delay surgery was performed. The hospital graciously kept him for two weeks. He totally recovered after which he joyfully and gratefully returned to Everek with his friend. The news spread all around — all the way to Ürgüp, where the government doctor had his office. On hearing the account he became agitated that Stephanos had taken away a Turk, a prospective patient, from his care. In the end, the doctor could do nothing but submit to the reality that this dying man was effected treated by the American Mission hospital, especially since the man was telling everybody how his life had been spared.
At the time, the Ottoman Empire was shaking with countless entanglements. The sultan was Abdul Hamid II, whose reign covered the years of 1876-1909. The Armenian population in the East was restive, seeking their rights, but the emperor was not disposed to grant them. No one could foresee that under its cruel emperor the first Armenian massacre (1895) would be meticulously carried out in the eastern provinces. Stephanos’ congregation included some Armenians, but since the town was predominantly Greek, the majority of the folks in the church were Greeks. God certainly knew what lay ahead when he called Stephanos to the ministry in this important Evangelical church-school-orphanage center. The church was completed at just the right time. In later years it would in all likelihood have been impossible to build it. In nearby Talas the co-ed American Academy was functioning full-scale. Because the family lived only a few kilometers from the academy two of the Sirinides girls, Louisa and Cornelia, were boarding students at this school.
During the early years of his ministry in Zinjidere there was an outbreak of cholera. Everyone was alarmed and tried to protect him/herself, as the dread of this threatening contagious sickness was widespread. Stephanos was eager to have the girls at home with the family because he was afraid that cholera might spread among the students in Talas. In his earnest effort to pick them up from school as quickly as possible, he utilized the assistance of two Turks, Ali Bey and Mehmet Bey. The three of them rode to Talas on horseback to bring the girls back. The men mounted their horses, and the girls took their places behind two of the riders, reaching Zinjidere in a short time.
By then Stephanos’ relationship with the Greek Orthodox Church had improved. The Greek Church accepted the fact that there was an Evangelical Church in town and that there was no other option but to foster good relations. None of the opposition experienced in Ürgüp was repeated here. That sad chapter was left behind. There was a Greek monastery in Zinjidere, which had its own bishop (despotis). Everybody’s concern at this point was how to deal with the cholera epidemic. Stephanos packed up everything of value in the dug-out cellar of his house. He blocked the entrance of the house with a pile of wood up to the top of the door. The place looked like a wood-pile! Then the whole family took refuge for some days, along with other neighbors, in the monastery until the fear of catching cholera subsided.
Adjacent to the monastery was a boarding school for boys. There were both men and women teachers, who lived off the monastery grounds. Some of the boys were quite obstreperous and at times a conflict broke out between them and the teachers. What did the school do when these difficult happenings occurred? They called on Stephanos, who in his kind manner, settled the controversy and often was able to prevent further flaring up of tempers, at least for some time. He entered in as a capable arbitrator, addressing the students and male teachers as ‘my sons’ and the women teachers as ‘my daughters’. His warm-hearted fatherly approach brought peace to the surroundings.
Stephanos and Sophia placed great importance on educating their children. They sent Ioachim to Anatolia College in Marsovan (Merzifon), a good four hundred kilometers away. When he finished college, they wanted to be there for the graduation ceremony. So they traveled the long distance by horse carriage. When the president of the school was informed that Ioachim’s father ― a minister — had traveled the long distance from Zinjidere, he enthusiastically invited him to sit on the platform with the faculty members, distinguished guests and a few other ministers. It was a touching commencement exercise as young people were honored for completing their studies. Some looked forward to go on to higher education and others to various fields of employment within the country.
The College president approached Stephanos and asked him to say a few words. Until then Stephanos had attended graduation exercises at Talas Academy; however, this was a college, and he was sitting among well-educated people. One could detect that he was a bit nervous. His turn to speak came. He was still wearing his topcoat, a constant companion. He stood up and threw it off with a flourish, trying to give the impression of being nonchalant, but it was painfully evident that he was ill at ease and out of his element. He made a halting start and after saying a few words to the graduates, he directed his attention to the younger boys, all teen-agers sitting in the front rows. He explained that it was easier for him to speak to them since they were still facing years of education. They could best prepare themselves, he said, by entrusting their lives to Jesus Christ and his love. If they experienced the salvation and love of Jesus at this age, they could look confidently to a good future. The whole assembled crowd was touched by his message to the young boys, which he spoke with knowledge and conviction.
After the graduation, Ioachim and another boy from a lower class headed home on their own to Zinjidere. Stephanos thought it would be a good idea for him and Sophia to take a side trip to Samsun on the Black Sea coast where he had some relatives. There were several students going in the same direction. The couple and a few students hired a carriage. There was another carriage just ahead of theirs, which was carrying four students. Stephanos noticed that one of the boys jumped out and was walking alongside the carriage instead of riding in it. Immediately he stopped both carriages and approached the walking student, “Why are you walking and not riding?” The boy dejectedly told him that an argument had broken out between him and the other three fellows. Stephanos soothed the boy and entered into the conflict as arbitrator. But the walking student was very stubborn and unbending. He wouldn’t listen to a word of the counsel Stephanos tried to give him. He insisted on walking. So he walked all the way home next to the horse carriage. Stephanos found out later that this boy was one of the well-known athletes in the school, which explained why he had the strength to go on foot such a long distance. The following fall when students returned to Marsovan, Sophocles, another of Stephanos’ sons, was among them. Having heard the story from his father, he engaged in conversation with the robust boy. By this time, the fellow had gotten over his anger and had made up with the other boys. He told Sophocles about his impression of Stephanos. “He patiently pled with me to get over my fury, saying, ‘Come on, my son; don’t be rash,’ but I was too determined to continue in my stubbornness. I wish I had listened to the advice of your kind father; it would have saved me a lot of grief and a lot of unnecessary walking!”
Chapter 7
The Question of a Successor
The Sirinides clan always enjoyed pleasant family life. At a time when conditions were entirely different from now the family would often gather together, sometimes with guests included and discuss a great variety of subjects. One day a guest asked Stephanos which of his four sons would succeed him. This is typical of the kind of question people ask in that part of the world. The three older boys kept silent. Sophocles, the youngest and the original recorder of this account, immediately broke in and said, “I will”. The father took this commitment seriously. He never forgot his son’s promise which actually had been made on the spur of the moment. When he made his last will and testament, under Article IV, he wrote the following:
Should the Lord call any of my children to the work of His vineyard, let him
accept it without questioning. However, my son Sophocles, like the youngest
son of Jesse, if he hears the Lord’s call, I will hear from his lips the words, “Here
am I,” by the grace of God, even if I am in heaven. I put this article in my will
recalling an old incident. When he was three years old, a question was posed
to my four boys about which one would be my successor. The older three boys
kept silent, but Sophocles, said, “I”. If what prompted him was not flesh and
blood, his Master will call him at the opportune time; let him not decline. However,
let him, if possible, be trained in a school where the Bible is accepted as God’s
Word and not in a school promoting modern theology.
We may mention here that Sophocles did not receive a call to be a minister of the Gospel. He along with his other brothers entered the world of business. From the large Sirinides family there is one person, a great grandson, Iraklis Panayiotides who is pastor of the Nicosia Greek Evangelical Church in Cyprus. His grandmother Vasiliki II was a daughter of Stephanos and Sofia. Another great-grandson, Themis (Tim) Sirinides, is engaged in missionary work with International Teams in Athens, Greece. Under the name ‘Helping Hands’ he and others reach out to the social and spiritual needs of migrants.
It had been twenty-two years since Stephanos started his work in Zinjidere and still he wasn’t ordained. In those days the American Board did not rush into ordaining ministers. They commissioned them to preach for many years without the benefit of ordination. The Board and Stephanos realized that the time had come for him to be ordained. The ordination service was arranged to be held in Talas. It was a solemn occasion when all missionaries were in attendance. Fellow-ministers from churches around Talas participated. There was a sizeable crowd. Stephanos, realizing that he was the center of attention, said to Sophia, “This is a little too much for me.” He was a person who did not like to be in the limelight. He felt very much at home with his own congregation, but not in such a large gathering with people he didn’t know. The ordination service progressed in a very nice spirit. Several of the missionaries spoke. And after so many years of service, Stephanos became a full-fledged minister of the Gospel.
His salary was met mostly by the Congregational Mission Board. Therefore, the Board felt the liberty of periodically sending him to surrounding towns to minister in smaller churches, particularly those without pastors. This service took him away from home about three months each year. Among the churches he ministered to was the one he had planted in Ürgüp. When he had left, he was succeeded by the self-appointed Napoleon, whose preaching was dull and unchallenging. The result was that people quit coming and the church folded. However, a new group of believers had come into being and a different congregation was born. The question was, who should take over the pastoral service for this church? The American Board asked Stephanos if he would like to go back to Ürgüp. The couple prayed and considered this call. In the meantime their daughter Kalliopi was sent to Ürgüp as a school teacher. Following her move, Stephanos started visiting Ürgüp more often. Eventually, he was spending half of his time there, not a convenient arrangement. At last, he decided to make the move with the whole family.
Stephanos and Sophia were an exemplary Anatolian couple, totally dedicated to their ministry. This involved extending a lot of hospitality. Zinjidere, being a vacation town, attracted many people during the summers, especially from Kayseri. The Sirinides children spent the winters away from home dispersed in various places. When they all returned home in the summer, it meant that their mother had to feed them three times a day. Sometimes, with guests included, there were as many as twenty people at the table for several weeks at a time. When Stephanos served the food from the pot at the table, he served the first ones liberally. The last ones, unfortunately, were short-changed. Seeing the problem Sophia would run into the kitchen and quickly prepare more food. Very soon each plate was filled. When she served at the table, she calculated how large each portion should be so that each person would have enough. There were no ‘seconds,’ but plenty of home-made bread to supplement the food. In winter, the couple was left on their own. Stephanos always mentioned how happy he was to have a wife like Sophia who was an excellent homemaker and gracious hostess. Her cooking was imaginative and the meals were very satisfying.
She always managed to supply enough clothing for the children. Of course, the various items were passed down from the older to the younger ones. By the time they reached the youngest children, they were pretty well worn. With typical Anatolian inventiveness, she tore out the seams, turned the material inside-out and sewed new garments for the younger children.
Sophia had no schooling at all until she was fifty years old. It was then that she decided to ‘learn letters’ (learn to read), as they say. Her children were all young adults, so that she had ample time to give herself to her new pursuit. Her daughter Louisa was a school teacher, so was the perfect person to teach her mother the basics of reading and writing. Within a few weeks, Sophia could recognize all the Greek characters. Now she could read Turkish with Greek letters. It was a thrilling experience for her when she sat down and began to read the Scriptures for the first time. In Anatolia, Greek and Armenian women generally remained illiterate. However in those families which switched to the Evangelical faith invariably their women learned the alphabet in order to be able to read God’s Word. Conversion to the Protestant faith meant for women, and even sometimes for men, becoming literate.
