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 12
World War I and its Sequel
Going back, World War I started in August 1914. In November of the same year the Ottoman Empire was sucked into the war. This great conflict made its fierce appearance in Gallipoli on April 25, 1915. Matters were going from bad to worse. Miss Gerber had to leave Turkey because of the worsening conditions. She and Stephanos had a last meeting, arriving at a conciliation of sorts. The orphanage was now without leadership. The young preacher Bostanjoglu had gone into evangelistic work in the south of the country and eventually started a church in Aintab. The horrible Armenian massacre was fast approaching in which one and a half million of this ancient people were to perish. The various members of the Sirinides family were scattered all over Asia Minor. All of Stephanos’ sons-in-law and adult grandsons were deported to the East of the country with the foreboding of death. It is astonishing that not a single person from this vast family lost his/her life during the atrocities.
Themistocles, the newly-married son, attempted to return to the United States with his wife. But the state of war prevented him from carrying out his plan. Conversely, he was arrested with the serious charge of espionage on behalf of the Allies (Entente Powers). This was a concocted accusation of the Ottomans, without any foundation. The whole intention of the authorities was to extract a false confession from each detainee. In order to accomplish this they treated the prisoners in an appalling manner. They turned each arrested person over to sentenced criminals. The command was to finish them off.
Themistocles’ turn came for interrogation, along with six others who ultimately lost their lives. He was severely beaten and several times fell into unconsciousness. The method to revive him was to pour cold water on his body. Naturally, no confession was obtained. Then they resorted to another cruel routine. They threw him out in front of the prison gate on a cold December night, semi-conscious and soaking wet. There they expected the frigid conditions to kill him. Amazingly among the criminals was a Turk called Ali. He had once experienced a kindness from Stephanos. Immediately he recognized the son of his benefactor. That act of generosity years before flashed into his memory. At once this shrewd man devised a plan to save Themistocles. He asked the prison authorities to let Themistocles be in his charge. They were happy to comply. Instead of bringing the life of this young Christian man to an end, Ali did the opposite. He took off his wet, shabby clothes, wrapped him in his own blanket and took excellent care of him, like the Good Samaritan. He continued doctoring him until the authorities relaxed their brutal practice. He was then sent to Ankara with the bleak prospect of execution. There he spent two years in jail, during which time his Uncle Ioannes periodically visited him, risking his own neck in doing so. After his release, Themistocles always recalled his uncle’s comforting visits. He attributed his deliverance to the earnest prayers of his father, mother and young wife, as well as the other members of the family.
After Miss Gerber left the country the orphanage needed another director. God had his chosen leader for this important task. He was none other than Vahram Tahmizian, husband of Stephanos’ daughter Kalliopi. In the early years of the war the ministry of the orphanage continued without any particular difficulty. The reader is here advised once again to go to the book, ‘Anatolia, Anatolia!’ chapter 6, at this same website for very inspiring information about Vahram Tahmizian.
The effects of the war years were being increasingly felt. This was the case throughout Anatolia. More boys who had lost their parents were being sent to the Zinjidere orphanage. The pain caused by the war was felt in every region in every single family. The early years of the war were a prelude to the ingathering storm of the Armenian massacre. No one could have anticipated the atrocity and severity of this massacre. It left its mark as one of the cruelest acts in the history of mankind, especially of the last century. News was coming in from every corner of the country about the unimaginable agony endured by deported Armenians and Greeks. They had to leave everything behind and were sent off to the open country to perish there. Those who survived found themselves in Deir-El-Zor in the Syrian desert. In the year 1916, Stephanos’ last year on earth, one could say that he was in the constant exercise of intercession for the suffering people of the land. He was also pouring his heart out in prayer for the members of his family, because the destiny of some of his children was very uncertain. He persistently encouraged those family members left in Zinjidere to continue praying for everyone affected by the lamentable conditions. He took as his motto a word from James, “The prayer of a righteous man has great power in its effects” (5:16). With this inspiration the whole family grew in spiritual maturity, trusting their heavenly Father more implicitly.
Chapter 13
Reaching the Ultimate Goal
God was not going to let Stephanos witness the unrelenting savagery to the very end. He had already seen enough bloodshed and was weeping for the awful conditions. His death came on December 16, 1916, at the age of seventy. Gathered around his deathbed were his beloved Sophia, three daughters and son Themistocles with his wife Anna. The husbands of the daughters had been deported.
He lay in a coma for two days. Just before the end, everyone noticed he was putting forth a great effort to say something. He could not make himself understood, but suddenly his face lit up and he spoke one word in Turkish clearly: ‘Alkishladilar!’ which means, “They applauded.” They all wondered, “Who were those who applauded?” “And for what were they applauding?” One of the family members offered an explanation that he was referring to the angels rejoicing for a repentant sinner returning to the Lord (cf. Luke 15:7). Perhaps the angels were applauding for this one who had been used by his Lord to bring many sinners to repentance. The Turkish doctor present who witnessed the last minutes of Stephanos’ life remarked, “I never saw anyone die like this man.” Stephanos who had served the Lord faithfully and devotedly left this earth with a triumphant witness.
On the day of the funeral, impressions of the service were recorded by Anna, Themistocles’ wife. All missionaries from the Talas Academy were in attendance. The majority of these people had embraced the tenets of liberal theology, which Stephanos had disowned. One of the speakers was Mr. Wingate, director the boys’ school in Talas. Stephanos always felt sorry for this man’s spreading his newly-formulated views with which he was at odds. One of Mr. Wingate’s recollections was about the genuineness of Stephanos’ character: “He was a sincere man.” It is to be regretted that missionaries had lost touch with heaven. Anna remarked, “This one word, ‘sincere’, described his life more than any other. His preaching was sincere and his life was in harmony with what he preached.” The head mistress of the girls’ school, Miss Orvis, sang a solo, ‘Peace, Perfect Peace.’ At this point it is appropriate to mention, as the reader may have noticed several times while following the text, that all missionaries — both men and women — were referred to only by their surname. Nobody seems to have bothered to learn their given names.
After the funeral, Mr. Wingate who had retained close friendship with Stephanos in spite of their theological differences came forward with an appealing suggestion: “Since Pastor Sirinides built this church and faithfully served the congregation to the very end of his life he should really be buried in the churchyard.” But since there was no previous decision to do this, the family had already arranged to bury him in the little Protestant cemetery outside the town. Eventually, however, Mr. Wingate’s suggestion prevailed. Two months after the burial, the body was exhumed and re-buried in the front yard of the church. The grave-diggers removed some of the slabs of stone covering the ground, dug a new grave and buried him there. Then they replaced the stones. So the man who had served conspicuously all his life was now laid to rest in an unmarked grave. The church building is standing to this day, now used by the local municipality as a museum. The belfry with its cross was removed. As mentioned before, the historic bell still peals every Sunday at the Second Evangelical Church in Athens. Following the Anatolian war, Zinjidere was converted into a military base. Some houses in town were used as quarters for officers and soldiers, and other houses were torn down to provide a wide field for drilling exercises. All the Greeks had left for Greece, so the Turks utilized this place for their army. One could sadly say, “The glory has departed.”
Chapter 14
Aftermath
At this point, a logical question comes to mind, especially in circles where young servants of Christ are presently laboring to make disciples of Turkish believers: What is the record of Stephanos and his many fellow-pastors in disseminating the Good News of Christ among Muslims throughout Anatolia? These men who had been converted to the Evangelical faith somehow didn’t catch a vision to reach the Muslim populace, whatever the cost. It is disturbing to remind ourselves that not one of these hailed from Muslim background.
There is only one record of a Muslim converted to Christ who even dared to adopt an Armenian name, Hovannes Avideranian. He became a fervent evangelist, writing many books and pamphlets in Turkish. All others were of Armenian, Greek, Aramaic and other Christian minorities. Didn’t these people have a burden for their fellow-citizens, the Turks, to introduce them to Jesus Christ? It is lamentable that conversion from Islam to Christianity was prohibited by Imperial decree in accordance with the prescription of their book. All over the world this religious legislation constituted a regrettable barrier in the minds of men like Stephanos that Muslims were not to be touched. No doubt, they did have a burden within to see Muslims converted to Christ, but it stopped there. Some didn’t hesitate to initiate conversations about the Savior with Muslim friends and neighbors. There were men who were diligent to offer them Scriptures, which were legally circulated by the Bible Society. But openly seeking to bring Muslims to the faith of Jesus Christ was not to be pursued. While very regrettable, this was the norm in the whole country.
Not a single relative from Stephanos’ wide clan lives any longer in Zinjidere. In fact, there are no Christians living there. However, this can change if some Turk(s) are converted and join the company of new Turkish believers in the land. Turkish converts have already established their own congregations in several parts of the country. Why not in Zinjidere, as well? Stephanos’ offspring are scattered all over the world. They still like to reflect back on the life and times of their renowned, but humble patriarch. Some of them visit Zinjidere from time to time. Seven of the grandchildren were given the name Stephanos. The Greek custom is to carry on the name of the grandparents by their progeny. During his lifetime Stephanos was an ardent letter-writer to his children who were dispersed in many parts of Anatolia. The letter written to his brother Prodromos in Athens is among the very few that survived. When the Greeks of Anatolia were uprooted following the 1922 defeat of the Greek army in Izmir (Smyrna) myriads of valuable items and treasures were left behind and confiscated or lost forever.
One of his sons, Sophocles, remarked, “Father used to sit on a cushion on the floor next to the settee which served as his desk. He would write letter after letter to his various children. He kept in touch with them by writing a letter to each one every other week, also sharing their news with the rest, who of course couldn’t keep in close touch with each other. Sophocles called him, ‘the central clearing house for all family news’. Besides corresponding with his children, he also undertook the task of writing letters for some of the illiterate members of his flock to their relatives. The children estimated that during the course of a year the letters he wrote amounted to five hundred sheets. And the interesting thing was that he made copies of his letters by using carbon paper. These he kept within the pages of old books which in those days were used as files. Oftentimes late at night he was still writing. The embers in the stove would slowly die out. Then he would throw a blanket over his shoulders, frequently rub his hands to keep them warm and go on writing. If the mail was going to be picked up on the following day, he would persevere writing into the wee hours of the morning. He couldn’t miss the opportunity of sending off all the letters without delay.
Stephanos who was so keen on letter-writing did not neglect to leave a Last Will and Testament which he wrote on March 14, 1913. There were twelve articles in his will. One of these, Article IV, which had to do with his successor, has already been written out in full. It will be consistent with our subject to make reference to some of the other articles in his last will and testament which will be of interest to people in our time.
Article I. I appoint as executor my first-born son or any other son he may assign. But I desire that my daughters, as well as my sons-in-law also may render any necessary assistance.
Article II. I am making this Last Will and Testament in full confidence that they will carry out every detail faithfully.
Article III. I desire that of my children, those that may be strong will help those that may be weak.
Article IV. Mentioned before – regarding his successor.
Article V. I desire and plead with all my loved ones to continue in the faith and the Gospel and to obey the Lord. Because this poor old man has been saved by grace and has found peace with God through Jesus Christ I desire that all my loved ones receive the same gift.
Article VI. I have great love for the church at Zinjidere. I desire with all my heart and soul for her well-being at present and her progress in the future. To that end I will plan and work as long as I live. And after my death, I leave the following request to my children:
Articles VII, VIII, IX and X were not translated because they dealt with events and individuals of his day. One person whom he specifically names, owed the church fifty gold liras, but had paid back only ten liras. Stephanos did not want to press him for the balance. In the church treasury there were ten liras and another gift of five. He expressed the desire that his children contribute another twenty-five liras bringing this fund up to fifty and then invest this amount in some securities, using the income from it for pulpit supply or school expenses. (At the time, this would probably amount to about $12.00 yearly, which was sufficient for two months’ pulpit supply.) He had hoped the amount would be at least one-hundred liras instead of fifty.
Article XI. I desire that all my children continue in their prayer life and be faithful in their giving to the Lord.
Article XII. At my death I desire that all my money and belongings be divided equally among my sons and daughters.
Once again we must catch a glimpse of Stephanos and his family’s life. Before the American missionaries came to Anatolia, the organ was an unknown musical instrument in homes. But when the missionaries came they introduced the organ to churches and also encouraged families to acquire one of their own in order to sing hymns at home. The Sirinides family was among the first to buy an organ. Many other families who had been enlightened by the Gospel also were eager to learn the hymnody translated by the missionaries and they too bought organs. The organs were all imported.
The Sirinides children later remarked about their many pleasant memories of gathering around the organ and singing hymns. Almost all of them returned home from the various parts of Anatolia for vacation during the summer. And they all joined in these joyful sessions of hymn singing. Most of them learned to play the organ, using ‘Landon’s Reed Organ Method’. Stephanos didn’t miss the opportunity to train himself to play this God-sent instrument. He played by ear, with one hand. He often sat at the organ and sang his favorite hymns to his own accompaniment. One which he played again and again was, ‘How Firm a Foundation’. He played other hymns, too, one about the Prodigal Son, which he sang with great emotion. No one could recall where this hymn came from; and unfortunately the words are stowed away somewhere in the annals of Christian hymnody.
Son Sophocles conveyed an impressive experience of his childhood. He was probably six years old at the time. The church had what was then called vesper services which were held before dark because there was no provision for lighting the sanctuary. Stephanos stood at the communion table in front of the pulpit. The scene was exhilarating. The sun was setting over the western hills, spreading its rays through the plain glass window from his left, slightly to the rear. The edification he was bringing to the people was on ‘The Road to Emmaus’. He read the story from Luke 24:13-35 and made some comments about the text. Sophocles remembers the following: “I saw father standing there with the rays of the setting sun on his gray hair. He was pleading, ‘Abide with us, for the day is far spent and the night is at hand,’ just as if the Master was right there in front of him. I could visualize that Jesus was actually there and my father was pleading with him to come into every life in the sanctuary before the dark night set in. It made my young heart yearn for the sweet company of my Master. How I wished that he would come and spend that night at our house so we could all enjoy a blessed time with him. I can never forget the impact that plea had on me.”
Epilogue
The brief glimpse which you have gone through is a microcosm within the broader content of country-wide witness to the Savior. It deals with the period of modern missions in Anatolia. Prior to this beginning, the cross and belfries of traditional churches quiescently displayed the testimony of Christ the Redeemer. The entry of the armies of a hostile religion could not stamp out this pleasing sight. The years between 1914 and 1922 mark an anguishing catalyst in the history of the Church. The testimony of Jesus Christ which had its roots in this very land was almost entirely wiped out, both from the traditional churches and those which developed after the entry of modern missions. It is very sad to realize that the distressing events within these short years brought an end to the Christian witness. This however did not mean that the testimony of the Savior in Asia Minor came to a halt. There was a tiny remnant of Christians who, like flickering candles, faithfully carried on the witness of Christ. A small number of Bible Society colporteurs patiently moved out with the written word wherever they could find access. The ever-fresh assurance of their Savior was always in their minds: “…and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18b).
Isaiah (ca. 700 BC) spoke prophetically regarding Zion before the Jews were taken into Babylonian captivity: “Your country lies desolate, your cities are burned with fire; in your very presence aliens devour your land; it is desolate, as overthrown by aliens. And the daughter of Zion is left like a booth in a vineyard, like a lodge in a cucumber field, like a besieged city. If the LORD of hosts had not left us a few survivors, we should have been like Sodom, and become like Gomorrah” (Isaiah 1:7-9). The pungent evangelist of the Old Testament could have just as well reached out to the Church period with his thought- provoking lamentation. His far-reaching words also found their woeful fulfillment within the span of less than ten years in Anatolia. Little did Stephanos Sirinides realize that in a few brief years after his passing from this earth the history of Christianity in Asia Minor would also pass away. There were hundreds of pastors and missionaries who for many years had lived and served in Anatolia. At the time of Sirinides death, the churches they planted were about to receive the sad pronouncement ‘Ichabod’ as lamenting Christians looked on.
Was this development the end of everything? Not in God’s sovereign design: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the LORD” (Isaiah 55:8). Human adversity cannot arbitrarily terminate Christ’s undying testimony. Many Christians did not cease praying to the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ; by faith they anticipated streams to break forth in the desert. Our generation is witnessing this astonishing advance. During the 1960’s the Holy Spirit started moving again in the land-turned-desert of Asia Minor. Within less than fifty years, phenomenally at this time genuine Turkish churches have sprung up in several parts of the country. Satan was jubilant for having brought an end to the Christian witness in this historic land, but we can thank God that the enemy’s joy was not conclusive.
There is a sequel to the once-functioning church in Zinjidere and her sister churches. In our time the testimony of Christ is moving ahead, albeit against concerted contention. New churches are appearing in the galaxy of committed witness. Turkish martyrs have made an initial mark by laying down their lives for their Savior. There is fresh hope and expectation for further growth. This development is causing constant fear and chagrin to those hold earthly authority. Every believer in Christ who is knowledgeable about God’s sovereign purpose within Church history can clearly observe that He is continually at work. People everywhere are following the praiseworthy developments in this apostolic land. Churches of all ages such as the one in Zinjidere which bore a living testimony for Christ the Redeemer will be continually followed by new ones until the Lord returns.
Thomas Cosmades
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