Today, I toured the Sultan Ahmet mosque, the most prestigious mosque in the Ottoman Empire, commonly known as the Blue Mosque for its blue-tiled interior.
Built in the early 17th century, during the reign of Ahmet I, the mosque is a mixture of Byzantine and traditional Islamic architecture, and was meant to compete with the Hagia Sophia for the most venerated mosque in the city. (Everyone I’ve met says the Hagia Sophia still wins hands-down.) The Blue Mosque is eternally circled by birds, which make a gorgeous site an night, when the light shines off of their underbellies:
I, of course, did not go at night. I actually went twice during the day. First, when I was told it would be open, which it wasn’t because of daily prayers. I did get this nice photo of some students washing their feet in preparation for prayers, though:
Then, after spending almost an hour in the rain, I got to enter the mosque. Unlike everything else in Istanbul, the Blue Mosque, being a religious structure, was free of charge. I really liked that. It was also a great place for the Turkish government to put a nice face on Islam.
Religion is regulated by the governmental Office of Religious Affairs, and the office was taking every opportunity to convert tourists to Islam, or at least make them think better of it. When you stop to take off your shoes at the entranceway, you are greeted with hundreds of pamphlets in every language, from “The Qur’an: The Final Revelation” to “The Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him)”. To quote the former:
“The Qur’an’s main message is to call people to turn to the Source of all being and the Giver of life and to serve Him with a pure heart, free of idolatry or superstition. It rejects the concept of salvation or special privilege based on ethnicity, race, or color. Spiritual salvation is to be achieved by an attempt to make amends for one’s sins and a sincere intention not to repeat one’s mistakes in the future. There is no official priesthood in Islam, and the ‘imam’ is simply a knowledgeable prayer-leader; one’s sins need only be confessed directly to the Creator.”
It’s a nice sentiment, but there are certainly a few jabs in there.
On the inside, the mosque is lined with more than 20,000 handmade tiles, and low-hanging chandeliers just like in the Hagia Sophia. I felt a little uncomfortable being there, as there was nowhere to go: all of the non-Muslim tourists were cramped behind a waist-high fence like sheep. It made me feel like I was in a zoo and the Muslims were there to be gawked at. There was even a kiosk set up by the government so you could learn more about Islam and the curious praying people you were watching. I didn’t stay long.
But I did take a photo:
Turkey, or more truthfully, Anatolia, is the land of my ancestors. My grandparents were born there, along with their families and one of my uncles, who never grew older than 5 years.
Out of 26 direct family members, only my grandmother and grandfather, and two great uncles, survived the genocide of 1915. My uncle was drowned in the Euphrates by Turkish soldiers, while my grandmother watched. She was helpless to save him, just like thousands of other Armenian mothers in 1915.
If you care to read about my family while there were in Turkey, here is a link. It shows the only family photograph of my mom’s family in Armenia.
http://www.richardsmith.net/armenia/family.html
(My grandmother is in the back row, with an X over her head.)
— Karen · Jan 16, 07:11 AM · #