2024 Turkey: Hierapolis (III), The Martyrion of Philip

 Church history associates the Apostle Philip with Hierapolis.

You might not remember Philip so much; he is one of the "not in the inner circle" apostles.  He does come up from time to time though, mostly in the Gospel of John.  He is the one that asks Christ how they will feed the 5,000.  He is the one that the Greek speakers came to in order to meet Christ (along with his name, likely suggesting he spoke Greek as well as Aramaic).  He is the one at the last Supper that asks Christ to show them the Father.

Church tradition holds that he preached in Galilee, Greece, Parthia, and finally in the Roman province of Asia in Phyrigia, where he last settled in Hierapolis. He was martyred - traditionally by being crucified upside down, but beheading is also not out of the question - on or about A.D. 80.

Around A.D. 2011, a site that had been long associated with him was determined to be the original resting place of his relics (which were transported long ago to Rome).

The church, a martyrion (or martyrium), is simply a church built over the tomb of the martyr.  It is located outside the city walls - not surprising, as few citizens were buried within the city walls.

The hike itself from Hierapolis proper was pleasant enough, a gentle rise that gets one a view over the whole valley.

The church itself was only excavated in A.D. 2011.  It had three naves and two pools for healing purposes.

Looking back down over the valley.  The bridge marks where the city walls would have run to.

The pillars mark the area where the altar was.

The tomb of Philip the Apostle.

Inside the tomb.

Originally the church was part of a temple complex dedicated to Philip.  During the excavations in 2011, they found a carving of a man (Philip) holding bread, a reminder of his question to Christ.

An Update And Reflection On Death

 Last week during our visit back to The Ranch, we had an opportunity to my Aunt Pat.

My aunt, as you may recall from a couple of weeks ago, was diagnosed with cancer.  Originally feared to be a stage 4 Pancreatic cancer, it seems to be two separate cancers at much earlier stages, one in the pancreas and one in the duodenum.  Treatment seemed an option and she was willing. The first round of chemo happened two weeks ago.

When we saw her, she was clearly not at her best but seemed well enough.  The chemo was hard on her:  lots of throwing up and dry heaves.  But she was able to walk out and see us last Saturday and we had a pleasant and lucid conversation.

Last Tuesday - six days from the publishing of this article - she was back in the hospital in critical condition.

The next few days were a fog, broken up by texts from my cousin to the rest of the "cousin" generation.  Intubated and in ICU, she had a heart attack and at some point in that first day the doctor somewhat despaired of her life.  She rallied though, and by Thursday was in sufficiently good enough state to ask to have the breathing tube removed.  On Saturday she was transported back home.

Her reaction was to the chemo.  She will be on hospice now where they will treat her various other conditions - heart, diabetes, etc.  But no more chemo.  Her body cannot take it.

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My reaction to the notification from my cousin surprised me: I was shocked in a way that I had not been with the passing of my own parents.  Since that initial event, I have been trying to figure out why.  My best guess is that most of the deaths in my family to date have been longer, drawn out affairs, not the almost suddenness of "Here Today, Gone (or Almost Gone) tomorrow".

Of my grandparents, there were only two sudden deaths - but even then, they happened when I was well into college and so there was not the nearness of seeing them so soon before their death.  Of the others - the other two of my grandparents, my Aunt J, and TB The Elder and my mother - these were longer drawn out affairs.  The end was known and the decline was visible, so when death finally came, it was not so much of a surprise as a small immediate shock that it had happened then, not before and now not later.

For my Aunt, she literally went from fairly functional to almost dying within three days.

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I try to find lessons, or at least things to ponder, in most of what happens.  For this, I am struggling just a bit.

I know that death can, in theory, happen to anyone at any time.  I know that, but do I really believe it?

Most of that is probably a failing on my part, brought on in part by the fact that we live in the modern world and so "sudden death" is term often reserved for sports, not for real life.  This is quite in opposition to most of human history, where life was much more tenuous due to lower hygiene, famines, wars, and limited medical care.  We assume we will live our allotted three score and ten (or four score by dint of strength) because that is how society works now.  Sudden death is for other people in other places; even the sudden death of our elders carries the unspoken sense of "Well, at least they lived a full life".

There are two risks in this, of course.  The first is a crippling fear of death that limits us from doing anything.  The second is a devil may care attitude where we do not at all think of tomorrow, because who knows if tomorrow will come?  Neither of these are healthy and both lead to, if you will pardon the pun, dead ends. (Using, I suppose, dead pan humour, which would make for the seldom seen double pun given in a dark humor manner. Almost the triple crown of dark Dad humour.)

The lesson? Maybe just to treat every visit with a loved one as the last visit.  Maybe to strive to be a bit kinder to those around us, not knowing if this is their last day - or in reverse, if it is the last time that they might speak with us because of our own end.

There is something to the old concept that we live more fully by dwelling on death more frequently.

Never Lose Hope

 

An Open Letter To Creators

Dear Creators of Contents and Things and Services:

I write to you at a moment of inflection.

Through events not entirely of any one person's making, we have arrived at moment of unparalleled opportunity.

First, due to events out there in the real world, there has been a sea change shift in direction that is manifesting itself now even as I write.  Based on reactions (even within the last week), there is a great retraction of policies and practices that have been in place for the last 6 to 8 years (or even a little longer).  This is not my opinion:  companies of all kinds are walking back what had been the overt practices of the past years.  For the first time in perhaps a decade, "having an opinion" that is not what was mainstream is now both okay - and in vogue.

Second, the existing intellectual properties and platforms that have filled the entertainment arenas and leisure times have either burned themselves to the ground or are in the process of doing so.  Of the franchises and lines of my own youth, none of them exist as the powerhouses they were.  They remain crumbling edifices, empires in a race to withdraw to their core before they are extinguished.

Thirdly, we are entering what could only be construed as a time of economic turmoil. Even with the best of outcomes, we have a long painful haul before we reach actual economic prosperity, not just a pretend prosperity largely fueled by money that we do not have being spent on corporations that return little to the land of their purchasers.

Now, more than ever, we need you.

We need your new ideas.  We need your new worlds, be they in film or streaming or written word or games or photographs or art.  We need your things, be they grown food or handmade goods or services.  

We need the things done by you.

A meteor of sorts hit the established world in the recent past, a meteor whose impact continues to ripple out in real time.  The large corporations and firms and "establishments" are the dinosaurs of this time, ponderously working to adapt to the times. The small creator, the small maker, can be responsive in a way the large organization cannot.  They are far more adaptable and far more responsive - partially, yes, because of their size, but also partially because of the fact that they have a connection with their customer or fan base, not just a webpage or media presences where inputs only go one way.

There is no barrier to entry by any of the usual metrics.  And one might think I am arguing for "one side" to create.  Not at all; I encourage all those metrics to create - with the understanding that in a way that has been forgotten in a generation, the market - the customers, the fans, the clientele - will determined your success or failure, not far away investment firms or overbearing activists who offer no financial support but only conditions for acceptance.

The world is open in a way it was not even a year ago.  Go Ye forth, and be creative.

Your Obedient Servant, Toirdhealbheach Beucail

The Relocation Date Of The Ravishing Mrs. TB

 We have a date for the relocation of The Ravishing Mrs. TB.

This has been a bit of a longer decision making process than she (or I) likely imagined 8 months ago when we came out here for a house hunting tour. Part of that was due to the fact that she wanted to give her work as much notice as possible about her impending relocation.  Another was the simple fact that she still has a life going on there, both with Na Clann and her own interests, that needs to be wound down.  Third is that with her relocation and going to part time, it will change our finances and there was some sense in delaying that as long as we could.

Still, delaying something is not the same as letting it run on forever.  Final details are still to be worked out, but sometime in the middle of January 2025 she will be here on a more or less permanent basis.

I say "more or less".  Given the recent death of The Master Sergeant, it is quite likely (and we have discussed it) that she will be spending chunks of time at her mother's to help with various and sundry things.  Fortunately the flight - the same flight I take to Old Home now - is only 1.5 hours total, so it is (relatively) convenient.  And being part-time will mean that she has the ability to help her mother in a way that trying to fit it into a weekend visit will not allow (as I have found out myself).

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The relocation comes at an inflection point in our lives:  for the first time in many years we find ourselves largely without the responsibility of children or a house (well, I mean there are still some financial obligations, but none of the making sure the children are fed and clothed or mowing the lawn).  Somewhat remarkably, we have not been in this position since before the turn of the century, which is a long time to wake up all of a sudden and find that things are completely different.

What happens next?  As God is my witness, I do not know.  I have been consciously trying to minimize my commitments here beyond church and Iaijutsu to leave space for her arrival, whenever it happened - unlike New Home, I am trying to leave time to do things, not pack my calendar completely full.  Undoubtedly there will be a certain amount of exploring to do, and reconsideration of all the things we have moved, and maybe a more permanent address for a bit.  In a bizarre sense, the world is suddenly our oyster.

How remarkably odd to find out that an enforced relocation has resulted in all kinds of new beginnings.

The Collapse CLXVIII: What Is In Your Wallet?

 23 September 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

One of the habits I have maintained throughout the past year, as senseless as it now seems, is carrying a wallet.

It is something that, upon thinking about it, has been a habit for time out of mind: for years, just before I left the house, I would pull out my wallet from its storage location and place it in my back pocket (and my keys in the front). Even when the smartphone crazed emerged and people started carrying their minimal wallets on the back of their phones, I persevered carrying my wallet – not only because of the fact that the entire “all your cards on the back of a phone” seemed like an accident waiting to happen, but because being anywhere without a wallet in my left back pocket when I was out of the house simply felt wrong.

I had not even paid attention to it until this very morning when, getting ready to go outside and work, I instinctively reached out and started to put in in my back pocket. I paused, sat down, and pulled it out.

What is inside the wallet now? A collection of things that even a year ago would not have seemed unusual: A driver’s license for a state that may or may not exist. A bank and credit card that will not function without electricity and data. A card for a warehouse store that likely it not open nor can a I get to. That plethora of smaller cards that inevitably seems to build up over time: insurance cards, roadside assistance cards, the occasional membership card. A smattering of change that I carry as habit from years ago when one of my children was always asking for the commemorative pennies (two quarters and a penny per souvenir generation). A half dollar piece I carry for luck as they were so rarely received anymore.

In the billfold? A smattering of bills that only hold value as a fire-starter now. And various fortunes from Chinese fortune cookies that meant something to me over the years.

I remember getting my father and grandfather’s wallets when they had passed. Theirs, too, had the same collection of official documents, random items, and small bills in them – along with photographs, which was the fashion once upon a time (but feel out fashion even during my years). I have them tucked away somewhere here, small artifacts of them and their daily lives as they, too, carried one every day.

Could I go out now without the wallet? Of course I could and my life would be no different: it is not as if I am likely to get pulled over at this point and need a license or need to present a card for anything or even be held up for the contents of my wallet.

And yet, to not carry it would seem unnatural.

Call me a sentimental fool Lucilius, a man who remains slightly out of time from the world that he lives in, if in a different way that before. But in my mind and beyond just the physical presence, a wallet remains a constant reminder of a world that seems gone, even if only for a little while. And in keeping that wallet, perhaps on a more personal level than some other things, it feels as if I am keeping that memory alive, along with the memories of those that have gone before and in turn, carried their wallets.

Although, I suppose, the joy at my age of being asked for my ID to purchase an alcoholic drink will never come again.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

2024 Turkey: Hierapolis (II), Theater and The Plutonion

 The ruins of Hierapolis are probably some of the biggest we visited in Turkey.  At a high end of 100,00 souls, it encompassed a lot of land.

The Temple of Apollo.  The Theater is in the background.

The Theater closer up:

The Plutonion (Temple of Pluto, the god of the underworld) is unique in my travels.  Being in a geologically active area (as evidenced by the hot springs), there was a least one cave from which gases escaped as part of a hot spring (similar to the temple of Apollo at Delphi).  The gasses would kill living creatures.  This came to be seen as the Gateway to the Underworld, the land of the god Pluto and his wife Persephone..  The priests of the Mother Goddess Cybele (eunuchs, as it turns out) discovered over time that they could hold their breath, enter the area in front of the cave, and and then emerge unscathed, demonstrating their power.

A chamber and hot spring of the Plutonion.  Here worshippers would bath and spend the night; the god Pluto would appear to them in a dream.

At one time a statue of Pluto sat over a pit which had been built in front of the cave, covered by a temple and a small amphitheater, where worshippers could observe (also graced at one time by a statue of Cerebus, the three headed hound and guardian of the Underworld.  Sacrifices (bulls) would be driven into the pit where they would succumb to the gases.  The priests would emerge unscathed.

Plaques about the Plutonion:

For the inhabitants of Hierapolis, the entrance to Hell (literally).

2024 Turkey: Hierapolis (I)

The city of Hierapolis (Turkish Name Pammukale, or Cloud Castle) in Central Anatolia has a long history(like almost everything else in Turkey, it seems).  A cult center of the Phyrgians from the 7th Century B.C. (a form of which we saw in the museum in Ephesus), the site became known for two things:  its mineral baths and as a portal to the Underworld, emanating from a cave from whence toxic gases emerged (The Plutonion, which we will visit tomorrow).

The Greeks arrived here (as they did so many other places), in this case during the Hellenistic Period.  Originally founded as a city by Antiochus I (281 - 261 B.C.), the city expanded its status as a polis under the Kingdom of the Pergamon during the reign of Eumenes (197 B.C. to 160 B.C.). The city was known at this period for its Jewish population, which may have been up to 50,000.

Based on its springs, it should be no surprise that it became a center of healing, similar to the Askeplion, where doctors prescribed treatments in the hot springs.

As part of the Kingdom of Pergamon, it passed to the Roman Republic in 133 B.C.  Unlike other locations (such as Ephesus) it never became fully Romanized, largely remaining Greek in nature.

The hot springs of Hierapolis.  Viewed from below, one can perhaps see how the Turkish name "Cloud Castle" came to be.

Earthquakes are a part of much of Turkey, which impacted many of the ruins we saw overall.  In Hierapolis, the city was destroyed in A.D. 17 and A.D. 60.  The city was rebuilt in the Roman fashion, which is largely reflected in the ruins present today.

The apostle Paul preached in Hierapolis and founded a church. The apostle Philip is traditionally said to have been martyred in here in A.D. 80.  Epictetus, one of the great Stoic philosophers, was born here as a slave in A.D. 50. 

The city at its height:

The Springs of Hierapolis.  One can just take one's shoes off and walk in the water.  Interestingly, a recent earthquake cut off the water flow to 50% of the cliffs.  To keep them from drying out, a sprinkler system has been built.

Under the Roman Empire, the city reached a population of 100,000. It passed from Roman to Byzantine control, but eventually it was abandoned,  devastated first by the Persian Wars of the 7th Century A.D. and then the Seljuk Sultanate in the 11th Century A.D..  It fell to the Crusaders in 1190 A.D and was then  retaken from the Crusaders by the Seljuks and a castle built there - which was abandon in the 14th Century A.D.  An earthquake in A.D. 1354 finished the job, and the city was abandoned.

Over in the hills yonder are the remains of the city of Laodicea, mentioned in Revelations 3.  Like Hierapolis, it was famous as a center for treatment (eye salve, in that case).