Continuing our journey in the land that the Apostles trod, we traversed a narrow winding dirt road, up and up onto a hilltop where the scattered remnants of Laodicea lie. In the distance, under a turbulent sky, towering mountains, almost black in color, seemed a fitting background for the starkness of these lonely ruins. This city was an extremely prosperous commercial center, especially under Roman rule. Lying on the natural route of countless travelers and traders, Laodicea was reached by the Gospel at an early date, probably while Paul was living in Ephesus. One could envision the Apostles trudging many a weary mile through this silent and wildly beautiful countryside. In the letter of Paul to the Colossians, Chapters two and four, we read of the Apostle’s greeting and encouragement to the brethren of Laodicea.
Just before reaching our destination, we stopped to view a section of the unusual ancient water pipes that lay on the hillside. Laodicea had one disadvantage —it had no permanent water supply near at hand and the water had to be piped into the city from hot springs some distance away. These pipes were constructed of cubical blocks of stone, approximately three feet across, bored through the center and cemented end to end. We could see where the centers were partially blocked by the building up of minerals contained in the water. Later, we also saw remains of clay water pipes built into the side of an ancient ruined building. For all its wealth, Laodicea could produce neither the healing power of hot water like its neighbor Hierapolis, nor the refreshing cold water to be found at Colossae, but merely lukewarm water. The church of Laodicea was charged with a similar uselessness — therefore it was a “lukewarm” church — their works being neither cold nor hot. (Rev. 3:15-15)
As we wandered about, picking up pieces of ancient pottery here and there, we were constantly surrounded by smiling, friendly Turkish boys and girls — especially one young fellow who rode a donkey and kept insisting we buy an artifact that he had supposedly found — ancient or not — who could tell? They waved and smiled at us as we left, and as this was our only communication with them, we waved and smiled right back.
En-route to Hierapolis, our bus driver kindly stopped so that we could purchase handmade pocketbooks made by Turkish nomads who came from the Caspian Sea. We saw them in their open carts which were gaily decorated, packed with family and possessions.
At Hierapolis, our hotel was located at the top of spectacular cliffs of lime called “pamukkale” (the hotel derived its name from this). The lime has been deposited over the centuries from the hot spring water as it flows off the high terrace on which the ancient city was built. This snow-white lime glistened in the late afternoon sunlight as it seemed to cascade in endless cataracts down the hillside. Water gushed down in several places and as the bus passed by on the narrow road, we could almost reach out and touch it. An impressive sight. On arrival at the Hotel, we checked in, gathered our luggage and made a dash to our rooms. The weather was frigid and my teeth chattered like castanets. A small garden and walkway separated our lodgings from a swimming pool that was fed by underground hot springs. Steam rose from this pool in misty sheets and some of our more hardy souls had an enjoyable swim.
In the morning, we visit the ancient city of Hieranolis which is situated about six miles north of Laodicea. This city is mentioned only in Col. 4:13 as the seat of a church probably founded also while the Apostle Paul was at Ephesus. Hierapolis was built around hot springs which were famed for their medicinal powers. We saw a subterranean vent from which once issued poisonous gases. These natural features made Hierapolis a center of pagan cults from the earliest times. We saw the remains of Roman walls and a huge Roman bath. There was an amphitheater with a seating capacity of 15,000 and was most unusual as it had a large circular seat situated in the center-front where, we were told, royalty sat. Nearby was an interesting swimming area, an ancient bath where it is said Queen Apollous bathed in the year 190 B.C. Fluted Roman columns were seen lying about in warm, crystal clear water surrounded by colorful landscaped gardens.
Reservations for lunch were scheduled at a Turkish Restaurant and if we were hungry when we arrived, we were more so upon departure! Turkish cooking leaves much to be desired and their liberal use of oil and the seasoning of Rosemary was just too much for most of us.
On to Sardis. Sardis was a city in the Roman province of Asia and was the capital of the ancient kingdom of Lydia. Because of the extremely fertile region and convenient position for trade, it became a by-word for wealth and was the first to mint gold and silver coinage. Its supremacy ended abruptly when the Persian King Cyrus captured the city. Of main interest at Sardis was a large, partially restored edifice, two stories high with tall marble columns on both levels. Only three walls had been erected and it was without a roof but it did give one an idea of the grandeur and architectural skill of this once wealthy and corrupt city.
We are reminded of the words in Rev. 3:1-2 “I know your works; you have the name of being alive, and you are dead. Awake, and strengthen what remains and is on the point of death, for I have not found your works perfect in the sight of my God.”
On our way to Philadelphia, we stop to see an ancient cemetery, circa 2nd Century B.C. There were round and rectangular tombs constructed above ground. I went into one of the round tombs—one had to stoop to enter the narrow low opening, and inside were the usual three stone slabs against the walls. Its interior reminded me of Jesus tomb in Jerusalem.
We are now going into the Turkish countryside which is all farmland and under cultivation. They still plow with a pair of oxen and a crude plow although I noticed a few modern tractors at work. The main highway is unpaved, mountainous and narrow and there are no shoulders on these primitive roads. The view is gorgeous with miniature villages in the valleys below and flocks of sheep grazing on the hillsides.
The weather is very unsettled. There is rain one minute and sunshine the next. Dark menacing rain clouds hang kw over the jutting black mountains in the distance — some are snow capped — and when the sun breaks through the clouds to shine on their white peaks, it is a breathtaking sight.
Philadelphia was a city in the Roman province of Asia founded by Eumenos, King of Pergamum in the 2nd century B.C. It was situated near the upper end of a broad valley leading down through Sardis to the sea near Smyrna and it lay at the threshold of a very fertile tract of plateau country from which much of its commercial prosperity derived. The site is now occupied by the town of Alasehir. As we drive through this small native town, the bus has difficulty navigating the narrow streets. It is a very dirty town and we note raw sewage flowing in open trenches alongside the roads. All the natives in sight flock to the bus to see these strange humans that have invaded their territory! We leave the bus to walk to all that remains of Philadelphia — a portion of wall and part of a church. Little else has been unearthed. By this time, we have quite a group of natives gathered around us and I became a little nervous as they closed in but from the broad grins on their faces, there was nothing to fear. One little 13 year old boy could speak a smattering of English so there was some communication between the two groups. Everyone was laughing and everyone was very friendly — adults and children alike. I think we made their day!
We drive back to Izmir — then 55 miles to our lodgings for the night, Pergamum Tusan Hotel. On arrival, the porter took us down a long corridor to the back of the building and as we rounded the corner, the wind nearly swept us off our feet. As this was a newly constructed hotel there was yet much detail work to be completed. Our room was unheated and the cement floor was still damp. The bathroom washstand had not been attached to the wall and rotated when leaned against. It was so cold that we slept with all our clothes on plus two heavy woolen blankets piled on top. We managed to thaw out in the morning in the heated lobby and after a sparse breakfast of coffee and bread, boarded our bus for Pergamum.
This city of Pergamum is situated on a high, rocky acropolis overlooking the town of Bergama. As we drove up the steep hillside, we could see the crumbling, majestic walls perched like an eagle’s nest high above us. Climbing a stone ramp, we come to the main portion of the ruins. All told, 160,000 people lived here during Roman rule (133 B.C.). The Library at Pergamum became so superior to the library of Alexandria, that Egypt stopped exporting papyrus. Therefore, they invented the parchment known as the “Pergamum Paper.” The 200,000 volumes of this library were later burned in Alexandria.
We gaze in awe at the panorama of the surrounding countryside far below us, beautiful even under leaded skies. We see the ruins of a palace, storehouses and temples. The amphitheater, with a former capacity of seating 15,000 people, is literally set into the mountain side and affords a view of the entire valley below with the grey-blue mountains in the distance as a back-drop. Leaving the theater, we pause to look down on the remains of what was once the Altar of Zeus. This Altar, considered as “the masterpiece of Hellenic workmanship” was taken to the Berlin Museum in the 19th Century. Executed in high relief, it depicted the war between the gods and giants and the life of Attales I, a one-time ruler of ancient Pergamum. All there is left for us to see is a rectangular outline of stone steps and a few trees.
I left the ground and climbed the series of stone steps to the very top of the acropolis. Standing alone amid these silent ruins, with the wind swirling gently around me, I could almost feel the pulse of life that was once the heart of this once mighty empire. What volumes these weather-worn stones could tell us if only they could speak! Would they tell us of the disciples that perhaps walked this very avenue I stood upon? Of their struggles to hold fast their glimmering light stand in this teeming city of decadence and idol worshipers? Of John’s warning to them in Rev. Ch. 2, to withstand the temptations of the evils with which they were surrounded? Yes, it would be quite a story, “if only they could speak.” Thoughtfully, I turn and make my way back to reality and silently bid farewell to the last of the six ecclesias we visited in Asia Minor.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One