The New Martyr Jordan of Constantinople

The New Martyr Iordanis (Jordan), martyred in Constantinople on 2nd of February, 1650

The saint came from Trebizond, on the southern shore of the Black Sea, in what is now Turkey, but lived in the Galata quarter of Constantinople. He was married and worked as a kazanji, (kettle-maker or coppersmith).

One day, on the feast of the Entry of the Mother of God, he was relaxing with some Turkish fellow-craftsmen, playing a game in his workshop. One of the Turks said in Romaic [i.e. Modern Greek]: “Help me to win, Saint Nicholas, you mangy thing”. Iordanis replied in the same ironic manner, referring to their prophet. When the game ended, they went their respective ways. One of them, however, went to the judge and procured a verdict that anyone who insults the prophet should be put to death. As soon as Iordanis heard this, he went and concealed himself for a time with a Turkish friend of his who held an important position.

His accuser heard about it and, together with other co-religionists managed to procure another ruling: that any Turk who harboured a blasphemous Christian was to be considered a Christian himself. So they went to the vizier and, on his orders, had Iordanis brought before him. The vizier said: “My man, according to the testimony of everyone, you either have to be beheaded or become a Turk [i.e. convert to Islam]. If you become a Turk, I’ll shower you with honours (because the vizier had known him from before).

The blessed martyr for Christ answered: “I won’t deny my most sweet Jesus Christ, but I believe in Him and confess Him as true God. All I ask is that I may be allowed to go to my workshop to put my affairs in order, and then let your will be done”.

The vizier told them to take him to his workshop and then behead him.

When Iordanis had settled his affairs, he begged forgiveness for the last time from his fellow Christians and asked that his things be given to churches, monasteries and to orphans. He was then taken to the place of his execution.

He hurried all along the way, thanking God with great gladness for allowing him to be martyred. He asked forgiveness from everyone he encountered, young and old. He was a sight to behold, since he showed no fear, nor did he quail. Even his expression didn’t change; he simply walked on in great joy.

When they arrived at Küçük Karamani, the executioner got him to kneel down so that he could behead him. Just then an envoy arrived from the vizier and said quietly to him: “The vizier tells you not to throw your life away. Become a Turk in name only and go where you want and live as a Christian”.

The Saint answered: “I thank the vizier, but that’s something I would never do”.

He then bent his head and the executioner cut it off.

That night his friends and relations bribed the eparch, retrieved his holy relics and buried him in  Beyoğlu Peran.

One of the points of interest in this account is the attitude of the vizier. It is said that he knew Saint Iordanis “from before”. This seems unlikely: the vizier was an important man and probably would not have had even a passing acquaintance with a mere kettle-maker. But then he also sends a message to the martyr telling him to “pretend” to convert and then to live as he pleased. It may be, of course, that he was simply a good person who wanted to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Another explanation offers itself, however: that the vizier was a crypto-Christian, and that he had met the future Saint Iordanis at a Christian feast.

After the fall of Constantinople, in 1453, Sultan Mehmet II, allowed his Christian subjects to continue to hold religious services, perform marriages, adjudicate court cases between Christians and educate their sons. Over the years, however, this tolerance became less evident and a good many Christians converted to Islam. Some, such as the Janissaries, young boys taken from their Christian families at an early age, would have been in no position to judge between the two faiths. Others may well have been genuinely convinced.

Yet others would have been indifferent to both religions and would have embraced Islam for the material benefits in conferred on its adherents, such as lower taxation. But there would have been some who would have found themselves in a very difficult position. There is evidence that, immediately after the conquest in 1453, Mehmet II relied heavily on Christians to staff his government and bureaucracy. As time went by, these posts became semi-hereditary (though this is an over-simplification) and it is not difficult to imagine a scenario where, as tolerance waned, it would be suggested to the Christians that they should become Turks, even if only nominally.

In this way, they would be able to protect their possessions, the honour of their daughters, who, as Christians, were regarded as fair game by some Muslims (a phenomenon not unknown in our own days), and also protect their fellow-Christians. We may note that Saint Iordanis was a Christian, had the right to ply his trade, and seems to have been on amicable terms with at least some of his fellow-craftsmen. But when one of them lodged a complaint, the saint was at an immediate disadvantage. He was threatened with decapitation, whereas the Turk who was rude about Saint Nicholas wasn’t even called to account.

Though there is another curious point here: Aziz Nikola was held in particular esteem by some Turks, and, particularly, crypto-Christians. So it is certainly possible, given the fact that it was a Christian feast day (The Entry of the Mother of God), that at least one of the other players was a crypto-Christian. The epithet “mangy” would then be understood as a covert, ‘affectionate’ epithet. Needless to say, these copper-smiths would hardly have been theologians, so the idea of asking the aid of Saint Nicholas to win a game would probably not have struck them as odd.

If all this seems a little fanciful, we have the evidence of George Andreadis, whose family came to Thessaloniki from the Black Sea region as refugees: “My grandmother used to say, ‘As secret Christians, we were more strict than the open Christians. We kept every feast and every tradition.’ The feasts were celebrated with absolute secrecy, the fasts kept with great solemnity, and liturgy and Holy Communion took place with the fear of God”. Andreadis also tells the story of his grandmother’s great-great-grandfather. He was born on February 2, 1760, then left the village where he was born to go to Constantinople.

When he returned, he was able to read Turkish and Arabic and quickly became the hodža for the area. He was known as Mullah Molasleyman, and everyone respected him as a cleric and as a kadi (a judge), and his knowledge of Turkish was particularly useful  because he was able to communicate with the authorities. He was thus able to explain why there was no mosque in the village (they were “too poor”, to build one, much to his chagrin). He was also an Orthodox priest, ordained by Dorotheos III, Archbishop of Trebizond (1764-1790), and Andreadis speculates that he may even have been deliberately sent to Constantinople to be trained as a mullah in order to protect the interests of the Christians in his native area.