The Religious Authority over Literature: Christian Influences in the Formation of Anatolian Turkish Literature in the 14th Century

Abstract

Art is the most aesthetic creation produced by humankind, and it is quite unthinkable that art should exist independently of religion. Even in works of a profane nature, a sense of divinity can still be felt at some level. In the revealed religions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—the teachings of the sacred scriptures, intermingled with certain pagan beliefs, have a profound influence on the shaping of art. In the works of the fourteenth century, when Classical Turkish literature began to flourish in Anatolia, numerous Christian elements appear in the form of metaphors, allusions, or similes. The early period of intense interaction with the Orthodox Byzantine Empire, the proliferation of written literary texts, the introduction of the devşirme (child-levy) system, Ottoman settlements in Rumelia, and the expanding military, commercial, and social relations all accelerated the entry of Christian motifs into daily life and literature. This article examines how Christianity—the religion with the largest number of adherents today—was reflected in fourteenth-century Turkish literary texts and how it influenced the cultural life of the period.

1. Introduction

“Religion” and/or belief has long been the authority regulating, controlling, and even directly determining human life, and its powerful influence has continued unbroken from the first human being to the present day. Even a person who declares “I have no faith” in fact expresses belief in something—perhaps in nothingness itself. The religious influence that extends vertically from the individual’s private life to the dynamics of society also helps shape and regulate relations between societies. Every form of belief known as religion—whether pagan, divinely revealed, or otherwise—has this strong formative power.

For reasons such as worship, seeking refuge, finding strength, attaining peace, or feeling secure, human beings have always felt the need to believe in a being or a force not of this world—something they have imagined, since the earliest pagan beliefs, as originating in the “heavens.” Consequently, throughout history, religion and moral norms have played the dominant role in every aspect of life—from the monotonous routine of meeting basic needs to the creation of art with the highest aesthetic value. As Sezen notes, “Admiration and submission before the beauty that constitutes the essence of art are akin to submission before the sacred being. Religion provides art with style and a mode of thinking specific to that domain, while religious inspiration has always nourished and enriched art” (Sezen 1993, p. 162). Art is the expression of an understanding of beauty, and the source of beauty is God. The overwhelming beauty of God’s perfect creation stimulates the sensitive soul of man, especially of the artist. The ultimate aim of art and the artist is to reach divine beauty or at least to imitate it in the most perfect way possible.

Throughout human history, religious and cultural interactions have been complex and reciprocal. The development of such theological and socio-cultural relationships has long attracted scholarly attention. Religion and belief encompass both individual and social dimensions, so these interactions should not be treated separately. From pagan traditions to the teachings of revealed religions, theological elements have functioned as cultural dynamics—and at times as ways of life—shaped profoundly by military and political events. Wars, campaigns, and conquests, alongside diplomatic negotiations and treaties, played a major role. Likewise, trade and economic activity, facilitated by long-distance caravan routes and their networks of accommodations, helped establish and sustain interreligious and intercultural connections. Migration, driven by political or climatic pressures, further contributed to the blending of peoples and lasting cultural synthesis. Courtly patronage, whereby powerful rulers invited leading scholars and artists of their time, also fostered similar outcomes. In Anatolia, where Muslim-Turkish settlements expanded over centuries, the fusion with the region’s ancient pagan cultures and with adherents of revealed religions—particularly Christians—appears to have occurred through all these channels simultaneously. The reflection of these interactions, their resulting synthesis, and the multi-layered networks of relationships in literary texts became especially evident in the fourteenth century.

From its beginnings in the fourteenth century to its decline in the nineteenth, Classical Turkish poetry never assumed a wholly religious character in any of its phases. Setting aside mesnevis devoted to explicitly religious themes and the occasional Sufi treatises and poems, the body of poetry later termed “Divan literature” was not religious in essence. Indeed, Dehhanî in the fourteenth century, Nejatî in the fifteenth, Bâkî in the sixteenth, Nef‘î in the seventeenth, and Nedîm in the eighteenth—poets who may be regarded as the foremost masters of this tradition—did not write explicitly religious verse per se. Their common feature was to employ various belief systems, especially those of the revealed religions, only as elements of poetic construction. In this respect, Ottoman-period Turkish literature exhibits a la-dini (profane) character.

When the Turks began migrating from Central Asia and Iran into Anatolia, they already possessed a literary tradition. Living a nomadic life on the Asian steppes, the ancient Turks had developed a powerful oral literature shaped by that lifestyle. As they gradually shifted from hunting and herding to agricultural and settled life, their literary production moved from oral to written forms. Nevertheless, continued migrations and certain military, political, and historical factors resulted in the formation of few written works up to the fourteenth century.

Following their victory at Manzikert in 1071, the waves of Turks entering Anatolia encountered a densely Christian population. It is beyond doubt that these two communities—belonging to different revealed religions yet sharing the same geography—deeply influenced one another, whether in conflict or coexistence. The Byzantine Empire was, after all, the first state to adopt Christianity as its official religion and to govern according to Christian doctrine (Karakök 2012, p. 393). Christianity became firmly established in Anatolia roughly two and a half centuries after the death of Jesus. At that early stage, the number of cities in Anatolia was high, and since much of the population lived in urban centres, Christianity rapidly organised itself within them; the Christianisation of Anatolia thus proceeded swiftly (Mitchell 1993, p. 57 ff.).

Before the arrival of the Turks, the Christian population of Anatolia consisted mainly of Greeks, Armenians, and Assyrians, and initial encounters were with these groups. Major Anatolian cities were adorned with Christian temples, and religious life was visibly active. “In the ancient period, roughly between the sixth century BC and the fourth century AD, Anatolian cities were Greek-speaking settlements organised by institutions rooted in polytheistic religion and mythology. The civic consciousness and pride of citizenship, supported by the Roman Empire, endowed these cities with the grandeur still observable today” (Ceylan 2004, p. 320). Yet, traces of pagan beliefs and cultural elements inherited from earlier civilisations continued to shape popular religion (see Cahen 1968).

As Speiser aptly observes (Speiser 2001), during Late Antiquity (3rd–8th centuries AD) and the Early Byzantine period (4th–7th centuries AD), the Christianisation of the Roman Empire brought about the reshaping of cities, the rise of churches, the conversion of pagan temples, and the transformation of public spaces, and the growing influence of religious authority over urban administration had already established the political, religious, and socio-cultural milieu the Muslim Turks encountered upon their arrival in Anatolia.

In the century and a half following the Battle of Manzikert—despite the relative obscurity of the period—the presence of poets and writers such as Yunus Emre, Mevlâna, and Sultan Veled attests to the existence of a vibrant written literary culture in Anatolia. However, the production of major literary works would not fully emerge until the fourteenth century, during what is known as the “Beyliks Period”1.

There are sound reasons for choosing the fourteenth century as the focus of such a study on how Christian elements were employed in Classical Turkish poetry. Above all, it was an age when Anatolian Turkish written literature began to make its appearance with works of remarkable sophistication. The Anatolian Seljuk State was on the verge of disintegration, and numerous large and small beyliks had declared their independence. Among them were powerful principalities such as the Germiyanoğulları, İsfendiyaroğulları, and Karamanoğulları. Moreover, the Ottomans, positioned along the Byzantine frontier, had even managed to cross into the Balkans; they had encircled the Byzantine Empire from the east, south, and partly from the west and had begun to pose a serious threat to it.

The concepts of ghaza and jihad—grounded in religious doctrine and the commandments of the Qur’an—served as the principal motivating force for the Ottoman army, which was expanding steadily westward. When this policy of conquest toward non-Muslim populations was combined with highly favorable geographical conditions, the Ottomans skilfully exploited an advantage that no other beylik possessed: proximity to the Byzantine frontier. Paul Wittek’s so-called “ghaza ideology,” which may be understood as the notion that, beyond religious motives, economic interests also drove people in mass movements toward military expeditions, is by no means an implausible claim (see Wittek 1958). Thus, both material and spiritual gain—that is, the hope of happiness in both worlds—generated a powerful force against those states perceived as threats or rivals, above all Byzantium. While these military and political developments were unfolding, a process of centralization was simultaneously taking shape, transforming a beylik into a state. Consequently, a system of patronage supporting poets and artists came into operation (for detailed information on the institution of patronage in medieval patrimonial states, see Wallace-Hadrill 1989). This, in turn, appears to have encouraged artistic and especially literary production.

The fourteenth century marks a period in which relations between the Turks and the Eastern Roman Empire (Byzantium) became increasingly intense. The interaction that had begun under the leadership of Osman Bey at the start of the century gained momentum during the reign of his son Orhan Bey, following the conquest of Bursa in 1326. The capture of İznik in 1332—one of the most significant centres of the Orthodox Christian world—represented a true turning point, carrying Muslim–Christian relations to a more complex level. By then, the Turks had begun to possess major cities adorned with magnificent Christian temples (churches). This situation, without doubt, resulted in their coming into closer contact with Christian beliefs. Thanks to the expansionist and conquest-oriented policies of the Ottoman sultan Murad I (Hüdavendigâr), the territorial gains in the Rumelia region brought the Ottomans face to face with more professional Christian soldiers. Consequently, the religious and socio-cultural interactions between the two communities accelerated. “Through more intense experience in the Rumelian lands, elements pertaining primarily to the Christian faith and culture centred around the church are frequently encountered in the poems of Rumelian poets. A broad vocabulary—including church (deyr) and related notions such as priest, cleric, saint, Jesus, Mary, Gospel, zünnâr (girdle), cross, and organ—occupies a prominent place in poetry through various uses and literary devices. (…) Christian beauties, too, appear among the themes related to Christianity” (Çeltik 2007, p. 404).

The steady advance in military, political, and economic spheres in favour of the Ottomans—reaching its peak under Sultan Bayezid I (Yıldırım), the son of Murad—was halted, even reversed, only with the defeat at Ankara in 1402. Yet, throughout his reign, relations with Constantinople—the centre of Eastern Rome and of Orthodox Christianity—marked a phase in which Christian elements became more distinctly visible within Turkish literature and art.

In the first few years following the defeat against Timur, Bayezid’s eldest son, Prince Emir Süleyman Çelebi, appears to have taken control of affairs. On the stage of history, he emerges as a figure relatively distant from military and political exploits but deeply fond of art and literature. The scholarly and often poetic gatherings—where wine was consumed heavily—he organised in the palace of Edirne and in the rustic pleasure grounds of present-day Thrace were the talk of the era, admired throughout much of the period of chaos and turmoil known as the “Interregnum” (late 1402–early 1411). A productive environment was provided for scholars and artists arriving there from various cultural centres of Anatolia, particularly from the lands of the Germiyanids centred in Kütahya (“Removed for Peer Review”). Indeed, his carefree disposition, together with his fondness for leisure and bathhouse festivities, played no small part in him losing his struggle against his brothers. Immediately after the Interregnum, during the reign of Sultan Mehmed I (Çelebi), the devşirme (child-levy) system was introduced for the first time and was later institutionalised under his son Sultan Murad II. This development accelerated the incorporation of Christian teachings and symbols into Muslim–Turkish social and cultural life.

Leaving aside the early Umayyad expansion into al-Andalus, the true convergence between the Muslim and Christian worlds occurred with the conquest of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453. “Along with the conquests of major and ancient Byzantine cities such as İznik, Bursa, and Edirne, the atmosphere of conflict and hostility that intensified especially after the conquest of Constantinople also seems to have played a role in shaping the perception of Christianity” (for further detail, see Işık 2001). Finally, the sectarian intolerance, bigotry, and occasionally oppressive rigidity that had characterised Byzantium in the two centuries preceding its fall undoubtedly facilitated Muslim–Christian interaction and, subsequently, integration, for the Ottomans were quite tolerant towards the beliefs of others. Moreover, the fact that Christianity had not entirely eradicated pagan culture even by the late sixth century AD is both a natural historical process and a factor that enriched the content of interreligious and intercultural interaction. This, in turn, appears to have diversified the ways in which Christian elements were employed in Classical Turkish poetry. A study focusing on the fifteenth century, which also examined elements pertaining to Judaism alongside Christianity, has presented a clear framework on this issue (see Mataracı 2021).

When tracing the development of classical Turkish poetry in Anatolia, it is observed that the prevalence of Christian elements was by no means insignificant. Foremost among these is the miraculous breath of Jesus (Hz. Isa), who is regarded as one of the five great prophets (ulü’l-azm) and is believed to have healed the sick and raised the dead. This is the most frequently encountered Christian motif in classical poetic texts. When Jesus is mentioned, one often comes across accounts of his speaking to people while still an infant in the cradle, his being sought for execution, his ascension to heaven, and the needle he had upon him as he ascended—a symbol of worldly possessions. The chastity and moral virtue embodied by the Virgin Mary (Hz. Maryam), her withdrawal into seclusion within a temple, her subsequent giving birth to Jesus, and the events that followed attracted the attention of Turkish poets. Apart from these two exalted figures, certain prominent symbols of Christian theology have also served as material for various literary analogies. The church, the Bible (Injil), the zünnâr (the girdle of priests), the monk/priest, monasticism, the cross, the bell, the organ (an instrument prominent in church music), Christian feasts, and holy days were elements that did not escape the notice of Turkish poets even as early as the fourteenth century (for further information, see Tanrıbuyurdu 2009, p. 79 ff.).

2. Christian Elements Shaping Fourteenth-Century Classical Turkish Poetry

2.1. Jesus (Hz. Isa)

Jesus (Hz. Isa) is one of the prophets most frequently mentioned in the Holy Qur’an, the supreme book of Islam. In particular, the surahs of Āl-i ‘Imrān, al-Nisā’, al-Mā’idah, and Maryam refer to him at length and in various respects. As is known, he was the messenger of God sent to the Jewish people, closest in time to the last prophet, Muhammad. In other words, he was essentially the final prophet sent to the Children of Israel. His life of suffering yet humility, his exemplary struggle against those who denied him, his indifference to worldly things, his great miracles, and his being a prophet to whom a divine book was revealed make him one of the five great prophets described as ulü’l-azm. In the Qur’an, the final divine revelation, there are many verses concerning Jesus. In one of these, he is introduced as follows: “When the angels said, ‘O Mary! Allah gives you glad tidings of a word from Him, whose name is the Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, held in honour in this world and the Hereafter, and one of those brought near to Allah. He shall speak to the people in the cradle and in maturity, and shall be of the righteous.’” [Âl-i İmrân/3:45–46]. And elsewhere: “O People of the Book! Do not exaggerate in your religion nor utter aught concerning Allah except the truth. The Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, was only a messenger of Allah, and His word which He conveyed unto Mary, and a spirit from Him…” [Nisâ/4:171]. It also records Jesus as saying: “I have come confirming the Torah which was before me, and to make lawful for you some of what was forbidden to you…” [Âl-i İmrân/3:50].

One of the pieces of news reported in the Qur’an concerning Jesus—serving both to introduce him, to confirm the Torah, and to herald the coming of the final prophet, Muhammad—is of a miraculous nature: “And when Jesus son of Mary said: ‘O Children of Israel! Indeed, I am the messenger of Allah to you, confirming that which came before me of the Torah and bringing good tidings of a messenger to come after me, whose name is Ahmad.’ But when he came to them with clear proofs, they said: ‘This is evident sorcery.’” [Saff, 61:6].

Although there are other verses in the Qur’an that describe Jesus and emphasise his many virtues, these few suffice to outline the matter. His birth without a father, his raising of the dead, healing of the sick, the star indicating his place of birth, the transfiguration of his appearance, his meetings with Elijah and Moses, walking on water, turning water into wine, calming the storm, foretelling the future, knowing a woman’s past life, predicting his own death and resurrection, perceiving people’s thoughts, prophesying what would befall his people, producing a silver coin from the mouth of a fish, ascending to heaven, and bringing down a heavenly table—all of these miracles are recorded in the Gospels (for further information, see Baş 2004). As can be seen, some of these accounts resemble those of the Qur’an, while others differ; yet it is of course not to be expected that every detail should be found exhaustively in the sacred scriptures.

Building upon this strong theological foundation, the classical poets of the fourteenth century included the prominent attributes of Jesus (Hz. Isa) in their poetry in order to strengthen their discourse, enhance its beauty, and give it a more aesthetic character. For example, the foremost poet of the century, Ahmedî of Germiyan, composed a short qasida consisting of only fourteen couplets (no. 75 in his published Divan, see Gülüm 2022, pp. 287–8) with the refrain “Îsî (Îsâ)”. Ahmedî is one of the few poets in the entire corpus of Ottoman classical poetry who composed a poem solely about Jesus, which reflects not only his religious tolerance but also the influence of his madrasah education and the affinity he developed with Christianity through living by the Byzantine frontier.

According to the poet, who describes Jesus in his work from beginning to end; “through Jesus, the sorrow haunted world would be secure from sadness”. This expression alludes to the belief that Jesus the Messiah will return to the world near the end of time, fight against the oppressors, defeat them, and establish truth and justice. The subjects of the qasida include: the bird-shaped effigy he made out of clay by divine miracle and brought to life with his breath; his raising of the dead; his healing of those afflicted with leprosy and vitiligo; his being the light of reason and the illumination of the universe, since he is the spirit of God (Ruhullah); his knowledge of what a person eats or hides in his house; his resurrection and emergence from the pit even after being torn apart and thrown in; the freshness and abundance that appeared wherever he set foot; his ascension to heaven without any intermediary and his dwelling there like the angels; his being granted permission to perform many miracles; his being nourished by the same divine source as the other prophets, especially the final prophet Muhammad and his heralding of Muhammad’s coming.

In a similar way to the theme of this qasida, the famous story of Sheikh San‘an also contains a comprehensive account of Christianity and Jesus. Told as well in Persian literature, this story recounts how an extremely learned and devout sheikh travels one day with his students to Anatolia, where he falls in love with a Christian maiden in one of the cities he visits. Having met with her by a strange coincidence and being in love, he begins to do whatever she tells him. Eventually, at her suggestion, he converts to Christianity. In the course of events, however, he later returns to Islam, and even the girl he loves accepts Islam. This story, which occupies a large place in Gülşehrî’s Mantıku’t-tayr (see Yavuz 2007, pp. 48–112), contains intense references to numerous Christian concepts such as Jesus, the church, the tersā (Christian beauty), the zünnâr (priest’s girdle), clergy, baptism, the Virgin Mary, swineherding, the infidel, the bell, and the cross. In this respect, the story possesses the quality of a text that deals with Christianity in all its aspects. What is particularly noteworthy is that the setting of the story, Anatolia, at the time in which the events are depicted, had a Christian population. Therefore, it seems likely that the setting was chosen deliberately.

2.1.1. Miraculous Birth Without a Father and Speaking in the Cradle

The extraordinary circumstance displayed by Jesus even before his birth is that he was born without a father. This is a great miracle of God, which strengthens the faith of believers and increases the hostility of deniers. The matter of his fatherless birth is expressed in the Qur’an in an extremely logical manner as follows: “Indeed, the likeness of Jesus before Allah is as the likeness of Adam. He created him from dust, then said to him, ‘Be,’ and he was.” [Âl-i İmrân, 3:59]. Indeed, if a person engages his mind and contemplates deeply, he will realise that creating from literally nothing is a greater act than the absence of one of the two parents necessary for a child to be born. Therefore, the existence of at least one of the parties is certainly more reasonable than the absence of both. This situation is expressed in another verse through the words of Mary: “She said, ‘My Lord! How shall I have a child when no man has touched me?’” [Âl-i İmrân, 3:47].

The Gospel states on this matter: “In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, the angel Gabriel was sent to a virgin named Mary who lived in the town of Nazareth in Galilee, bringing her glad tidings, and Mary conceived miraculously as a virgin.” [Matthew 1:18]. As can be seen, the conception of Jesus by the Virgin Mary without a father is expressed here, differently from the Qur’an, in the form of ‘glad tidings’. The Gospel further records: “The angel of the Lord said to Mary: ‘Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you; do not be afraid! You have found favour with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus.’” [Luke 1:26–31]. “Mary said with astonishment, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin and have never been with a man?’” [Luke 1:34].

Garibnâme, one of the most voluminous masnavis of Turkish literature, was written by Âşık Paşa in the fourteenth century and reflects both pre-Islamic culture and the life and understanding of the Islamic period. Its volume of ten thousand couplets, its structure of ten main sections each divided into ten subsections, distinguish it from its contemporaries and from the general framework of the classical masnavi form. In the first line of the following couplet, the poet clearly reminds the reader that Jesus spoke to people while still an infant in the cradle, while in the second line he declares his mother’s innocence and, in fact, alludes to his fatherless birth:

Anun içün doğduğı dem söyledi

Kendüzini halka ma’lûm eyledi

(Yavuz 2000, I/1, p. 525)

[“Because his mother (the Virgin Mary) was innocent, he spoke the moment he was born and thus made the truth known to the people.”]

Again in Garibnâme, in a couplet referring to the Temple of Jerusalem (Bayt al-Maqdis), it is stated that Jesus’s cradle was there:

Îsânun hem vardur anda bişiği

Zîr-zemîndür yir içinde işiği

(Yavuz 2000, II/1, p. 235)

[“The cradle of Jesus was also there (in Bayt al-Maqdis); in this world, with the underground threshold in the place called Zîr-zemîn.”]

One aspect of the miracle of speaking in the cradle pertains directly to Jesus himself, while the other relates to his mother, Mary. For this reason, whenever the metaphor of the cradle appears in works of art, reference is made to both of them. Thus, both of Âşık Paşa’s couplets allude directly and indirectly to these two points.

2.1.2. Healing the Sick and Raising the Dead with His Breath

The “miracle of the breath,” regarded as one of the greatest miracles of Jesus, occurred before the eyes of the people among whom he lived, and according to some accounts, happened more than once. The most scientific explanation proposed over the centuries for why God granted Jesus such a miracle is that the science of medicine had achieved considerable progress during his lifetime. God bestowed upon His chosen prophet a miracle that surpassed the medical knowledge of the age. This, in fact, accords with the reality of Jesus’s birth—that is, his being the breath, the spirit, the word, or the divine breeze of God. It is for this reason that he was given the title Ruhullah (“Spirit of God”).

In one of the Qur’anic verses mentioning this miracle, it is told that he breathed into a bird-shaped figure made of clay, which then came to life and flew away: “And He will send him as a messenger to the Children of Israel, who will say: ‘I have come to you with a sign from your Lord: I will make for you out of clay, as it were, the figure of a bird, and breathe into it, and it will become a bird by Allah’s permission. And I heal the blind and the sick with the vitiligo, and I bring the dead to life, by Allah’s permission. And I can tell you what you eat and what you store in your houses. Surely in this is a sign for you if you are believers’” [Âl-i İmrân, 3:49]. Here, the giving of life to a lifeless being is described. The inanimate clay figure, shaped like a bird, comes alive and flies when Prophet Jesus breathes into it with his sacred breath. Thus, the miracle of reviving the dead is symbolically conveyed through the metaphor of the bird. Similarly, he restores sight to the blind and heals skin ailments such as vitiligo—known among the people as “alaca hastalığı”—again by breathing upon them. The verse continues by mentioning yet another miracle: his ability to tell people what they ate in their homes and what they had hidden away, without having seen them.

The miracles of Jesus healing the sick and giving sight to the blind are also mentioned in the Gospels, where the accounts show great similarity to those in the Qur’an: “Jesus healed ten lepers who came to him” [Luke 17:11–19]. “Jesus restored the sight of two blind men by touching their eyes, in return for their faith” [Matthew 9:27–30, 20:29–34; Mark 8:22–26, 10:46–52; Luke 18:35–43]. The miracle of raising the dead is also described in three concrete examples in the Gospels: “Jesus took a dead girl by the hand and said, ‘My daughter, get up.’ He touched the coffin of a widow’s son, saying, ‘Young man, I tell you, arise,’ and he brought to life a man named Lazarus who had been buried, through prayer” [Matthew 9:18–19; Mark 5:21–24]. These were his greatest and most well-known miracles, and the high degree of similarity between the Qur’anic and Biblical accounts is not surprising. Consequently, they found extensive expression in both the religious and artistic traditions of the Muslim East and the Christian West.

Poets almost always drew a parallel between “breath” and the gentle breeze blowing in the early morning, since this breeze, much like the life-giving breath of Jesus, revives nature. It plays a key role in the blooming of flowers and in pollination, ensuring reproduction. Likewise, the beloved’s breath (her words, her scent) grants life to the lover. Thus, breath, that is, speech—and by extension, poetry—is itself a miracle. The famous 14th-century poet Germiyanlı Ahmedî, in a short qasida describing the revival of nature in spring (bahariye), establishes a poetic analogy between the awakening of nature and the breath of Jesus that heals the sick and raises the dead:

Subh-dem Îsî-nefes olup eser bâd-ı nesîm

Ol nefesden cân bulup zinde olur hâk-i remîm

(Gülüm 2022, p. 250)

[At dawn, the morning breeze blows like the breath of Jesus; from that breath, the dead soil finds life and revives.]

In another poem, the same poet employs this motif again—this time to praise his beloved:

Kanı Îsî ki öğrene ağzundan ihyâ âyetin

Kanı Mûsî kim ana göstere zülfün mu’cizât

(Gülüm 2022, p. 398)

[Where is Jesus, that he may learn the verse of resurrection from your lips?

Where is Moses, that your hair may show him miracles?]

The couplet alludes to the greatest miracles of two great prophets while adorning the beloved with the highest form of praise. According to the poet, whatever the beloved utters brings the lovesick, half-dead lover back to life. Meanwhile, her serpent-like hair possesses the same wondrous power as the staff with which Moses performed miracles.

A lengthy verse of the Qur’an lists Prophet Jesus’s major miracles as follows: “Then Allah will say: ‘O Jesus, son of Mary! Remember My favor upon you and upon your mother. I strengthened you with the Holy Spirit, so that you spoke to people in the cradle and in maturity. I taught you the Book and Wisdom, the Torah and the Gospel. You fashioned from clay, as it were, the form of a bird by My permission, and breathed into it so that it became a bird by My permission. You healed the blind and the vitiligo by My permission, and by My permission you brought the dead forth alive…’” [Mâidah, 5:110]. These expressions deeply influenced classical Turkish poets from the earliest periods onward. The miracles listed in this verse frequently appeared in poetry as metaphors, allusions, and hyperboles. Among them, the miraculous breath became the most recurrent motif—not only in 14th-century Turkish poetry but also in later centuries.

Hoca Dehhânî, with his characteristically fluent style, exalts the lover by employing the ideal beloved concept of classical literature:

Nefesiyle ölüyi diri kılur la’l lebi

Anun içün nefesine dem-i Îsâ didiler

(Ersoy et al. 2017, p. 106)

[Her (Lover’s) ruby-colored lips revive the dead with her breath;

Hence, people called her breath “the breath of Jesus.”]

Of course, praise in classical poetry is not reserved solely for the beloved. Self-praise—fakhrīye—is also a conventional feature of the poetic tradition. The more artistically a poet does it, the more admired the piece becomes. In the following lines, we find both pride and praise: while glorifying the beloved’s life-giving lips, the poet also boasts of the life-bestowing power of his own verse because he mentions those lips:

Niçe kim Ahmedî lebüni zikre getürür

Îsî bigi deminden ölüye virür hayat

(Gülüm 2022, p. 396)

[Whenever Ahmedî mentions your lips, his breath, like that of Jesus, gives life to the dead.]

The notion that poets give life through their words—that is, through poetry—is widespread. Yet, to say that this happens because they mention the beloved’s lips is a mark of mastery unique to great poets like Ahmedî. Moreover, comparing the beloved’s tiny lips, which are virtually non-existent, with the “dead” who has disappeared and separated from life is a completely higher level of mastery.

2.1.3. Ascension to Heaven

Among Jesus’ greatest miracles is his ascension to heaven without any physical means. This extraordinary event is described in the Qur’an: “Due to their denial and slander against Mary and their claim, ‘We have killed the Messiah, Jesus, son of Mary,’ We sealed their hearts. Yet they did not kill him or crucify him, but it was made to appear so to them. Those in dispute have no certain knowledge; only conjecture. They did not kill him for certain, but Allah raised him to Himself. Allah is Exalted and omnipotent; Possessor of Judgment and Wisdom.” [Nisa/4:156–158]. In another verse, God foretells this ascension before it occurs: “Remember when Allah said: ‘O Jesus! I will take you and raise you to Myself, and I will purify and protect you from those who disbelieve, and those who follow you shall be above the disbelievers until the Day of Resurrection’…” [Âl-i İmran/3:55].

In Garibnâme, in the section recounting the story of Adam, who is considered to be both the first human and the first prophet, one encounters a somewhat peculiar narrative. According to this account, Jesus is depicted as Adam’s chest! Considering the preceding and following couplets, Moses corresponds to his abdomen, and Muhammad to his head. Although the poet intends through such imagery to praise the Prophet of Islam, the metaphors themselves are striking. Moreover, Âşık Paşa attempts to explain Jesus’s ascension to the fourth heaven by aligning it with Adam’s chest:

Îsâ kim ol Âdemün göksi-durur

Ana ol dördinçi gök kürsî-durur

(Yavuz 2000, I/1, p. 529)

[Since Jesus corresponds to Adam’s chest, he occupies the fourth heaven]

The miracle of the Ascension is also mentioned in the Gospels. From this perspective, one finds the statement: “Jesus was taken up into heaven and sat by the right hand of God” [Mark 16:19]. Both Qur’anic and Gospel accounts indicate that Jesus’s ascension is a clear miracle, and, as with all miracles, some people were led to faith while others fell into disbelief. This extraordinary event is reflected across various branches of classical arts and likewise left a mark on the pens of Ottoman classical poets.

Poets, however, rarely express such theological matters in direct terms; they typically employ simile or allusion. For instance, Gülşehrî, somewhat self-referentially, writes:

Gök dapa bulut gibi çün gürleyem

Şeb-külâhın Îsînün oğurlayam

(Yavuz 2007, II, p. 532)

[When I turn to the sky and roar like a cloud, I can even steal Jesus’ hat.]

The mention of the “hat” here is presumably symbolic as there is no historical evidence that Jesus ascended wearing a hat. This reminds the reader to approach classical texts cautiously, acknowledging that artistic representation is not strictly bound to factual reality.

In another excerpt from Garibnâme, the divine light that illuminates humanity through Jesus is referenced. Once he ascends to heaven, this light disappears for a period before ultimately being transferred to the Prophet Muhammad:

Gitdi Îsâ kaldı ol nûr bir zamân

Îsâ göğe ağdı ol oldı nihân

(Yavuz 2000, II/1, p. 327)

[After Jesus ascended to heaven, that light remained hidden for some time]

2.1.4. Jesus’ Needle

The metaphor of the “needle,” absent from canonical scriptures but present in religious narrative texts, also appears in classical poetry. According to these accounts, Jesus remained in the fourth heaven because a needle attached to his tunic symbolised worldly attachment, love, and earthly ties. It is observed that certain Ottoman poets of rind and kalender2 disposition touch upon this idea in their verses that emphasize the futility of the world or the moral peril of becoming attached to it. Ahmedî, like many classical Ottoman poets, makes use of this metaphor:

Bu varlıh riştesin yah çün bilürsin

Hicâb olduğını Îsîye sûzen

(Gülüm 2022, p. 665)

[Cut the thread of this existence! You know the needle obstructs Jesus’ ascent to higher heavens]

Eastern narratives frequently feature the “needle” metaphor, often questioning why Jesus remained in the fourth heaven, concluding that the worldly nature of the needle prevented further ascension. Undoubtedly, we see the “needle” narrative more often in poets who frequently include mystical subjects.

2.1.5. Jesus’ Struggle with the Antichrist (Deccal)

The Arabic term Dajjāl is considered one of the major signs of the Apocalypse. The belief that Jesus will return near the end of times (the Mahdi belief) is common to all Abrahamic religions. Before Jesus’ return, Dajjāl will appear to spread evil and oppose goodness. Upon his return, Jesus will confront and defeat Dajjāl, ensuring humanity’s salvation. Dajjāl may represent a person, a group, or even a heretical ideology. In Gülşehrî’s Mantıku’t-tayr (The Conference of the Birds)3; influenced by ʿAttār, human types are described as:

Biri hallâc ü biri hammâl olur

Biri Îsâ vü biri Deccâl olur

(Yavuz 2007, II, p. 636)

[One works as a wool-carder, another as a porter; one of them turns out to be Jesus, the other assumes to be the Antichrist]

2.2. Mary

Mary, extensively praised in the Qur’an and regarded as one of the exemplary women destined for Paradise, is the daughter of Imran and the sacred mother who bore Jesus by God’s command. She is known across all Abrahamic religions for her chastity, purity, and devotion to God, earning profound respect. The Qur’an states: Mention Mary in the Book; when she withdrew from her family to a place in the east and made a screen between herself and them, We sent to her Our Spirit (Gabriel), and he appeared before her as a perfect man [Maryam 19:16–17] These verses indicate that Mary gave birth to Jesus in secrecy, hidden from her people.

In the Quran’s Surah At-Tahrim, Pharaoh’s wife Asiya and Imran’s daughter Mary are cited as examples of good women. Examples of women who have followed the wrong path are the wife of Prophet Noah and the wife of Prophet Lot. “And Allah has made an example (for those who believe) Mary, daughter of Imran, who guarded her chastity and confirmed the words of her Lord and His scriptures, to whom We breathed of Our spirit, and she was of those who obeyed.” [at-Tahrim 66:12]. The verse emphasizes that Mary was a chaste and obedient woman. In the Bible, Mary is often mentioned alongside Jesus. For example, the narrative in Matthew 1:18–25 consists of expressions that introduce her to people. Classical Turkish poets also used various references to her. The most famous of these is the comparison of the rose blooming with the dawn breeze to the Virgin Mary, and the wind to Gabriel.

As is well known, before the Virgin Mary became pregnant with Jesus, her mother had dedicated her to God and deemed it appropriate for her to live in seclusion in the temple. Her relative, the Prophet Zechariah, took on her care. The temple, known in religious history as the “Al-Aqsa Mosque” or “Bait al-Maqdis,” is mentioned in the works of the 14th-century scholar and poet Âşık Paşa, where both the Virgin Mary and the cradle of Jesus are referenced:

Ol bişik bir ulu ak mermer-durur

Andan ayru iki mihrâb var-durur

Birinde Mustafâ kılmış namâz

Birisinde kılmış ol Meryem niyâz

(Yavuz 2000, II/1, p. 35)

[That cradle is a large piece of white marble; in addition, there are two mihrabs. In one, Muhammad (peace be upon him) performed prayer, and in the other, the Virgin Mary offered her supplications.]

Ahmedî, the most eminent Divan poet of the 14th century, employs two highly original metaphors. According to the poet, the garden represents the collar and cuff of Mary’s robe, while the breeze that passes through the open parts of the garment corresponds to the miraculous breath of Jesus:

Çemen old’âsetîn ü ceyb-i Meryem

Sabâ anun içündür Îsevî-dem

(Gülüm 2022, p. 685)

[The garden is the collar and cuff of the Virgin Mary’s robe. The morning breeze is, for this reason, like the breath of Jesus.]

In Gülşehrî’s famous masnavi Mantıku’t-tayr, the story of Sheikh San’an is narrated at length. Here, the main character, Sheikh San’an, addresses the Christian maiden he loves:

Sen dahi böyle bana âk olmagın

Çüftüm ol Meryem gibi tâk olmagıl

(Yavuz 2007, I, p. 80)

[Do not resist me any longer; be my companion and do not withdraw like the Virgin Mary.]

The poet likens the beloved’s distance and refusal to reciprocate love to Mary’s seclusion in the temple or her hiding behind a veil to give birth to Jesus. These examples indicate that, although classical Ottoman poetry frequently references theological terms, figures, or events, it does not primarily aim to convey a religious message.

2.3. Cercîs (Circîs, Saint George)

Known as Cercîs or Circîs in Eastern cultural and literary traditions, and as Saint George (d. 303) in the West, this famous Christian saint lived in the 3rd century CE. He was knowledgeable in the Scriptures, devout, courageous, and wise. Moreover, he was compassionate and generous, earning the respect of all believers through his piety and service. In Turkish tradition, he became widely known as Aya Yorgi. “When Muslim Turks arrived in northern Iraq, northern Syria, and Anatolia, presumably from around the 11th century onwards, they likely recognised Aya Yorgi as the Prophet Cercîs and adopted him, as did other Muslim populations in the region. However, particularly in Anatolia, for various reasons and practical necessities, he became identified with Hızır-Ilyas4 (Ocak 1991, p. 669). His identification with certain Islamic heroes or sacred figures is also reflected in the literature. Despite being killed repeatedly by the Jews, his resurrection and efforts to propagate the true faith led to the perception of Cercîs as a potential prophet.

Beyond being considered a prophet, “he is sometimes confused with the monk Bahira, and some Christian sources even claim he is al-Khidr” (Ataseven 2017, pp. 566 ff.). Historically, Anatolian Muslims also associated him with mystical figures such as Sarı Saltık and Baba Ilyas (for further information on Anatolian Muslim and Christian saint cults, and specifically the influence of Saint Circîs, see Hasluck 1929). In visual arts, Saint George is often depicted on horseback or on foot, killing a dragon with his spear and sword. Some of these depictions belong to renowned Renaissance painters such as Raphael. Such depictions of Saint George can be found in museums across Europe and Turkey (Ocak 1991, p. 665).

Saint George, prominent not only among Christians but also among Muslims, is remembered in early Ottoman poetry for his remarkable feature of repeatedly rising after being killed:

Er anda olasın ki yüzün dönmeye Hakdan

Yitmiş kez ölürsen yolına şöyle ki Cercîs

(Gülüm 2022, p. 550)

[Be like Cercîs on his path, who, even if killed seventy times, does not turn away from God.]

Ahmedî highlights, in these lines, the ideal of steadfastness in God’s path. This path is analogous to the journey of love: even if repeatedly killed, one must never turn away. Dying for the beloved is not death but true life.

In Christian iconography, Saint George, venerated as the greatest martyr, is commemorated on 23 April. In England, he is regarded as the spiritual protector of the nation. Due to an old legend in which a soldier rescues a princess from a dragon, Tsarist Russia adopted a depiction of Saint George and the dragon as an official emblem (Tümer 1993, p. 26). Ahmedî, drawing on the narrative of Cercîs’s repeated deaths and resurrections, likens the life-giving lips (words) of the beloved to Cercîs’s resilience:

Niçe ki katl ide gamzen kılıcı bini girü

Lebün ümîdi dirildür meğer benem Cercîs

(Gülüm 2022, p. 546)

[How could the dagger of your glance slay me? Surely, the hope in your lips revives me, Cercîs is me.]

For the poet, the beloved’s lips or words—the source of life—resemble Jesus’ miraculous breath, allowing the lover, like Cercîs, to die and be reborn repeatedly. Hence, poets employed these two “resurrection” metaphors from the Christian world to exalt the beloved.

2.4. Câlînûs (Galenos)

Galenos, known to have lived in the 2nd century CE and estimated to have died around 200 CE, was a renowned Greek physician and philosopher who profoundly influenced Islamic medicine. Pronounced Câlînûs in Eastern literary traditions, he is often referenced as a skilled and knowledgeable doctor, though it is said he could not cure matters of the heart, resembling the figure of Luqman. Another claim suggests that no medicine could rival wine in efficacy. Ahmedî expresses this as follows:

Sorma devâ yigini var an’eyle ihtiyâr

Kim edviye-sıfat satun alurdı Câlînûs

(Gülüm 2022, p. 548)

[Do not ask about the best remedy; rather, choose that (to drink wine), for Galenos would purchase it as medicine.]

Here, the poet ostensibly elevates wine while seemingly belittling Galenos. However, mentioning his name simultaneously signals his stature as a great physician and philosopher. The erudition of Ahmedî, who studied in Cairo, undoubtedly shapes such discourse.

3. Church, Cross, Bell, Organ and Priest’s Belt

As with the broader corpus of classical Turkish literature, elements related to the church and its instruments appear in early 14th-century poetry, reflecting the Muslim-Turkish poets’ surprisingly thorough knowledge of Christianity. These poets, often highly educated, skilfully incorporated such material.

3.1. Church (Kenîse, Deyr, Büthâne)

The term “church,” denoting the place of worship for Christians, occurs in early Ottoman poetry both literally and metaphorically. In Turkish, it generally refers to Christian temples, while older texts sometimes render it in Persian as kenîse or Arabic as deyr. Because of the icons within, it may also appear as büthane (“place of idols”). In the following couplet, Ahmedî, after comparing believers and non-believers as well as the Kaaba and the church, asserts that the true lover’s destination is only the threshold of the beloved:

Kâfirün büthâne-durur mü’minün Kâbe yiri

Âşıkun yâr işiğidür Kâbe vü büthânesi

(Gülüm 2022, p. 843)

[The place of the infidel is the church, that of the believer is the Kaaba. The lover’s Kaaba and church alike are the threshold of the beloved.]

According to poets, mystics, and scholars of the heart, love transcends religion and sect; the lover’s faith and creed is love itself. Thus, devotion belongs to the beloved, and the qibla is their threshold. These expressions may be understood as metaphorical or as hymns to divine love.

In one of Ahmedî’s qasidas, a beloved’s beauty is compared to depictions within the church, yet the poet elevates the beloved above them:

Ger güzer kılur isen büthâneye sini görüp

Diyeler bütler “teâlallâhü ammâ yüşrikûn”

(Gülüm 2022, p. 724)

[If you visit a church, the idols (depictions of Jesus or Mary) will see you and exclaim, ‘God is exalted above what they associate (i.e., the beloved) with Him.’]

The couplet depicts a Christian beauty who, instead of attending church or even attending the mass, simply stops by. The icons who witness this beauty set aside their own beauty and admire the beloved’s beauty, yet exalting God above imperfections and shunning from associating the beloved with God. Thus, it is declared that true beauty is divine beauty. Couplets with the same meaning are also found in other poems by Ahmedi (see Gülüm 2022, ll. 544/3, 659/8, 8/22).

Considering the period and Ahmedî’s prolific output, in another ghazal he advises drinking wine while continuing to pray to God for his readers. If done thus, the mosque and the church become equivalent—a strikingly universalistic sentiment for the Middle Ages:

Mey iç lîkin niyâzun kesme Hakdan

Ki mescid ola sana deyr-i râhib

(Gülüm 2022, p. 378)

[Drink wine, but do not cease supplication to God. In this way, the monk’s church becomes your mosque.]

3.2. Çelîpa (Cross)

One of Christianity’s most important symbols, the cross depicting the crucifixion of Jesus, appears throughout classical Turkish poetry. While it does not appear in the 14th century, later periods include poems referring to the Christian ritual of “casting a cross into water.” In the Mantıku’t-tayr, in the previously mentioned story of Sheikh San‘an, the following couplet depicts the scene where the sheikh renounces Christianity and returns to Islam, using the cross alongside the zünnâr (priest’s belt):

Hem çelîpâsın bırakmış yabana

Kese-durur şeyh zünnârın yana

(Yavuz 2007, I, p. 98)

[He cast his cross into the fields, and beside it, he began to cut the belt at his waist]

This couplet indicates that giving up symbols such as the cross and the zünnâr, recognised as emblems of Christianity, signifies abandoning the faith itself.

3.3. Nâkûs (Bell)

The bell, being used to summon Christians to the church and analogous to the Islamic adhan, is another significant symbol. The 16th-century poet Bâkî refers to the bell directly in his elegy for Sultan Suleiman. In the story of Sheikh San‘an, the sheikh’s departure from Christianity is depicted through the breaking of the bell:

Gözlerinden kan akıtmış yaş ile

Hem sımış nâkûsını bir taş ile

(Yavuz 2007, I, p. 98)

[Tears of blood flowed from his eyes, and with a stone, he broke the Christian bell]

In Old Turkish, the verb sımak corresponds to “to break.” Breaking or throwing the bell symbolises renouncing the faith, a motif used skilfully by the poet.

3.4. Erganun (Church Instrument—Organ)

The “erganun”, an organ-like instrument played during religious services, particularly on Sundays, was known even in ancient times. Referred to in Greek as Organon, it was also pronounced as arganun or arkanun. Played during hymns and various ritual stages, the erganun was familiar to classical Turkish poets of the Middle Ages and beyond. Ahmedî exploits the phonetic similarity between “erganun” and “ergavan” in the following couplet:

İşit nedür nevâ-yı erganûnı

Elüne al şarâb-ı ergavânı

(Gülüm 2022, p. 840)

[Listen to the sound of the erganun, and take in your hand the crimson wine]

The mystical and otherworldly sound of the organ reminded listeners of the afterlife, sanctity, and devotion. The ergavan flower/judas tree or redbud, blooming in spring on mountain slopes with red hues, is associated with the colour of wine and heralds the arrival of spring—the season of festivity, wine, and love.

3.5. Zünnâr (Priest’s Belt)

Among classical Turkish poets, the zünnâr, the belt worn by Christian clergy, was one of the most recognised symbols of Christianity. Just as Jews wear the kippa and Muslims the takke, Christian clerics wear the zünnâr. By the 14th century, Turks, coming into closer contact with the Christian world, had noticed this and used it in poetry as a tool for metaphor and identity. Hoca Dehhânî, living in this century, declares that falling in love with a Christian beauty and wearing a zünnâr at one’s waist should not be regarded with surprise:

Dehhânî çün kim ol büt-i tersâya gönlini

Virdi kuşansa biline zünnâr yiridür

(Ersoy et al. 2017, p. 120)

[Dehhânî, having given his heart to that idol-like Christian beauty, should not be judged for wearing the priest’s belt at his waist]

The poet’s use of put, tersâ, and zünnâr together presents a holistic portrait of a Christian beauty: she is both divine in her perfection and worthy of love. In another interesting couplet by Ahmedî, a parallel is drawn between the turban and robe, and between the waistbelt and priest’s belt:

Çü taylesân uzadasın adı olur burnûs

Çü ney bigi kuşanasın adı olur zünnâr

(Gülüm 2022, p. 169)

[When you extend the end of your turban, it is called a robe; when you wrap the belt around your waist like a ney, it is called a priest’s belt]

What makes this couplet intriguing is its social critique. The poet criticizes the way people talk badly about each other, gossip, and attribute everything they do. Whatever someone wears something or makes even the slightest difference in their attire, they are subjected to subjective and sometimes harsh criticism from the public. Ahmedi must have experienced this firsthand, perhaps even repeatedly, to offer such a reproach. This single couplet alone is sufficient to demonstrate the close connection between literature and society.

4. Tersâ (Christian Beauty)

As in all arts, love is a dominant theme in literature. The manifold layers of love find expression in artists’ hearts and minds. In 14th-century Anatolia, classical literature, flourishing rapidly, began to reflect the interactions and social bonds emerging in towns with a substantial Christian population. The Muslim populace, generally conservative and reserved, contrasted with freely dressed Christian women, profoundly shaping poets’ depictions of love. After the conquest of Istanbul, such encounters intensified and became more prominent in literary works. Some poets even disguised themselves to secretly visit Galata, attending churches to behold the beauties—a practice well documented in historical biographies.

Ahmedi, who actually studied in a madrasa, that is, who had a theological education period, could not refrain from likening his beloved to a Christian beauty, not remaining unfamiliar with the classical concepts of literature:

Zulmetde (…) zülf bigi yüz ile uş

Tersâ bigi (…) yeni îmâna irişdi

(Gülüm 2022, p. 884)

[When dark hair met the radiant face, the Christian beauty seemed to have come to faith]

Here, hair represents darkness (disbelief) and the face light (faith). Hair falling over the face transforms her, as if she becomes a believer. That Ahmedî could conceive such an original depiction so early demonstrates his stature among Turkish literary poets.

5. Priestship, Deyyâr (Priest/Cleric)

Asceticism, withdrawing from worldly affairs to serve God, aligns with the devoutness and sometimes strictness of Sufism. From the earliest periods, the literature that developed in Anatolia featured priests, clergy, and priests alongside each other. It would have been unthinkable for priests, so deeply involved in religious and social life, to have escaped the attention of the classical Ottoman poets. For example, in one of his ghazals, Ahmedi equates the institution of priesthood in Christianity with Sufism in Islamic mysticism, and criticizes both:

Ney nevâsın gûş idüp câm-ı şarâbı nûş it

Bî-safâ sûfîyi kogıl k’ide ruhbâniyyeti

(Gülüm 2022, p. 808)

[Listen to the ney, drink the cup of wine; disregard the Sufi, lacking joy and pleasure, as he engages in clericalism]

The poet’s comparison, or rather, simultaneous criticism, of similar figures from the two religions is noteworthy. These individuals oppose worldly pleasures or the transcendent and passionate worship of God. In classical poetry, this aspect has made them targets of lovers (poets). According to the poets, these individuals expect reward in serving God. However, lovers do not love Him for the sake of heaven or any other reward; they love Him because He is God.

The term deyyâr, meaning priest, derives from the Arabic deyr, meaning church. In classical Ottoman poetry and Eastern literature more broadly, clergy and Sufis were often portrayed as rigid and rule-bound, subject to poetic critique. Ahmedî, as one of the early poets, expresses such a view:

Şöyle inceldi eridi ten ü cân derdiyile

Söylemezsem göremez cehl ile deyyâr beni

(Gülüm 2022, p. 865)

[Through the grief and love of my beloved, my body and soul have so wasted away that, if I do not speak out, the priest cannot see me by his own effort]

This couplet is among the most remarkable of those composed in 14th-century Anatolia that incorporate Christian elements. In these lines, a hidden “confession” ritual is perceptible in the background. The poet-lover has become extremely weak and emaciated, almost disappearing, due to the love of his Christian beloved. No matter how hard he tries, it is impossible for the priest to perceive him. Yet, through his verbal expression, the lover manifests himself. It is as if he is speaking from behind a curtain in a church, before the priest, and only through his confessions, can the priest gain access to the depths of his soul and heart.

Of course, Christian elements in 14th-century classical Turkish poetry are not limited to those mentioned hereinabove. They include drinking wine, which Christians do not consider sinful; raising pigs and eating their meat; likening a beloved’s hair to disbelief (kufr) and her rose-tinted cheeks to faith (iman); references to the Bible, casting crosses into water, the Red Egg festival, and many other Christian practices. The purpose of the poets was never simply to describe these; rather, they employed all such elements as metaphors and allusions, ultimately to exalt and express love.

6. Conclusions

Religion is one of the fundamental dynamics upon which art relies to achieve its principal goal: the depiction of ideal beauty. Religions promise humanity happiness in this world and the next, while also providing the means to attain it. True beauty lies in God and in the meticulously crafted details of the universe. Artists, and poets in particular, must draw upon all human values, particularly those of their own society, in striving towards the ideal. While the poet belongs to a particular nation, he is as universal as he can be in his pursuit of beauty. It is natural for them to draw inspiration not only from nature, history, and all aspects of life but also from religions and mystical teachings. Among religions, the divine traditions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—offer poets and artists the richest materials and the widest range of themes.

By the 14th century, the literature produced by the Turks, who had been settling in Anatolia for several centuries, reflects the characteristics of their era. The process of state formation among the beyliks, unprecedented closeness with Byzantium, and the increasing political, military, and socio-cultural interactions naturally inspired poets, as they were the intellectuals of their society. The 14th century is therefore both distinct and significant. Among Muslim-Turkish poets who engaged closely with the Christian world during this period, two divan poets and two mesnevi poets stand out: Ahmedî (Divan), Dehhânî (Divan), Âşık Paşa (Garibnâme), and Gülşehrî (Mantıku’t-tayr). Examination of their works reveals strong evidence of Christian cultural influence, including references to Jesus and his miracles, the Virgin Mary, Saint George, Christian physicians and philosophers like Galen, and numerous practices and objects relating to the church or societal religious practices.

After the Turks had settled permanently in Anatolia, it becomes apparent that, within the framework of the relations established with the Eastern Roman Empire and the ensuing favourable and adverse developments alike, elements pertaining to Christianity began to germinate within poetry as original similes, allusions, and metaphors during the nascent phase of the classical era. This phenomenon, particularly following the conquest of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453, may well be taken as a portent of a more rapid advancement both in scope and in substance. In sum, it may be asserted that the relations among religions, sects, and nations—especially in early modern Asia Minor—were by no means confined to the military or political sphere; cultural and artistic exchanges, too, made themselves manifest from the very first encounters.