No, not the new Panaghia Soumela outside Veria, in Greece, but the original one in Pontus, modern day Turkey, in the lush, green Pontic Mountains of the Black Sea coast. Asia Minor is a vast necropolis of Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity, the site of one of the greatest tragedies of history. However for a brief moment, one of her holiest shrines came back to life, as if a holy seed awaiting a drop or water and sunlight, began to bloom again. This moment feels like yet another one of the miracles attributed to this monastery that is under the protection of the Mother of God.

I regret not having had the opportunity to participate in the liturgy myself. I was in Kavala at the time, which, with its huge Pontic Greek population, was truly the next best thing to being there. Television played the liturgy over and over, and no eyes watching remained dry. Outside, in cafés, on the beach, in shops, the liturgy was the only topic, replacing, for a while at least, talk of austerity, closed shops, and the prospect of emigration (or re-emigration) to Germany and elsewhere. For a moment, something loftier than the material trials of today’s Greece reigned.

The Monastery of Panaghia Soumela (“Soumela” in Pontic Greek means “of Mela”) lies on a massive ledge of Mount Mela, part of the verdant and majestic Pontic Alps. This lofty enclave is perhaps the best crowd symbol or metaphor for the Pontic people, an extraordinary branch of Hellenism. For well over fourteen centuries a religious enclave, dedicated to the Mother of God, has existed here, endowed by Byzantine Emperors, the Emperors of Trebizond, the Kings of Georgia, and, during the Ottoman era, by wealthy Pontic Greeks in Pontus and Russia. Following the Treaty of Lausanne, signed by Greece and Turkey in 1923, in the aftermath of Greece’s defeat, all Orthodox Christians were required to leave Asia Minor and the monastery was closed.

Until this past August 15, Panaghia Soumela had lain silent since 1923; it had sadly been left to the elements, becoming an empty though sumptuous relic. For most of the past nine decades, the monastery was completely deserted and falling to ruin. It became an inconvenient truth to the Turks - an elegant architectural and spiritual proof that the original inhabitants of their land were Orthodox Christians. While Turkey was poor and isolated, this monastery in the extreme northeast of Turkey was easily obscured and forgotten by most of the world—though never by Pontic Greeks. As modern-day tourism started to penetrate this beautiful and historic part of Turkey, the truth could no longer be hidden. Greeks too started to come more often, searching for lost relatives among the Pontic-speaking Muslims. In that search for their roots, the route often led the seekers to the difficult and winding trek up to Panaghia Soumela. As years wore on, the monastery became a museum, much like Aghia Sophia in Trebizond, or, of course, Aghia Sophia in Constantinople.

For many years, Pontic Greeks around the world have been pushing for the right to hold a liturgy for the monastery’s name day, the 15th of August. The thaw in the Greek-Turkish “Cold War” and the improving Russo-Turkish relations have fostered this annual “homecoming.” Last year, three thousand people converged on Panaghia Soumela for the name day and a minor incident ensued.

This year, last month, many of the Pontic Diaspora returned. The Greek and Russian organizers managed to secure Turkish permission for the liturgy to occur in the monastery, led by the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople. Over 1,500 people attended; again these were mostly Russian Pontic Greeks along with brethren from Greece. The beautiful service emphasized inclusion and tolerance. His All Holiness Bartholomew made it a point to send his blessings to Muslims who were celebrating Ramadan. That the Patriarch presided at this august occasion is quite important. It is a tacit Turkish recognition of His All Holiness’ Ecumenical role, something they have denied in recent history. Further, while the Patriarch has held services in other empty churches in Turkey, such as in Cappadocia, there is a completely different level of historical and symbolic significance in holding a service at Panaghia Soumela.

Panaghia Soumela is the holy and quasi-national symbol of the Pontic people. The Pontic Question is slightly more complicated because there are local Turks of Pontic Greek descent still living in the area and still speak the Pontic Greek dialect. Diversions from ethnic uniformity make the Turks—and the Greeks, if we are honest—jittery. These Pontic Turks have forged increasing—though low-key—links with their Greek brethren despite sensitivities between the two nations. That the Turkish authorities allowed such a religious celebration with the overtones of a national celebration in this area and at this time is indeed remarkable.

Already the talk in Kavala was of “next year, at Panaghia Soumela” for the celebration of the Dormition of the Virgin Mary. The Turks have now set a precedent sure to be repeated—and tested. Certainly the “International Congregation of Aghia Sophia,” which calls for a liturgy to be celebrated in that holiest of Orthodox shrines, has taken notice. This may be a step too far, but certainly there are other institutions, such as the long-delayed reopening of the Theological School of Halki, which can point to the Panaghia Soumela liturgy as a precedent for allowing this venerable institution to operate once again.

All things considered, I am thrilled at the events of August 15 for two main reasons. First of all, the soul of the monastery has been returned to its rightful place, and the long saga of Pontic yearning and exile has been, ever so briefly and slightly, vindicated. Second, this gesture may possibly represent a new period for Orthodox-Muslim relations in general, and Greek-Turkish relations in particular.

Perhaps this is a romantic wish, or simply one of faith. I do know, however, that Muslims greatly respect the Virgin Mary and her well-known penchant for miracles may be at work here. As her Greek Christian children, let us be joyful for “small beginnings”. Hopefully, we can look forward with faith and prudence in the face of these trying times and hope perhaps that they might be pointing toward a long-needed change for a better future.