THE 'LAST' AMONG THE WORLD'S 'FIRST' CHRISTIANS
By David Judson
Hurriyet Daily News
Sept 12 2011
Turkey
NIJ, Azerbaijan - Newspapermen like myself often seek to understand
the history of Azeris in this country, the Armenians next door,
Turkey's Kurds, Iran's Ba'hai or Egypts Copts. But what do we know of
Iraq's 60,000 Shaleks, Iran's 5,000 remaining Mandeans or the 50,000
Mhallami of Turkey?
Not much. Which was the nature of the conversation I had here last
week in this village near Azerbajian's ancient capital with Vidadi
Mahmadov, the local headman and caretaker of the informally named "St.
Eliseus" church. It is the last operating church in the world of the
"Udin," or "Udis" as they call themselves, who entirely comprise
this and two nearby villages. Their numbers of 6,000 in Azerbaijan
and no more than 10,000 worldwide are, in Mahmadov's words, "the last
of the world's first Christians."
Neither Mahmadov or his church get many visitors and it was only an
afterthought on the part of my traveling companian here that took me
off the main road to northern Gabala 40 kilometers from here to learn
what we could about this struggling community and its newly restored
church. We spoke in Azeri Turkish, but Mahmadov's native tongue is
Udi, a language spoken by all here - a Caucasian language related to
the slightly better known Lezgic.
"But maybe its just as well," the 68-year-old Mahmadov told me as we
sat in the shade of a giant plane tree older than the 17th Century
church itself. "We don't need much or ask for much."
His claim to be among the last of the world's first Christians will
surely be disputed by some and it's not my business to adjudicate. It
does, though, deserve listening.
The Udins were one of 26 tribes that made up the ancient state
of Albania (no relation to the current country of that name), the
predecessor of today's Azerbaijan. In about 300 A.D., according to
Mahmadov, that tribal confederation became the first state to formally
embrace Christianity at the urging of St. Eliseus himself. In 301,
Christianity was also embraced by the nearby Armenian state, which
more conventionally is given the title of "first."
Only the Udins remain of those original 26 tribes. After the region
was conquered by Russia, Czar Nicholas I formally abolished the Alban
Church and absorbed it into the Armenian Orthodox Church. Only "St.
Eliseus" survived as a nominally "Alban" church by virtue of its
isolation. When Azerbaijan's brief independence from the Russians
ended in invasion by the Soviet Union in 1920, Nij's church was made
a hazelnut warehouse.
Only after Azerbaijan regained its independence in 1991 were the Udin
allowed to again formally teach their language, developing with state
help a curriculum now used in the region's three primary schools.
Seven years ago, the locals regained their church, restoring it with
funds from a Baku foundation. The altar vestments the villagers have
made themselves.
Mahmadov walked me to a crypt outside the entryway when I asked when
his congregation might get a priest.
"This is our priest," he said, pointing downward. Of course, for there
is no Alban Church to reconscretate the building, no Alban Bishop to
assign a cleric.
"We come here to pray each Sunday," he said. "That's more than any
of us ever had before."
By David Judson
Hurriyet Daily News
Sept 12 2011
Turkey
NIJ, Azerbaijan - Newspapermen like myself often seek to understand
the history of Azeris in this country, the Armenians next door,
Turkey's Kurds, Iran's Ba'hai or Egypts Copts. But what do we know of
Iraq's 60,000 Shaleks, Iran's 5,000 remaining Mandeans or the 50,000
Mhallami of Turkey?
Not much. Which was the nature of the conversation I had here last
week in this village near Azerbajian's ancient capital with Vidadi
Mahmadov, the local headman and caretaker of the informally named "St.
Eliseus" church. It is the last operating church in the world of the
"Udin," or "Udis" as they call themselves, who entirely comprise
this and two nearby villages. Their numbers of 6,000 in Azerbaijan
and no more than 10,000 worldwide are, in Mahmadov's words, "the last
of the world's first Christians."
Neither Mahmadov or his church get many visitors and it was only an
afterthought on the part of my traveling companian here that took me
off the main road to northern Gabala 40 kilometers from here to learn
what we could about this struggling community and its newly restored
church. We spoke in Azeri Turkish, but Mahmadov's native tongue is
Udi, a language spoken by all here - a Caucasian language related to
the slightly better known Lezgic.
"But maybe its just as well," the 68-year-old Mahmadov told me as we
sat in the shade of a giant plane tree older than the 17th Century
church itself. "We don't need much or ask for much."
His claim to be among the last of the world's first Christians will
surely be disputed by some and it's not my business to adjudicate. It
does, though, deserve listening.
The Udins were one of 26 tribes that made up the ancient state
of Albania (no relation to the current country of that name), the
predecessor of today's Azerbaijan. In about 300 A.D., according to
Mahmadov, that tribal confederation became the first state to formally
embrace Christianity at the urging of St. Eliseus himself. In 301,
Christianity was also embraced by the nearby Armenian state, which
more conventionally is given the title of "first."
Only the Udins remain of those original 26 tribes. After the region
was conquered by Russia, Czar Nicholas I formally abolished the Alban
Church and absorbed it into the Armenian Orthodox Church. Only "St.
Eliseus" survived as a nominally "Alban" church by virtue of its
isolation. When Azerbaijan's brief independence from the Russians
ended in invasion by the Soviet Union in 1920, Nij's church was made
a hazelnut warehouse.
Only after Azerbaijan regained its independence in 1991 were the Udin
allowed to again formally teach their language, developing with state
help a curriculum now used in the region's three primary schools.
Seven years ago, the locals regained their church, restoring it with
funds from a Baku foundation. The altar vestments the villagers have
made themselves.
Mahmadov walked me to a crypt outside the entryway when I asked when
his congregation might get a priest.
"This is our priest," he said, pointing downward. Of course, for there
is no Alban Church to reconscretate the building, no Alban Bishop to
assign a cleric.
"We come here to pray each Sunday," he said. "That's more than any
of us ever had before."