Deyrulzafaran Monastery, also known as Mor Hananyo Monastery or the “Saffron Monastery,” stands perched on the sun-scorched hills just outside Mardin in southeastern Turkey. Its honey-colored stonework, warm from the sun, is said to have been mixed with saffron in the mortar – a tradition that gave the monastery its Arabic nickname “Dairu ’l-Zafaran,” meaning “Monastery of Saffron”. Established in the 5th century AD, this complex is one of the world’s oldest continuously active Christian monastic sites. Across its thousand-year history the monastery has served as a center of learning, worship, and Syriac heritage, hosting the patriarchs of the Syriac Orthodox Church for over 700 years. Today it still holds daily services in Aramaic – the language spoken by Christ – and welcomes pilgrims and history lovers alike.

Nestled amid olive groves and overlooking the fertile Mesopotamian plains stretching toward Syria, Deyrulzafaran’s setting is both dramatic and serene. From the terrace where visitors often sip fragrant saffron tea, one can gaze out over a landscape that has been sacred for millennia. The monastery’s appeal is not merely its age or its picturesque location, however. It is deeply spiritual and evocative – a living relic where layers of human devotion are etched into the stones. Walls once dedicated to an Assyrian sun god, a Roman fortress now housing Christian worship, and classrooms where Syriac language and liturgy have been preserved for centuries – all these strands converge here. For a traveler or pilgrim, Deyrulzafaran offers not just a site to behold, but a sense of continuity with the past. It remains an active religious community (unlike many ruins) and thus a bridge between antiquity and the present.

The Unfolding of Ages: The Definitive History of Deyrulzafaran Monastery

Before the Monastery: The Sun Temple of the Assyrians

Long before the first Christian stones were laid, the hilltop on which Deyrulzafaran Monastery stands was already sacred ground. Archaeologists have identified remains of an ancient Sun Temple dedicated to Shamash (the Mesopotamian sun god) deep in the monastery’s basement【86†】. This vaulted chamber, composed of massive stone blocks with a keystone-less ceiling, dates back roughly 4,000 years. At dawn, the first rays of sunlight still pierce through a small hole in the eastern wall – a design intended to mark the daily rebirth of the sun in antiquity. The complex’s many rooms (365 in total, one for each day of the year) are said to symbolize the sun’s yearly cycle. In short, the monastery was literally built over a temple of the sun: its foundations and an early segment of its structure are the original Assyrian sanctuary.

After the fall of the Assyrian empire, this same hill was later adapted as a Roman citadel. In the waning years of the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire, a fortress stood here, commanding the approaches to ancient Edessa and Nisibis. It was only when imperial authority retreated from the region that the site’s purpose shifted once more. In 493 AD, Saint Mor Shelmon (also called Mar Shleymon of Édesse) transformed the abandoned citadel into a Christian monastery. According to tradition, Shelmon brought the relics (bones) of various saints to sanctify the monastery, and he consecrated it in honor of Saint Ananias (Hananyo). Thus the fortress became a holy shelter, and the old pagan temple passed into obscurity beneath floor and mortar.

While the temple basement is acknowledged as the oldest part of the complex, it has never been fully excavated, and much of its story must be pieced together from such textual echoes and the masonry itself. Nonetheless, the existence of this sun temple remnant is often pointed out as a symbol of continuity: a physical reminder that Deyrulzafaran has been a place of sacred assembly for about twenty centuries longer than Christianity has even existed here. Even after conversion to the monastery, the community still remembered the stone temple: in some Syriac accounts it is noted that the House of Saints (Beth Qadishe) crypt may have been built over that very shrine.

The Dawn of a Christian Stronghold (4th–5th Century)

The conversion of the site into a Christian monastery coincided with the expansion of monastic Christianity throughout the Near East in the 4th and 5th centuries. By most accounts, Shelmon’s foundation dates to the late 5th century AD – Wikipedia notes an establishment year of 493, and Turkish historical sources concur that it was built around that time. Some traditions even suggest a smaller chapel existed on the hill as early as the 4th century, but it was Shelmon’s later church that became the core of the monastery. Whether one considers its establishment at 493 or slightly earlier, Deyrulzafaran must rank among the very oldest surviving monasteries in the world. (For comparison, the famous Mor Gabriel Monastery in Tur Abdin was officially founded in 397 AD, and the even older Mar Mattai Monastery in Iraq dates to 363 AD.)

Shelmon dedicated the new monastery to Saint Ananias (Hananyo), a 5th-century bishop known for his piety, and the name Mor Hananyo Monastery reflects that dedication. Over the next few centuries, the fledgling community grew slowly, living under the challenging circumstances of frontier life between the Byzantine and Persian realms. We have few detailed records of Deyrulzafaran’s early abbots or lay brothers, but Syriac sources highlight the fundamental role of Saint Hananyo himself. In 793 AD the then-Bishop of Mardin (named Hananyo in honor of the monastery’s patron) undertook a major renovation of the site. He rebuilt portions of the church and refortified the walls, imparting to the monastery its enduring structure and cementing his own name in its identity. Henceforth, the monastery came to be popularly known by his name (Mor Hananyo), though its Arabic nickname remained Deyrulzafaran (“Saffron Monastery”).

Even at this early stage, Deyrulzafaran was more than just a hermitage; it was emerging as a center of regional leadership for the Syriac Orthodox community. The monastery was associated with the Syriac city of Mabbug (modern Hierapolis) and later with the metropolis of Mardin. As Nestorian and Byzantine pressures shaped the fate of Eastern Christianity, Deyrulzafaran’s remote location helped preserve a distinct Miaphysite (Syriac Orthodox) identity. By the 6th and 7th centuries, the monastery boasted multiple chapels, residences, and a school – all supplied with water via aqueducts from the nearby mountains, as one 19th-century source notes. It became customary for Syriac Christians to send their children to Deyrulzafaran for education in the Syriac language and sacred tradition, a role it would play for many centuries. In sum, from its foundation in the late 5th century, Deyrulzafaran steadily grew in stature: transforming a pagan and military site into a beacon of Christian learning and worship.

Who Built Deyrulzafaran? Tracing the Original Founders

The question of “who built” the monastery is twofold: one part refers to the original founder, and another to the successive patrons who expanded it. Tradition names Mor Shelmon of Edessa (also called Saint Shelmon or Mor Shlemon) as the initial founder in the late 5th century. His project was the conversion of the old citadel and temple into a working monastery. That conversion could not have been easy, and it may have involved dismantling parts of the fort and rearranging stones for churches. Whether he alone financed the work or cooperated with other local leaders is not specified in surviving records. It is possible that regional rulers or wealthy Syriac families contributed to the foundation – we know that Byzantine emperors later donated buildings and relics – but Mor Shelmon is the figure most commonly credited with the very first construction.

Four centuries later, in 793, Bishop Hananyo of Mardin (after whom the current name is taken) effectively gave the monastery a second founding. He rebuilt the main church (now called Mor Hananyo Church or the Domed Church) and expanded the enclosure. From then on, the monastic community often commemorated him as a patron saint; an 8th-century Syriac text even calls the monastery “Deyrulzafaran, the Monastery of Hananyo.” Much later, in 1163, another notable benefactor was Patriarch Michael the Syrian, who commissioned a sophisticated aqueduct to bring water across the hills to the abbey, demonstrating its importance to the Syriac world at that time. In summary, while the name of Mor Shelmon is attached to the monastery’s birth, many others – bishops, monks, even Byzantine emperors – “built” Deyrulzafaran further by repairing and embellishing it across the centuries.

The Golden Era: Deyrulzafaran as the Patriarchal Seat (1160–1932)

By the medieval period, Deyrulzafaran had become so prominent that it was chosen as the patriarchal seat of the Syriac Orthodox Church. In 1160 (or shortly thereafter) the patriarch named John IV made the monastery his headquarters. This move was significant, as the patriarch had been based in Antioch or other cities for centuries. The reasons likely included both security (Tur Abdin was less exposed to Latin Crusader or Abbasid turbulence than coastal Syria) and the fact that Deyrulzafaran had already served as a notable center. From the late 12th century onward, nearly every Syriac Orthodox patriarch was enthroned and resided at Deyrulzafaran for much of his tenure.

During these centuries as the Church’s administrative heart, Deyrulzafaran flourished as an intellectual and spiritual hub. It became renowned for preserving the ancient Syriac liturgy and literature. Monks and scholars at the monastery copied manuscripts, taught novices, and kept the Syriac language alive when it was less commonly spoken elsewhere. The abbots collected a vast library of books and scrolls – by some accounts one of the richest of its kind. Travelers of the 13th century wrote that they saw Greek, Arabic, and Syriac manuscripts piled in the monastery’s halls. Unfortunately, war and time erased most of this collection, and its whereabouts remain largely unknown (some speculate that portions may have been dispersed or destroyed during 20th-century conflicts). Nonetheless, the memory of Deyrulzafaran as a “House of Wisdom” lingers. It outlasted the Mongol and Ottoman eras as a scholarly bastion and, in the late 1800s, even established its own printing press to publish liturgical books and a periodical. By the 20th century, the monastery had also gained a modest modern museum of its own artifacts.

The long tenure as patriarchal see brought one more benefit: continuity of tradition. Even as crusades, invasions, and local upheavals swept the region, the monks at Deyrulzafaran quietly maintained unbroken lines of rites and languages. Festivals were celebrated much as they had been in Justinian’s time, and holy portraits (icons) were painted in a style unchanged since the 700s. In a sense, the monastery acted as a vast archive of Syriac Christian identity. Its patriarchs – buried in the crypts here – are sometimes called the “guardians of the Syriac heritage.” No other monastery in the Middle East has preserved its heritage with such institutional cohesion.

Tumultuous Times: Surviving Sieges, Massacres, and Political Upheaval

Deyrulzafaran’s endurance is remarkable given the external storms it weathered. The Mongol invasions of the late 13th and 14th centuries, for instance, devastated many cities in Mesopotamia. Tradition holds that Timur (Tamerlane) passed through Tur Abdin around 1394, and though his forces notoriously razed many towns, the monastery somehow survived with minor damage. In part this may be because it was neither a military target nor especially wealthy in treasure. More serious disruptions came later: in 1516, during the Ottoman expansion into the region, Kurdish raiders allied with the Ottomans attacked the monastery. Chronicles speak of looting and damage to monastic buildings. A Kurdish assault in 1870 caused another temporary abandonment. Through these episodes, the monks often had to flee or hide sacred relics; but each time they returned to rebuild.

The early 20th century was perhaps the most harrowing period for the Syriac community. During World War I, Tur Abdin Christians were targeted by Ottoman and Kurdish forces in what they term Sayfo (“The Sword”), concurrent with the Armenian Genocide. Thousands of Syriac families were massacred or deported. Deyrulzafaran itself was threatened – one local history records that the monastery was briefly garrisoned by Turkish troops. Miraculously, the monks and local believers managed to defend the site well enough that it was not destroyed outright. (Gravestones outside the monastery still bear Turkish inscriptions accusing certain martyrs of rebellion, reminders of those dark months.) The patriarch at the time (Ignatius Abdul Masih) was among many leaders who fled the area; the Syriac Orthodox world was scattered. When the Ottoman Empire collapsed, few Syriacs remained in Tur Abdin.

Despite the loss and diaspora, Deyrulzafaran Monastery itself was not abandoned permanently. It continued to function as the patriarchal residence (albeit with fewer inhabitants) until 1932. Thereafter, under the new secular Turkish Republic, the patriarchate moved to Damascus in Syria – ironically at almost the same time as the Assyrian Patriarchate did so. From 1932 onward Deyrulzafaran became a local monastery again rather than the world headquarters. Sporadic restoration work took place (including repair of earthquake damage), especially from the 1950s to the 1970s. Over the late 20th century, as a dwindling community held on, international interest grew: scholars, pilgrims, and cultural advocates began documenting the site, and Turkish authorities recognized its value by placing it on a tentative UNESCO list of World Heritage sites. In recent decades the Syriac Orthodox Church, along with preservation groups, has guided careful restoration of murals and stonework.

Today the monastery stands remarkably well-preserved and remarkably alive. Its basilica churches, crypts, chapels and cells still function for worship and community life. Every stone and fresco bears witness to the many trials it survived: Arab invasions, Mongol conquest, Ottoman raids, genocide, and neglect. Each generation of caretakers left behind a story – told in the weathered inscriptions on tombs, the new paintings of saints, and even the simple saffron tea ceremonially served to guests. The continuity is extraordinary: as one travel guide notes, visiting Deyrulzafaran feels “less like a museum tour and more like becoming part of a story still unfolding”.

Architectural Marvels: A Guided Tour of the Monastery’s Sacred Spaces

What is Inside Deyrulzafaran Monastery? An Overview of the Complex

The monastery’s enclosure is a vast, rectangular precinct (roughly 63 by 71 meters) surrounded by stout outer walls. Entering through the carved stone gate, one arrives in a large central courtyard. The entire complex contains three main churches, guest rooms, kitchens, storerooms, cells for monks, and assorted chapels. Some accounts count 365 rooms in total – a symbolic number for each day of the year. These include guest lodgings for pilgrims, kitchens that once provided bread and wine for thousands, and living quarters for the community. Modern guided tours point out features like the old printing press and the tiny schoolroom where monks studied, as well as vestiges of medieval housing. Water still flows through the monastery courtesy of ancient aqueducts brought from the mountains, a testament to the ingenuity of generations past.

The layout has a discernible scheme: at the far end of the inner courtyard stand the three churches. From north to south along the back wall one finds the Church of the Virgin Mary, the Main (Domed) Church of Mor Hananyo, and attached to it the Beth Qadishe (House of Saints) crypt. On the western side of the complex is the now-empty courtyard where monks would gather for meetings, adjacent to storerooms and cells. To the east lies the entry area with the fountain, kitchen, and newer accommodation block. Scattered about are numerous chapels (for instance, one dedicated to St. Jacob of Serugh), a small wine cellar (since the 5th century Syrian monasteries made sacramental wine), and a roof terrace that offers sweeping views.

From an architectural standpoint, the harmony of styles is striking. The oldest core was built under Byzantine patronage in the early 500s (under Emperor Anastasius). One sees this in the stone masonry and in the profile of the domed Mor Hananyo church. Later renovations under Syriac bishops (especially in 793 and 1686–1708) introduced local Anatolian features: sloped roofs covered in broken tiles (instead of the flat-lead roofs of Byzantine Syria), wooden beams in ceilings, and locally-made baked-brick accents. Ottoman-era repairs are evident too, in the brickwork of some vaults and in the latticework on the windows. Nevertheless, the craftsmanship is consistently meticulous. Visitors often remark how, despite refurbishments over 1,500 years, the walls seem to have been built with planning rather than random accretion. Columns carved in sycamore and almond tree trunks, marble pavements, and carved reliefs (some with grape-cluster motifs) still linger as details in the main church and vaults.

Inside, light plays a sacred role. The main domed church is pierced by high windows that cast shafts of sunlight onto the patriarchal throne and altar. In the crypt, the only illumination comes from that small hole focused on the old sun temple chamber. The interiors are sober and often cool-toned stone, but painted icons and occasional mosaic fragments add color. In particular, the fresco of St. Hananyo in the main church (dated to 793 AD) still gleams – a rare surviving example of early Christian wall painting. Near it hang illuminated manuscripts and church vessels that testify to the monastery’s ongoing liturgical life. Pillars bearing carved animal motifs (lions, eagles) hint at artistic influences from Persia and Byzantium alike.

Though not all areas are open to the public, the general rule is that three churches and the House of Saints can be seen. Pilgrims often linger longest in the crypt, where they tend the candles lit at tombs. Others explore the sun temple basement (a forbidding descent reached by stone steps). Above ground, the Virgin Mary Church and the main church each have distinctive fonts and altars from the 17th and 19th centuries. The rooms along the north wall of the court once housed scribes; visitors can see alcoves where manuscripts were read and shelves built into walls for scrolls.

The Main Church (Church of St. Hananyo)

At the heart of the monastery is the domed church commonly called the Church of St. Hananyo or the Domed Church. Emperor Anastasius I of Byzantium originally dedicated this building in 518 AD, marking a fusion of imperial and Syriac Christian ambition. It is known for its distinctive cross-shaped dome, supported by four thick piers. Inside, the floor is paved with large stone slabs, and to the north and south of the central space stand two wooden elevated pulpits (altar platforms) dating from 1699, used historically by the congregation. The roof structure was added later in wood, after it was damaged by fire or war in the Middle Ages.

Architecturally, the church is a blend: one notes the Byzantine influence in the church’s mosaics and cross-dome, but also local and Persian elements. For example, the exterior walls bear carved reliefs of lions and serpents – motifs more commonly found in Mesopotamian art than in Roman basilicas. The interior once held painted scenes from the Bible; only one of those frescoes has survived to this day. It depicts Saint Hananyo himself, in bishop’s vestments, a vivid 8th-century image with a graceful face of ivory and ochre. This last fragment survived a fire in 1941 that destroyed much of the original wooden roof structure.

At the west end of the church stands the Patriarchal Throne – a raised, canopy-like carved platform where the patriarchs were enthroned. On feast days the senior bishop would sit here. Although it has been refurbished over the years, it still retains 16th-century inlaid panels with Syriac script and geometric patterns. Adjacent is a small chapel area (originally built by Patriarch Peter IV in 1884) which now houses the monastery’s collection of liturgical silver and crosses. One glass case, for instance, holds an ornately decorated Gospel book believed to be over 300 years old.

The main altar, against the eastern wall, is flanked by carved reliefs of grapes and olive branches – symbols of the monastic agricultural practice and Sacraments here. Two thick wooden service platforms from 1699 stand to either side inside the apse area, still inscribed with Syriac prayers. Behind the altar, a golden cross with Jesus’ figure is set against red velvet, a contrast to the otherwise white-washed walls. The church’s acoustics are excellent: even the softest chant seems to reverberate through the high dome, which must be why so many generations of monks attested to the clarity of their worship music in this space.

The House of Saints (Beth Qadishe)

Tucked against the south face of the main church is the small domed crypt called Beth Qadishe (literally “House of the Holy Ones”). This roofed chamber (10.5 by 5.4 meters, about 35 by 18 feet) dates to the 5th century in its core. It served as the monastery’s burial chapel. Inside lie the sarcophagi of dozens of monastery leaders: patriarchs, bishops, and notable monks. Tradition holds that 53 patriarchs and metropolitans of the Syriac Orthodox Church were interred here over the centuries. Their names (when known) are engraved in old Syriac on the tombs or on the chamber walls. Pilgrims often descend here to pray, lighting candles and placing small offerings (flowers, coins) at the tombs. The solemn atmosphere is thick with incense and the faint scent of old stone.

Culturally, the House of Saints is the soul of Deyrulzafaran: an ossuary of saintly lineage. One guide noted that because of these tombs, visiting Deyrulzafaran is like “visiting a cathedral as well as a historic cemetery” – the two are inseparable here. The crypt is dome-ceilinged and supported by single thick columns. Old legends say that one of these columns was hewn from a single tree trunk brought from Ethiopia, but that may be apocryphal. On one wall is a carved niche where, by all accounts, the relics of various early saints (brought by Mor Shelmon) once rested. Sadly, none of those relics remain in public view today.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Beth Qadishe is its decoration. The walls are covered in frescoes of saints (painted as though viewing them face-to-face), interspersed with Syriac inscriptions of Psalms. Above, a gold-leafed mosaic of grapevines loops around the dome, representing both the cup of the Eucharist and the vine of Christ. On the entrance lintel is carved a cross flanked by dolphins – an unusual motif symbolizing resurrection. Despite centuries of dim light and occasional damp, the painting retains its color. Inscriptions over each sarcophagus (when legible) begin with phrases like “This is the resting place of His Holiness Mor So-and-So.” Every name on those slabs connects Deyrulzafaran to the wider Christian world: there is one patriarch who once negotiated with the Patriarch of Constantinople, another who rebuilt the chapel after Tamerlane’s raid, a metropolitan who housed Armenian refugees, and so on.

No woman is buried here (women’s burials were elsewhere), but accounts say at one time many ‘Saintly Mothers’ were commemorated on the outer walls. Today, that list of names is a poignant record: bishops and scholars of all the great monastic centers of the Middle East. The final tomb is dated 1894 – Patriarch Ignatius Peter IV – after which the burial practice moved out of Turkey. A visitor descends those steps not only beneath ground but behind time itself; one feels connected to centuries of prayers. For Syriac pilgrims especially, Beth Qadishe is a hallowed place, a maternal crypt of faith, as if all previous leaders lay in vigil waiting to welcome each newcomer into the family.

The Ancient Sun Temple

Returning upstairs, we visit perhaps the most surprising feature: the original Sun Temple in the monastery’s basement. A narrow stairway (on the east side) leads down into darkness. The chamber is cold and damp – a sharp contrast to the hot Middle Eastern sun that once streamed in. This two-room sanctuary is completely unplastered, its walls and arched ceiling built of interlocking stones without any mortar (so-called cyclopean masonry). Its design is purely functional: the only illumination comes from a round hole at the top of the smaller room, through which morning light strikes the floor below.

In this eerie crypt we can still witness the ingenuity of ancient Assyrian builders. The larger main chamber is ringed by flat stones supporting each other, requiring great engineering skill for its time. Each morning at sunrise, a beam of light would move slowly across the chamber to its opposite wall – literally animating the temple. Walkers say they feel a chill as they stand beneath that small hole. There are no idols or capitals left; in antiquity there might have been a small statue or offering table. Archaeologists admit that the temple has not been formally excavated, so much of its story is guesswork. We know only from legends and the building itself that it was here first and that Christianity (and later Islam) completely accommodated it in place rather than dismantling it. As a result, beneath the monastery lies the oldest secular room in all of Anatolia, still standing since the 2nd millennium BC.

Travelers describe the descent into this vault as a profound experience: one goes down steps into twilight, passes a long corridor of ruins, and emerges into a circular hall where only a dim shaft of light arrives. It is quiet except for the dripping of groundwater. Many report it feels like a time machine – an authentic step into the depths of history. Not surprisingly, folklore arose around this site: some said that early Christians had left tiny crosses or scratched symbols on the stones as secret signs of faith. In truth, we can still find faint carved crosses on some blocks, which may have been made by early Syriac monks converting the temple for Christian devotions. However, these marks could also date to other eras; what is clear is that by the 5th century the room was effectively sealed. Only centuries later, visitors re-discovered it and realized the significance of those foundations.

Today, a small latch usually keeps the entrance closed, partly to preserve the space and partly for safety (the stairwell is steep). But guided tours make a ritual of unlocking and descending, encouraging each guest to place a hand on the cool stones. It is deeply moving to stand there knowing you are in one of the world’s oldest surviving religious chambers. Though technically part of the monastery, the sun temple feels entirely distinct – a quiet homage to a civilization that viewed the sky with reverence, just as its Christian descendants revere a higher one.

The Virgin Mary Church (Meryem Ana Kilisesi)

At the northeast corner of the complex stands the Church of the Virgin Mary (Meryem Ana), the oldest church in the monastery. Built by the original founder, it dates from roughly the 6th century. Today it is smaller than the main church and is used primarily for baptisms. Archaeologists have identified it by the 8th-century cross-shaped baptistery basin still intact within its walls. Locals call it “the chapel of baptisms” since any child’s baptism in the monastery takes place here. Its floor is lower than the church’s entrance, forming a sunken chamber with a venerable octagonal font carved of stone. Inscriptions of Psalms are painted around the arched ceiling – the work of Patriarch Cercis II in the late 17th century. Some original Byzantine mosaics survive in the apse; a visitor can spot tesserae of blue, gold, and red embedded behind newer plaster.

Under Patriarch Cercis II (1686–1708) the church was renovated and expanded, giving it the form seen today. A handmade marble altar bearing Syriac inscriptions (donated by Cercis II) sits to the east. Below it, three wooden doors carved in 1699 protect a reliquary niche; on these doors are the opening verses of Psalm 119 in Syriac script. The atmosphere here is sombre and pastoral: evening light filters through narrow windows set high in the walls, illuminating the whitewashed surfaces. In one wall hangs an old crucifix carved from olive wood, a gift from a Turkish kadi (judge) who had lived at the monastery centuries ago. Unlike the main church, the Virgin Mary Church never ceased being used; for much of Ottoman rule it was the only active shrine as others fell silent. Perhaps because of that continuity, this small church feels the most intimately ancient. When a family is baptized here, they often reminisce that their ancestors were baptized at the same font generations before.

The Baptistery and the Throne of the Patriarch

Adjacent to the Virgin Mary Church is the monastic baptistery proper: a large stone baptismal pool sunk into the ground, likely dating to early centuries of the monastery. It is octagonal, shallow, and lined with lead. Once used for adult baptisms (Isaiah 1:1 says “by the river of Beth-zatha”), today it is maintained but not regularly used. However, Patriarch Cercis II’s octagonal font is right beside it and is still in ceremonial use. Visitors peek through a low doorway into this room, noticing its five side niches where oil lamps once burned. The water supply line for this baptistery originally came from the same aqueducts as the rest of the complex; one can see the inlet on the eastern wall.

On the opposite end of the main church is the patriarch’s throne (the kathisma). This is a raised wooden platform with a wooden canopy, richly inlaid with ivory and gold leaf panels. It was carved in the 19th century under Patriarch Dionysius Nassar, but its base is older. The throne faces west so that the patriarch looked out over the congregation and down the long nave. On big feast days, the doors of the throne were closed, and he emerged through a side panel, in a liturgical drama symbolizing Christ’s entry to the Temple. Today the throne is behind glass, but one can still make out the fine hand-scripted Syriac prayers and the portrait medallions of earlier patriarchs that decorate its sides. It serves as a tangible link to the lost era when the world’s Syriac leader guided worship from this spot each morning.

Courtyards, Terraces, and Secret Passages: Exploring the Monastery’s Layout

Beyond the churches, Deyrulzafaran offers many small alcoves and hidden corners waiting to be discovered. A paved courtyard on the north side leads to the guesthouse and library (now converted to a simple museum with antiquities). One sees traces of the old scriptorium – desks carved into stone walls – and a shuttered doorway that probably once opened to the vineyard terrace. Indeed, ruins of terraced gardens cling to the slope behind the complex; tradition says they grew grapes for sacramental wine and olives for cooking. Carved stone presses (like wine-press chambers) are still visible on these terraces. An entire wing near the entrance was used by the priests to prepare Holy Communion on Saturdays.

A narrow alleyway on the west side connects the main courtyard to an outer yard that used to house stables and store food. Here a 19th-century addition stands: a two-story building that once held the monastery’s printing press and a workshop for woodcarving. Today it is partly a wine shop (selling locally-made “Dzafaran” wines) and partly closed to visitors. Everywhere one walks, one finds stone inscriptions: wall engravings marking renovation dates in Syriac (often omitting the millennium for brevity), and even Ottoman Turkish inscriptions outside the gate recording building repairs.

Secret passages are more myth than reality at Deyrulzafaran. Unlike medieval castles, the monastery has no known escape tunnels; its fortifications were more symbolic (thick walls, corner towers) than military. There is one underground cistern reached by a trapdoor in the courtyard – this 1,000-year-old brick vault was used to store water and now protects the monastery’s backup generator. In the daytime a faint light filters down; visitors sometimes mistake it for sunlight and press their ear to the stone floor to hear their echo in the cistern’s depth.

Stairs and terraces, however, are plentiful. Climbing to the rooftop terrace rewards visitors with panoramic views: one sees the entire constellation of Tur Abdin’s villages and mountains. On a clear day, the minarets of Mardin’s old city glimmer to the west, even though the monastery lies only ten kilometers away. In late afternoon the sun hits the yellow stone just right, making the monastery glow like amber. It is said that on the longest day of summer, the shadow of the Great Lat once aligned with the monastery gate – a reminder that even the sun itself still orbits this ancient center.

The Heartbeat of Deyrulzafaran: The Syriac Orthodox Faith and Community

Understanding Syriac Christianity: Core Beliefs and Traditions

Deyrulzafaran Monastery is lived religion, not just architecture. Its community belongs to the Syriac Orthodox Church, a branch of Oriental Orthodoxy that split from the Byzantines after the Council of Chalcedon (451 AD). This church venerates Jesus as one person in whom divine and human nature are united in a single nature (Miaphysite doctrine), differing from both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox formulations. For monastery visitors, this theological nuance is mostly implicit – it shapes the liturgy but not everyday life. What is palpable, however, is the continuity of Eastern Christian tradition: the sound of ancient Aramaic chants, the head-coverings of nuns, the icon of the Virgin Mary adorned with olive branches.

Worship at Deyrulzafaran follows the Syriac rite, a highly symbolic liturgy sung in classical Syriac. On any given Sunday one might hear hours of chant reciting the Psalms, out of ornate hymnbooks with gold-edged pages. The congregation stands rather than sits in pews, and incense is burned continuously from a swinging thurible, filling the sanctuary with fragrant woodsmoke. The Eucharist (Holy Communion) is given in small gilded chalices; families line up to receive a drop of wine on a spoon soaked bread. Although foreign tongues now outnumber native Syriac speakers in Turkey, the services remain in Syriac, as a living link to antiquity. In fact, children are still taught the Syriac alphabet in the monastery school – inscriptions remain on the classroom walls to illustrate letters.

Symbolism abounds in these ceremonies. The cross used in blessing is the Eastern patriarchal cross (two horizontal bars). The clergy vest in colors corresponding to the liturgical season (dark blue for Lent, bright green for Pentecost). Many of the old rituals involve standing on marble mosaic floors shaped like the Holy Sepulchre, or walking around columns known as “prophets’ stands.” It is all deeply ancient and steeped in mystery: to attend a Feast of the Nativity or Holy Saturday liturgy here feels like joining a congregation in Byzantium.

The Aramaic Language: Hearing the Language of Christ Spoken Today

Remarkably, the monastery has managed to be a living center of Aramaic culture for two millennia. Syriac, a dialect of Aramaic, is not just a liturgical relic but actually taught and used. The monks speak a modern form called Turoyo in daily life, and the old classical language is used in prayer. Elderly villagers in Mardin still converse in Western Syriac among themselves. When one hears a monk answer a question in Aramaic, or reads an icon caption in Syriac script, one realizes that Deyrulzafaran is one of the few places on earth where the tongue of Jesus remains alive. A 2025 announcement by the Council of Europe’s Iter Vitis highlighted that Deyrulzafaran “remains a living center of Aramaic culture, one of the few places where Aramaic – the liturgical language spoken by Jesus – is still taught and used in religious services”.

This cultural continuity is carefully maintained. In the simple schoolroom, boys sit at benches writing Syriac letters. The monastery library (now mostly archived) still contains old catechisms in Syriac, teaching believers how to pray and fast according to ancient norms. Monastic chronicles are recorded in Syriac. Even graffiti on the walls (often petitions to saints) is in Syriac script. As one monk once told a visitor, “Here, we speak our father’s language every day.” This aspect of the monastery has made it a focus of cultural preservation efforts; scholars and aid organizations view Deyrulzafaran as a bastion against the loss of Syriac language and identity in Turkey.

The Syriac Community in Mardin Today: Challenges and Perseverance

The greater Mardin region once teemed with Syriac Christians – monasteries and villages dotting Tur Abdin. But today only a few thousand remain in Turkey. Many emigrated to Europe or the Americas in the 20th century. Nonetheless, an active community still centers around Deyrulzafaran. The local Syriac Orthodox (often called “Assyrian”) population congregates for major feasts; families from as far as Istanbul will travel south by car or van to celebrate Easter and Christmas in these holy halls.

Life here is humble. The monastery’s resident clergy number only a handful (often one or two priests and an aging caretaker). These men and the few nuns in the convent across the courtyard wake at dawn for matins, pray throughout the day, tend the gardens, and prepare for liturgy. They also open the site to visitors, give tours, and run the gift shop (where one can buy handmade rosaries or local wine). Because there are so few monks now, itinerant Syriac visitors sometimes volunteer at the monastery – volunteering to help with the harvest, for example, or teaching languages in the school. On Sundays, the church can become quite full, sometimes with three generations of a family present: grandparents who remember life under Ottoman rule, middle-aged parents, and children.

Challenges abound for this community. Language is one: the younger generation more readily speaks Turkish, so there are efforts to encourage learning of Syriac hymns. Legal battles over property are another; the Association for the Protection of Cultural Heritage (KMKD) has reported that many ancient monasteries face bureaucratic disputes over their lands. Even Deyrulzafaran has had to fight to keep its pastures and orchards. Despite these issues, the monastery is working with international partners to restore its structures and document its intangible traditions. Programs funded by entities like the U.S. Ambassadors Fund for Cultural Preservation have digitized manuscripts and launched websites to keep the Syriac liturgy accessible.

Daily Life in the Monastery: The Routines of Monks and Students

A typical day at Deyrulzafaran is governed by the ancient monastic schedule (horologion). Before dawn, a lone bell tolls for matins (saprone), and the monks (or the single monk on duty today) leave their cells to chant prayers by candlelight in one of the chapels. After a quick breakfast of bread and olives, mid-morning is usually set aside for communal work: tending the garden, sweeping the compound, or preparing incense. By noon they gather again for the Divine Liturgy in Aramaic. The afternoon might include reading and copying manuscripts for any visitors or local students, or receiving pilgrims who come for counsel. At sunset, vespers and supper take place, followed by a final prayer vigil. Each service is exacting: incense and candles must be arranged just so, ancient incense recipes followed, and a special chantbook passed down by Patriarch Ignatius in the 1800s is still sung from.

The monastery also historically ran a theological school. In modern times, a handful of seminarians come from abroad (e.g. Syria or India) to study Syriac language and theology under the abbot. These students learn at desks with carved indentations for inkwells, working with dusty scrolls of Scripture. One room that once held print presses is now a dormitory for visiting priests. The caretakers keep traditions alive: huddling together on feast days to paint eggs with olive extract (a local custom) and singing the same anthems their ancestors did. Tourism has brought another role: the monks have become guardians of heritage. Visitors say the monks often answer hundreds of questions from daily tours – about history, prayers, or just the meaning of an icon – with patient familiarity.

Major Feasts and Celebrations at Deyrulzafaran

Being a monastery dedicated to Christ and Mary, the liturgical calendar here is rich. The Feast of the Annunciation (March 25) and the Nativity (December 25 according to the Julian calendar) draw Syriacs from across Turkey and Syria. They come to venerate the icons in the Virgin Mary Church and to drink sweet saffron wine after the liturgy. On Good Friday, the faithful perform the ritual of the Twelve Gospels around the Paschal Tomb (a low, square structure inside the main church that symbolizes Christ’s tomb); this solemn ceremony is largely unchanged from Byzantine times. In spring, the Feast of St. George or of St. Mary of Tur Abdin brings pilgrims with icons and banners to the courtyard.

One local highlight is the Feast of Bishop Mor Hananyo (May 10), commemorating the saintly bishop of 793 AD who rebuilt the church. On that day, the monastery rings all its bells, and young children dress up as biblical characters in a procession. Tourists sometimes stumble upon such events and are struck by how, amid these hills, people maintain chants and costumes that no one else in the world knows how to perform. In fact, Monastery accounts say even the old rite of Holy Week (arranged around the mystery of the sun rising in the temple) is carefully adhered to, making Deyrulzafaran a true living museum of Syriac Christianity.

Planning Your Pilgrimage: The Complete Visitor’s Guide

Is Mardin Worth Visiting? Why the City Is an Essential Part of the Experience

Before heading out to the monastery, most travelers spend time in Mardin’s Old City. Mardin, often called the “Pearl of Mesopotamia,” is a steep, stone-built town on a plateau overlooking the plain. Its walls and streets date back to medieval times, and the city’s skyline of minarets and church domes is an experience in itself. The Syriac community thrived there alongside Arabs and Kurds, and today many old Syriac families still live in Mardin. A visitor quickly appreciates that Mardin and Deyrulzafaran are two chapters of the same story: on one end, colorful bazaars and turquoise-mosaic churches tucked behind city walls; on the other, the serene monastery surveying the plain.

Mardin’s museums provide cultural context. The Mardin Museum (formerly a medrese) has exhibits on the region’s diverse heritage. Nearby Kara Koyunlu Hammam (15th-century bathhouse) has displays of Christian artifacts recovered from around Tur Abdin. Within walking distance of the Old City, several other historic churches (like the Church of the Forty Martyrs with Syriac inscriptions) can enrich understanding. Local restaurants serve dishes that highlight Assyrian flavor: spiced lamb stew, bulgur pilaf with mint and coriander, and a famous millet-soup called çilibik that is often served saffron-infused. Saffron sweets like zerde (a rice pudding scented with saffron and rosewater) are specialties here and the monastery’s name hints that this golden spice is deeply woven into local life. One can easily spend a day exploring Mardin’s narrow alleys, admiring stone carvings and watching artisans hammer silver crosses, before driving to the monastery.

How to Get to Deyrulzafaran Monastery from Mardin City Center

Deyrulzafaran lies about 5 to 10 kilometers southeast of Mardin’s center, depending on the route. There is no public bus or train to the monastery. The easiest way is by taxi or private car. Most visitors simply negotiate a round-trip taxi fare. According to recent sources, hiring a taxi for a half-day (to Dara and Deyrulzafaran) may cost around 500 Turkish Lira (about $20-$30 in 2024). The museumofwander blog notes that taking a taxi from Mardin (about 10 km away) is straightforward. An alternative is to rent a car and drive: roads are good and well-signposted to “Deyrulzafaran Manastırı.”

Some travelers report that a shared minibus (dolmuş) leaves from Mardin toward Dara (the ancient city) and can be flagged along the way to drop passengers at the monastery. However, schedules are sparse. One guide warned that only one minibüs per day might run, and it’s often unreliable. Therefore, expect to rely on a private ride. A few adventurous visitors actually hike up from Mardin (trails climb over the rocky hills), but this is strenuous in summer heat and not generally recommended.

Upon reaching the monastery gate, note that vehicles cannot drive inside the courtyard. Park on the paved forecourt. Do not underestimate the climb from Mardin to Deyrulzafaran: it’s uphill for 10 km, and there are several switchbacks on the country road. Many visitors remark that the final approach, with mustard-yellow fields and olive groves on either side, feels like entering another world.

Deyrulzafaran Monastery Opening Times and Entrance Fee 2025

As of 2025, the monastery’s official hours are set by the Turkish Ministry of Culture. According to up-to-date guides, it is open daily year-round. In summer (April–October) the visiting hours are roughly 9:00–11:30 and 14:00–17:30. In winter months, the morning slots begin earlier (8:00) and close by early afternoon (16:00). The site is closed on Tuesdays and some religious holidays, so it is wise to check the latest schedule before planning your trip.

Admission is modest but required: the entrance fee is TRY 50 per person (about $5–10 USD, depending on exchange rate). This fee includes the mandatory guided tour led by an English-speaking monk or schoolchild guide. Independent wandering is not permitted; as one source notes, “exploring independently isn’t an option – all visitors must join organized groups led by knowledgeable guides”. Tours run roughly once an hour during opening times. If you arrive in off hours, you may have to wait or return later for the next tour. (Tip: Bring 50 TL cash to pay the fee directly at the office.)

Guided tours last about 20–30 minutes. They cover the main church, the House of Saints, and often the sun temple. After the tour, visitors are free to wander the courtyard and certain chapels at leisure. One local guide (from 2024) described how the entire visit takes about one hour including the tour. A small museum area in the old printing house displays ancient liturgical objects and explanations in several languages. A gift shop sells Assyrian wine (Dzafaran brand), sweets, and religious souvenirs – including bottles of saffron tea (a monastery specialty). Restrooms and a water fountain are available on site.

Are There Guided Tours Available?

Yes. Tours are compulsory: each group is taken by a monastery guide (often a student from a local school trained by the church). English is usually spoken on the tours, though guides may occasionally provide only Turkish commentary if an English guide is not available. Spanish, German, and other languages are less common. In peak season, tours form as groups of 8–12 people; if you arrive alone, you will be grouped with the next available tour. The guides are well-informed about the monastery’s history and sometimes share personal anecdotes (for example, “My grandmother also studied here”). Photography is permitted during tours, except inside the main sanctuary where the clergy ask visitors to be silent.

If you prefer a private guide for more flexibility, hotels in Mardin can arrange one (often a local Syriac Christian), but note that an official monastery guide is still required for entry. Many independent travelers simply complement the monastery’s guide with a separate city guide to explain broader Syriac culture. Expect the official tour to focus on factual points – the guiding text is similar each time – while a privately hired guide might answer any question about costume, language, or modern community life that you have.

What Should I Wear When Visiting the Monastery? A Guide to Respectful Attire

Deyrulzafaran is an active church, so visitors are expected to dress modestly. This means covering shoulders and knees as a minimum. The dress code is not complicated: men should wear long pants (no shorts or sleeveless shirts), and women should cover their shoulders and legs below the knee. Better to err on the side of modesty: for women, a headscarf is appreciated when entering the church buildings (some scarves are provided at the door if you forget). T-shirts are fine, but tank tops or short skirts are frowned upon. Shoes must be removed before entering the chapels, so wear socks you don’t mind exposing.

No flash photography is allowed inside the churches or crypts – not just to protect the art, but out of respect. (Non-flash photography in most areas is acceptable.) During liturgies or prayer times, remain silent and reverent; even if you do not participate, stand quietly at the back. Note: Visiting Deyrulzafaran is a solemn experience for many, so it is good etiquette to behave as if you are a guest in someone’s sacred home.

Photography and Videography Rules

As mentioned, photography is mostly allowed, but with these caveats: No flash in the churches or crypt. Flash can damage ancient pigments and also disturbs worshippers. Do not use tripods or large cameras (the tours are small and space is limited). Many visitors simply use cell phone cameras. The guides won’t mind if you take pictures of exteriors, courtyards, and uncovered areas. Video recording is technically permitted but keep it short and unobtrusive. Always ask before filming any clergy or local people.

Importantly, do not try to climb on altars or relic cases to get a shot. And since the House of Saints is a tomb, treat it with the same respect as a real cemetery. Planes and drones are strictly forbidden overhead for cultural and security reasons. If you plan a professional photoshoot, you must request permission in advance from the Patriarchate (this is rarely granted to casual tourists).

Accessibility for Visitors with Disabilities

The monastery is centuries old and built on rugged terrain, so full accessibility is challenging. The main courtyard and churches have level floors, but uneven stones and steps exist throughout. There are no elevators. A wheelchair user may find it possible to navigate the central courtyard and the ground-level churches (the Virgin Mary Church has a slight step). However, the House of Saints crypt involves a flight of about ten stone steps. The sun temple basement has 20 steep steps down. Ramp installations or handrails are minimal. Strollers or walkers can be useful.

Service animals are generally allowed if leashed, but check in advance (sometimes local rules require a note). The monastery has a few benches in the courtyard and inside church naves. If you have mobility limitations, it’s best to arrange for a short visit or at least have assistance. The guides will do their best to accommodate special needs; they once rolled an elderly pilgrim in a makeshift chair down the sun temple stairs so she could experience the chamber.

Beyond the Monastery Walls: Exploring the Tur Abdin Region

Tur Abdin: The “Mountain of the Servants of God”

Deyrulzafaran is part of Tur Abdin, a plateau range whose Syriac name literally means “Mountain of the Servants (of God).” This region has been inhabited by Syriac Christians for centuries, making it one of the world’s great Christian heartlands outside of Europe. The traditional home of these Christians, Tur Abdin rises gently from the Mesopotamian plain up toward the Taurus range. Besides Deyrulzafaran, Tur Abdin hosts dozens of monasteries (about 50 at its peak), each with its own tale. While few monasteries are still active today, they form an astonishing network of medieval Christian architecture up the valleys.

Tourists often create multi-day itineraries around Deyrulzafaran to explore this network. The neighboring monasteries of Dayro d-Qartmin, Mor Malke, and Kafro stand as remnants of early monastic settlements. Scholars have noted that comparing these sites can reveal differences in architectural styles between those built under Byzantine rule and those constructed later under local patrons.

Geographically, Tur Abdin’s significance is also due to its lush environment (by Middle Eastern standards). Olive groves, pistachios, and vineyards have grown here for millennia. Indeed, viticulture is part of Deyrulzafaran’s story – the monks kept vineyards that supplied wine for liturgies. Nearby, the town of Midyat offers its own cultural appeal: famous stone houses and silver artisans, plus the ancient zincirli (cave) church carved into rock. For many, a day trip to Tur Abdin includes visiting a few of these monasteries and churches, each one whispering of a different era.

Deyrulzafaran Monastery vs. Mor Gabriel Monastery: A Comparative Guide

A frequent question is how Deyrulzafaran compares to Mor Gabriel Monastery, another famous Syriac site in Tur Abdin. Mor Gabriel (founded 397 AD) is often cited as the oldest functioning Syriac Orthodox monastery in the world, while Deyrulzafaran followed a century later. Visually, Mor Gabriel (nestled in a valley near Midyat) looks smaller and more secluded, with stone houses built into its hillside. Deyrulzafaran, on a broad hilltop, appears more expansive and fortress-like.

Historically, Deyrulzafaran has the edge: it was the patriarchal seat for centuries and hosts the Sun Temple, features neither Mor Gabriel nor others. On the other hand, Mor Gabriel was continuously inhabited by monks (it even housed refugees as late as World War I) and it operates a functioning seminary today. In 2017, access to Mor Gabriel became politically controversial due to land disputes, whereas Deyrulzafaran enjoys easier relations with authorities (partly due to its lower profile, partly thanks to tours bringing tourist revenue).

In short, if you can only visit one monastery, choose Deyrulzafaran for its grand scale, fortification, and rich archival heritage. If you have more time, Mor Gabriel offers a complementary experience: a living monastic community in a picturesque valley with easier terrain. The choice also depends on geography: Mor Gabriel is closer to Midyat, while Deyrulzafaran is closer to Mardin and Dara. Many travelers combine both, since both are within easy driving range (about two hours apart).

Other Must-See Syriac Monasteries and Churches in the Area

Tur Abdin is dotted with other sites worth exploring:

• Mor Malke Monastery (St. Melke): A few kilometers north of Deyrulzafaran lies this smaller monastery, dating to the 4th century. Once famed for its illumination of manuscripts, it now has a small active community of nuns. Its quaint courtyard and chapel are accessible to visitors.
• Dayro d-Qartmin (Mor Gabriel of Qartmin): Not to be confused with the larger Mor Gabriel in Midyat, Qartmin (near Savur) is the valley monastery where many Syrian bishops resided in the Middle Ages. Its frescoed rock church, cut into a cliff, is a highlight.
• Mor Malke (Kefar d-Patra): A rocky-cliff church complex near Deyrulzafaran that functioned as a monastery in antiquity.
• Church of the Forty Martyrs (Kırklar Kilisesi): In downtown Mardin itself. This city church (5th–6th century) has one of the finest Syriac mosaics of angelic figures in Turkey.
• Mor Augin Monastery (Deir Altun): 15 km north, now in ruins, but once a vigorous community that gave rise to many other monastic centers.
• Northeast of Mardin, Mor Yohannon (Kırklar) and Mor Hananyo of Karbo** are smaller sites.
• Rock church of Mor Barsavmo: A cave church near Midyat with a panoramic view.
• Midyat’s Churches: The Assyrian and Syriac churches within Midyat’s old town (like the Church of Meryem Ana) offer a city-heritage complement.

Each site has its own legend and architecture style. If traveling the region, mix visits to the rural monasteries (for their remote charm) with at least a brief stop in Midyat or Tur Abdin towns to experience local culture.

The Ancient City of Dara: A Perfect Day Trip Combination

Just down the same road toward Syria is the ruins of Dara (Daras). Founded in 507 AD by Byzantine Emperor Anastasius I, Dara was a major fortress city on the Roman-Persian frontier. It boasts a vast necropolis (rock-cut tombs), a Roman cistern (Maksem), an agora, and city walls still partly standing. Modern travelers often pair Dara with Deyrulzafaran in one outing: a taxi can do both in a half-day. Visiting Dara provides context to Deyrulzafaran’s world: Dara was a military city where monks from Tur Abdin might find lodging. The drive between Mardin, Dara, and Deyrulzafaran passes through the rolling Mesopotamian plains – olive groves and mustard fields undulating under a vast sky.

Dara is only 30 kilometers from Mardin. Its entrance is free, and its opening hours (08:00–17:00) neatly encompass a morning trip. There is a minimal ticket booth for parking, but no guide requirement (informational panels stand alone). After touring the rock tombs and pigeon towers at Dara, one can take a short detour up the hill to Deyrulzafaran on the return to Mardin. This route was actually the main approach to the monastery in centuries past, and some guides will point out the crumbling Byzantine aqueduct that once linked the two sites. In winter, the sharp contrast of Dara’s bare stone ruins against Deyrulzafaran’s golden walls makes for photogenic views. In spring, the shared wildflowers and sparse trees tell of a land that has nourished civilizations since antiquity.

Experiencing Mardin’s Old City: A Traveler’s Itinerary

No visit to Deyrulzafaran is complete without soaking in Mardin itself. Begin in the Old City: the Deyrulzafaran hotel at the top of Kasımiye Medrese offers a panoramic vista of Deyrulzafaran and Dara in the distance. In the winding streets below, tour the beautiful glass workshop Ebru (for marbled paper), and the Silver Market (detailed Syriac crosses and filigree). The Zeynel Bey Mausoleum (14th century) and the Ulucami (Great Mosque, 12th century) showcase Mardin’s Islamic architecture, reminding visitors that this city was multicultural – Syriacs, Kurds, Arabs, and Turks lived side by side.

For a shorter trip, simply visit the Church of St. John (Kırklar Kilisesi) with its celebrated mosaic floor, then head down to the Deyrulzafaran Souvenir Center for local crafts (silks, spices, carved olivewood). Many guides recommend finishing in Mardin’s Grand Covered Bazaar. Here one can sip strong Turkish coffee spiced with saffron at Bakrouti Cafe while watching the call to prayer echo from mosques. Each layer of Mardin tells part of the story that leads naturally to Deyrulzafaran’s doorstep.

The Flavors of Mardin: Culinary Experiences Near the Monastery

Saffron-Infused Delicacies and Local Teas

Saffron is not only in the monastery’s name – it has flavored regional food for centuries. In Mardin, many families cook zerde, a celebratory rice pudding scented with saffron, rosewater, and studded with pine nuts and currants. (Nearly 60% of local households prepare it for special occasions.) Another saffron dish is şerbet: a sweet yellow sherbet drink often served at weddings.

At Deyrulzafaran itself, saffron tea is a trademark. The monastery café brews it in glass tulip cups for visitors to enjoy on the terrace. The tea combines saffron threads with black tea and cardamom; it’s both medicinal (reputed to soothe aches) and symbolic of local hospitality. Pilgrims say sipping Deyrulzafaran’s saffron tea while gazing over the plains feels like a ritual blessing from the saints. Also on offer are sweet butter cookies infused with orange blossom – home-style pastries that monks dip in honey.

Olives and olive oil are ubiquitous here, too. The monastery’s walls are lined with olive trees, and local restaurants serve spicy green olives marinated with garlic and chili. One specialty of Mardin is ciğer kebabı (lamb liver kebab) cooked on skewers; saffron and cumin are sometimes added to the spice rub. Vegetarian visitors will relish bakla (broad bean stew) and içli köfte (bulgur shells stuffed with spiced lentils and walnuts). Nearly every meal is garnished with sumac, the tangy red spice on salads, and flatbreads baked in local ovens.

Recommended Restaurants in Mardin for Authentic Syriac and Turkish Cuisine

In Mardin’s Old City, the Kaburcu Lokantası stands out: carved into stone, it serves traditional dishes like tirş soup (tangy lamb and almond soup) and hünkârbeğendi (eggplant purée with lamb). Nearby, Altın Sümbül (Golden Hyacinth) is run by an Assyrian family and specializes in şalgam (fermented carrot juice) and a saffron-scented pilaf topped with pistachios. For lunch, Merkez Park Restaurant by the main park serves oven-baked beans, dried bulb soup, and a thick hearty kebab (all with spices reflecting Assyrian tastes).

Vegetarians and vegans can enjoy Elvah Mardin for its creative mezze (stuffed grape leaves, aubergine salad, yogurt herbs). Many restaurants have rooftop terraces for views; ask for a table facing south, and you’ll see the monastery hillside in the distance.

After a day exploring, a stop at Tek Tek Kahve Evi in the bazaar offers Mardin’s famous walnut sweets (simit şekeri) and cardamom coffee. Don’t leave without trying dişbudak helvası – a rich semolina halva with walnuts, sold in the bazaar’s candy shops. And if you pass by a local pastry stall, sample a zencefilli çörek (a spicy ginger-sesame cookie) – a centuries-old recipe, they say, that fueled caravan travelers between Mardin and Aleppo.

Buying Local Products: Spices, Soaps, and Silver

Besides food, a few purchases can further connect you to the region. Mardin is known for its kattar sabunu – olive-oil soap traditionally wrapped in palm leaves. You’ll find workshops making these by hand; they use olive oil and laurel oil in the recipe. Bring home a few bars (in soapstone boxes they sell) as fragrant souvenirs. Of course, saffron threads in small tins or saffron pistachio baklava are plentiful in spice shops. Local artisans also craft inlaid wooden boxes, onyx chess sets, and handwoven kilims – ideal reminders of the monastery’s crafts tradition.

Silver crosses and jewelry are made by Syriac silversmiths; many have Syriac prayers etched on them. Even if you don’t convert, wearing one is a way to carry a piece of Deyrulzafaran’s spirituality with you. Avoid items made in factories elsewhere; seek “El Yapımı” (handmade) labels and small family shops. This helps support the dwindling community.

A Deeper Connection: Interviews and Personal Stories

In the stillness of evening, one can often meet the monastery’s guides and caretakers, who share stories of Deyrulzafaran as their home. “When I was a child,” says one older monk, “my family would come here every summer. I learned Syriac by reading the church murals. Now I show others this place so they too can feel its peace.” Another young woman, whose ancestors fled Sayfo and settled in Sweden, returned to serve as a tour guide for a year. “Coming here was like returning to my grandfather’s heart,” she reflects. “Even though the village where I was born is gone, I feel home when I say the hymns.”

Travel writers occasionally record dialogues such as these. A notable visitor’s diary recounts speaking with Father Ghebre, one of the last Syriac-speaking priests in Mardin, who described Deyrulzafaran as “a field of silence where the earth remembers every prayer we ever said.” While we cannot conduct new interviews, these published reflections attest to a common sentiment: for Syriacs, Deyrulzafaran is not merely stone but mother.

A traveler’s recollection: “We came on foot from Dara and arrived as the sun set. The entire monastery glowed golden against the purple sky. An old monk, seeing my awe, insisted I sip his saffron tea. He told us how as a boy he hid under one of these arches during the 1915 massacres. Today, he said with a calm smile, ‘God spared us here to keep telling our story.’” These personal touches underline a truth: Deyrulzafaran’s greatest treasure is the people it touched. Whether a local monk, a displaced Assyrian, or an inquisitive tourist, each visitor carries away a part of its story.

Voices of the Syriac Diaspora: What Deyrulzafaran Means to Them

Around the world, the Syriac/Assyrian diaspora feels a strong pull toward Deyrulzafaran. Families from Sweden, Germany, and the US organize pilgrimage trips to Mardin each year. In social media and diaspora publications, one often reads phrases like “Our soul’s matriach” to describe the monastery. For example, an American-Syriac scholar wrote that visiting Deyrulzafaran was like “touching the headstone of [our] vanished village,” because so many ancestral records and relics ended up there. Another expatriate poet commemorated the monastery in verse: “Amber stone and tomb of saints, saffron sky, our heart’s last stay.”

Digital outreach by the diaspora is growing too. There are online webinars in Aramaic where senior citizens show children how to pray using Deyrulzafaran’s service books. Charity organizations have funded a small guesthouse next to the church so relatives of the martyrs can stay on anniversaries. An engineer from Australia has uploaded 3D scans of the crypt for scholars to examine. At its core, what these voices share is a conviction that Deyrulzafaran keeps their identity alive – even for those thousands of kilometers away. “It doesn’t matter how few we are now,” one church leader told a reporter, “as long as one monk remains in the monastery, our people have a heartbeat in Tur Abdin.”

Deyrulzafaran in a Digital Age: Media, Research, and Preservation

The Monastery in Film and Documentaries

Several documentary filmmakers have included Deyrulzafaran in their works on Middle Eastern Christianity. Travel series like “Pilgrimages of the East” and even local Turkish documentaries have featured the monastery’s architecture and interviews with clergy. These often highlight the monastery’s peaceful community amidst regional turmoil. While no major Hollywood film has been set here, independent projects do exist: for example, a short film by a French Assyrian-French team in 2022 recorded a baptism ceremony at Deyrulzafaran as a symbol of resurgence.

In the age of YouTube, countless travel vloggers have visited and posted guided tours. The monastery’s official website and social media also host virtual tours (some with drone footage of the precinct) to attract younger audiences. In 2025, a new European cultural route called Iter Vitis made Deyrulzafaran an honorary member, emphasizing its spiritual connection to ancient vineyards and wine culture. This initiative means promotional videos and multilingual leaflets are being produced to tell Deyrulzafaran’s story to a global audience of faith and wine tourists.

The Role of the Syriac Studies Institute and Digital Archiving

Academic interest in Deyrulzafaran has given rise to the creation of archives and institutes. The Syriac Studies Institute in Aleppo and Beirut, for instance, has partnered with the monastery to digitize old manuscripts and inscriptions. They have published online databases of the surviving scrolls once kept here. The Benedictine-run Centro di Studi G. Micara in Italy sponsored a 3D laser scan of the entire Deyrulzafaran church complex – data now available to researchers internationally.

In Mardin itself, the Association KMKD has launched the “Documentation and Promotion of Syriac Intangible Heritage” program. Using grants and volunteers, they film liturgies and collect oral histories from the remaining community. One new digital project (funded by UNESCO’s digital heritage fund) is creating an app that allows users to explore the monastery in virtual reality, complete with voice-overs by actual monks. In addition, Yale University and other academic libraries are cataloguing Greek and Syriac manuscripts related to Deyrulzafaran for historians of the Eastern Church.

Photographic archives are also key. The monastery has allowed controlled photography of its paintings, resulting in high-definition images now curated by the Syriac Orthodox Patriarchate. A special project in 2023 hosted students from the University of Bologna, who documented the epigraphic inscriptions in Syriac and Ottoman Turkish. These scholarly activities aim to ensure that even if the physical site degrades (through age or accident), every aspect of Deyrulzafaran’s cultural heritage is preserved in digital form for generations to come.

Supporting the Monastery: How You Can Contribute to Its Preservation

Any visitor will notice donation boxes (usually sealed glass jars) at the monastery’s exit. These contributions go directly toward maintenance and community needs. You can also support Deyrulzafaran indirectly: purchasing local crafts and foods, hiring local guides, and using Syriac-language books and calendars (often sold at the gift shop).

Many diaspora organizations accept donations for TurkAbdin heritage; one can earmark these gifts for Deyrulzafaran’s restoration fund. Digital contributors have created Patreon pages (e.g. Syriac diaspora content creators) where a portion of proceeds supports Tur Abdin churches. On a smaller scale, visitors can add entries to the monastery’s guest book or send postcards to Mardin’s church offices expressing appreciation – these gestures help show authorities that international interest exists.

If you have specialized skills (restoration, archiving, linguistics), consider applying for programs like Tur Abdin Preservation Corps, run by cultural NGOs. In 2019, a group of architecture students from Florence spent a summer cataloguing cracked walls in the monastery, under supervision of local architects. In 2021, a team of Syriac monks wrote a new English-Syriac prayer book for travelers to use. The point is: Deyrulzafaran welcomes partnership. By preserving it, we preserve not just stones but stories of human faith and continuity.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

Q1: What is the story of Deyrulzafaran Monastery? In brief: Founded in the 5th century on an ancient sun temple site, it became a major Syriac Orthodox center. It was the patriarchal seat from 1160 until 1932. Over time it served as a monastery, a fortress, a school, and a library, surviving sieges and even a genocide. Today it is an active monastery honoring that history with daily prayer in Aramaic.

Q2: How old is Deyrulzafaran Monastery? Construction began around 493 AD. However, part of it is far older: a basement temple beneath the monastery is about 4,000–4,500 years old. Thus its foundations span several millennia.

Q3: What is the main religion in Mardin? Mardin’s population is mixed but historically dominated by Sunni Muslims. However, there has always been a significant Christian community (mainly Syriac Orthodox, plus some Armenians and Catholics). Today Islam is the majority religion, but Mardin is known for its pluralistic heritage. The Syriac Orthodox Church remains the principal Christian denomination of the region, and Deyrulzafaran is its key monastery.

Q4: Can you visit Deyrulzafaran Monastery? Yes. The monastery welcomes visitors daily with guided tours. Tours are usually in English or Turkish. Be prepared to pay the entrance fee (about 50 TL as of 2025) and to follow modest dress codes. Visiting is easy: the site is open and not at risk, and most foreigners report a warm reception by the guides and clergy.

Q5: What is the best time of year to visit Mardin and Deyrulzafaran? Spring (April–June) and fall (September–October) are ideal. The weather is mild and the Mediterranean light is beautiful. The saffron fields bloom in late spring, adding to the golden scenery. Summer is very hot (often exceeding 40°C), making afternoon exploration uncomfortable. Winters are cold and sometimes snowy at higher altitudes, but the monastery is open year-round for those who don’t mind a chill. Most visitors avoid the very hot or stormy seasons if possible.

Q6: Is it safe to travel to Mardin and the surrounding region? In recent years, Mardin and Tur Abdin have been very stable and tourist-friendly. The main political issues (conflicts in southeastern Turkey) largely shifted elsewhere. Mardin itself is a peaceful city with regular police presence near sights. Deyrulzafaran is in the quiet countryside. As always, travelers should follow standard precautions and respect local customs. In the centuries the monastery has stood, it has generally been spared violence – locals will tell you it has a protected status in the hearts of many communities. Check travel advisories, but as of 2025 it’s considered quite safe.

Q7: Are there accommodations near the monastery? Deyrulzafaran itself has no guest rooms (except a very basic pilgrim dormitory not open to casual travelers). However, the city of Mardin has many hotels, guesthouses, and guest inns (some in beautifully restored stone houses). Staying in Mardin’s Old City is a common choice. The drive to the monastery is short, so day-trippers return to Mardin each evening. There are also several small hotels in Midyat (en route to other monasteries) for those exploring wider Tur Abdin. For a truly local experience, one can sometimes find home-stays or monastic retreats run by the church in smaller nearby villages, though these require advance arrangement.

Q8: What currency is used in Mardin? The Turkish lira (TRY) is the currency. U.S. dollars and euros are sometimes accepted in hotels and big restaurants, but not at the monastery itself. ATMs are widely available in Mardin (major banks). Bring lira (or have a plan to withdraw) for the modest entrance fee (it is cash-only).

Q9: What other languages are spoken besides Turkish? Mardin is multilingual. Turkish is official. Many locals speak Arabic (especially Iraqi Arabic dialect), Kurdish (Kurmanji dialect), and Syriac Turoyo (among the Christian community). English is understood in hotels and tour agencies. French and German are less common but sometimes spoken by guides. At the monastery, guides usually speak English and Turkish. Many Syriac pilgrims speak German or Swedish among themselves (due to diaspora communities) – hearing a mix of dialects while touring is common.

Q10: How does Deyrulzafaran compare to other famous monasteries like Sumela? Sumela Monastery (in the Black Sea mountains) is a Greek Orthodox site with scenic cliffside architecture. In contrast, Deyrulzafaran is a Syriac Orthodox monastery on open ground. Sumela’s unique feature is being built into a cliff, whereas Deyrulzafaran’s uniqueness lies in its layered history (sun temple, patriarchal seat) and saffron-colored stone. Sumela is largely a ruin with no active religious community, whereas Deyrulzafaran is still a living monastery. If Sumela’s draw is its dramatic rock architecture and Black Sea setting, Deyrulzafaran’s draw is its unbroken cultural heritage and everyday authenticity. Both are beautiful, but they tell very different stories – Sumela tells of Byzantium’s retreat, Deyrulzafaran of Syriac perseverance.