“THE end has come for the Christians. In Syria and Mesopotamia Christianity is now extinct. Islam is victorious throughout the world.”

So a Syrian Orthodox bishop wrote in 1451. When, in 1997, I first visited the little corner of south-eastern Turkey known as Tur Abdin, in the province of Mardin, they were saying the same. The terrible war between Kurdish nationalists and the Turkish State squeezed the tiny Christian remnant, so that 90 per cent had fled to Istanbul and further.

There were Christians here from the earliest times; the region had seen disputes between different theologies. A source of great learning, it was the home of the great theologian St Ephraim. It was a land scattered with many monasteries.

In the late 19th century, the Church of England tried to give support — after all, this was an ancient Church not in thrall to the Bishop of Rome — and that support has continued. The first tractor in the area was a gift from the diocese in Europe.

The area is mainly plateau, hard land for farmers. The south scarp facing Syria is scattered with the remains of dozens of monasteries, which in 1997 were inhabited by terrorists and wild boar. Below, the land is rich. My first evening, then, at the abbey of Deir Zafaran, I noted: “Fr Gabriel has in his hand a photograph of the corpse of someone killed by the PKK, and others of the family.” It had just happened a few kilometres away.

IN 1997, the decline was catastrophic. I reported regularly to the British and Irish Churches how local Kurds and the government made life harder with attempts to take huge areas of monastic lands away. Occasionally, changes in government encouraged emigrés to return, and some did. They would build new houses, just like they had in Switzerland, and renovate abandoned churches in villages now totally Muslim. But there was nothing for the young to keep them there.

As you drove along the road, there were frequent army checkpoints. On my first visit, the main road to the main monastery of Mor Gabriel from the town of Midyat, 23 kilometres away, was open only in daylight, and violence had emptied all the isolated villages on the Izlo hills. The totally Christian village of Hah had a small military base, to protect the minority, and, as late as 2016, a car bomb killed and injured members of the security forces.

Midyat town, not long ago the only Christian town in Turkey, elegant and busy, was a militarised, decaying place. Kurdish children, formerly nomadic, played in the muddy lanes next to sheep and poultry: a distressing sight for anyone.

Today, Midyat is a bustling, thriving hub. Turks from across the country visit the area: cafés, restaurants, hotels, and businesses flourish. Mardin, the gorgeous regional capital, where Arabic, Syriac, Kurdish, and some Turkish are heard in the shops, has astonishing cuisine, romantic lanes, and magnificent architecture. In its university, the ancient Christian Syriac language is taught (until recently, it was banned.)

Deir Zafaran, that once fearful outpost a few kilometres away, has a splendid visitors centre that deals with thousands of tourists, nearly all Turks: Turks discovering their nation’s heritage. Returning emigrés have funded new businesses: a thriving winery and shops. Every village seems to have a restaurant.

In Deir Mor Gabriel, his once embattled monastery, the Archbishop of Tur Abdin, Mor Timotheos Samuel Aktas, is a happy man. He has battled many: government and terrorists, dissidents, and grumblers. He could have left and did not.

THE Patriarch of the Syrian Orthodox Church of Antioch, Mor Ignatius Aphrem II, made a hugely successful visit recently. The local governor gave logistical support, villages were visited, where the Patriarch chatted in modern Syriac, difficulties and arguments were solved, and huge numbers worshipped joyfully. There are two monasteries that were closed for years and are now flourishing. The Archbishop’s four decades of service have made him well know across Turkey. President Erdogan respects him and listens to him.

His monastery, richly endowed by Roman Emperors from the fourth century on (before it became the centre of opposition to Chalcedon), not only has wonderful architecture, but is an important centre for Syriac Christians to visit, with many guest rooms and student accommodation, and a stream of students from the diaspora. Thousands of Syriac Christians visit every year.

Deir Zafaran, near Mardin, is busy welcoming large numbers of tourists, while the monastery recently re-established in the south, Mor Awgen, discourages visitors so as to concentrate on learning and prayer.

Every day, in villages and monasteries, the faithful gather to chant the praises of God. Village and town churches, and monasteries small and large, ring with Syriac chant. The very stones speak clearly in Erdogan’s Turkey that the Christians are here and intend to stay.

The Revd Stephen Griffith, a former Anglican Chaplain in Damascus, is a retired priest in the diocese of York.