by Chiara Zappa

Ahead of the Pope's visit to Turkey, Monsignor Antuan Ilgıt, the first native to lead the Apostolic Vicariate of Anatolia, speaks: ‘I feel close to young people because of my life experience,’ he says. ‘Our Church? It is a seed for the world.’

Milan (AsiaNews) - ‘We are heirs to the Nicene Creed, a legacy that we remind the whole world of from here.’ At the helm of the Apostolic Vicariate of Anatolia, Monsignor Antuan Ilgıt claims the heritage of faith of Turkey, the Holy Land of the Church from which ‘Christ's message set out to reach all peoples.’ Pope Leo XIV will visit here on his first apostolic journey, from 27 to 30 November, to celebrate with Orthodox Patriarch Bartholomew the 1,700th anniversary of the Church's first ecumenical council, when representatives of the Christian community, not yet marked by the wound of division, drew up the common profession of faith that is still recited today during Mass.

Father Antuan, as he is known among the faithful who feel he is ‘one of them,’ is the first Turkish bishop of the Latin rite to serve his land: his episcopal consecration on 25 November 2023 in the church of St. Antuan in Istanbul was also an intense moment of ecumenical unity: ‘Among others, there were Bartholomew himself, the Armenian patriarch and some Syriac Orthodox metropolitans,’ he recalls. It was a historic occasion and one of great joy, but it was also the culmination of a long journey marked by pain and confusion. Because the vocation of Monsignor Ilgıt, now apostolic administrator of the Vicariate based in Iskenderun, has passed through the folds of a difficult life. The 53-year-old Jesuit recounts it ‘re-reading it,’ he explains, ‘in the light of my encounter with the Lord, as St Ignatius suggests.’

What was your childhood like?

I was born in 1972 in Hersbruck to poor parents from Cilicia. In Germany, our family, which also included my younger sister, experienced the difficulties of all immigrants: the struggle to integrate into a completely different country and culture, the language barrier... My father couldn't cope and became an alcoholic. So, when I was six, we returned to Turkey, to Mersin, where he found work as a fisherman. We had a hard life; when there was no fish, we didn't eat. But something changed for me when I met a literature teacher at school who opened up new horizons for me: I began to read, to imagine other opportunities, to dream of a career and of saving my family from the provinces. I was still a boy when my mother, who was only 35, was diagnosed with cancer. I wondered, “Why does God allow this suffering?”. I searched for meaning, but I couldn't find it. The Muslim faith I had grown up with did not give me answers. I remember an imam telling me, “Everything that happens comes from God and you must accept it”, but that was not enough for me.

And then?

I wanted to become a prefect, but my family did not have the means to send me to university. So, I wrote letters to local MPs asking them for a scholarship and in the end I was successful. I left Mersin for Ankara, where I would study Public Administration and Economics at university. In my final year, I moved to Istanbul for an internship and one day I entered St. Antuan's Church. They were celebrating Mass in Turkish and I stopped to listen. I was struck by this God who had become man, who had suffered and could therefore offer answers to human suffering. Once I returned to Mersin, I began the catechumenate journey. After military service, I was offered a career as an officer in the army. But I felt drawn to Jesus and wanted to become a priest so that I could bear witness to him. Even if it meant becoming a disgrace to my family.

He came to Italy for his formation, first with the Capuchins and then in the novitiate with the Jesuits. In 2010, he was ordained a priest.

In the following years, I continued my studies in Rome and then in the United States on bioethics and health ethics. On the one hand, my mother's illness had marked my vocation, and on the other, I wanted to deepen my knowledge of moral theology from an interreligious perspective, not starting from dogmas but from life, so that I could be a bridge between Islam and Christianity. Because all religions ask themselves the same questions. I was then sent to teach at the Seminary in Naples: a Turkish convert who became a trainer of seminarians! They renamed me the “Neapolitan Turk”.

This vocation to be a bridge between different worlds would prove to be fundamental in the subsequent stages of his journey.

I dreamed of returning to serve the Church in Turkey. It pained me that there were no local priests in my homeland to be close to the faithful. Then, on 5 February 2018, when President Erdoğan met Pope Francis at the Vatican, I was called as the official interpreter. I had the opportunity to speak with the Holy Father, who listened to and shared my aspiration. He himself became convinced that it would be important to send me to help the Vicariate of Anatolia, and in the end my dream came true: in 2021 I returned to my homeland, where I immediately threw myself into pastoral work. I began to travel around the Vicariate, to be alongside young people, newcomers, and the different faces of the Turkish Church.

Who are these faces that the Pope will meet during his visit?

There are native Christians, refugees – Iraqis, Syrians, Iranians – who have tripled the numbers of the Church, and African students who have arrived thanks to scholarships. And then there are Muslims who choose to approach the Catholic faith: this year we have had many catechumens. Of course, baptism is not a point of arrival but a point of departure. We need to offer new believers adequate spiritual tools and support them as a community so that their faith matures and they do not become fickle. My personal history helps me to understand many situations: that of newcomers, because I was one myself, that of immigrants, because my family experienced migration. And then there are the young people. I feel particularly close to them. Together we participated in World Youth Day in Lisbon and in the Jubilee last August. For these young people, I am like a friend, because at their age, 15 or 20, I went through a turbulent period, so I understand their problems. Many aspects of my life, including drastic experiences of precariousness, have been transformed into tools of formation. It is the Lord's pedagogy.

What does it mean to be a Turkish bishop?

It means knowing the local language and mentality well, being part of the community in everything. I never thought I would become a bishop, but today I feel a strong duty to be with the people, as during the earthquake in February 2023, which also destroyed our cathedral. For weeks we worked, ate and slept together. As for relations with the civil authorities, they have always been good. A deputy minister was even present at my ordination. At first there was a certain curiosity, but today they say, “Finally we have someone who understands us”. Have I ever felt in danger? No, and in any case, risk is part of our choice. A Jesuit must find God in all things.

What is the role of the Christian community in Turkey?

To be a seed, because we have a very beautiful heritage, of which we must be authentic witnesses. The anniversary of the Council of Nicaea reminds us of this legacy, which has left its mark on the world. It reminds us and Europe, since Christianity is often very Eurocentric: instead, the centre must be Christ, and his message started from this land, so important for Christianity, once the seat of the patriarchate, and where today the Church almost does not exist... Why? It is up to us to ask ourselves: ‘What is the Spirit that guides history asking of us?’

What is your answer?

A central theme is undoubtedly unity among Christians. Here we experience a very intense ecumenism of life with the Orthodox community. It is important for witness among Muslims. And then there are the young people, who are the future but also the present of the Church, and who are trying to understand their role within it. Twice a year, I organise a meeting in which young people from all over the Vicariate prepare moments of discussion and activities that bring out their qualities. They are the ones who ask me to create other opportunities; they want to see the Church as a home. And then they want to make their voices heard in society; they need an opportunity, otherwise they will join the many who, even more so after the earthquake, decide to leave. That is why we offer scholarships and, when possible, employment opportunities. On the one hand, young people must experience the catholicity of the Church, as when they sang Christian songs along the road at World Youth Day; on the other hand, they must be able to contribute to the development of their country.