The Slavic Orthodox Churches posed a big problem. It was usually convenient for the Turkish government to have them subordinate to Constantinople, although they retained their Slavic worship and customs. But at times the Turkish ministers dealing with Balkan affairs were forced to increase their autonomy. Until the eighteenth century, the patriarchate did not have a certain firm authority over them, and until then it had to fight against rising nationalism. The Russian Church was in a special position. It looked upon Constantinople with greater and more sincere respect than the Balkan Churches. But Russia was far away and enjoyed independence. It was inconceivable that a Russian ruler would allow his Church to be really dependent on a hierarch who was a servant of a non-Orthodox sultan. [268]

The structure of the hierarchy within the patriarchate remained the same as in Byzantine times; There were vicar archbishops who were directly subordinate to the patriarch, but usually there were metropolises dependent on the patriarch and bishops subordinate to the metropolitan. As in Byzantine times, bishops were elected by the priests of the diocese, the metropolitan by bishops, and the elections were approved by the patriarchate. Like Byzantine times, it was necessary to obtain the approval of the secular authorities. Representations were now made through the patriarchy of the Sublime Porte; The sultan issued a document known as a berat, by which the elected candidate was officially appointed to his see. In the case of bishops, these berats were usually simple documents that only announced the fact of election; But the berats, by which patriarchs and in some cases metropolitans were appointed, could contain not only the confirmation of certain rights of the throne, but also additional privileges or guarantees on the part of the secular authorities to protect the rights of the throne. For example, a berat issued to one of the Alexandrian patriarchs in the 18th century promises help against Roman Catholic propaganda in the provinces. Such berats are a certain historical evidence. Unfortunately, not many of them have survived. The earliest surviving one, which can be dated, appoints the Metropolitan of Larissa in 1604. It is possible that the rights and privileges mentioned in it were only ad personam, and that each newly appointed candidate was to be given a new berat. But the hierarch was given the same privileges as his predecessor, since he could be based on the berat in which they were listed. [269]

On the whole, at least in theory, the Orthodox Church of Constantinople withstood the blow of the Ottoman conquest better than could have been expected. Christians were not given the opportunity to forget that they were under the yoke. They could not build new churches without special permission, which was difficult to grant, except in cases where the intended site was in a purely Christian area. Permission had to be obtained for the restoration of churches; Not a single church could stand near Muslim shrines. Christians were required to wear clothes that differed from those of Muslims. With the exception of the patriarch, none of them could ride on horseback. No Christians were officially allowed to serve in the army, although in fact they were sometimes forcibly recruited to serve in the navy, and local Christian detachments, known as armatols, were formed in Christian areas. Christian families had to supply a forced tribute from their sons, who converted to Islam and joined the Janissary detachments. A Christian who had once converted to Islam, even if he was a child or a prisoner, was sentenced to death if he returned to his former faith. Every court case involving both a Christian and a Muslim was heard in a Muslim court according to the Koran; There were few Muslim judges who were ready to rule in favor of a non-believer. Finally, all the rights and privileges of Christians depended on the benevolence of the Sultan. Even firmans signed by the sultans, although it was customary for them to be based on those issued earlier, could be ignored. Court lawyers could declare that it was contrary to Muslim law and therefore became invalid. [270]

In spite of all this, in spite of the destruction and poverty that accompanied the fall of Constantinople, the Orthodox Miletus received a constitution that gave him the opportunity not only to exist, but also to increase his material well-being. The Greeks benefited from the city's revival that followed its conquest. At the time of the fall of Constantinople, its Greek population numbered no more than 50,000 people. Several thousand died during the siege and assault, several thousand were taken prisoner. But the conquering sultan not only left the Greeks a few quarters, but also encouraged the immigration of Greeks to the city. Sometimes immigration was forced. All the rich inhabitants of Trebizond were resettled in Constantinople. Others were resettled from Adrianople, others from, after the capture of the island in 1462; there is news of the resettlement of two thousand families from Argos. It is believed that by the middle of the 16th century, at least 30,000 Greek families lived in Constantinople. And if we assume that there were five or six people in each family – which may be a very small figure – the Greek population of the city increased to more than 150,000 and continued to grow; And in this business imperial capital, money capital was accumulating.

Many of the villages in the suburbs, especially on the European shores of the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara, were repopulated by Greeks. Some, such as Therapy or Yediköy, were almost exclusively Christian. [271]

The Sultan was wise enough to understand that the well-being of the Greeks would contribute to the well-being of the Empire. He wanted to provide them with a government that could provide for their needs without violating the privileges of the ruling Turkish race.

The constitution which he granted them was in force as long as they agreed to renounce political pretensions and to lead private lives within the limits they permitted. Meanwhile, their miletus was one, and they were guaranteed the freedom to worship. Indeed, in one respect they were treated better than could be expected. According to Muslim tradition, the Christians of the city taken by storm did not have the right to restore their churches. But in captured Constantinople they not only still owned the second largest church of St. Nicholas. Apostles, but also a number of churches in different parts of the city, especially in the Phanar and Petrion along the Golden Horn and in Psamathia on the Sea of Marmara. It seems that the rapid invasion of the Turkish army, which broke into the city, was seen as an act of voluntary surrender; therefore the churches were not confiscated. The Sultan had the tact to understand that if his Christian subjects were ready to accept his authority over them peacefully, they should leave the places of worship. [272]

The integrity of the Orthodox milesus was guaranteed by the new rights granted to the patriarch. As a result of the Muslim conquest, the Church did not lose its position. On the contrary, it gained a stronger position as a result of the rights of jurisdiction granted to it, which it never had in Byzantine times. After the conquest of the capital and the subsequent annexation of the rest of the districts, almost the entire territory of the patriarchate was reunited, and although it was headed by a heterodox government, it was their own master. Byzantine thinkers who rejected the help of the West, which in fact could save only a small part of the Orthodox territory and involved the Church in a union with Rome and the subsequent deepening of disagreements within the Church, were satisfied. The integrity of the Church was preserved, and with it the integrity of the Greek people.

But the increased rights of patriarchy brought with it new challenges. The Byzantine Church had previously dealt essentially only with religious questions. Could its organization and spiritual life resist the flood that broke in with the introduction of civil government? There were even deeper questions. Could the Church sincerely accept the Turkish government as permanent? In the depths of the consciousness of every Greek, however faithfully he cooperated with the new Turkish masters, there was a glimmer of hope that one day the power of the Antichrist would be shattered, and then the united Greek people would rise and restore their Holy Empire. How could the Patriarch, who was a high dignitary in Ottoman politics and swore allegiance to the Sultan, encourage such aspirations? Perhaps it would be wiser to leave to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; but was not his supreme duty to God? Could he ever have been wholeheartedly devoted to the Sultan? And could the Sultan ever be sure of such loyalty? Moreover, his aspirations brought another problem. The Byzantine Empire, at least in theory, was a universal, Holy Empire of all Christians, regardless of their nationality. As a result of its decline, it was reduced to the Empire of the Greeks, and the Orthodox Miletus, organized by the new constitution, was essentially the Greek Miletus. His task in the eyes of the Greeks was to preserve Hellenism. But could Hellenism be combined with universality? Could the patriarch be the patriarch of the Slavs and Orthodox Arabs as well as the Greeks? Will this not inevitably lead to a narrowing of his horizons? The events of the following centuries showed how complex these problems were.

At that time, however, after the first horror of the conquest had subsided, the prospects for the Orthodox population seemed less bleak than feared. It was well known with what honor the Sultan treated Patriarch Gennadius, with whom he had friendly conversations on religious questions; at his request, Gennadius compiled a brief objective note on the Orthodox faith for translation into Turkish. News of his interest reached Italy. Philhellene Francesco Filelfo, whose mother-in-law, the Italian widow of the Greek philosopher John Chrysolorus, was held captive in Constantinople, wrote a flattering letter to the Sultan asking for her release, and suggested that His Majesty would have been even more admirable if he had accepted the Catholic faith. [273] Soon Pope Pius II, fearing that Mehmet might be seduced by the "schismatic" Greek doctrine, sent him a remarkably eloquent letter, exposing the truth and wisdom of the Holy Catholic Church. [274] In Constantinople, the Greek philosopher George Amirotsis went so far as to suggest that Christianity and Islam could be combined into one religion. He presented the Sultan with a treatise in which he showed that they had much in common: it was possible to work out a synthesis; or at least each religion could recognize the other as a sister. The differences between the Bible and the Koran were always exaggerated by poor translation, he emphasized; The Jews are guilty of encouraging these misunderstandings. Unfortunately, his enlightened arguments were unfounded. The Muslims showed no interest in them; the Greeks pointed to the double-mindedness of Amirutsis, which he displayed during the Turkish conquest of Trebizond; His behavior did not further convince them of the opposite. [275] But although such optimism was doomed to disappointment, the atmosphere at the Sultan's court was not intolerant. Among his ministers were fanatics such as Zagan Pasha and Mahmud Pasha, both converted Christians to Islam; but their influence was counterbalanced by such men as Admiral Ham-za-bey, a friend of the Greek historian Critobulus. The Sultan had a deep respect for his Christian stepmother, Maria, daughter of George Branković, Despot of Serbia, and for his Greek wife, Irene Kantakouzene, and for the widow of Murad II. Not all Christians who converted to Islam were fanatics. Many of them, whose conversion was for political rather than religious reasons, were willing to help their former fellow believers. Even among the Janissary officers there were many who remembered their Christian homes and families and willingly rendered services to them. If the Sultan had not been tolerant, such converts to Islam would not have given reason to doubt their sincerity. But it seems that Mehmet encouraged cooperation.

Still, clouds were gathering on the horizon. Gennady himself was the first to feel them. A few months after his installation, he asked the Sultan for permission to move the patriarchal residence from the Church of St. Apostles. The area in which it was located was inhabited by Turks, who resented the presence of a large Orthodox cathedral. One morning, the body of a Turk was found in the courtyard of the church. Obviously, he was planted there, but this gave the Turkish neighbors a reason to oppose the Christians. If the church building had been in better condition, Gennady could have tried to avert the storm, but it was thoroughly rotten. Its restoration was expensive; And there could be objections on the part of the Turks if he asked for permission to repair. He collected all the treasures and shrines from the church and moved to the Phanar region, inhabited by Greeks. There he settled in the monastery of Pammakaristos, moving the nuns to the nearby monastery of St. John in Trull; and the small but exquisite church of Pammakaristos became the patriarchal church. It was in its side chapel that the sultan came when he wanted to visit the patriarch and discuss political or theological issues with him. He refused to enter the temple itself, fearing that his successors would consider this as an excuse to turn the church building into a mosque. His precautions were in vain. [276]

Despite the fact that Gennady was held in high esteem, his task was not easy. His actions were condemned by religious purists for the fact that, contrary to the canons, he used oikonomia in cases of marriage or dissolution of Christians who had been captured during the conquest of Constantinople. He was especially reproached for marrying boys of the age of twelve years earlier; He allowed these marriages because a married boy could not be taken into the Janissary corps and converted to Islam according to a system known as devshirm among the Turks and παιδομάζωμα among the Greeks. Tired of such intolerant opposition, Gennadius abdicated in 1457 and retired to Mount Athos, and then to the monastery of St. John in Serres under the protection of the Serbian Maria, the widow of Murad II. Twice he was again elected to the patriarchal throne. The date of his death is unknown. It is to be hoped that he did not have time to witness the disorders that broke out later. [277]

Chapter 2. The Church and the State of Other Faiths