Lost and Found

Along a highway, in the middle of a farm field outside the city, the bus stops. We pile out, rub our eyes, and blink into the low, early morning sun, wondering why we are here. Although we’ve been driving for almost an hour, the densely packed ticky tacky apartments of the city have only just begun to fall away into sloping farmland blanketed in yellow flowers. A peculiarly new development, designed to resemble an Italian villa complete with tiled roofs, stucco façade, and an ostentatious fountain, posed on the other side of the highway, looking like square peg trying to fit into a round hole. A beautiful but understated stone wall flanks the road, with a simple engraving serving as the only indication that we’ve arrived at Sançaklar Camii.

We filter through the opening in the wall, and being to navigate the jigsaw pathway of granite and grass. The broken path suggests a journey that might be lost; united then interrupted, reunited then interrupted again. As we drift across the crooked pavers, metallic in the low light against the dark grass, a dog with a big grin trots across the lawn to greet us. A bit unkempt with a tag in his ear, perhaps this dog is lost, too.

Our new tour guide clips along in front of the group then disappears over a ledge, where the path spills down across a gentle hill. A large curved wall, in the same ubiquitous grey stone that’s along the street, emerges out of the grade, only revealing itself to be a building by a narrow tunnel leading to a doorway. Gracefully nestled into the hillside, the façade bleeds into the lawn, becoming low, terraced walls that sweep across the gradient like threads in a spider web. A staircase that transverses the horizontal rhythm of the terraces leads us down into a long, slender courtyard, sheltered on two sides by the worship space and the library. A procession of dogs, exact replicas of our recent acquaintance, appear and begin to disperse through our group, some boisterously and some timidly.

The linear space between the buildings, though narrow, bestows a variation of experiences for gathering and contemplating. While the interior spaces on either side are typically for quiet reflection and prayer, the central courtyard is one where the congregation can merrily rejoice under the daylight. Nooks for solitude fade into the periphery, with simple benches that provide seating for an intimate meeting. Views of the quaint, peaceful surroundings peek through perforations in the surface of the walls—grey, as not to detract from the splendor of the countryside.

The geometry of the mosque tells the story: the broken lines of stone and pathway zigzag across the surface until it converges into a whole, forming the enveloping, welcoming void of the musallah. Alone, a person might feel lost. Coming to Sançaklar Camii, they find a space for community and acceptance. Although the dogs that have escorted our visit might be strays, when they come here they are not lost; they have found their pack, and this is their home.