They say that if walls could talk,
each building would have a story to tell,

but few would tell so many fascinating
stories in so many different voices

as the Hagia Sophia, or holy wisdom.

Perched at the crossroads 
of continents and cultures,

it has seen massive changes 
from the name of the city where it stands,

to its own structure and purpose.

And today, the elements
from each era stand

ready to tell their tales 
to any visitor who will listen.

Even before you arrive at the Hagia Sophia,
the ancient fortifications

hint at the strategic importance 
of the surrounding city,

founded as Byzantium 
by Greek colonists in 657 BCE.

And successfully renamed as 
Augusta Antonia, New Rome and Constantinople

as it was conquered, reconquered,
destroyed and rebuilt

by various Greek, Persian and 
Roman rulers over the following centuries.

And it was within these walls that 
the first Megale Ekklesia, or great church,

was built in the fourth century.

Though it was soon burned
to the ground in riots,

it established the location for
the region's main religious structure

for centuries to come.

Near the entrance,
the marble stones with reliefs

are the last reminders 
of the second church.

Built in 415 CE, it was destroyed 
during the Nika Riots of 532

when angry crowds at a chariot race

nearly overthrew the emperor, 
Justinian the First.

Having barely managed to retain power,

he resolved to rebuild the church
on a grander scale,

and five years later, the edifice 
you see before you was completed.

As you step inside, the stones 
of the foundation and walls

murmur tales from their homelands
of Egypt and Syria,

while columns taken from the Temple
of Artemis recall a more ancient past.

Runic inscriptions carved by the 
Vikings of the emperor's elite guard

carry the lore of distant northern lands.

But your attention is caught by 
the grand dome, representing the heavens.

Reaching over 50 meters high and 
over 30 meters in diameter

and ringed by windows around its base,

the golden dome appears
suspended from heaven,

light reflecting through its interior.

Beneath its grandiose symbolism,
the sturdy reinforcing Corinthian columns,

brought from Lebanon after 
the original dome was partially destroyed

by an earthquake in 558 CE,

quietly remind you of its fragility

and the engineering skills
such a marvel requires.

If a picture is worth a thousand words,

the mosaics from the next several 
centuries have the most to say

not only about their Biblical themes,

but also the Byzantine emperors who commissioned them,

often depicted along with Christ.

But beneath their loud and clear voices,

one hears the haunting echoes of 
the damaged and missing mosaics and icons,

desecrated and looted during 
the Latin Occupation in the Fourth Crusade.

Within the floor, the tomb inscription
of Enrico Dandolo,

the Venetian ruler who 
commanded the campaign,

is a stark reminder of those 57 years that Hagia Sophia spent as a Roman Catholic church

before returning to its orthodox roots
upon the Byzantine Reconquest.

But it would not remain a church for long.

Weakened by the Crusades, Constantinople
fell to the Ottomans in 1453

and would be known as Istanbul thereafter.

After allowing his soldiers
three days of pillage,

Sultan Mehmed the Second 
entered the building.

Though heavily damaged, 
its grandeur was not lost

on the young sultan who immediately
rededicated it to Allah,

proclaiming that it would be
the new imperial mosque.

The four minarets built 
over the next century

are the most obvious sign of this era,

serving as architectural supports 
in addition to their religious purpose.

But there are many others.

Ornate candle holders relate 
Suleiman's conquest of Hungary,

while giant caligraphy discs 
hung from the ceiling

remind visitors for the first 
four caliphs who followed Muhammad.

Though the building you see today still
looks like a mosque, it is now a museum,

a decision made in 1935 by Kemal Ataturk,

the modernizing first president of Turkey

following the Ottoman Empire's collapse.

It was this secularization
that allowed for removal

of the carpets hiding 
the marble floor decorations

and the plaster covering 
the Christian mosaics.

Ongoing restoration work 
has allowed the multiplicity of voices

in Hagia Sophia's long history

to be heard again after
centuries of silence.

But conflict remains.

Hidden mosaics cry out from 
beneath Islamic calligraphy,

valuable pieces of history that cannot be
uncovered without destroying others.

Meanwhile, calls sound from
both Muslim and Christian communities

to return the building to 
its former religious purposes.

The story of the divine wisdom 
may be far from over,

but one can only hope that 
the many voices residing there

will be able to tell their part
for years to come.