Holy Trinity Cathedral, Tbilisi
Walking away from Tbilisi’s Freedom Square on Nikoloz Baratashvili Street, it’s impossible not to notice the Holy Trinity Cathedral. The Eastern Orthodox church with its gold dome dominates the horizon, sitting across the Mtkvari river on Ellia Hill, high above the daily commotion of the streets below. It’s the third tallest orthodox cathedral in the world.
It would be easy to believe the cathedral, like similar structures in cities across Europe, has been a part of Tbilisi’s skyline for ages, but it is a fairly new construction, built between 1995 and 2004 to commemorate 1,500 years of the self-headed Georgian Orthodox Church and the 2,000th anniversary of Christ’s birth.
Since we’ve arrived in Tbilisi, I’ve been antsy to see the Holy Trinity up close, and on Friday I finally did so.
Tbilisi is not a city of early risers. Most businesses and banks don’t open their doors until 10 a.m., and for a few morning hours, the sidewalks and streets are relatively deserted, a marked contrast between the rest of the days traffic that can only be described as an automotive free for all. (Last week, I saw a police officer pull a car over, and I had to wonder what one has to do in this city to actually get pulled over. Earlier, while taking a Bolt, Georgia’s equivalent of an Uber or Lyft, another driver, who was obviously sick of waiting in the traffic jam, passed our car. On the sidewalk. Shortly after and about a half a mile farther into our trip, our driver decided to avoid any further delay in the traffic jam and pulled out into the oncoming lane, sped ahead for about a hundred meters and rejoined the correct lane, pulling in front of a police car. No lights. No ticket.)
The city was slowly waking up as I enjoyed a morning stroll in relative solitude, strolling to a small church, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Corie and I spotted the day before while moving our suitcases from our Airbnb to our somewhat more permanent apartment.
A handful of students were milling around the technical university, waiting for their classes to start. While the traffic started to pick up, there were still times the broad street was empty of cars and buses, allowing me to safely dart out in the street to better frame the image. I didn’t have a particular plan for anything after photographing the Assumption church, so I wandered to the next subway stop, deciding I would get off the subway at various points, poke my head above ground like a touristy gopher and if something looked like it could be interesting, I would go explore.
When I came above ground at the Avlabari stop, I saw a sign for the Holy Trinity Cathedral and followed it, winding through more narrow streets, laid out centuries ago when the Ubers and Lyfts were nothing more than donkeys and carts.
For the past two years, I’ve been zooming around New Mexico photographing all the small churches and chapels I could find and always felt a sense of comfort with each little adobe church.
I’m reasonably certain one could fit every little community church I photographed inside the Holy Trinity Cathedral and still have plenty of room to move around.
Everything about the building is designed to make one contemplate God on a scale that dwarfs our human forms. Its imposing architecture forces you to stand in awe.
I ducked inside to hear the chant echoing through its cavernous spaces and watched the priest solemnly circle, gently swinging a censer as a handful of parishioners stood throughout the nave praying.
The grounds around Holy Trinity will likely become one of my favorite spots in Tbilisi and one of my new quiet places. Whereas the cathedral makes one feel small, the grounds inspire contemplation while walking through its trees and gardens, admiring the views of the city. A breeze played through the many trees and, if I closed my eyes, I could imagine being in the mountains in New Mexico or Colorado, alone in a sunny forest.
There are times, if I’m honest, where I still wake up and wonder if Corie and I should have our noggins looked at for doing what we did, giving most of our belongings away, selling the car, the motorcycle (oh, the motorcycle!) and the house to move halfway around the world to a country where we don’t speak the language and is so remarkably different than Corie and my home for the past 14 years.
As I stopped along the wide path to take in the view of the cathedral through the manicured plants and trees, I realized we made the right decision. There’s still a lot to explore, and I’m glad you’re with me on this journey!
