As I stand in front of the Church of Saint Sava, I feel a sense of majesty and reverence come over me. My step stops on the wide plateau in front of this grandiose building, while my gaze wanders over the white facade of marble and granite. The dome of the Temple rises high, as if touching the clouds, and the cross on its top shines in the sun, like a beacon of spirituality in the middle of bustling Belgrade.
I enter through a huge wooden door, heavy and decorated with Orthodox motifs. As soon as I step inside, I feel like I've stepped into another world. The walls and vaults are covered with golden mosaics depicting scenes from the Bible and figures of saints. My gaze stops at the grandiose Christ Pantokrator in the central dome - his figure, composed of thousands of small mosaic parts, radiates some special power.
The Church of Saint Sava is not only an architectural wonder, but also a symbol of Serbian history and spirituality. It was built in the place where, according to tradition, the Ottomans burned the relics of Saint Sava in 1595. Construction began in 1935, but wars and political changes kept delaying completion. It was only at the end of the 20th and the beginning of the 21st century that the temple got its final shape. When I learn that the mosaics inside the Temple are among the largest in the world and were made by a team of Russian artists, I appreciate all the art that surrounds me even more.
As I walk through the interior, I notice candle-lit icons, priests in liturgical robes, and visitors silently praying. The sound of church music, barely audible in the background, contributes to the feeling of peace. In the underground church dedicated to Saint Prince Lazarus, I am fascinated by the iconostasis made of pure marble, and the light coming through the stained glass windows creates a play of colors on the floor.
I go outside and stop by the big fountain in front of the Temple. The water is bubbling quietly, and in the distance you can hear the ringing of church bells. I observe people - some come to pray, some to take pictures, and some, like me, simply want to feel the greatness of this place.
As I stand by the fountain and watch the water droplets glisten in the sun, I think about all the generations of people who have passed through this place, leaving their thoughts, prayers and hopes within the walls of the Temple. I feel that this place is more than an architectural wonder - it is a link between past, present and future, a place where history breathes through every stone, fresco and mosaic.
I decide to visit the part of the complex around the Temple. On the right, I come across the Parish House, an elegant building with a red roof, and not far from there the Patriarchal House, the center of the Serbian Orthodox Church. On the lawn, I see a group of children playing while their parents watch them from the benches. This scene reminds me that the Temple is not only a symbol of faith, but also a place of gathering and life.
I pass by the small church of St. Sava, which was built earlier and served the faithful while the great Temple was under construction. Although smaller, it exudes a special peace. I enter for a moment, lighting a candle for those who are no longer there. The flame of the candle flickers in the semi-darkness, and its reflection is reflected on the icons.
I return to the Temple and look up at the grandiose dome. At that moment, as I stand in the middle of the vast plateau, I feel the fusion of past and present breaking within me. I imagined the monks of the Middle Ages looking at this building with admiration, just as I do now.
As I slowly walk down the stairs, I look back at this magnificent building. I feel proud to belong to a nation that has built something this monumental, despite all the challenges over the centuries.
Walking towards the exit of the complex, I notice tourists taking photos, while elderly passers-by surreptitiously cross themselves as they pass by the Temple. I smile, knowing that today I was a part of this story - a story of faith, perseverance and art.
I will remember this day and the feeling that came over me in the Saint Sava Temple for a long time.
As I walk away, I turn once more towards the Temple. The sun is slowly setting, illuminating the facade with warm, golden tones. My gaze lingers on the cross that rises high above Belgrade, as if guarding this city and all of us in it.
I feel that I am not the same as when I came. Something has changed in me - as if I carry a part of the light and serenity of this place with me. As I walk towards the busy streets, I know that I will come back here again, because the Temple is not just a building. It is a feeling, a thought, a root that connects us to the past and leads to the future.
With these thoughts I disappear into the crowd, but the spirit of the Temple remains with me.
My footsteps echo in the quiet space as I approach the underground church of the Temple of Saint Sava, dedicated to Saint Prince Lazarus. I feel the coolness of the marble under my fingers as I slowly slide my hand down the pillar, looking at the gold-lit frescoes. The silence around me makes the sounds of the outside world disappear, and I surrender more and more to the story told by the colors and outlines on the walls.
The frescoes of Prince Lazar depict his life and martyrdom - they are not just pictures, but windows into the past, through which I see one of the most holy and tragic heroes of Serbian history. On one of them, the prince stands upright, dressed in richly embroidered clothes, with a crown on his head and a gentle but determined expression on his face. His eyes are not directed towards us, but somewhere above, as if he already knows his destiny.
My eyes linger on the fresco depicting his martyrdom. The Turks captured him, and he, with a cross in his hand, stands before the executioner. His face is calm, almost luminous, while his enemies pronounce a death sentence on him. At that moment I understand - Lazar was not only a warrior, but also a saint, a man who believed that sacrifice for his faith and people brings eternal victory.
On the next fresco, his ascension to heavenly glory is depicted. Angels welcome him, and he kneels before Christ, offering him the symbol of his rulership. His image is now not only that of a prince, but that of a saint, martyr and immortal protector of the people.
I feel a sense of pride and sadness wash over me at the same time. These frescoes are not only works of art, but proof of the eternal memory of a man who gave his life for something greater than himself.
As I leave the underground church, I look back at the walls filled with holy images. Prince Lazar lives not only in stories and books, but also in these frescoes, in the souls of people who look at them and in every heart that still beats for what he fought for.
With that thought, I leave the church, but the image of Prince Lazar remains with me - eternal, as well as his sacrifice.
Great shots and you have a very nice way of describing and guiding through your photos!
Thank you!
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