
The scale of Belgrade’s Saint Sava Cathedral is evident long before you reach it. One can easily notice the cathedral’s dome in many parts of the city, making a walking map for directions mostly unnecessary.
When one is a block away, the scale of the cathedral, one of the largest Eastern Orthodox churches in the world, comes into view as its 4,000-ton dome topped with a nearly forty-foot gold-plated cross looms over the surrounding blocks. Looking at its construction, it’s evident where the architects found their inspiration for St. Sava, Istanbul’s Hagia Sophia.
Entering the cathedral, one truly appreciates its size, standing under the great dome almost 440 feet above. Surrounded by 130,000 square feet of gold mosaics is an overwhelming sensation, and it could easily take several visits to appreciate their details.
At the peak of the dome, it’s difficult to grasp the size of the dominant mosaic, Christ Pantocrator, or the All-Powerful Christ. Each eye on the mosaic is nearly ten feet long.
While the Saint Sava Cathedral with its white marble exterior capped by copper-plated domes might look like it was born in antiquity, it is a modern construction, one that faced many obstacles during the past century.
The authorities issued the cathedral’s completion guidelines in 1926, and the first stone was laid in 1936 on the Vračar plateau, where Ottoman forces, in an attempt to humiliate and demoralize the Serbian people, burnt the relics of the father of Serbian Orthodoxy, the mediaeval Saint Sava.
Its early construction ceased with the beginning of the Second World War when German forces used the site as an ammunition depot and parking lot.
The post-war Yugoslavian Communist government denied permission to continue the cathedral’s construction for forty years, finally relenting in 1984. The next year, the first liturgy was observed at the site, drawing more than 100,000 people.
As Corie and I wandered through the nave, knowing our necks would soon be stiff from gazing straight up for so long, I enjoyed the symbolism along the dome. Each of the dome’s 24 windows, used not only for light but also to decrease the dome’s weight, were painted a rich blue with brilliant gold stars. Further up, past the symbolic heavens, the twelve apostles gaze on the worshipers below with Christ as the main focus above. The flat style of Orthodox art symbolizes the heavenly world, far different than our three dimensions, and the three-dimensional layering of mosaics in the dome doesn’t take long to guess its meaning.
Aside from the stunning mosaics, the dome also reflects a significant feat of engineering. Unlike its role model, the Hagia Sophia, St. Sava’s dome was constructed on the ground then lifted into place during the course of twenty days, taking five hours each day to raise the dome another eight feet with hydraulic lifters.
After nearly an hour of craning our necks, Corie and I went outside to enjoy an ice cream cone, a welcome treat on such a hot summer afternoon. The grounds surrounding the cathedral were symbolic in their own right, a handful of souvenir and snack carts along with memorial candle holders surrounding the immense structure, signifying the mix of tourists and worshipers in and out of the cathedral.


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