Vorotnavank Monastery

Four kilometers east of Sisian, perched on the rim of the Vorotan Gorge, lies Vorotnavank Monastery. The road to it winds through a canyon where the sky seems close enough to touch. Few travelers pass this way—mostly pilgrims seeking silence, prayer, and a moment of grace. That’s fitting: centuries ago, monks came here searching for truth.

Vorotnavank is over a thousand years old. A landmark of medieval Armenian architecture, it was once among the major religious and cultural centers of the 10th to 15th centuries. It endured waves of invasions—from Mongol hordes to Ottoman raiders—yet still stands, weathered but proud.

Long before the monastery’s construction, the site held a Christian shrine attributed to Gregory the Illuminator (252–326 CE). Built as a rectangular structure, the early sanctuary was adorned with vegetal and animal motifs carved into its cornices. Today, it lies in ruins. Crumbled basalt walls and remnants of circular and rectangular dwellings encircle the grounds.

In the 10th century, Queen Shahandukht, wife of the Syunik king Smbat, commissioned the vaulted Church of St. Stepanos near the ruins of St. Gregory’s shrine. Seven years later, her son added the taller Church of St. Karapet beside it. With time, the complex expanded—two churches, a gavit (narthex), auxiliary buildings. Surrounded by thick stone walls, the monastery housed workshops, storage rooms, a seminary, cemetery, and hospice, all once protected from foreign attackers.

In the courtyard, a column marked a place of ordination and royal consecration—a sacred site where priests were blessed and princes crowned.

Beneath the church lies a gallery, once the burial crypt of a local princely family. The tombs still rest inside, a silent testimony to the monastery’s noble past.

Vorotnavank is also tied to Hovhannes Vorotnetsi, the celebrated Armenian philosopher and founder of the Tatev Monastery. The complex bears his name, preserving his legacy in stone and prayer.

In 1931, a severe earthquake left the monastery in ruins. Until recently, it stood half-collapsed, a haunting example of the brilliance of Armenian medieval architecture.

Encircled by its old wall, Vorotnavank opens onto a sweeping view of the Vorotan Valley. Its power lies in its age, form, and setting—a structure carved into the land and time itself.

If your journey takes you toward Sisian, don’t pass it by. This place is more than a monument; it is a witness.