The Church of Saint Stephen, more commonly marked on maps as Antioch, lies quietly away from the usual tourist trails. Tucked behind residential quarters and distanced from the grand Svetitskhoveli Cathedral, it stands in the courtyard of the Antioch Monastery, situated in the southeasternmost corner of the ancient city of Mtskheta. Beyond it, only the waters of the Aragvi and Kura Rivers remain — those very rivers immortalized in Lermontov’s poem Mtsyri, converging just below the monastery walls. The visit is worth it not only for the picturesque views but for the palpable sense of antiquity — the church was erected over fifteen centuries ago.
This modest sanctuary, resting at the confluence of the Kura and Aragvi, was built during the twilight of Mtskheta’s reign as the capital of the ancient Georgian kingdom of Iberia. From this city, Iberian kings once ruled. Here, the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral became the final resting place for royalty. And it was here, in 334 AD, that Georgia officially embraced Christianity.
This turning point occurred under King Mirian, and about 150 years later, his great-grandson Archil ascended the throne and commissioned a church to be built in honor of Saint Stephen. The design was entrusted to a Greek architect. A stone plaque still preserves his name — Aurelios Akolios — but beyond this inscription, history has not recorded any further details about him.
Antioch was constructed in the style common to almost every Georgian church erected in the early centuries following the nation’s Christianization: a long, rectangular stone building of modest height, with a semi-circular apse on the eastern end housing the altar. Its interior consists of a single, simple nave — a design echoing the ecclesiastical structures of ancient Rome and Byzantium.
However, the church diverges from tradition in one unique way: its entrance is not situated on the western façade opposite the apse, as is typical in both Orthodox and Catholic churches. Instead, a two-arched portal opens along the side of the building. The church’s interior was once richly adorned with frescoes, but not a single one has survived the passage of fifteen centuries.
The newly built church served the faithful for only a few hundred years. After its construction, Mtskheta gradually declined, losing its status as capital to the emerging city of Tbilisi. Unlike the new center, Mtskheta lacked fortifications and was ill-prepared for foreign incursions. In 736, the city suffered a devastating blow during the Arab invasion — it was looted, burned, and the Church of Antioch was reduced to ashes.
The ruins of the church remained untouched for almost a thousand years. Between the 15th and 17th centuries, reconstruction efforts finally began, but by then Georgia had endured centuries of conquest: Arabs, Byzantines, Seljuk Turks — and by the 15th century, the brutal onslaughts of Timur’s armies. Eight invasions by his forces swept across the land. Eventually, a peace treaty was signed. Warfare gave way to diplomacy, and in the years that followed, Persia and the Ottoman Empire vied for control, with Russia later joining the contest.
During this time, Mtskheta was little more than a small village, yet the Church of Saint Stephen was once again functioning as a place of worship. Its interior was re-adorned with frescoes. But in 1801, when Georgia was annexed into the Russian Empire, the imperial church sought to assert its dominance. An order was issued to paint over traditional frescoes in Georgian churches with plain whitewash. The chemicals used in the process corroded the original pigments, and the ancient masterpieces were lost forever. Only a few modest fragments remain to hint at what once was.
During the Soviet era, the church was abandoned and fell into disrepair, both the building and its surrounding grounds left to decay. Only after the collapse of the Soviet Union did restoration efforts resume. The United Georgian Bank generously financed the rehabilitation of several sacred sites, including the Church of Antioch. Not only was the structure itself revived, but the area around it was also renewed. The grounds were fenced, and artist Irakli Tsintsinadze was commissioned to paint new frescoes, which visitors can still admire today.
Entrance to the monastery grounds is free, and visitors are welcome to explore the church from the outside. However, the modest temple does not operate on a fixed schedule, and it’s not uncommon to find its doors locked.
But don’t be discouraged if you cannot step inside to view the frescoes and interior details. Nearby, there is a lovely orchard with a natural spring. The shaded garden provides a peaceful place to rest and enjoy the serene atmosphere. From the monastery grounds, you’ll also be treated to a stunning view of the churning confluence of the Aragvi and the majestic silhouette of Jvari Monastery perched high on a mountaintop.
To reach the Church of Antioch from Tbilisi, take a marshrutka (minibus) headed for Mtskheta. These depart from the Didube Bus Station, located next to the metro station of the same name. The journey to Georgia’s former capital is approximately 15 kilometers and takes around thirty minutes. Marshrutkas run every 20 minutes.
In Mtskheta, the minibuses make several stops. The best place to disembark is at Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. Not only is it an unmistakable landmark, but the path to Antioch is just a short walk away. From the cathedral, follow the road along the Kura River heading southeast. After about ten minutes, the route ends at the gates of the Saint Stephen Monastery — where the ancient Church of Antioch patiently awaits.
Traveling to Mtskheta from other Georgian cities by public transportation is not advised, as most long-distance buses bypass the town entirely. Passengers are often dropped off at a junction about four kilometers from the city itself, making direct access less convenient.