Nestled in the narrow lanes of Istanbul’s Fener district, the modest Patriarchal Church of St. George belies its immense significance. Though its façade is simple and unassuming, the church serves as the spiritual headquarters of Eastern Orthodoxy worldwide. It is the cathedral of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople – the “first among equals” of the Eastern Orthodox sees – and thus the symbolic focal point for roughly 300 million Orthodox Christians. The Ecumenical Patriarch, currently His All-Holiness Bartholomew I, is regarded as the leading spiritual figure of Eastern Christianity; he presides not over a state church but is honored as primus inter pares (“first among equals”) among the autocephalous Orthodox hierarchs. His All-Holiness is an influential global religious leader known for interfaith dialogue and environmental advocacy (even earning the nickname “the Green Patriarch” for his work on ecology). It is this office and legacy that give the Church of St. George its profound stature.
Inside St. George’s are preserved relics, icons, and heirlooms that connect every visitor to centuries of Orthodox history. The church was originally the katholikon (main church) of a nunnery, but it became the patriarchal seat under Patriarch Matthew II around 1600. Since then it has housed priceless treasures – from pieces of the True Cross to bones of saints – and has been the venue for countless liturgies, council decisions, and ecumenical encounters. In the eye of an Orthodox Christian, visiting St. George’s is akin to visiting a living bridge between the Byzantine age and the present day.
Orthodox faithful often call the neighborhood of Phanar (Fener) the “Great Monastery”, reflecting how it functions as a communal monastery and spiritual center for world Orthodoxy. Even today the Patriarchate is run in quasi-monastic fashion, with many clergy living together in community under the Patriarch’s guidance. This sense of continuity is palpable inside the church: every corner speaks of generations of devotion.
The location of St. George’s adds to its mystique. It occupies a tucked-away spot in Fener – from Greek phanar (meaning “lamp” or “lighthouse”) – on the southern shore of the Golden Horn. In Byzantine and Ottoman times this narrow promontory was indeed a harbor of Greek culture and commerce. A thousand years ago it was dotted with Orthodox churches and schools; today, a plaque in front of the red-brick Phanar Greek Orthodox College (the former Patriarchal Academy) still marks this historic Greek quarter of Istanbul. Despite the modern city rising around it, the church and its neighbors still exude the atmosphere of a small Eastern Christian enclave, perched above the busy waterway.
From the waterfront, one can look up past the colorful rowhouses of Balat and see the copper-green dome of St. George’s and the vast red turret of the Phanar College on the skyline. Walking the cobblestone streets toward the Patriarchate feels like stepping out of time. On a clear day the sound of ferry whistles across the Golden Horn underscores the church’s maritime setting. Even as ferries and modern buildings crowd the horizon, the Patriarchal Church stands as a beacon of continuity: a small, well-trodden basilica of unpainted stone and arched windows, bearing within it almost two millennia of Christian heritage.
When preparing a trip to Istanbul’s Patriarchal Church, it is wise to assemble detailed practical information. Travelers will want clear guidance on location, schedules, and rules of conduct. The following tips address each need step by step.
Location & Directions: The church’s address is Hagias Georgiou, No: 41, Fener, Fatih, İstanbul, situated at the head of a short lane branching off the main Boulevard Merdivenköy or from Fener Kireçhane Sokak. (In Turkish, you might see it labeled Fener Rum Ortodoks Patrikhanesi Katolikonu.) One convenient way to reach Fener is by ferry across the Golden Horn: from the Eminönü docks take a ferry toward Galata, disembark at the Fener dock, and then walk uphill a few minutes. Alternatively, city buses (e.g. lines 36, 36T, 64, 86TD) stop near Fener square, or a taxi ride from Sultanahmet (the “Old City”) is just 5–10 minutes away. The church is a few blocks southwest of the elevated Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Cathedral (a larger church near Balat), so maps often mark Atik Mustafa Pasha Mosque and the distinctive red brick Phanar Greek Orthodox College as nearby landmarks. In any case, Google Maps can pinpoint “Aya Yorgi Kilisesi” (Turkish name) if you want turn-by-turn directions.
Opening Hours & Best Times: The Patriarchal Church typically opens to visitors every day except certain fasting and holy days. Weekday mornings (roughly 9:00–12:00) are most convenient for sightseers, as locals often come only for Sunday services or major feast days. There is no general entrance fee – the church is technically not a museum – but a modest free-will parastos (donation) is customary to support the upkeep and clergy. If you plan to enter, note that the central Royal Doors are closed except during liturgical services; ordinary visitors use a side door on the left aisle (next to the icon of St. George) to enter. It is important to check on the Patriarchate’s website or local sources if an official service is happening; large services (especially for Easter/Pascha or Christmas) will mean the church is densely crowded, and extra pilgrim buses may block the narrow streets. In contrast, a quiet weekday visit lets one appreciate the church’s art and relics without distraction.
Entrance & Donations: As noted, admission is free. A donation of a few Turkish liras (or any currency) into the collection box by the altar is gratefully accepted. There are no tickets or scanners; entry is simply a matter of walking in. If you are visiting during a service, you may light candles or venerate icons, but always do so reverently and quietly. At the shrine to the icon of the Virgin Panagia Phaneromeni (a famous miraculous icon), it is customary to light a candle and cross yourself.
Dress Code & Etiquette: Modesty is required of all visitors, regardless of gender. Men should avoid shorts; women should cover shoulders and knees (a shawl is advisable over sleeveless tops or skirts). The church interior is dimly lit and many areas have a sense of sacred ceremony, so maintain a respectful silence or speak in whispers. Stand back from worshippers who are praying or reading; if you must step aside or exit, do so quietly. If an Orthodox service is in progress, remain seated or standing at the back and avoid walking in front of clergy or interrupting. Remember that this building is a living place of worship, not just a tourist site.
Photography & Videography: Personal photos are generally allowed without flash. The golden iconostasis and marble relic-cases make striking images (see image below). However, avoid intrusive or disrespectful shots: no selfies in front of venerated icons, and never photograph people praying without their permission. Flash photography is discouraged because it distracts worshippers and can damage delicate icons. Video recording during services is strictly forbidden. If you capture a short prayerful moment on your phone, do so unobtrusively and switch it to silent mode first. In short, feel free to preserve memories of the architecture and icons, but do not disrupt the sanctity of the space.
Accessibility: Visitors with limited mobility should be aware that the Patriarchal complex sits on a slight hill (Phanar’s name even hints at an old lighthouse). The street “Merdivenli Yokuşu” leading from the waterfront up to the patriarchate has many cobbled steps and irregular paving. The final approach from the Red Castle (Phanar College) involves a handful of steps into the church foyer (unless a small ramp is temporarily placed for a wheelchair). Inside, the church is mostly on one level, but the altar area is up a couple of steps, and the patriarchal synthronon (bishop’s bench) is on a raised platform. There are no elevators or wheelchair lifts in the historic building. In short, wear sturdy shoes and plan extra time if you have mobility issues. However, those who make the effort will find that the Patriarchal Church is well worth the climb.
The story of the Patriarchal Church of St. George is woven into the larger saga of the Orthodox Patriarchate itself. This narrative spans from the fall of Byzantium to present-day ecumenical diplomacy. Understanding this history deepens one’s appreciation for why so much resides within this modest basilica.
After the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453, the Ecumenical Patriarchate could no longer reside in Hagia Sophia (which became a mosque). In the uncertain early decades of Ottoman rule, the patriarchate moved several times. Initially, Patriarch Gennadius Scholarios briefly led services in the ruined Church of the Holy Apostles (soon demolished for Fatih Mosque) and at Hagia Eirene inside the old imperial palace. Later, Archangels Michael and Gabriel were carved into positions around the city as the patriarchals moved. Notable interim locations included the Church of Pammakaristos (near today’s Chora Museum) and other smaller churches and even monasteries within the Walls of Constantinople. Each move reflected shifting politics: sometimes the Sultan imposed a new bishop in the capital, other times factions among the Phanariote families (the powerful Greek elite) influenced the Patriarch’s choice of residence. By the late 16th century, the patriarchate still lacked a permanent home in the city proper, bouncing between properties.
The decisive turn came under Patriarch Matthew II (later martyred in 1601). Recognizing the need for stability, Matthew II set his eyes on the Fener (Phanar) area, which by then was a thriving Greek quarter near the Golden Horn. Here stood a small chapel dedicated to St. George – the remnant of a humble convent – far from the political bustle of Istanbul’s heart. In 1597 Matthew II converted that chapel into the Patriarchal cathedral. With this move, the center of Orthodoxy settled at Phanar almost permanently. The neighborhood’s name itself – “Phanar”, meaning lighthouse – became synonymous with the church: today “Phanar” is shorthand for the Ecumenical Patriarchate. As one scholar notes, “the name ‘Phanar’ is regarded as coterminous with the Ecumenical Patriarchate,” for the patriarch’s residence, offices, and church remain there.
This relocation had both practical and spiritual reasons. Politically, Matthew II likely chose Fener because it was a Greek-dominated district where the Patriarch could work relatively free of direct Ottoman oversight (unlike inner-city locales). At the same time, the old convent offered a quiet retreat for spiritual life. After the move, Phanar literally became a monastic community: the nuns were relocated and replaced by monks and priests forming the Patriarchal brotherhood. Within a generation, Phanar was whispered to faithful as the “Great Monastery” of Orthodoxy – a fitting title that underscored the site’s role as a bastion of prayer and learning. (In fact, an Orthodox traveling pilgrimage today might visit Fener just as one would a famous monastery.) Over the centuries, patriarchs and community life remained anchored here, even as outside rulers changed.
The church Matthew II adapted was tiny by imperial standards: initially only about 30 by 15 meters. But immediately, he set about enlarging it. Patriarch Timothy II (1612–20) rebuilt the chapel into a full three-aisled basilica around 1614, carving out the first true Patriarchal Cathedral. His work is still recorded in the carved inscription above the entrance. Throughout the 17th century, successive patriarchs gradually enhanced the structure. Patriarch Callinicus II (1694–1702) repaired walls and roofs after damage, but the basic floorplan of three naves under one roof dates to this era. Still, no stone of the original convent remains in the current building – it was thoroughly reshaped into a patriarchal church.
Fires have been the church’s nemesis. A massive blaze in 1720 gutted the wooden roof. Patriarch Jeremiah III (1716–26) immediately oversaw a full rebuilding, adding the dome that would become a familiar part of the skyline. Even then, a chronicler boasted that the new church had cost no Ottoman treasury coins – it was built entirely by Greek Orthodox donations in the Phanar community. In the late 18th century, a series of smaller fires and earthquakes prompted more work. Around 1798, Patriarch Gregory V (in two later restored terms) put up the current royal altar and side altars. The church enjoyed relative calm until 1821, when Gregory V himself was tragically executed by hanging on the very door of the patriarchate during the Greek War of Independence. In mourning, the main gate of the compound (known as St. Peter’s Gate) was welded shut and has never been opened since (visitors now enter through a side entrance as a solemn memorial).
The Ottomans continued to allow the Patriarchate at Phanar through the 19th century, though conditions were sometimes tense. Another fire in 1836 forced Patriarch Gregory VI to rebuild the roof and apse in its present form. Then in 1878 Patriarch Joachim III (1878–1912) undertook the last 19th-century renovation: he replaced the floor tiles, refreshed the frescos, and refined the grand wooden synthronon (bishop’s seats behind the altar). By the 1890s the Patriarchal Church looked much as it does today: a sturdy stone basilica with a high dome, a tall gilded wooden iconostasis, and a nave furnished with carved walnut choir stalls and the elaborate Patriarchal throne. A new bell tower was added outside at the same time, giving the modest complex a slightly grander exterior silhouette.
The 20th century brought its share of challenges. A terrible fire in 1941 nearly destroyed the roof structure again, leaving parts of the church open to the sky for decades. Only in 1991, after the return of democracy to Turkey, did the Greek Orthodox community have the freedom and funding to restore the Patriarchate fully. Today the roof is rebuilt and the interior redecorated, yet much of the antique furniture – the 17th-century Patriarchal throne, the marble reliquary chests, the golden iconostasis – is original. Each era’s additions testify to the resilience of the Church: in Ottoman times it was under constant oversight, yet never extinguished. Throughout upheavals, the patriarchate at St. George’s remained a living heart of Orthodoxy.
The Patriarchal Church of St. George is architecturally modest by outward appearance, yet filled inside with rich symbolism and artistry. A visitor’s walkthrough can mirror an Orthodox liturgical procession: beginning outside at the gated courtyard, then through the narthex (vestibule), into the nave, and finally to the altar. Along the way we can pause at each major feature to understand its history and meaning.
The church is a long basilica with three aisles and a vaulted roof, typical of Byzantine tradition but updated in a neoclassical style. Its façade is simple: pale stone walls punctuated by tall arched windows, and a single portal crowned by a triangular pediment. Remarkably, the Patriarchal Church was built so unostentatiously that visitors might miss it amid Istanbul’s grand architecture. This understated exterior was deliberate: Ottoman regulations at times forbade new churches from having bell towers or overt Christian imagery. Thus St. George’s was constructed more like a convent chapel. Its present entrance doorway, with classical columns and inscription, dates to the 1836 renovation by Gregory VI. A visitor approaching from the Church of St. Mary of the Mongols will enter through a cobblestone courtyard, as shown in the photograph below, where the church lies at the center of a peaceful cloister-like plaza.
Entering the church, one first reaches the narthex – an antechamber that serves as the space for arriving worshippers to prepare themselves. The narthex of St. George’s is rather narrow, featuring wood benches along the sides and an icon of its namesake saint, St. George, on one wall. These icons remind the faithful who is receiving the church’s devotion. (St. George is shown slaying the dragon, symbolizing the triumph of faith, while on the other side the Prophet Elijah appears in furs – a tribute to the medieval furriers who helped fund the church’s water supply). There are two candle stands here for lighting prayer candles; a visitor sees a later 17th-century walnut stand inset with ivory carvings alongside a modern stand in use. Even in the entrance way, one sees intricate craftsmanship: note the ornate chain-link stove (burner) and Persian rug, gifts from wealthy Orthodox patron during the Ottoman period.
Proceeding through the narthex leads into the central nave. Stepping in, one feels the hushed gravity of the place. Orthodox basilicas like St. George’s lack pews; instead, the floor is open for standing or moving about. The wooden cantor stalls and the Patriarch’s throne are lined along the sides, but otherwise the space is mostly open. Visitors will immediately notice the golden shimmer of the iconostasis (icon screen) ahead. This iconostasis is a glorious wall of icons that runs across the front of the church. In St. George’s, it is made of carved wood gilded in gold – a sumptuous barrier between nave and altar. The iconography is rich and can be studied for hours. At its center are the three doors: the Royal Doors in the middle, flanked by smaller deacon’s doors. All three are flanked by icons of saints. The Royal Doors bear on their panels a painted Annunciation scene (Archangel Gabriel facing the Virgin), and above them on the screen are medallions of St. Gregory the Theologian and St. John Chrysostom, the church’s greatest archbishops. The open doors on either side of the iconostasis display icons of the Virgin Mary (on the left of Christ) and of Christ Pantocrator (on the right) – following Orthodox tradition.
Many icons on the screen date from the 18th century, while some of the frame carvings incorporate Baroque or even Ottoman decorative motifs. Notice especially the icons that flank the Royal Doors: to the viewer’s left of the center stands the icon of the Virgin (theotokos), depicted as “The Tree of Jesse” – a lineage tree leading to Christ, root and blossoming in Mary. On the right of center is Christ, portrayed as the Great High Priest enthroned (sometimes called the True Vine icon). At street level behind the iconostasis are also smaller “holy doors” cut out, allowing clergy to receive communion. The general effect of the iconostasis is to frame the altar space with living saints and biblical imagery, inviting the worshipper into the liturgy even as a veil.
Interior of St. George’s Church, showing the gilded wooden iconostasis and marble reliquaries. The iconostasis (screen of icons) separates the nave from the altar area. It contains multi-tiered icons, including (top) archbishops St. Gregory and St. John, and (center) icons of the Annunciation, Christ, and the Theotokos. At the bottom front are two marble caskets holding the relics of Saints John Chrysostom and Gregory the Theologian.
Behind the central door of the iconostasis lies the most sacred area – the sanctuary with the holy altar. This space is not normally accessible to lay visitors except on special permission, but one can peer beyond the screen to glimpse the marble altar table and the royal throne. To the side of the altar stands the famous Patriarchal Throne. The throne is a towering carved chair made of walnut inlaid with ivory, mother-of-pearl, and bits of colored wood. Tradition holds it to be one of the original 17th-century thrones, possibly attributed to St. John Chrysostom’s era, but an inscribed panel dates it to Patriarch Jeremiah III (1720s). It soars nearly four meters high and is shaped with twisting vine columns. It is richly decorated, and an icon of Christ as Pantocrator is affixed at its crest. This throne is the official seat of the Ecumenical Patriarch: on liturgical occasions he sits here behind the altar (and symbolically even defers this marble throne to the two saints whose relics lie before it).
To the right of the Patriarchal Throne (from the viewpoint of someone in the nave) is the synthronon – a stepped bench rising behind the altar, carved of marble. It has multiple seats for visiting bishops and senior priests. Only the Ecumenical Patriarch may sit on the marble centerpiece; the other seats were historically reserved for members of the Holy Synod when it meets. This arrangement reflects ancient church practice and underscores the throne’s significance.
Also inside the nave, one notices the pulpit (ambon) to the left. It is a tall, circular wooden pulpit set around a column, with a brass eagle lectern on top for reading the Gospel. The inlaid carvings on the pulpit are exquisite walnut and mother-of-pearl; tradition attributes the pulpit to St. John Chrysostom (who was famed as an orator, Chrysostom meaning “golden-mouthed”), though in reality it was carved for Patriarch Gabriel III (d. 1707). Nevertheless, the association reminds worshippers of the eloquence of the Fathers. Above the pulpit one sees more icons – the left wall of the nave is lined with painted icons of saints and archangels, each with votive lamps.
At the very back of the nave is a balcony loft and choir area, where the chanters and choir stand during services. It is reached by a narrow staircase along the right wall. On the left wall near the entrance hang clocks left by wealthy donors (called “carillons”) used for liturgical timing. The entire nave, however, remains austere in palette: no carpet covers the floor (only a large Oriental rug near the candles), and the walls are mostly whitewashed. This austerity heightens the impact of the gilded screen and the rays of light that fall on icons. Dim chandeliers and candles provide the only ambient light, giving the interior a hushed, otherworldly aura.
Key Icons to Note: As you gaze around, look for several particularly important icons. On the iconostasis you will see St. George (the patron saint) with his horse at the top left, and the Virgin Eleousa (Tender Mercy icon) on the top right. Behind the throne, usually on the north side, is the mosaic icon of Panagia Phaneromeni of Kyzikos – an 11th–12th-century Byzantine icon of the Virgin and Child, heavily silvered except for the faces. It was brought from Asia Minor by exiled refugees and is famed for miracles. On the opposite wall may hang the mosaic of Panagia Pammakaristos (Our Lady of Thanksgiving), rescued from the old Pammakaristos Church after 1597. In the narthex there are icons of Elijah and St. George, as noted. Each icon is labeled in Greek (and sometimes in modern Turkish), so one can identify the main figures. Light a candle before any that move you, for Orthodox practice holds that the prayers accompanying that reverent act enter into the saints’ presence.
Lastly, look down at the floor. In the center beneath the chandelier you will find an inlaid geometric candle stand (the only freestanding one, used especially at Pascha). Off to the sides are several high candle carts where the faithful line up to light votive candles. Note the marble casket boxes at the front of the nave – these contain the holy relics of the great saints St. John Chrysostom and St. Gregory the Theologian, kept here since 2004 (their story is told below). The bases of these coffers are inscribed with the saints’ names in Greek and Latin. These relics are the church’s most sacred treasure, and with them St. George’s truly lives up to its reputation as the Great Myrrh-Tropos Ecclesia (the Grand Church of myrrh, as some pilgrims call it).
Few visitors leave St. George’s without feeling awe at the relics and artefacts housed within. Orthodox tradition places great importance on saints’ relics (bones or belongings), and St. George’s has some of the most remarkable in Christendom. These holy objects are not “relics of St. George the Dragon-slayer” (he never set foot in Istanbul), but they belong to saints and to Christ Himself – hence the church’s informal epithet “Great Myrrh Church.” We will highlight the most famous among them here, beginning with the relic directly tied to Christ’s Passion.
In the church’s southeast corner stands a slender marble column fragment embedded in the wall. Orthodox tradition identifies this as the Pillar of the Flagellation – a section of the very column to which Jesus Christ was bound and flogged by Roman soldiers before His crucifixion. This is one of three known fragments of that pillar: the others rest in Rome and in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. According to legend, the piece now in Istanbul was brought here by Saint Helena (mother of Emperor Constantine) when she traveled to the Holy Land in the 4th century. Whether that is historical or pious tradition, the faithful venerate this stone as a tangible link to Christ’s suffering. A small headlamp often illuminates the pillar in the dim corner; you may notice the marks where chains were once believed to bind Christ’s wrists. Pilgrims often touch this stone and say a prayer of forgiveness or atonement before moving on.
The church has preserved an inscription or label (in Greek and English) identifying the pillar, as well as a wooden shelf with explanatory plaques. It reminds visitors that “Christ was chained to this pillar and whipped” as recorded in the Gospels. This relic is normally not freely touched by the public, but one can stand reverently before it. For believers it is a source of deep devotion: many Orthodox feel that a tangible remnant of Christ’s own Passion gives hope of sharing in His redemptive suffering.
Perhaps the Patriarchal Church’s most extraordinary treasure came back only recently: the bones of St. Gregory of Nazianzus (Gregory the Theologian) and St. John Chrysostom, two towering 4th-century Patriarchs of Constantinople. Their relics had been torn from the city during the medieval trauma of the Fourth Crusade (1204). For centuries those relics lay in Rome: St. Gregory’s in a side chapel of St. Peter’s Basilica and St. John’s under one of St. Peter’s altars. In November 2004, in a moving act of ecumenical reconciliation, Pope John Paul II personally apologized for the Crusaders’ sack of Constantinople and officially returned these relics to the Ecumenical Patriarchate. Patriarch Bartholomew I brought them back to Istanbul in a solemn ceremony on 27 November 2004, placing the reliquary chest on the solea (altar step) before the Patriarchal Throne.
Today their bones rest in matching crystal-reliquary caskets made of Pentelic marble, prominently displayed at the foot of the iconostasis. One casket is engraved “St. John Chrysostom †407” and the other “St. Gregory the Theologian †389,” with bronze relief icons on top (you can see these to your left as you face the altar). The bones themselves are visible through glass. Visitors often pause to venerate them with a kiss or bowed prayer. An engraved bronze plaque (in Latin and Greek) commemorates their return to Istanbul. This moment – 800 years after their loss – was treated by the church as a new feast, and November 30 (the day of their re-enthronement) is now celebrated as the Feast of the Translation of the Relics of St. Gregory and St. John. In short, St. George’s is now once again the final resting place of these two saintly giants of Orthodoxy, linking this tiny Istanbul church to the golden age of early Christendom.
Marble caskets inside the Patriarchal Church of St. George contain the relics of St. John Chrysostom (left) and St. Gregory the Theologian (right). These reliquaries were installed in 2004 after their bones were returned from Rome, a gesture symbolizing healing between East and West.
In the left aisle of the church hangs a famous icon called Panagia Phaneromeni of Cyzicus (Our Lady “Made Manifest”), a precious Byzantine work believed to date from the 12th century. It portrays the Virgin Mary standing with Christ, richly adorned in gold and silver. What makes this icon especially revered is its miraculous history: it survived iconoclasm and wars, and Orthodox tradition says it worked healings. According to the accounts, in the 1920s Greek refugees fleeing Anatolia brought this icon from the island of Artaki to Istanbul, and it was placed in St. George’s. Many Orthodox pilgrims pray before this icon earnestly; on feast days of the Virgin Mary, it is covered with votive offerings (metal hearts, crosses). The inscription describes it as “priceless” and it is a popular focus of candle-lighting.
Nearby (at the right of the sanctuary) is another celebrated image: the mosaic icon of Panagia Pammakaristos (Our Lady of Thanksgiving). This was originally in the old Church of the Pammakaristos (Fethiye Mosque) before 1597 and was transferred here when that church was lost. It shows the Virgin enthroned with the Christ Child – one of the last and largest mosaics made in Constantinople before the fall. Although aged, its beautiful tesserae glow in warm tones of gold and lapis, holding legend that it grants divine comfort. Both these Marian icons are fragile and behind protective glass; visitors approach, bow, and venerate them with deep respect.
Scattered around the church are reliquaries (small metal caskets) containing secondary relics. In the right aisle you will find porcelain and marble reliquaries for St. Euphemia, St. Theophano the Empress, and St. Mary Salome (the Myrrhbearer). Euphemia was a 4th-century martyr from Chalcedon, Theophano was a pious Byzantine empress, and Salome was one of the women at the Cross of Christ. Each casket is labeled; they carry the bones and personal effects of the saint, sometimes donated by foreign Orthodox churches as gifts. The faithful file past them on special feast days (see a church calendar if you visit on Sept. 16 or Dec. 16, their anniversaries).
Another treasured relic is a piece of the True Cross. This fragment, believed to come from Golgotha, is encased in a carved wooden reliquary in the narthex. Pilgrims kneel before it and touch its glass for blessings. Near the north wall by the pulpit stands a carved walnut stand said to hold holy chrism (anointed oil consecrated by the Patriarch). This “Holy Myron” was blessed here every Holy Thursday and then distributed to Orthodox dioceses worldwide. Outside the church, visitors can see the large covered pavilion called the Myron Fountain (Ayassofya Meryem Ana Çeşmesi), where the blessed oil was stored and where a smaller oil lamp burns continuously. The entire compound was historically called “the Great Myrrh-Trodden Church” because of this role.
In sum, a tour of St. George’s is also a pilgrimage through the relics and icons that embody Orthodox faith. Each object – a crackled icon, a weighted reliquary, a segment of pillar – carries a story and inspires veneration. Whether of ancient martyrs or of Christ Himself, these sacred treasures form the spine of the church’s identity as a living link between Heaven and earth.
While the cathedral church is the most visible symbol, the Patriarchate is actually a complex of institutions and a centuries-old global institution. This section explains who inhabits the church today and what the Ecumenical Patriarchate means in a modern context.
Above the Holy Altar sits a throne – but it is empty until occupied by the Ecumenical Patriarch. The current Patriarch is Bartholomew I, elected in 1991, the 270th holder of this office. As seen on his official British nationality, he was born Dimitrios Archontonis on Imbros island, but he is universally known simply as Bartholomew. Bartholomew I has been recognized as a wise administrator and a bridge-builder. Under his leadership, the Patriarchate has tackled global issues: he convened a summit on the environment in 1991 and declared an annual “Day of Prayer for Creation” (September 1) in Orthodoxy. He met often with Popes John Paul II and Francis, and he received the 2025 Templeton Prize for promoting science and faith. The media often highlight him as an icon of interfaith dialogue, from co-celebrating services with the Pope to working for Christian unity. In official titles he is styled “His All-Holiness” and called the archbishop of Constantinople. But as Britannica notes, he is also termed the “spiritual leader of Eastern Orthodox Christians worldwide”.
Despite this global reach, the Patriarch’s actual legal authority is complex. Within Orthodoxy he holds primus inter pares status: he has the honor of presidency but not absolute power over other Orthodox churches. He is first among equals, meaning he convenes pan-Orthodox synods, but each national church (e.g. Greek, Russian, Serbian Orthodox) remains canonically self-governing. In practice, Bartholomew’s influence comes from tradition and moral persuasion rather than direct rule. His ecumenical standing – a successor of the Apostle Andrew by tradition – also makes him a key voice in Christian–Muslim–Jewish dialogue. For example, Patriarch Bartholomew frequently meets with the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Moscow and other leaders, although recent political tensions (notably over Ukraine) have strained some relations. Still, Istanbul’s Patriarchate is often viewed as a kind of embassy of Orthodoxy: one hears it called “Constantinople’s principality,” meaning a sovereign spiritual entity.
To truly appreciate the Patriarch of Constantinople, one must understand the Orthodox notion of conciliarity. The title Ecumenical Patriarch itself dates to the Council of Chalcedon (451 AD) and means “universal patriarch” – a term denoting respect across Christendom, not supremacy. In the Orthodox communion of fourteen or more autocephalous churches, the Patriarch of Constantinople is simply their acknowledged chairman. All Orthodox churches are canonical equals in that sense. Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew is respected for his primacy of honor (“first among equals”), as described in canon law. He does not “ordain” other patriarchs, but he convenes pan-Orthodox councils on major issues. His jurisdiction officially extends only over his local Greek Orthodox flock in Turkey (a small community of mostly elderly Christians, since most Turkish Greeks have emigrated). Nevertheless, his decisions and blessings often carry weight: for example, Patriarch Bartholomew’s authorization of the new Orthodox Church of Ukraine’s independence in 2019 was a globally watched move.
This arrangement can seem paradoxical: the church’s name is Ecumenical (i.e. for the “inhabited world”), yet its political reality is just one tiny minority under a secular Turkish state. The Turkish Republic recognizes the Patriarchate as the leader of the Greek Orthodox minority in Turkey and nothing more. (In practice, even that recognition is fraught – for example, for many years the Turkish authorities would not allow Turks to be ordained as Patriarch’s staff, requiring all bishops to be of foreign nationality.) Still, Patriarch Bartholomew and his predecessors have worked tirelessly to maintain Orthodox unity. On the ground in Istanbul, the Patriarchate’s complex houses the Holy Synod offices, the Patriarch’s residence, administrative offices, a printing press, library, and archives, in several connected buildings behind the church. In recent years a new Patriarchal Palace and audience hall was built to accommodate dignitaries (a modern structure blending Byzantine motifs with Turkish architecture). The premises also include a small Patriarchal School and seminary for training clergy.
Despite these modern structures, the Patriarch’s role remains first and foremost liturgical and symbolic. He blesses and sends out missionaries, presides over inter-Orthodox councils, and personally chairs the Holy Friday services at St. George’s. He stands in solidarity with persecuted Christians worldwide (e.g. speaking out on the plight of Middle Eastern Christians) and he meets world leaders as a moral authority. In a city where megamosques draw tourists, the Ecumenical Patriarchate quietly asserts that Christianity still has roots here. Visiting St. George’s, one often senses this: perhaps when the Patriarch himself steps forward to light a candle at his patronal feast or when he calls his flock to pray in troubled times. His presence gives living credibility to the past.
Beyond the church itself, the Patriarchal compound is extensive. A short alley from the church gate leads to a small square flanked by historic brick edifices. The most prominent is the New Patriarchal House (built mid-20th century), which contains the conference rooms, Patriarch’s private chapel, and living quarters. Next to it stands the Phanar Greek Orthodox College (the long red-brick “Red Castle” of 1880s), which still functions as an elite Greek high school. A smaller old building (the Evgenidion) was once the Patriarch’s summer palace. Behind the church and school is a courtyard with the Holy Myron Pavilion, where the chrism oil used at all Orthodox chrismations was consecrated. A tall wooden tower nearby houses the Patriarchal archives and museum. The entire campus feels cloistered and contemplative – adorned with engraved stones, mosaics of saints, and potted flowers – yet it is a working center, with offices for the Synod, publishing press, and library.
The Patriarchate is also a center for philanthropy. Thanks to generous benefactors (notably the late Greek-German philanthropist Panagiotis Angelopoulos), the church’s frescoes and icons have been painstakingly cleaned and restored, and new lighting has been installed. Such patronage reflects the global Orthodox diaspora’s investment in this tiny community. Through these buildings pass pilgrims from Greece, Russia, the Arab world and beyond, often greeted by interpreters and guides arranged by the Patriarchate. In some ways, the compound operates like an Orthodox embassy or pilgrimage guesthouse – for example, it provides allowances to poor Orthodox residents of Istanbul and maintains ties with Christian communities in the Ecumenical Patriarchate’s historic territories (like in the Arab Middle East or Greece).
The Ecumenical Patriarchate today walks a tightrope in international affairs. In Turkey the Patriarch retains only the official status of leader of the Greek Orthodox minority – he cannot enter politics or seek official recognition as an international religious figure. But on the world stage he has raised issues: for instance, consistently advocating for Jerusalem’s holy sites, or expressing concern for Christians in the Middle East. The recent controversy over Hagia Sophia’s reconversion into a mosque (2020) drew a tearful press conference by Bartholomew, though it did not stop the Turkish court’s decision. Relations with other Orthodox churches have also become strained at times (notably with the Moscow Patriarchate over Ukraine). Yet the Patriarchate also champions unity: Bartholomew often points out that all Orthodox remain in sacramental communion despite these disputes.
In Istanbul, maintaining this status requires constant “diplomacy.” The Patriarchate hosts visiting delegations and tries to stay on good terms with the secular Turkish authorities, as well as the Ecumenical Patriarchate’s headquarters in America and Europe. Some describe the Patriarch’s role as “prophetic” – speaking truth to power. An example is the line of mosaics in the main stairwell depicting Mehmed the Conqueror shaking hands with Patriarch Gennadios, reminding modern Turkey of the historic promise of protection to Orthodox under the Sultan’s reign. Whether by counsel or by silent witness (such as lighting candles at Christmastide at the closed gate where Gregory V died), the Patriarchate aims to balance its legacy of survival with respect to a modern, secular Turkey.
Today, the Ecumenical Patriarchate at St. George’s is at once a living church and a museum of history, a monastic prayer house and a diplomatic mission. It endures through this dual identity – worshipping God here each day, while sending ambassadors (the Patriarch and bishops) to address the world’s concerns. For pilgrims or observers, that means St. George’s is never “frozen” in time; it continues to be a locus of contemporary events, as much as it is a cradle of the past.
A visit to the Patriarchal Church can be greatly enriched by wandering its surroundings. Fener and Balat are adjacent historic quarters that have become Istanbul treasures in their own right. Rather than leaving immediately after church, plan to spend an hour or two strolling the area. The contrast from the city’s tourist hubs is striking: narrow cobblestone lanes, pastel-painted houses, and a tapestry of religious sites. Here are some key attractions and tips for the explorer.
By the 19th century, Fener was renowned as the city’s Orthodox Greek quarter, home to merchants, dignitaries, and clerics (the “Phanariotes”). The area still retains many telltale markers: churches with Greek inscriptions, gilded crosses on mosque domes (these were former churches), and the red brick walls of the old Phanar College. If you leave St. George’s by the main gate and walk uphill, you reach the terrace of Phanar Greek Orthodox College itself. The building, looking like a 5-story red castle, was erected in the 1880s by a prominent Greek architect. It was built on land donated by Moldavian Prince Dimitrie Cantemir (an alumnus) to house the Great School of the Nation and later Turkish-Greek schools. Today it still educates the Greek minority, but outside it is a landmark. From its grounds one gets a fine view of Fener’s rooftops and the Golden Horn below, resembling (as tradition says) an eagle with spread wings. Though tourists cannot enter the school, the courtyard in front is lined with souvenir stalls selling Greek books, and opposite stand two small historic churches: the Church of St. Nicholas of Chili and the Armenian Apkar Church, reminders that Fener was also home to Armenian and other communities.
Wander down Merdivenli Yokuşu (“Stairway Street”) to Merkez Efendi Street and you will pass the pretty St. George of Samatya Church (not to be confused with our cathedral), with its distinctive Ottoman-period brickwork. Continue further into Balat and the streets open out to pastel-painted wooden townhouses. Balat in the late Ottoman era was largely a Jewish neighborhood (the Ottoman Empire accepted Jews expelled from Spain in the 1490s), but today it is a multicultural mix. Walking the crooked lanes of Balat, one feels like a photographer’s dream: every corner seems to be a photo-op. The houses here – once run-down – have been restored with bright colors, making the quartier Instagram-famous. One of the most photographed scenes is a narrow street flanked by yellow and pink Georgian-style wooden houses and strung with line-dried laundry. This vivid scene is emblematic of old Balat and has become an unofficial symbol of Istanbul’s historic charm.
A street in Balat lined with the multi-colored historic rowhouses that give the district its character. Balat’s lanes today feature “old, beautiful and colorful houses” that have been revived by urban renewal efforts.
Don’t miss St. Mary of the Mongols (called Kanlı Kilise, “Bloody Church,” by Turks). It sits just east of St. George’s complex, slightly downhill, and is the only Byzantine-era Greek church in Istanbul never turned into a mosque. Its 11th-century sanctuary has a small courtyard and a fortress-like bell tower, testament to its turbulent history (hence the ominous Turkish nickname). According to local lore, it was built by a Byzantine princess in 1281 and survived the Conquest because she was a friend of Mehmet the Conqueror. Visitors must usually press a buzzer to be admitted, but the interior’s fresco fragments and icons are well worth a peek. Further along in Balat you can also see the Church of Aya Yorgi (St. George) of Samatya, a lovely stone church with a restored courtyard, and the Ahrida Synagogue (located on Balat’s main street), one of Istanbul’s oldest synagogues with its famous boat-shaped bimah. These nearby houses of worship reflect the neighborhood’s centuries of Greek, Armenian, and Jewish life.
Beyond the big monuments, take the time to absorb the local flavor. Balat is now filled with small galleries, antique shops, and cafes in Ottoman-era houses. A popular walk is to follow the waterfront path from Fener up toward Balat: you’ll find rusty old fishing boats moored next to fishermen’s boats, as well as photo-worthy derelict mansions. Climb the steep Balat slope to see the Iron Church (St. Stephen’s Bulgarian Church) with its green dome – an elaborate prefabricated iron church constructed in the 1890s. Another unusual sight: on the shore stands a ruin of a 3rd-century Byzantine cistern (called Kalderimi) filled with carp and another old melas domo (burnt brick building) sometimes called “Fisherman’s House.”
For street photography, the houses on Vodina Street or Kiremit Street are especially scenic. These streets feature lines of wooden houses painted aqua, orange, and ochre, often with flowering vines or cats on the stoops. Whenever a resident unlocks a painted door or a Kedi cat suns itself on a windowsill, it feels like capturing a scene from a bygone Ottoman neighborhood. Several travel blogs note that Balat is “truly unique” for its blend of Orthodox, Byzantine, and vernacular architecture all in one frame.
Apart from St. George’s cathedral and St. Mary of the Mongols, the Phanar and Balat area holds other historic houses of worship. Notable Greek Orthodox churches include the Virgin Paramythia (Comforter) Church – now a maritime museum but still retaining its 19th-century Byzantine facade – and the smaller St. Nicholas of Chimaki near the Patriarchate walls. The Jewish quarter’s most famous synagogue is Ahrida (Ohrid) Synagogue on Kiremit Street, built in 1541 by refugees from the Balkans; inside you will see an elliptical Moorish-style bimah that looks like an overturned boat. A branch of the Ashkenazi Synagogue is also nearby. Just south in Balat, beyond St. Stephen’s Iron Church, stands the Kilise Camii – a former church that Ottoman sultans built as a mosque in the 1530s. Across the Golden Horn in Ayvansaray one finds the Church of St. Demetrios Xylopótamias, another former cathedral of the patriarchate (now a minor church).
All these sites are within comfortable walking distance of St. George’s (Fener-Balat is compact). As you wander, look for old signs in Greek or Hebrew alphabets, faded memorial plaques, and evidence of the area’s plural past. Between architecture stops, sample the street life: small grocery shops (often run by Syrian refugees), neighborhoods coffee houses (kahvehane) with metal tables, and grocers selling dried figs and olives. Many local Turkish residents speak some Greek or Ladino (Judeo-Spanish) from family heritage, so it’s an interesting cultural mix.
When hunger strikes, Fener-Balat does not disappoint. Although still off the main tourist routes, the area has seen a surge of good eateries in recent years. Here are a few well-liked options:
In addition, the streets have small baklava shops and patisseries where you can try simit (sesame ring bread) or börek (cheese pastry). For a quick snack, grab a simit and Turkish tea from a street vendor by the church. Overall, Fener-Balat dining is about authenticity and atmosphere rather than fancy dining: tables often spill into the street, and the décor is aged wood and vintage knickknacks. It feels like eating in an old friend’s living room.
Q: Can anyone attend a service at the Church of St. George?
Yes. The liturgies in St. George’s are open to all Christians and visitors. Whether Orthodox or not, you may enter and stand respectfully in the nave during the service. The Divine Liturgy is celebrated in Koine Greek, but its beauty is evident in the chants and incense. Out of courtesy, visitors should sit or stand quietly in the back near the entrance. Women normally remove shoes or cover heads in Orthodox churches, though at St. George’s covering isn’t strictly enforced. (The church will often provide a veil or scarf if needed.) Non-Orthodox Christians and even curious tourists do sometimes participate; just follow the lead of local worshippers (for example, if the faithful cross themselves, you may simply bow your head).
Q: Is the Church of St. George the same as Hagia Sophia?
Not at all. Hagia Sophia (Aya Sofya) is a massive 6th-century basilica in Sultanahmet, which was the seat of the Patriarch until 1453, but it is a different building from an earlier era. Hagia Sophia is now (as of 2020) a functioning mosque and famed museum. By contrast, the Patriarchal Church of St. George is a comparatively small 19th-century church that has always been a living cathedral. They are separate sanctuaries in different districts. Think of Hagia Sophia as the former imperial cathedral, and St. George’s as the current patriarchal cathedral. Both are holy to Christians, but they serve different roles and traditions today.
Q: What is the best way to get to the church?
From Istanbul’s historic center (Sultanahmet), the easiest way is by ferry. From Eminönü docks, take the boat headed for Fener or Balat (heading northwest on the Golden Horn). Disembark at the Fener quay (sometimes called Fener or Merkez). The walk from the pier is about 10 minutes: head uphill on Merdivenköy Street, and you’ll soon spot the red turret of the Patriarchal complex to your left. Alternatively, you can take bus 36 or 36T from Eminönü to Fener, or hop on the historic tram to Unkapanı and transfer to a bus. Taxis are plentiful; simply say “Fener Rum Patrikhanesi” and they will drive directly to the square in front of the church. (Be aware traffic can be slow at rush hour.) Once you are in Fener, just follow signs or a map to Hagias Georgiou (Saint George’s) Church.
Q: How much time should I allocate for my visit?
For a thorough visit, plan on 1 to 1.5 hours. Spending at least an hour allows you to see the church’s interior properly: walk through the nave, absorb the iconography, venerate the relics, and even light candles. Add time if you want to attend a service or an explanatory talk by a guide. Also factor in 20–30 minutes to visit any souvenir stand or icon shop near the entrance. If you intend to tour the Patriarchal museum (usually by appointment) or see the nearby Sacrifice Gate (closed gate), add another 30–60 minutes. Overall, make it part of an afternoon exploring Fener and Balat; that will maximize your enjoyment of the context as well as the church itself.
Q: Are there guided tours available?
Official English-language tours inside the Patriarchal Church are not regularly offered to the public like at some museums. The Patriarchate occasionally hosts special guided visits for delegations or Orthodox pilgrims. However, any visitor can usually find an impromptu English-speaking person (often an Orthodox monk or lay member of the Patriarchal Brotherhood) inside who is willing to answer questions. More commonly, travel companies offer private guided tours of Fener and the Patriarchate – these guides have contacts to arrange interior visits. If you prefer structured guidance, look for local operators advertising “Phanar tours.” Otherwise, a self-guided approach works fine: informative plaques on the icons and relics are in English, and a printed brochure or this very article can serve as your narrative.
Q: Why is the main gate of the Patriarchate always closed?
This question has a powerful answer: the original main gate (St. Peter’s Gate) of the Patriarchate has been welded shut since 1821. That year, Patriarch Gregory V was executed by hanging over the gate, on the morning of Orthodox Easter, by order of the Sultan. In memory of his martyrdom, the gate through which he was dragged was never opened again. Today, visitors enter through a side gate by the Phanar College. Inside the church compound, you will see the sealed gate behind glass (often adorned with flowers on the anniversary). It stands as a stark symbol of Orthodox suffering under Ottoman rule and a reminder of the Patriarch’s legacy. The closed gate is a poignant site: it was here that St. Gregory’s blood-soaked body hung and where he is commemorated as an “Ethnomartyr” of the Greek nation.
If you approach the Gate of St. Peter outside, do so quietly and treat it with reverence. An inscription above it in Greek and Turkish explains that it has remained “sealed and shut for us forever.” Many Orthodox pilgrims stop to pray before it or light candles. This story is so central to the identity of St. George’s that it often figures in pilgrim accounts and should not be missed.
The Patriarchal Church of St. George at Phanar is more than a tourist stop: it is a living chronicle of Orthodoxy’s journey. From its humble beginnings as a small convent chapel to its current stature as the global throne of the Ecumenical Patriarch, the church has weathered conquest, fire, exile and renewal. Inside its walls one finds not only Byzantine art and Ottoman inscriptions, but a palpable continuity of faith. Icons that date back centuries gaze down at mosaics brought from Constantinople’s Golden Age; relics of apostles and martyrs share a sanctuary with the daily prayers of the faithful. In every carved seat, gilded icon, and cathedral hymn, the legacy of St. George’s is clear: unbroken Orthodox worship.
For the modern visitor, the cathedral challenges the notion of a “tourist site.” It insists that one come as a witness to continuity. Orthodox liturgical chants still echo here in Greek, just as they have since the time of the Byzantine Empire. The current Patriarch sits on the same altar we pass by on the way out. In that sense, St. George’s embodies a living history. As you leave, look back once more at its quiet courtyard and whitewashed columns. Consider that behind that simple exterior lies a “city” of faith – small in size but vast in spiritual import.