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Patmos: The Search for the Sacred Cave

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“I, John, your brother who shares with you in Jesus the persecution and the kingdom and the patient endurance, was on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.” (Revelation 1:9)

Having met in a Bible study class we were of one mind when faced with the question of which Greek Island to visit. The choice was Patmos, where St. John the divine wrote the Book of Revelation in the first century AD, having been exiled there by the Emperor Domitian.

Reaching this destination was not a trivial exercise. Patmos is in the Dodecanese Islands and it has no airport. Getting there was an overnight trip by ferry and in February, when we visited, ferries run only a few days during the week.

It was important to us to visit the cave where St. John's controversial book was written but the thought of a ferry trip was a bit daunting. Ron suffered from visions of canvas hammocks slung from pipes over an oily steel deck. So, even though we are not prone to luxury accommodations, we booked a "deluxe" room on the Blue Star Ferry line... though still not sure what "deluxe" meant in terms of a Greek overnight ferry. We shouldn't have worried.

At right is Regina's ticket from the Ferry. The purple group of islands at the right are the Dodecanese; Athens is in the pink section.

This was our stateroom. Ron was very relieved to find that the beds weren't built into a wall and he could stretch out his long legs. The porthole looked over the bow of the ship. We had a private bath, a small refrigerator and a TV with such offerings as French television broadcasts and "Shaft 2" subtitled in Greek.

This was our first view of Patmos as we approached at dawn on a Sunday morning. Our destination was the monastery at the top of the hill in the distance, but first the cave where Revelation was written, midway up the mountain.

Knowing we'd be on Patmos from about 8 AM till almost midnight, we reserved a room for the day at this hotel. It was a welcome place to rest between explorations of the island. We were fortunate, though, that we didn't plan to spend the night. The bed appeared to be World War One surplus that had been very thoroughly used.

While we enjoyed the walk and the views, we couldn't find the cave. We found one sign pointing to a path off the road that read "Sacred Cave" but it led us to what appeared to be an apartment building. We went in and heard a loud conversation going beyond a turn in the hall (in Greek, of course) but saw no sign of a cave.

We wandered around the area but couldn't find any caves. Disappointed, we decided to leave for the monastery on top of the hill before it closed.

A view from partway up the hill. Patmos is mostly hills and the monastery and John's cave is reached by a winding road or a rocky trail. We took the road.

Another view, showing the harbor.

We spent some time admiring the monastery, guided by a friendly porter who spoke no English. The small museum, of course, was closed for the season but the stained glass, paintings and frescos were worth the climb. Finally, we headed downhill and decided we just had to go back and see where we'd gone wrong on our cave search. It was past noon and the cave would be closed to the public, but we'd already decided we were going to visit Greece again. Maybe we'd learn something for next time.

We retraced our steps to the building and looked around again. In desperation, Regina looked up. Hanging from the ceiling was a small white sign with faded gold letters. The Greek, "Pros Iarios Speleos" registered before she even noticed the smaller English translation: "To the Sacred Cave". We took a left turn, as indicated, and went through a door and down the outside stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs we found what appeared to be the door of a small church. We entered and a young monk was polishing icons and sniffling from a cold. He went about his work, ignoring us. Regina was about to ask him where the cave was and then we looked around us. We realized we were in a cave. Photography is strictly forbidden within the cave so we can only show the entrance. The cave was very simple, bare really, but all the same it was impressive.

Up above, on the ceiling, were the fissures in the roof through which John said that God had spoken to him. On the side wall to the right was the niche down near the floor, where John was said to have lain his head every night. The opening was surrounded by a silver filigree halo. A small altar and three bare wooden benches completed the scene. We looked at each other silently. We'd found the sacred cave and, thanks to the grace of God and the young monk, we had gotten in after it was supposed to be locked up.

Back in town we found several other reminders of the island's New Testament history. Tiny chapels such as the one at left commemorate one saint or another and appear to be well used.

With mission accomplished, our ferry trip back to Piraeus (the port for Athens) was much more relaxed than out trip out. We got a glass of ouzo in the lounge, settled in for the night and were rocked to sleep by gentle waves and the sound of light rain squalls on our porthole. We'd found what we sought and it was time to go back to Athens.