In the midst of the joyous Paschal period, we celebrate the feast of St. George the Great Martyr, one of Romanity’s greatest heroes. As the saintly Greek author Alexandros Papadiamantis notes “the Greek people most appropriately honor St. George, one of their most Hellenic saints, with an amazing display of devotion. The trophy-bearing Great Martyr, together with the myrrh-gushing St. Demetrios of Thessaloniki, his kindred spirit and equal, stand on guard – one at the entrance to the summer and the other to the winter…” Perhaps no other saint has more chapels dedicated to him throughout Greece. After all, what other saint can boast of being the general patron of Greek cities and protector of the Greek countryside? According to Papadiamantis, the saint’s biography makes no mention of his place of martyrdom, as if to leave his memory as a common Panhellenic possession.
There are countless miracles attributed to St. George. In his article “Ai Mou Yioryi” (My Dear St. George), written in 1892 – just one year before Greece declared bankruptcy – Papadiamantis cites several. For those who don’t believe in miracles, he suggests a trip to Mt. Athos, and specifically to the Zographou Monastery. There, they can see an icon of St. George that was not made by human hands, but formed out of the blood from his martyrdom. According to tradition, a doubting bishop who questioned the miraculous image once placed his finger on the icon to examine it and was punished for his audacity by getting his finger stuck to the icon. Unable to remove it, he was forced to cut it off. The remnants of the finger remain visible on the icon centuries later, up until the present day!
But the trophy-bearing St. George is also known for his condescending goodness, which is captured in Papadiamantis’ tale of a young boy playing quoits at a seaside town in the East, nearby the saint’s church. The boy was losing and his philotimo was suffering (that’s how you could tell he was Greek(!) says Papadiamantis). In order to recover his lost honor, in lieu of the usual gifts of candles, incense, and a liturgy, he decided to offer the saint… an omelet. And as soon as he made the wish, he went on a winning steak utterly triumphing over the others, at which point he ran home and made sure a large omelet was prepared, which he brought on a plate and laid in front of the saint’s icon in the church. As the boy left, a sailor happened to be entering the church and saw the sizzling omelet. Reasoning to himself that St. George had no need of omelets, he figured he’d eat it and replace it with a large candle. However, upon devouring the omelet, as he went to leave, he realized that his legs were sticking to the church floor repeatedly. Finally realizing the miracle that was taking place, he was compelled to up his offering in order to leave, at which point he could not help but remark “St. George, you sell your omelets for a high price!”
Papadiamantis doesn’t choose his stories at random. After asking the saint forgiveness for the childlike simplicity of his article, he notes “my dear St. George, forgive me for mixing the sacred with the profane – for making this compromise, this novelty – because if I dare to transcribe here the superhuman struggles and lengthy torture that you endured, shedding you priceless blood drop by drop on behalf of Christ the Savior, today’s Greeks – the descendants of those whom you benefacted so many times – might likely cry out: ‘get a load of these fairy tales!’ Their wise men won’t hesitate to say that you are Perseus or Hercules in disguise! …”
Seven years into the hated memorandum, Greece’s politicians would do well to remember St. George. And Hellas’ prime minister would most certainly be better off offering an omelet to the saint to help the negotiations than reasoning with the malevolent creditors. After all, St. George is famously associated with slaying the dragon that nested near a spring and would periodically demand blood from the citizens as a tax. The poor people would cast lots (true democracy!) to determine which unfortunate maiden’s turn it would be to satisfy the terrible beast’s voracious appetite. Unlike modern-day Greece, however, even the “royalty” were subject to consequences, and back then, the unlucky lot was drawn by Princess Alexandra! However, St. George hearkened to the prayers of her parents, heroically and invincibly coming to her aid, killing the terrible dragon, and returning the princess to her parents unscathed.
The multi-headed hydra known as the troika (now the quartet) of Greece’s lenders is not unlike that terrible dragon. Their voracious appetite for taxes is sucking the lifeblood out of Greece and posing an unbearable threat – most of all to its unlucky youth. Only now, the lot almost always undemocratically falls on the poor and middle class – never the party cadres, never the barons, never the self-styled leftists and pseudosocialists with capitalistic appetites.
Lacking the philotimo of the young boy, their sole concern is merely to remain glued to their posts. Instead of freeing Greece from the fangs of the hydra, they gladly sacrifice the people and merely seek to triumph at the polls. “Ah, Elections! These have been our sole concern for seventy years, since we were liberated. In other words, since we changed tyrants; whom we fancy that we change more regularly through elections.” Nearly 125 years later, Papadiamantis’ words could not ring truer. Hopefully his conclusion will as well: “But, my dear St. George, may the dawn of that blessed day of the Resurrection of our People rise all the sooner, because a nation that has such a great cloud of martyrs, and so many supplicants before God alongside you, who are your flesh and blood, will never be abandoned by the God of their fathers. May that day dawn soon, my dear St. George!”
Follow me on Twitter @CTripoulas