Wherefore art thou George?

So what’s all the fuss about Saint George anyway? There’s no denying he is popular, but why? We know that he was born in either Cappadocia or Palestine to a Greek father and a Palestinian mother, both Christians and part of the Roman nobility. He lost his father when he was 14 and mum took him back to Palestine to the town of Lydda, near present-day Tel Aviv, where he grew to manhood. On her death, he did what any good 17-year-old Roman orphaned noble was expected to do; he joined the army. Stories have him as far afield as Britain but wherever he really did get to, he made a name for himself and ended up back in Lydda where he became Tribune.

As it happened, that was about the time Rome was losing its patience with the Christians and orders came down that fellows like George should throw in the Christian towel and return to the good old pagan ways. George refused and was decapitated. So far no dragons, no princesses, and no miracles. He could have easily slipped into obscurity had it not been for the emperor Constantine, who needed a few staunch pillars of the church to look up to in his attempts to spread Christianity throughout the Middle East. George had a job, posthumous, but a job.

Let’s fast-forward to the second Vatican Council. John XXIII hoped to  bring the Church up to date, and with a bit of spring cleaning, a number of saints with questionable backgrounds, including George, were demoted. He didn’t actually lose his halo but went from being “venerated” to officially “commemorated” in areas where there was a traditional devotion to a saintly figure. This is where things become interesting. George reportedly died when he was 47 but for some reason he became almost as ubiquitous as Saint Teresa’s arm. This guy is everywhere.

India. No one even suggests George went there, but in that far-flung outpost he has an enormous following and the largest shrine dedicated to him. In the US he is patron of the Boy Scouts of America. Sweden, the country, considers itself to be the “princess” that George will always save from the Dragon. The Dragon being basically anything that isn’t Sweden. Georgia, well it goes without saying and it is really here that his cult developed back in the 4th century. But he is also patron of England where the flag bears his cross and he became more or less godfather to a number of monarchs named George. Portugal adopted him as its patron saint over James in its divorce from Spain. Palestine, Ethiopia, Lebanon, Syria, and other places closer to his home obviously have special affection for our friend, and in Cairo there is even a railway station, Mar-Girges, named after him. Believe me, the list is almost endless. How did we get him? Well, George came part and parcel with the Kingdom of Aragon and when that was done for, we decided to keep him. No roses nor any books at that time though.

The Persians loved the man and it is quite possible that his romanticised dragon-slaying origins grew out of the poetic epics and the pens of some of the most lauded lyricists in human endeavour in a culture that was devoted to the beauty of the word. Even in Muslim tradition Jiriyas or Girgus is revered as a prophetic figure and also has him rising from the dead three times without telling us what happened next. Most likely his “sainthood” comes from a pre-Muslim word for a holy person, Sidi, which Constantine deemed was acceptable enough to launch him on his posthumous career. I mean, all this is not bad for a 3rd century Roman soldier with little real claim to fame other than losing his head in a religious argument, which at that time was not at all an uncommon occurrence.

From the 11th century, tales of George as a dragon-slayer spread slowly across Europe and by the 14th century he was here to stay.

I for one am not particularly attracted to the idea. I love our festival of festivals and its celebration of love, friendship and affection but it does smack a little of fraud. The idea that the girl gets a rose and not much else seems to be a little out of keeping with the much needed change of attitude regarding gender issues and thinking that George has it in his head that damsels need to be saved doesn’t wash with me. I am quite certain that a good number of said damsels would prefer the company of the dragon any day over a wimpish Bryan Ferry-like figure wearing a Roman breastplate riding around on a white steed crooning “I’m just a jealous guy.”

sant jordi’s day