Saint George in Rafah

In this week's Camino a Ítaca, a rebranding of the global icon, the dragon slayer, with an eye on a population that desperately needs someone's help, anyone's help. Even a mythical knight. Click over to read the originally published version in Spanish in el HOY or read the English translation below. (PDF en castellano abajo)

At what point does a procession become a parade? Just when does this transformation happen? Is there a certain amount of solemnity and decorum needed to remain the former before converting into the latter? Is there some limit of mirth that needs to be crossed before it evolves into a cavalcade? Is it similar to the transformation that happens when stories become myths?

Caceres has always been a city of dragons. Long before HBO landed here with their reptilian soap opera, the city venerated the Cappadocian Roman soldier come Christian martyr, Saint George. And this past week saw perhaps its biggest celebration ever. 3200 people marched through the streets of the city accompanying 22 dragons, in what would have been called a parade given that it’s focus was a legendary dragon slayer and wasn’t celebrating semi-mythical kings of the Orient or depictions of last suppers and resurrections.

Are dragons somehow less believable than the other myths and therefore are demoted to parade status? Whatever the case, it, whatever ‘it’ truly represents, ends up in expiatory flames in the Main Square.

Like neighboring Portugal, the UK, Albania, Bulgaria, Ethiopia, Romania and even the beaches of Ipanema, Caceres looks to this medieval myth as a figure of triumph, even if he never visited their lands. Rather than choose King Arthur, Robin Hood or Achilles, they all choose to identify with this tale.

In the storied annals of Christian martyrdom, few figures conjure a more potent blend of chivalry, faith, and cultural resonance than him. But peel back the layers of history, and one uncovers a narrative rich with complexities, where myth intertwines with geopolitics, and the legend of this supposedly valiant saint intersects with the soil of a land now facing a genocide, Palestine.

In the ancient town of Lydda, nestled amidst the sun-baked hills of present-day Palestine, the legend of Saint George finds its earthly anchor. Here, it is said, George, a Roman soldier of noble birth, defied the tyrannical decree of Emperor Diocletian, refusing to renounce his Christian faith. His steadfast refusal led to his gruesome martyrdom, his blood mingling with the dusty earth of his homeland.

Yet, beyond the hagiographic veneer, Saint George's tale becomes entwined with the broader narrative of Palestinian struggle and resilience, of people who refuse to just disappear, no matter how inconvenient for Zionists, they just won’t go away.

Delving into the layers of historical memory, tracing the evolution of George's cult from local hero to global icon, we find a symbol of defiance against oppression and not necessarily one that some choose to see as a facile view of good versus evil. The far-right who try to appropriate his myth read him wrongly. This is the migrant refusing to give up his identity.

The story of Saint George transcends mere folklore, becoming a poignant meditation on the enduring bonds between faith, identity, and resistance. For in the figure of this Palestinian martyr, we find echoes of a timeless struggle, where the courage of one man continues to inspire hope in a land fraught with turmoil.

With the tens of thousands being buried under western bombs, it’s time to celebrate the legend a new way to protect the unprotected.