It's my Name Day today. Whenever I say that, most people give me quizzical looks and then there's the predictable pause as they wait for me to explain.
In the Orthodox culture, we celebrate the Feast Days of Saints (though it's not just an Orthodox thing. People all over the globe in a wide array of cultures are celebrating St. George's Day today). Practically every day in our calendar is dedicated to a saint. Sometimes more than one. In Greek culture in particular, your "name day" is celebrated more than your birthday, with entire villages and cities coming alive with parties and festivals.
Today's my name day (yep, contrary to popular belief, I am not a resident of Georgia's 10th district). My religious name is Georgia. I was named after my grandfather, a shoemaker who lived a hard life and found pleasure in the gardens he tilled on a little rock in the Mediterranean.
A
s a kid, I felt lucky. I was blessed with a "cool" saint. Although I admit I was envious at times of my childhood friends who celebrated St. Lukia (St. Lucy). She's famous for having her
eyes on a platter. Very cool.
But it was St. George who captivated me. I vividly recall sitting in the ornate Orthodox churches of my youth, trying not to get wax on my dress as I played with the candle in my hand (no matter how many times you pass your hand through the flame, it never gets old). Of all the icons in the church (and Greek churches are filled with glorious icons), it was always that of St. George that drew me in. Something about the armor he wore. Or his white horse. Or the dragon's face crying out in pain.
St. George, you see, was a dragon-slayer.
The legend of St. George is a rich cultural and religious tapestry--and at its core, it's a tale of unbridled bravery.
St. George, or plain ol' George at the time I guess, was a brilliant soldier in the Roman army. Catholic Encyclopedia has a good summary of the legend:
A terrible dragon had ravaged all the country round a city of Libya, called Selena, making its lair in a marshy swamp. Its breath caused pestilence whenever it approached the town, so the people gave the monster two sheep every day to satisfy its hunger, but, when the sheep failed, a human victim was necessary and lots were drawn to determine the victim. On one occasion the lot fell to the king's little daughter. The king offered all his wealth to purchase a substitute, but the people had pledged themselves that no substitutes should be allowed, and so the maiden, dressed as a bride, was led to the marsh. There St. George chanced to ride by, and asked the maiden what she did, but she bade him leave her lest he also might perish. The good knight stayed, however, and, when the dragon appeared, St. George, making the sign of the cross, bravely attacked it and transfixed it with his lance. Then asking the maiden for her girdle [...] he bound it round the neck of the monster, and thereupon the princess was able to lead it like a lamb. They then returned to the city, where St. George bade the people have no fear but only be baptized, after which he cut off the dragon's head and the townsfolk were all converted.
A valiant legend, indeed. Alas, it was St. George who would lose his head later on. When Christianity was outlawed, St. George, still a member of the Roman army, refused to renounce his faith and resigned his commission. He was arrested, tortured, and beheaded on the 23rd of April, in the year 303.
B
ravery. That's a word we don't really hear today, especially not in the so-dry-you-may-as-well-have-sand-in-your-mouth world of
politics. No, politics is drained of emotion. Issues of life and death are sucked dry of their import and are reduced to stilted phrases like "collateral damage" or "extended deployment." War which is so damn
personal on the battlefield and in graveyards, becomes so
impersonal as we speak of vetoes and signing statements and supplemental appropriations procedure.
In that frigid world of politics, it's easy to look past bravery. It's even easier to overlook since it's been so long since we've seen bravery by our elected leaders...so long, in fact, that we may hardly even recognize it anymore.
Bravery, though, is Senator Reid saying the war is lost militarily, and refusing to back down. It would have been effortless for the good Senator to have "clarified" his remarks, to have "apologized" to the troops as the right-wing noise machine has demanded. But Reid stands firm.
Bravery is Democrats seemingly coalescing around a strategy to keep the pressure on the President, despite an all-but-assured veto, and despite taunts from Cheney that the Dems will chicken out.
But the only game of "chicken" to be played is within the Democratic Party itself. Will Democrats continue on this path of pressing forward with the desires of the American people? Will they stand for what they believe in?
I submit that they will (though I'll be the first to call them out if they don't). I think that the Democrats, slowly but surely, are starting to "get it." There is a dragon to be slayed. There is a mismanaged war that has wrought hell upon Iraq, and we simply cannot keep sacrificing the best of us or the best of Iraq at its feet. Getting rid of it won't necessarily stop the bloodshed, and beginning to end the war sure as hell won't transform Democrats into saints (too much past to forget on that one). Indeed, I'm sure Democrats will face a withering storm from the media. They'll be demonized by Republicans. And yes, they'll catch hell even from some Democrats as well.
But every vote, every flicker of valor, will be testament to their political and moral will to slowly right what has gone tragically wrong. And a showing of such will is sorely needed. As Barack Obama said today, "[t]his President may occupy the White House, but for the last six years the position of leader of the free the world has remained open."
This nation thirsts for unflinching leadership that is willing to battle against mismanagement, incompetence, and deceit. Its people yearn for dragon-slayers to take action.
Let the Democrats pick up their swords...and fight.