Spirits in Tusheti

From Omalo, the central village of Tusheti, it is a two-hour ride on horseback to Shenako. The winding road first descends steeply into the valley of the Pirikita Alazani river, then, after crossing the bridge – for this you have to dismount and lead the horse by the bridle, as it can easily startle on the rotting wooden structure – it rises steeply again towards the castle of Diklo on the Dagestani border.

Approaching Shenako, an old cemetery looks down on us on the right side of the hill. Its graveposts are simple stone blícks without inscription, rectangular mounds made of slate, or just an irregular slate slab stuck upright in the ground. Only one tin plate, Sara Chvchitidze’s headboard, bears the date of 1900-1983. No one has been buried here in a long time. As the inhabitants of the village, except for two families, gradually moved down to the foot of the Great Caucasus, the Alazani plain seventy kilometers away, from the 1970s, it is not even certain whether anyone is still buried here in the village. At the edge of the cemetery there are some khatis, low square pillars built of slate slabs, topped with the horns of sacrificial rams, and with an opening on the side, in which they used to light candles. Not for the memory of the dead or for their salvation, as in the church, but as a sacrifice to the spirits protecting the cemetery.

Looking down to the left, the valley below us is lined with the ruins or bare foundations of destroyed houses. The village of Shenako once stood there, in the fertile valley, along the stream, but during the century-long war between Tusheti and Dagestan, the invading Lezg troops destroyed it at the beginning of the 19th century. In the direction towards Omalo, where we are coming from, new economic or weekend houses were erected on the old foundations during the peaceful decades of socialism, but in the part towards the Dagestani border, you can see only bare foundations. If we continue another two kilometers to the southeast, high above the river – which, after the cconfluence of the two Alazani rivers, already bears the Dagestani name Andis Koisu, and which, flowing out into Dagestan, opens an ideal gate for the Muslim invaders – there stand the ruins of the watchtowers of the destroyed Ageurta village, whence they kept watch over the road along the river.

The new village was built on a more defensible hill. After a bend, it rises suddenly in front of us, with slate-roofed houses creeping up the hillside, and a Georgian church with a domed tower at its highest point, like a small Italian mountain town. The walls of the houses are of slate, with massive wooden rafters on them to support the heavy slate roof. On their loger sides, a projecting wooden balcony runs along the entire length of the building, with sawn decoration on its railing.

The church built on the hilltop, in a field surrounded by houses, is the only functioning Christian building in Tusheti. There is only one other church in the entire region, in the medieval village of Dartlo, founded in the 12th century. However, it is in ruins and is now used for the practice of pre-Christian cults. In the isolated northern valleys of Georgia, many customs of the pre-Christian religion are still alive today. Moreover, since the weakness of the Georgian central government and the Persian and Turkish occupation of the country did not allow priests to be sent here for about six hundred years, so for centuries this was the only religion practiced by the people living here. Its cults merged with Christian traditions, its gods took the names of Christian saints, and they are still practiced in parallel with Christianity today, in a syncretistic way, tolerated by the Orthodox Church. In Svaneti – as I have already written about – it is customary in several places that on major holidays a priest celebrates a Christian liturgy in the church, while the local shaman asks for the help of the spirits in the southern vestibule or at the gate of the church. Here in Shenako, on top of a small hill behind the church, there is a field for non-Christian rites. In the forefront stands a meter-high khatis made of slate. Apparently, the church itself was built here to counterbalance the sacred field in 1834, when the Russian state church wanted to extend its control over the previously pagan territories. After the bolshevik occupation in 1920, however, the church began to fall into disrepair, while the sacred field continued to be used continuously. Only in the early 2000s was it restored and decorated with traditional Orthodox frescoes by a local painter, the son of Garsevan Kurgelaidze, the great Georgian researcher of the Antarktis, who lived here.

Colorful knitted socks, wool vests, and traditional jewellery hang on the strings stretched across the façade of the old house opposite the church. The sign on the porch advertises cold beer and hot tea. We enter. The hostess speaks a beautiful Russian. “You should know that you are the first Hungarian guests here at my place. God brought you.” She serves the beer and then sits down among us. At first she asks about what has changed in our country since Communism, but when she sees that we are no better off than they are, she switches to a more pleasant subject, and starts talking about the spirits.

She recounts that there are spirits in Tusheti which sit on the chests or necks of people at night to suck life force from them and even suffocate them. But if you only feign sleep and manage to cut off a nail of the spirit, you can make it your servant for life. The nail must be kept in the sheath of the knife worn on the waist belt, this binds the spirit to its owner forever.

Once, a spirit sat on her daughter as well. The girl shouted desperately from the other room that the spirit was sitting on her and what should she do. Oddly enough, her answer was not to cut her nail, but to sing. From this the spirit knows that she is not sleeping, and it leaves.

Spirits have long white hair that almost glows in the dark. For this reason, a century ago, a girl from Shenako was able to single-handedly put into flight an entire Dagestani raiding party. She was working in the fields near a watchtower when she noticed horsemen approaching in the valley. She ran up to the top of the tower and waved her untied long blonde hair in the wind. The Lezg robbers were terrified and turned back. “This woman was my husband’s great-grandmother”, she adds for authenticity.

Spirits often only manifest through their influence. The sacred field behind the church, for example, constantly radiates strength to the men who pass by. But only to men. A woman cannot even enter the sacred field, least she destroys the source of power.

“No entry to women.” Ad hoc sign on the fence of the sacred field in another Tush village, Dartlo, which now also includes the ruins of a 12th-century Christian church

When a big storm is nearing – she continues –, the men go out to the sacred field, where they ask the spirits to avert any calamity. But they also go out to beg for rain in times of drought. Both usually work. She recounts all of this with such devoted, clear faith, as the village women in our region recount the miracles of this or that saint, or the believers of conspiracy theories recount their own evidence. “I believe that with you this does not exist any more. In Europe, this knowledge has been lost. But here with us, especially in the northern valleys, Tusheti, Khevsureti, Svaneti, they still know and apply it.” I wonder for how much longer. When Georges Charachidzé wrote his opus magnum Le système religieux de la Géorgie païenne in 1968, he still was able to draw examples from everyday life in Tusheti and Khevsureti. However, the inhabitants of these two valleys have by now largely moved to the foot of the mountains, and the memory of the sacredness and cults associated with the landscape naturally fades among them. But in Svaneti, the population still practices them on the spot. That’s why I try to record it there and report on it while they are still there, while they’re still alive.

You might ask, then, whether these people are Christians or pagans? But this is no question for the locals. They consider themselves Christians, since they believe in the Christian God, respect the icons and the patriarch, perform the appropriate rites e.g. the crucifixion in front of a church, they go to liturgy on major holidays. But just as when the animal is sick, they not only pray for its healing, but also turn to a veterinarian or a medicine woman, so they also consider the world of spirits a similar “field of expertise” whose expert handles the related problems in the same professional manner. In addition, spirits are mostly named after saints or angels, which legitimizes calling them for help. And the Orthodox Church seems to tacitly accept this for the sake of acculturation.

“Have you seen Mimino?” she changes topic. This most popular Soviet Georgian film comedy (Georgi Danieliya, 1977), about which I have written before, begins in Tusheti, and its protagonist is the pilot of the helicopter flying here on schedule from Kakheti. The film begins with the helicopter flying over Abano Pass into Tusheti, flying past the Omalo castle, where we left this morning on horseback, approaching Shenako, reaching the church and turning over the sacred field, so that you can even see the tiny khatis, and lands in the meadow below the village.

“Of course we have seen it”, I reply to her surprise, since we are foreigners, but then she continues: “The Tushetian scenes of the film were shot in several places, but two, were the child is learning Russian, and where the pilot’s father encourages his son, were shot right here, in Shenako. If you want, I’ll show you where.” I happily agree. I already know what it is about, and I have told my companions so much about the film that they will definitely watch it after the tour. We don’t have to go far. We get there in a few minutes across the narrow passages between the houses. It is an old house with a porch, uninhabited today, but still in good condition. I hope the owners will come back in the summer, or it will find a new owner.

On the way back we follow the footpath. Its side is full of flowers, as are all the fields in Tusheti. She warns us to only walk on the road, not to step on the roadside flowers, since spirits live in them, too

Armenian Saint George

Saint George is an important patron saint not only of Georgians but also of Armenians. What is more, his body was also buried in an Armenian church, in Mughni, from where it – or at least his skull – was transferred in the 13th century to the church of the Armenian monastery of St. George of Mughni in Tbilisi. True, the saint’s body is also venerated in the church of Lydda in the Holy Land, as well as many of his relics in many other churches, but the important thing for the Armenians was that they could be proud owners of it. Just like one of the bodies of Saint Bartholomew the Apostle is kept in an Armenian church in Iran, while the other lies in Rome, on Tiber Island.

The Church of St. George of Mughni in Tbilisi at the end of the 19th century. Photo by Dmitry Yermakov

Saint George also watches over, together with his two fellow saintly knights, Saint Theodore and Saint Sarkis, one of the most famous Armenian monasteries, the church of Akhtamar on the island of Lake Van, which was the seat of the Armenian archbishop from its foundation until 1915. Although, as I wrote, Saint George only begins to be seated on horseback in 10th-century Georgia to knock down the enemy – first the Christian-persecuting emperor and only later the man-eating dragon –, nevertheless, the earliest example of this representation is visible on the northern outer wall of the Armenian church in Akhtamar, built between 915 and 921.

And Saint George also protects the gate of a third Armenian monastery, the famous Msho Arakelots, that is, the Church of the Holy Apostles in Mush. According to tradition, the monastery was founded in 312 by Saint Gregory the Illuminator, the apostle who converted the Armenians, and it housed the relics of three apostles – Saints Peter, Paul and Andrew –, hence its name. The landowners of the area, the ancient Armenian aristocrat Tornikian family, rebuilt the monastery in 1125. Its gate, an outstanding piece of medieval Armenian art, was also built around that time, and according to its inscription, it was carved by Toros, Grikor and Ghugas in 1134.

The frame of the two-meter-high door is decorated with human and animal figures, and its two panels with geometric and palmette motifs. These motifs obviously come from Armenian manuscript art. Since the Armenians, as Monophysites, considered it theologically problematic to publicly depict people, their figurative art flourished only in the hidden pages of manuscripts, and thence it spread in exceptional times to public surfaces, icons, wood and stone carvings, as I will discuss it in another post. Good examples of this are the fantasy animals of this door frame, whose typical habitat is the margins of manuscripts.

Roughly in the middle of the upper frame Saint George rides, knocking down a coiling dragon. His name was also carved to the right of his head, so he could be distinguished from other knight saints, Theodore, Sarkis or Demeter: ՍԲ Գ[ե]ՈՐԳ, Sb. G[e]org. A bloody battle scene takes place around him. To the left, an Armenian soldier blows a trumpet, and one mounted soldier gallops after another, whom he impales with his sword. To the right stands a soldier on horseback, representing the army from which the victorious soldier has galloped forth.

The victorious soldier is David of Sassoun (Davit Sasunc’i), and this scene is one of the highlights of the popular 8th-century Armenian heroic epic about him. In the epic, the 7th-century Arab conquerors reach Lake Van, but the king of the Armenian province of Vaspurakan repulses them after a difficult struggle. David of Sassoun plays a decisive role in this, as he personally kills the Egyptian Sultan Melik, the leader of the Arabs. In addition to David’s bravery, the heavens also contributed to this victory over the pagans. This is symbolized by the figure of St. George, integrated into the battle scene – or rather projected into a transcendent commentary layer before the scene – which promises similar help in similar distressed situations of the Armenians.

The Msho Arakelots monastery was also rebuilt in such a circumstance. In 1064, the Seljuk Turks captured the Armenian Bagratuni kingdom, on whose territory they established several emirates. One of these, Shah-Armenia, lay north of Lake Van. Its center was Ahlat, which still boasts a field of thousands of beautiful gravestones made by Armenian stonemasons for the Muslims. The Christian landowners were not driven out until later, and they tried to counter the growing islamization by founding monasteries and churches. Among them were the Tornikian branch of the Mamikonian clan, which has played a glorious role in the protection of the Armenian people and religion for a thousand years. They were the lords of the local town of Taron, now Muş. In 1125 they renovated and enlarged the monastery of Msho Arakelots, founded in 312. Between the 11th and 13th centuries, the monastery became one of the prominent centers of Armenian culture and education. This is where the gigantic illustrated manuscript of the “Sermons of Mush” comes from, which after an adventurous career is now preserved in the Yerevan Manuscript Museum. And it is no coincidence that the wooden gate commissioned by them in 1134 was also decorated with motifs of the self-defense of the Armenian nation, David of Sassoun and Saint George.

Colophon of the Sermons of Mush. The manuscript weighing 28 kg was written between 1200 and 1202 on the skin of 600 calves in the monastery of Avag near Erzincan, destroyed in 1915. It was written by Vardan Karnetsi and illustrated by the monk Stepanos on the commission of a certain merchant Astavtsur. Astavtsur died a year later, during the Mongol invasion, and the manuscript was stolen by the Turkish judge of the city of Ahlat, who offered it for purchase. The monks of Msho Arakelots monastery collected the negotiated purchase price of 4,000 silver (approx. 20 kg of pure silver) from the Armenian faithful, and they added the story of the acquisition to the purchased manuscript. In 1915, after the Turkish looting of the monastery, two fleeing Armenian women came here to spend the night and found the manuscript. They cut it in half and each took a half with them. One of them soon reached Etchmiadzin, where he gave her half to the monastery. The other, however, soon died while fleeing in Erzincan, but before that she buried the other half of the manuscript in the garden of the local monastery. There it was found by Nikolai de Goberti, an officer of the advancing Russian army, who took it to Tbilisi and donated it to the local Armenian museum. The two manuscripts met only fourteen years later in Etchmiadzin. Today it is kept in the Matenadaran Manuscript Museum in Yerevan, but seventeen pages went to the Armenian monastery of San Lazzaro in Venice, and one to the Nationalbibliothek in Vienna.

The cemetery of Msho Arakelots monastery before 1915. From an 1953 Mechitarist publication in Vienna

In 1915, the frontal attack against the Armenians also began on St. George’s Day. That night, the Ottoman authorities arrested almost three hundred leading Armenian intellectuals in Constantinople, thereby preventing the central coordination of any Armenian resistance. Most of those arrested were later killed.

The monastery of Msho Arakelots was occupied by the Turkish army in May 1915. The monks and Abbot Yovhannes Vardapet Muratian were massacred and the monastery was massacred and burned. The buildings that were still almost intact in 1960 were blown up by the then governor of Muş. Today, only the remains of the central part of the main church dedicated to Saint Thaddeus, the first apostle of Armenia, stand on the barren hillside near Muş, with no road leading to it. The monastery lives only in the memories of the refugees, as in Vigen Galstyan’s story, where Aunt Angin after long prompting tells in an unemotional voice her whole life:

“…she spoke of a prosperous family living in a large village next to Mush not far from Lake Van in a stone house with two floors where five siblings grew up playing in an olive grove after coming back from school that taught arithmetic and needlework to prepare girls as clever housekeepers much like the mother who wove carpets and organized large feasts when the family went to Msho Arakelots monastery during festivals where the villagers sang and danced together until one day in 1915 they packed whatever they could in a cart and fled under the cover of the night from the Turkish army that chased them over the rocky mountains where Angin’s mother had to leave her newborn under a rock so they wouldn’t get caught and somehow reached Baghdad to find shelter in date palm orchards in which two of the boys died from fever before the father took them on the road again with other survivors shuffling from Iraq to Iran until their caravan arrived in Soviet Armenia in 1922 to rebuild their shattered lives on the other side of the Holy Mountain…”

The remains of the Church of Saint Thaddeus of Msho Arakelots today

The monastery of Aghtamar was also raided in May 1915 by the Turkish army and Kurdish marauders. The monks were slaughtered. From then on, the island was used as a military firing range, during which the external reliefs and the internal frescoes were seriously damaged. In 1951, only Yaşar Kemal, the Kurdish-Turkish writer nominated for Nobel Prize, was able to prevent the demolition of the church, then in preparation. Then in 2010, the Turkish state restored the church in a grand manner, emphasizing the ethnic and religious tolerance of the Turks and their respect for monuments, which, in addition to the thousands of destroyed Armenian, Greek and Syriac villages and churches, can also be abundantly witnessed in our former Hungarian villages. The tendentious nature of the restoration has been denounced by several Armenian and Turkish sources. Many reliefs had to be carved anew, but the bullet-shattered faces of Saint George and his fellow knights still illustrate the special treatment of Armenian monuments.

The skull relic of Saint George disappeared from the Church of Mughni Saint George in Tbilisi in 1921, after the entry of the bolsheviks. But the Armenians of Tbilisi still revered the church, and after the independence of Georgia, when the Georgian Church claimed all churches of Tbilisi, they refused to give it up. The church was ravaged by vandals in the early 2000s, and its dome was struck by lightning in 2009. Still it stands there split open, like a skull cut in two by a sword, and a forest of sumac trees oozes from its crack.

After the destruction of Msho Arakelots monastery, the door was noticed by German archeologists who, as allies with the Ottoman empire, were still present in the country. They asked for permission to transport the door to Berlin, just as thirty years later the Christian neighbors of the deported Jews ask for permission to take over their pianos. However, the door only reached Bitlis – in Armenian, Baghesh. The offensive of the Russian army reached the city, and the Turkish soldiers who had looted the monastery fled from them. The door left in the city along with the booty was found by the outstanding Armenian historian and archaeologist Smbat Ter-Avetisian, who accompanied the Russian army to save the Armenian cultural heritage that had not yet been destroyed. He transported it to Tbilisi for a future Armenian museum, and from there it went in 1925 to Yerevan, where this museum was actually established.

“He saved others, but he could not save himself”, they mock Jesus hanging on the wood of the cross in the Gospel. Saint George, triumphantly enthroned on the wooden gate of Msho Arakelots, could not save others, but he could save himself. The door is still standing today in the Western Armenian section of the Yerevan History Museum.

Giorgoba

To Gyuri

Saint George is the patron saint of Georgia. What’s more, Georgia got its name from him. Or more exactly: the Persian exonym Gorgân used for Georgia – which meant “land of wolves” – was adapted in this form by the Frankish crusaders who arrived in the Middle East in 1096, precisely because the patron saint of the brave and fierce Christian people was Saint George. As the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem Jacques de Vitry wrotes in his Historia Hierosolymitana of 1225:

“There is also in the East another Christian people, who are very warlike, and valiant in battle, being strong in body, and powerful in the countless number of their warriors. … These men are called Georgians, because they especially revere and worship St. George, whom they make their patron and standard-bearer in their fights with the infidels, and honour him above all other saints.”

And, what’s more, it is likely that the figure and cult of the knight St. George the dragon-slayer also arose in Georgia sometime in the 9th or 10th centuries, as we have already written about and will write about even more.

It is no wonder, then, that St. George has not one, but two holidays in Georgia. One is St. George’s birthday on November 23, which is celebrated only here, at the birthplace of St. George the dragon-slayer. The other, the day of his martyrdom, is on April 23, just like in the Catholic church. But since the Orthodox count the feasts according to the Julian calendar, this falls on our May 6, just as the day of the Great October Socialist Revolution falls on november 7, and the Orthodox Christmas, December 25 falls on our January 7.

We arrive at the Kutaisi airport at night. We pick up the rental car and immediately head up to the Greater Caucasus, one of the rooftops of the world, to the region of Svaneti. At sunrise we reach Jvari Pass. From here, the road rises steeply. Clouds float by and below us, and a river rushes deep in the canyon, as we dodge boulders that fell on the road at dawn.

We arrive just in time for the biggest event of the day, the bull sacrifice. Mists still float above the towers of Mestia and the mountain chain of Svaneti, but Tetnuldi mountain to the east of the city, from whence the weather comes to Svaneti, already sparkles a diamond white. If it is clear in the morning, the day will be clear and bright.

We cut the wood and make a fire in the big iron stove. The women form fist-sized ritual loaves from the dough kneaded last night and bake them on the top of the stove.

The participants of the ceremony, the cousins and brother-in-law of our host Paata, four of them in total, arrive slowly. The fourth leads the young bull calf on a rope. They line up next to him and light candles. Paata puts the small loaves on a tray, sticks a candles in the middle of each one, and, turning to the rising sun, says a prayer to Saint George. Meanwhile, he slowly turns around three times. Then the eldest cousin takes over the ceremony. With the candle, he gently singes the calf’s hair on the front, sides and back, preparing it for the sacrifice. Paata offers the loaves around, everyone takes one. Giorgi pours vodka for everyone. He raises his glass and recites what a great day today is, St. George’s Day. Everyone drinks from their glass. Then the bull sacrifice begins.

The first 5 minutes of the video are the ceremony. The following 5 minutes are the tying up of the bull. The bloody part starts from the 10th minute

The liturgy officially begins at nine o’clock in the church of St. George in Mestia. But at that time, people are still only gathering. They first greet their dead in the cemetery around the church, then enter the church, kiss the icons one by one, light candles and pray before of them, talk to each other. The altar boys arrive, they get dressed in the sanctuary, walk in and out, aware of their importance. Then a quiet murmur is heard from the sanctuary, as if the ceremony had been going on for a long time. The priest steps out, and one by one, bows and mutters a short prayer before each icon. The liturgy proper does not start until around ten o’clock, but it will go on for hours anyway.

If this church had any medieval antecedents, they have been largely restored and rebuilt, probably after the long neglect of Communism. However, it has two original and very valuable icons, just as each of the hundred or so small churches in Svaneti keep several thousand-year-old icons. Judging from the age of similar icons in the Svaneti museum, the two icons here date from the 11th century. They are made of embossed repoussé silver, like most of the old Svaneti icons. Both are highly respected, many candles are lit in front of them, which is why they are difficult to photograph, as the light is reflected on their protective glass. One is an icon of St. George, on which the holy knight, in accordance with the early phase of his iconography, kills a man instead of a dragon, the emperor Diocletian who persecuted the Christians. On the upper part of the icon’s frame, the Virgin Mary and St. John the Baptist plead with Christ in a standard Deesis scene, while on either side, we see two other knightly saints – perhaps St. Theodore and St. Demeter – from the front. The icon is covered in several layers with votive chains, coins and crosses affixed to it.

The other early icon is a large cross covered with scenes on riveted gilded silver sheets. But not with the scenes of the life or passion of Christ, as is customary, but the episodes of the legend of St. George. After all, the legend itself was formed here, in Georgia, around the 10th century. At the base of the cross stands an archangel with a stern look.

The scenes remind me of the frescoes in the church of the nearby village of Nakipari. There, in 1130, the local nobles commissioned the “royal painter” Tevdore to paint the Passion of St. George. It is as if the small images of the cross in Mestia were emblematic abbreviations of the huge, colorful frescoes there.

And then I recall that the church of Nakipari is also dedicated to Saint George. Apparently there will be a festive liturgy there later in the morning. We get in the car and go there.

And indeed, around the church there are men dressed for a celebration. Bull meat is cooked in a large cauldron. The head placed next to it shows that it must have been a much larger animal than our bull calf. We enter the church. In the foreground, older men perform a lay ceremony, offering bread and wine to the spirits. Meanwhile, the liturgy is going on in the church with the participation of several priests. A young priest makes a video of them from the door. Around him, children rush around with small candles. They light them and poke them with great pleasure into the sand of the candle stand.

The scenes of St. George’s Georgian Passion are difficult for today’s reader to understand. A 17th-century illustrated Georgian St. George’s Passion, the manuscript of which was published online by the Georgian Academy, helps in their interpretation. The original source of the text is a 5th-century Passion of St. George, attributed to a certain Passicras, which was declared apocryphal in the 6th century, and thus it only spread, in various translations, in the peripheral regions of Christianity, which included the Caucasus. The 10th-century Georgian version adds to it the miracles of Saint George performed after his death.

The passion begins with the braided ornate colophon, typical of Middle Eastern manuscripts. George, born in Cappadocia, commanded many soldiers

Emperor Datianus (in other versions, Diocletianus) calls together his vassal kings and orders that whoever speaks against the pagan gods should be cruelly tortured to death. Before the emperor, George speaks against the gods and glorifies Christ

George is tied to a stake and tortured, his body is clawed with iron claws, but he is not harmed at all

The emperor locks George in an iron chest with spikes on the inside and places heavy weights on it, but that does not hurt him either

George is tied to a wheel and turned between iron swords to split him, but that does not hurt him either. This is the most spectacular of the tortures and is therefore the most depicted on the icons and frescoes of Svaneti. After that, the magician Athanasius tries to poison him, but the poison does not harm him either. Therefore, Athanasius also converts to Christianity, so the emperor beheads him

George apparently agrees to sacrifice in front of the statue of Apollo, but when he reaches the door of his temple, he calls him out, and makes him confess that he is Satan himself. Then he commands him into the depths of the earth

George converts the emperor’s wife Alexandra, who is too beheaded by the emperor

George is stripped of his weapons. He is executed three times in three different ways, but each time he resurrects from death

St. George frees the boy who was kidnapped by the Turks from Mytilene and served as a coffee-filler for a pasha. I have written about this episode before

George resurrects Jovis, a pagan who has been dead for 460 years, and he bears witness to Christ

The beheading of George

Saint George and the dragon. This episode, the most well-known motif of the legend of St. George, is not yet included in the original Saint George’s Passion, it was only included later in 10th-century Georgia. As I wrote, Saint George still kills a person in his earliest depictions, mostly Emperor Diocletian himself as a form of otherwordly justice. It is only in Georgia that his story is contamnated with St. Theodore’s, and they are mostly depicted as a pair (as in the Nakipari fresco), and usually kill a dragon. This motif is gradually taken over by St. George

The final page of the manuscript, as if inspired by the dragon, shows Jonah swallowed by a whale-dragon

For dinner, we eat bull veal cooked in the spicy juices. On St. George’s Day, the toasts are to the ancestors “who died so that Georgia could live free”. And during dinner, our friends, the choir of the old boys from Mestia on their way to their evening performance in Batumi, come in to sing us the Svanetian hymn of Saint George.