Page 14 - NewsandViews 2023 whole publication

You’re Never Far from a Saint in Spain Rosemary Emmett

I’d heard about these special spirits, during the few years our family attended a High Anglican church; the
Sister who taught Confirmation class liked to tell us ‘saintly’ stories. As most of them seem to have been
caring towards animals, I thought they sounded like a lovely group of (mainly rural) people. Since living/
working as an adult in Spain, I’ve heard of several more, because apart from (victorious) military
commemorations, almost every Fiesta is held in the name of a male or female saint.

I met Saint Isidore, the Farmworker (San Isidro Labrador) when I was working in Madrid. He’s patron saint
of that capital city and his festival on May 15 is one of the most attractive fiestas of the year, saintly or
otherwise. The humble, pious peasant was born in 1080, in a rural area that is today part of built-up
Madrid. Though poor himself, he’s known to have fed the hungry, both people and animals. Apparently
after dying, he continued to appear to those in need and he was especially concerned that animals should
be treated compassionately. What Isidore would think of the colour, noise, stalls, marching bands etc. of
his annual Big Day, now corporately financed, one can only wonder…

In May and June of this year (2023) I was surprised to see that Isidore was visiting a large village near to
my own. That neighbouring community and its surrounding agricultural lands, was in a state of drought,
due to 38 - 42C heat; San Isidro (Saint Isidore) had been called there - by the local church - to move
among the farm families, give succour - and bring rain…

Photos appeared in the media of Isidro’s processions, as the elevated statue of the famous holy man in
his robes, was wheeled on a trolley, back and forth in the ‘high street’, around the village, into the church,
as far as the fields of great clumps of dried earth (where wheels couldn’t function). Dour, dark, slow notes
were played on brass musical instruments by the 5-piece local band and followers of all ages cried,
keened and sang pleading prayers for water for their land and themselves.

The processions went on and on... into the small hours, only to begin again at daybreak. Day One passed
into Day Two, then days 3, 4, 5, 6 - until on day 7 the prayed-for rain began to fall... The mourning and
pleading stopped - as glasses, bottles, buckets, bowls, cups and mouths were opened to receive the
welcome water. The Church hurriedly arranged a Mass of thanks to God - and Isidro - for water.

They were joyous moments - times you would think that nobody could ever forget - though in fact,
everyone did. That was during the following 4 weeks when, after that one month of total dehydration ,
enough water fell from the heavens to turn tractors and other agricultural equipment into boats, and
people became prisoners in their own homes... Isidro could not proceed on a floating harvester-machine,
and he was returned to his home city—having done an...erm...overly-first-class job. From then on, in most
of the province, it was life on the water (in my own village, I wore Wellies daily, for one month) as
daylight seemed never to appear until lunchtime. Unfortunately, the dried, cracked earth did not respond
to storms by softening - their name in Spanish is, appropriately, ‘tormentas’ - though food could be
brought in by water-craft Rescue services. At the end of a month’s H 2O, the sun came out and life
returned - less rather than more - to normal, at 35 -38C.

A saint I’m fortunate to have around, is Saint Anthony; my neighbours told me about him. This whizz of a
helper spirit, who reminds you of where you left something, has been of great assistance to me. I reckon
that within 7 or so minutes of asking him to ‘lead’ me to the disappeared item, I manage to locate it.
Could this be because he knows me? I mean, I live in the street named for him: Calle San Antonio. There
are several St. Anthonys from different parts of the world; each has his own biography. I choose ‘Anthony
of the lost items , who was one of the 2nd and 3rd century, so-called Desert Fathers, early Christians in
North Africa; I marvel at his ability to locate any missing thing in all that sand - and his skills in built-up,
modern areas are equally efficient.

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