Tag, You're It

As was already noted elsewhere in this story and in the annals of ecclesiastical history, Nuestra Señora del Pilar or Our Lady of the Pillar, had a pretty important role in helping the Iberian Peninsula - which isn’t the same as Spain even if Spain likes to think so - become Christianized. Lady Pilar told Saint James to stick with his commitment as an Apostle and he listened. She left him the pillar she’d appeared on as testimony or proof or bribe and thus earned her name.

What that part of the Church’s teaching concerning Spain doesn’t say is that what is left out is of vital importance. In other words, for Pilar to have played this key role in Spain (which wasn’t yet Spain although we’re not supposed to worry about that), how can we explain that she was in Jerusalem or some far place like that? She would have needed to be in two or more places at the same time. That, friends, is a huge leap of faith. There are many who are willing to make that leap, though.

***

“We need to talk,” said Pilar, her voice gentle with concern. She was such a kind person, although there were some who saw her as edgy and tough because she spoke honestly. She didn’t play around with people or ideas, and every word she uttered carried the weight of wisdom. 

“Fine with me,” replied Lavinia. “Just say when.”

“Tomorrow, for lunch,” suggested Pilar. “Same place as always?”

“Perfeito,” Lavinia responded, honoring Pilar’s language and happy to be going to one of her favorite places to eat with one of her favorite people in the world. 

***

The day was supposed to be clear, but clouds arrived late morning. Lavinia knew she should take her umbrella, so she grabbed it as she went out, hoping she wouldn’t leave it somewhere by accident if the anticipated shower didn’t actually materialize. A novel could be written about the countless items classified as rain gear that had been misplaced or left in Galicia, but Lavinia had been careful and only had done that twice. Now she calculated it would take her around fifteen minutes, walking quickly, to reach the meeting place she and Pilar had agreed upon. 

The only problem would be if Lavinia got distracted while on the way by any of a thousand things that had begun to draw her attention in recent days when she walked through Santiago. 

(I’m worried about all these distractions. What is happening to me?) 

Usually Lavinia was able to focus on things, most notably research projects and preparing classes for when she returned home. However, in the time she’d been in Santiago de Compostela, that ability to keep an eye on what needed to be done was waning. These days, other things, other people, even other words, were flooding her brain as if it were a leira, a tiny field in a village like Manselle or Lestedo. All of this was forcing her to tend to where the waters were rushing rather than on what had brought her to Galicia. 

Pilar had been the first to arrive at the small restaurant and had already reserved a table in the galería. The place they were going to eat was just one more of the medieval buildings behind the Town Hall, the Axuntamento. 

“It’s great you got us a spot on the galería,” was Lavinia’s approving comment. One of the first things she’d learned on arriving in the city she was coming to love was that it, like so many others, was a typical Galician construction kind of equivalent to a glassed-in porch, but it could be located on any of the floors of a building. The construction wasn’t the same in any other part of the world and had no translation. In the case of the restaurant, it happened to be more isolated and quieter than the main dining area. It provided a nice view of the city. On this day it would also allow the two friends to watch for a storm, or so they both thought. (At least they both had their umbrellas.)

“Do you think it’ll rain?” asked Lavinia.

“Pra min, que chova,” was Pilar’s response, which was an obvious parody of many post cards sent from Santiago and was considered pure tourism by locals. ‘Let it rain. I don’t care.’ Lavinia knew she meant, ‘Well it might and what can we do about it. It’s one of the things that happens when you live in these parts’. Galician’s four words really did say all that. When you lived in a place with a climate like that, you had to use the rain as publicity. 

Both of the women knew the restaurant’s best dishes by heart, and only needed to nod at the words written on the menu rather than read them to the person jotting down their selections. For the wine, Pilar suggested Vila Romana, a local red, and Lavinia was happy to let someone else decide so she wouldn’t order her boring (to others) albariño. 

They were having a salad made with what a wise man had told her was the best lettuce in the whole world - lettuce grown in Pontevedra - and generously drizzled with an olive oil from Portugal that rivaled the label of their wine, when Pilar turned serious. It was the tiniest of gestures, but her friend turned stone cold with the fear that bad news was coming. Surely this wasn’t going to be an illness or being fired or anything that would ruin what was supposed to be a meeting of two close friends… 

That panic - for it was equivalent to that feeling - lasted only about ten seconds, because then Pilar began her explanation. She started with a question:

“You know how a couple of times you commented on how quickly I could get from one place to another?”

Lavinia nodded. Once she recalled how amazed she had been at Pilar’s having gotten from A Coruña to Santiago in less than thirty minutes. Another time it had been from the train station to the Hostal, in ten minutes. Still, it wasn’t so strange that she’d spent much time puzzling over it. Maybe she’d read her watch wrong, or something simple like that. Pilar obviously hadn’t sprouted wings on either of those occasions.

“Well, I laughed it off each time you mentioned it and hoped you hadn’t noticed how close you were to finding out something about me.”

I never really gave it much thought. Lavinia said nothing and waited for her friend to continue. I have no idea what you are going to say and that’s not the main thing on my mind right now. Please tell me - now!  She was ashamed at feeling so impatient, but hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“What I mean is that it wasn’t a question of my being able to get around the highway or this city quickly. It’s that I don’t need to get around at all. You haven’t seen clear proof yet, I know, but you were so close to figuring out that I am capable of bilocation.”

Lavinia had stopped feeling stone cold so she could feel all liquid-like inside after this revelation. Does she mean bi- like two and location like place? Is she saying what I think she is? Her friend continued:

“Don’t be upset. I wasn’t sure at first that you’d understand. Just know I am a creation of where I grew up and that it takes a while to make sense of that if you’re not Galician. My name, Pilar, is related to my ability to bilocate, to be in two places at the same time. I was supposed to follow the lead of Our Lady of the Pillar and provide immediate support at an important moment, just as she did. (Lavinia now had an odd look of disbelief on her face.) All right, so we’re different. I’m not Our Lady and you’re not Saint James, but more than once I have been able to lend a hand to you when you needed it.”

Lavinia wasn’t sure she understood because she had no recollections of any sort of Pilar having done something like that. Sure, the Galician woman had explained so much to her about literature, politics, and language in the place she’d lived her entire life. Sure, those hours and hours of conversation and incredible food had helped a lot toward helping Lavinia feel more comfortable in Santiago. Did she see that time we spent together as lending me a hand, like doing me a favor? Do I seem that confused just because I’m not from here? 

The calm, serious voice continued. The speaker seemed to have comprehended what Lavinia was thinking:

“I hope you will understand that I helped you because it was the right thing to do, not because I felt sorry for you. I knew there were people who didn’t and don’t want you here, least of all if you’re going to get involved in things that people who live in this area feel belong to them. Being able to be in two places allowed me to move you out of harm’s way a few times. That’s all I’m trying to say. In other words, you need to be careful, but you have me in your corner.”

I didn’t know I was in a fighting match. Lavinia tried to remain calm and not speak for giving careful consideration to what she had just heard. Her biggest concern was how oblivious she had been to her surroundings, having taken it for granted that they were very safe in comparison to cities in the States. Then again, this could easily be some joke her friend was playing on her, to teach her something more she needed to know about the culture. Bilocation didn’t exist, no matter how many hoaxes were carried out to prove it did, or despite its popularity as a theme in movies and novels. Pilar had to be speaking in code. 

Once again, Lavinia had the odd feeling that Pilar could read her mind a bit better than most close friends could. 

“Before you write this all off as a joke, think about the millions and millions of people around the world who truly believe that a saint can appear in person when there is a need to save a person or a country. Many times those people believe the saint has actually been present. The ones who ascribe to the work of Our Lady of the Pillar in Caesaraugusta must also accept that bilocation is possible. So now think about it: If she could achieve it back then, why shouldn’t a woman be able to do it now?”

Lavinia had to admit that the argument sounded logical, even if it wasn’t. She struggled with her childhood lessons on respecting others who weren’t the same as you. Being in two places at once sounds like a kids’ story or a Gothic romance. Just something for entertainment.

The story was continuing, the voice still smooth. Lavinia had to force herself to take the words seriously now. She had to be polite.

“The other thing that seems to have come with my name is the ability that accompanies my desire or capacity for bilocation. That thing is my ability to give strength to others, to be their rock or pillar. It’s not a very creative metaphor, I know. Blame that on the Church. Also, I don’t want you to think I am trying to claim Our Lady as my great-great-great-etc. grandmother. I doubt anybody on earth has any of her DNA and her saintly virtue doesn’t seem to have rubbed off on me. You already know three names were put in a hat and my older sister drew out the one I have today. I believe the strength part was my cultural inheritance, not faith. Don’t think I am trying to make a religious convert out of you. I would have to be converted first!”

By this point Lavinia saw that her close friend Pilar was claiming she possessed both a talent for creating a supernatural doppelgänger and a Superwoman strength that was by no means evident in her body she sat across the lunch table. 

I’m going to have to order a licor-café after the meal, impending rain be damned. 

Lavinia really hoped she could keep from breaking out laughing. Would that endanger our relationship? What does Pilar think she can accomplish? After all, the virgin in question has retained much of her original status as a Spanish icon. Isn’t she called the ‘Mother of Spain’ by many of the faithful? 

Goya may have painted this manifestation of the Virgin because she was associated with his native region. Yet when Our Lady stopped by to lend a hand to Santiago, there was no Spain anywhere, so that classification clearly had ignored history. Back then there were tribes and kingdoms, people who hadn’t even thought about the peninsula becoming a single country one day. Many Galicians still resented what they saw as a conflict of interest with the Spanish government. That was one problem with being Pilar, any Pilar. You were stuck with a name that didn’t have direct ties to Galicia.

“Pope John Paul II, in 1984, recognized the Virgen del Pilar as the Patrona de la Hispanidad, the Patroness of the Hispanic World. (Lavinia had just checked on the internet and read the statement off to her friend.)

“Isn’t this a big obstacle? I know Galicians often do not consider themselves to be Spanish, despite what their passports say. Your language is different, your customs, music, even your food is different, from what one finds elsewhere in Spain. It seems like you select the bits and pieces of the past that you want to use in order to come up with a present and, maybe, a future?” Lavinia didn’t want to let go of the image she had of this person who had always been generous and coherent in all her reasoning and who had never treated her as a foreigner. 

Does she realize how many contradictions there are in what she is trying to tell me? Of course Pilar was aware of that and her companion sensed she had still more to explain. It wasn’t a coincidence that she had asked to have this conversation.

“I will be away for number of days, but want you to know how to reach me if I don’t have phone coverage all the time. You never know.”

Clearly I don’t know enough. Why does she think I need to check in with her? We’re adults, not young girls.

“Lavinia, you are starting to acquire information that is vital.”

To whom? Not that she’ll tell me, but...

“Nobody can tell you what or where that information is. You will have to use your training to figure that out. If you find the answers while I’m away, you might need to contact me.”

I am so totally in the dark right now...

“You must feel like you’re completely in the dark right now, but don’t worry. I can see how tense your shoulders are and you’re leaning over, looking worried. Anybody who sees you will be able to tell you’re unsure of yourself. When you know the whole story, you will be able to see how the pieces I told you about the pillar and about Pilar, about being in two places - you’ll see how it all fits together.

Lavinia started to signal to their server to bring the bill, but Pilar was gone when she turned back to their table. She had left more than her share of the meal in euros, in front of her place. Just as the check arrived, Lavinia’s cell rang. It was Pilar, calling from Tui, on the border with Portugal. About a two hour drive at that time of day.

“Let’s talk some more. When I get back.”