think, somewhere in the 18th century over here. The maternal French-Canadian half courses a little stronger, which should probably put me in league with the Irish as we contemplate the sins and oppression of the "Johnny Bulls" as my mother said the French-Canadians used to call the Anglo-Saxons in her corner of Southern Maine.And when it comes to St. Patrick's Day, I confess a bit of latent hostility, mired in my adolescence no doubt, during which I attended a Catholic high school, the mascot of which was the "Fighting Irish," a context in which I always felt an outsider, having landed there in 9th grade, the sole newcomer among a crew that had been together since kindergarten, and half of whom were related, it seemed. With Irish names.
Ah, the subconscious and the resentments we harbor, and the strange ways they emerge.
But aside from all of that, St. Patrick himself is a fascinating man, even as we work to tease historical truth out of a web of legend.
. His Confession is online and not very long.
I wrote about St Patrick's Breastplate, also called the Lorica, or The Deer's Cry, attributed to him, in The Words We Pray
The text of the prayer is marvelous. It is essentially about the sufficiency of Christ, the presence of Christ, the power of Christ:
(There's a very abridged audio version at Beliefnet here. Most versions that we hear and even prayer are, indeed abridged - what is important to note, though, is the strong Trinitarian aspect of the prayer. It begins and ends with the Trinity, and is very specific in its Christological imagery.)
When I think of St. Patrick, the word that comes to mind is forgiveness.
For St. Patrick had been kidnapped as a boy, and taken in slavery to Ireland, held there for years.
When it was time, years later, to share the Gospel, Patrick responded to the call - to share that Good News in Ireland, with those who had caused him great suffering and even killed members of his family.
His story reminds me of that of St. Isaac Jogues, another disciple of Jesus who returned to serve those who persecuted him.
It makes you think. What are the limits of my love?
The Office of Readings, with its reading from St. Peter Chrysologus today doesn't depart from the Lenten schedule, but is still apt:
What does radical forgiveness and mercy look like? What does it feel like? What does it cost? What is the cost of refusing to forgive, of refusing to let God's mercy bear fruit in us?
When I taught high school, I was, as all teachers are, subject to questions that the questioner hoped were impossible to answer, and questions aimed at exposing the futility of discipleship.
"Why?" They would ask. "Why follow Jesus?"
I finally decided that the best thing I could say just might be a blunt, "Why not?" because an honest answer exposes all sorts of realities about ourselves, most of them not very pleasant.
It is the same with mercy, the same with forgiveness. "Why should I forgive?"
Why not?
What's the alternative?
Why not?
For St. Patrick had been kidnapped as a boy, and taken in slavery to Ireland, held there for years.
When it was time, years later, to share the Gospel, Patrick responded to the call - to share that Good News in Ireland, with those who had caused him great suffering and even killed members of his family.
His story reminds me of that of St. Isaac Jogues, another disciple of Jesus who returned to serve those who persecuted him.
It makes you think. What are the limits of my love?
The Office of Readings, with its reading from St. Peter Chrysologus today doesn't depart from the Lenten schedule, but is still apt:
To make these acceptable, mercy must be added. Fasting bears no fruit unless it is watered by mercy. Fasting dries up when mercy dries up. Mercy is to fasting as rain is to earth. However much you may cultivate your heart, clear the soil of your nature, root out vices, sow virtues, if you do not release the springs of mercy, your fasting will bear no fruit.Mercy. Forgiveness. Which is hard, and which is why we depend on Christ, who is Mercy. As I wrote in the book:When you fast, if your mercy is thin your harvest will be thin; when you fast, what you pour out in mercy overflows into your barn. Therefore, do not lose by saving, but gather in by scattering. Give to the poor, and you give to yourself. You will not be allowed to keep what you have refused to give to others.
It seems that God's protection does not involve taking us away from the things of the world. God's support does not help us escape from life's difficulties. As Patrick's life shows in living color, it's the exact opposite. God doesn't call us to escape. In fact, our pain and suffering indicates to us where the Good News is most needed. We can go to that place of suffering because, in the Cross, Jesus went there, too.St. Patrick's Breastplate is a stunning prayer because it evokes all of Creation, God's presence in it all, and the profound reality that our faith is not about solitude or simply getting right with God in our own corner of our own house. It pulls us forward, emboldened by God, to immerse ourselves in his world, surrounded by his strength - which is not vague, but very specific - it is a strength found in Christ and in Christ's Church.
What does radical forgiveness and mercy look like? What does it feel like? What does it cost? What is the cost of refusing to forgive, of refusing to let God's mercy bear fruit in us?
When I taught high school, I was, as all teachers are, subject to questions that the questioner hoped were impossible to answer, and questions aimed at exposing the futility of discipleship.
"Why?" They would ask. "Why follow Jesus?"
I finally decided that the best thing I could say just might be a blunt, "Why not?" because an honest answer exposes all sorts of realities about ourselves, most of them not very pleasant.
It is the same with mercy, the same with forgiveness. "Why should I forgive?"
Why not?
What's the alternative?
Why not?
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I also am Scots-Irish, which isn't *very* Irish, and that side of the family got here at a similar time as yours did (maybe we are related?). Anyway, I do love St. Patrick, though. But, his feast day falls smack in the middle of Lent, so we'll have colcannon and bread.
Holy St. Patrick, pray to God for us.
I also love The Breastplate, and love what you wrote about it.
Why Not? Forgiveness is very hard! You think you have forgiven the person and then you realize you need to forgive God for a tragedy that you feel He could have saved you from. You pray and say you forgive but how do you get the forgiveness to move from your head to the heart?
Great postings, Amy. I have to admit (being Irish myself), the revelry surrounding today can be like an Old Boys Club in the crazy, bacchanalian way. Be glad you're not a part of that. But, I think today is also an opportunity to remind people that they're celebrating a Catholic Saint's day (like St. Valentine's), and remind them WHY, and what St. Patrick is famous for. Thus, today we should all convert pagans, like St. Patrick did!
I blogged one of my favorite anecdotes about St. Patrick and the baptism of the local prince, here
Amy--a blessed St. Patrick's Day to you. Thanks for reminding people of the deeper meaning of this day. (For all of you trivia minded people, guess which country drinks more Guinness than Ireland? Nigeria--by the way, St. Patrick is also the patron saint of that country. It would not be inappropriate to toast the pope today as he begins his Africa trip). If any of your readers want more indepth looks at Celtic prayer they can check my blog as listed above and my web page http://celticprayer.net/. Hope you all have a wonderful feast day, here in the middle of a great Lent.
It's sad that his memory is sullied with the wanton drunkeness associated with the day. I once heard a media commentator refer to the parades as drunken jihads. Not too far wrong there I'm afraid. I can only dread the vomit laden paths tomorrow as I walk to work. 40 shades of green indeed.