My son’s middle name is Patrick, and that was for a reason. Growing up, St. Patrick’s day held a simple meaning to me … wear green or get pinched. As I got older and actually learned about the patron saint of Ireland, I discovered a man worthy of honor and deep respect.
Over the years, legends were attached to him, but here is what we’re pretty sure of, mostly from the few writings we have of his:
Patrick was raised in Christian Britain as part of a wealthy family. He wasn’t much of a believer at the time. As a young man, barbarians from Ireland came by and raided his town and took him captive to be sold as a slave.
He languished in slavery for six years, learning their language and tending sheep. He began praying to God every day and believed in Christ. Ultimately, God began to talk back (He does that, you know), telling him to take a trip across Ireland to his freedom, which seemed an impossible thing (no one ever returned from slavery in Ireland), but like most people who actually believe in God, when you hear that voice, well, you just obey even if it seems impossible. Something in His voice makes you believe in the impossible.
As he made it to the coast, Patrick found a boat going back to Britain. The sailors were hesitant (it was a crime, punishable by death, to help a slave), but Patrick prayed and they took him with them.
Back in Britain, Patrick received a vision from God that called him to go preach the gospel to those pagans who had enslaved him. Over the years, he was educated as a priest and then ordained.
Believe it or not, the Catholic Church at the time didn’t really believe in trying to convert pagans, but they gave him permission eventually.
So he began to preach and convert many and start churches. Of course he faced persecution and violence often, but he endured and overcame. Patrick even overcame the persecution of the Catholic Church after he severely rebuked a British Christian king who had killed some Irish believers in a raid.
Patrick also converted the Emerald Isle, a violent people, by completely peaceable means. If you know your history at all, that was unique in and of itself for the time.
The heart to go back to the very people who did violence to you, enslaved you, and would have killed you had they caught you escaping; to go back and preach Christ to them, armed only with your faith and love, is true compassion, the compassion even of Christ Himself who died for us.
So I gave Micah that middle name, Patrick, not because of my Irish heritage but because of Patrick’s spiritual heritage, to teach us the heart of God. And I hope my son has that heart of compassion for others, even in the face of persecution and rejection.
And the fact that the holiday has become an excuse to drink and wear green and tell what few leprechaun jokes we know seems tragic to me. Not that any of those things are inherently wrong, only they don’t really seem to honor the man the holiday is named after. But it seems the American way, unfortunately.
So I say Happy St. Patrick’s day. I hope we all learn true compassion and take opportunity to give to those in need, to spread love even to those don’t deserve it, to not only forgive, but to seek to redeem and restore where darkness has had its way.
Peace.
Wow. Veggie Tales wasn’t too far off for all its silliness.
Thanks for sharing this. The more I learn, the more respect I have for Patrick and the sadder I get that I just now started hearing about him.