One of these years the Irish are going to cut me off from the family tree. I don’t do much by way of St. Patrick’s Day and I don’t drink at all (Woman, know thyself). Though I do love Patrick, he’s more of an Easter saint for me than a Lenten one. Love of green beer does not compel me. I’m not opposed to a good party but, in this case, I’m more inclined to light big fires.
St. Patrick’s Day will never be the same for me following the quarantined Lent and Easter of 2020 and I’m glad for that. We were forced to go deeper and really face the darkness of the world and also the inadequacy of our own faith and responsiveness to Christ. Patrick, father in faith, taught me a lot that year.
What happens when structure is taken away? When the schedule is yours to fill and there is no bulletin to read, boxes to check, and no place to just show up when it’s time? That’s what we all found out during quarantine. What will we do when we are forced to face the fact that we are the spiritual leaders of our homes?
My passion turned out to be a little bit like the green beer of today’s festivities… not bad necessarily in itself but not really good enough in light of eternity. Patrick was a passionate fire, not a drunken fool. He was alert and persisted in prayer. He faced the certainty of martyrdom…
And lit the fire anyway. Wild reckless passion which somehow just doesn’t translate well into secular American culture.
Here’s the bigger story behind green beer and shamrock-shaped trinkets made in China…
Ireland was awash with paganism and the worship of God suppressed. It was unlawful to light a fire. It was inflammatory. It was public. The punishment was death and yet Saint Patrick lit the Easter fire boldly…
On a hill.
In the midst of a pagan feast.
In celebration of the King of Heaven and the victory of Easter.
In holy defiance of the enemies of God.
For daily I expect to be murdered or betrayed or reduced to slavery if the occasion arises. But I fear nothing, because of the promises of Heaven; for I have cast myself into the hands of Almighty God, who reigns everywhere. As the prophet says: ‘Cast your burden on the Lord and he will sustain you. ― St. Patrick
The lighting of that fire wasn’t liturgical…but it was a holy Paschal fire. And when the Druid king sent his solders to put out the fire and kill Patrick, they were unable to extinguish it. It was a fire that would not die. And neither did Patrick. Not that day. Because it was the beginning of the transformation of Ireland to the heart of Jesus Christ.
It was a bold act of unreserved worship. And I want that.
In the midst of the darkness and the persistent drumbeats of fear, of war, of illness, of violence… Patrick teaches us to offer our lives as an act of continuous praise. There’s something pretty ugly about reducing such vibrantly beautiful testimony to a drunken celebration of heritage…
But I suppose we have the capacity to do it right, joyfully, completely… somehow within the context of Lent and culture. It’s certainly worth examining. Anyway, I’ve got to wrap this up and make some green milk for the kids. They find it delightfully weird and memorable, and I think there’s merit in that after all. As long as we don’t neglect the fire.
St. Patrick, ora pro nobis.
I know for certain, that before I was humbled I was like a stone lying in deep mire, and he that is mighty came and in his mercy raised me up and, indeed, lifted me high up and placed me on top of the wall. And from there I ought to shout out in gratitude to the Lord for his great favours in this world and for ever, that the mind of man cannot measure.
― St. Patrick
I love a good contemporary Christian anthem and I played this one often during 2020, keeping the fire in front of me so that I would not fall back into complacency and tepidness. It seems appropriate on this day to share a song inspired by St. Patrick, set in Ireland, and played by an Irish band. Enjoy! (Great for a running playlist… gets a little Chariots of Fire vibe going when the fire hits legs and lungs.)
*Top Image is of our 2020 quarantine home Paschal fire. The boys built it so that it would shoot up high and be as visible as was safe and reasonable. We sang and prayed in the midst of the darkness of suburbia, aware in a new way of darkness… and light.
Bottom image: Bringing the 2020 fire literally and figuratively into our home.
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This is goodness! Thanks! And happy St Patrick's day! ((I made my kids green drinks with *natural* green coloring which apparently has its own not-lovely flavor.. They appreciated the color and poured out the drinks, haha))
--Maria :]
What a fine piece of thinking and writing, Melody. It lit a spark over here. Keep up the good work.