St. Patrick was born about 373 A.D., in either Scotland or Roman England. His real name was probably Maewyn Succat but after becoming a priest he took the name of Patrick, or Patricus. At the age of 16, he was kidnapped by pirates and sold into slavery in Ireland. According to legend, six years later God started to speak to him in dreams and visions. He escaped (after voices in one of his visions told him where he could find a getaway ship) and went to France, where he became a priest and later a bishop.
When he was about 60 years old, he had a dream that the Irish were calling him back to Ireland to tell them about God, so he returned there to spread the Christian gospel. He used the shamrock (a three-leafed plant) as a metaphor to explain the concept of the Trinity (Father, Son, Holy Spirit). Slowly but surely Ireland became a Christian land.
Legend has it that Saint Patrick drove all the snakes out of Ireland -- that they all went into the sea and drowned. However, snakes were at that time a symbol of paganism, and it was really paganism he drove out.
He died on March 17, 461, at the age of 76. When the clans of Ireland began to bicker over whose land would be honored by his burial, his friends quietly buried him in a secret grave. Many believe this to be in Downpatrick, Co. Down.
Not only did he bring Christianity to Ireland, but he and other Irish monks and scribes were quite literally responsible for the continuation of Western civilization after Rome fell. As libraries and learning on the continent were forever lost, the monks copied manuscripts of Greek and Latin writers, both Pagan and Christian. St. Patrick instilled a sense of literacy that allowed Ireland to become "the isle of saints and scholars" it is today -- and preserved Western culture while Europe was being overrun.
If you ever have the chance, you must read “How the Irish Saved Civilization”, by Thomas Cahill. It’s a lovely book about a part of history you may never have read about before, and yet another reason to celebrate the Irish and St. Patrick.
Little bit of Heaven
Sure a little bit of heaven
Fell from out the skies one day,
And it landed in the ocean,
In a spot so far away,
And when the angels found it,
It looked so sweet and fair,
They said "Suppose we leave it,
For it looks so peaceful there."
Then they sprinkled it with stardust,
Just to make the shamrocks grow,
It's the only place you'll find them,
No matter where you go.
And they showered it with moonbeams,
To make it's lakes so grand,
And when they had it finished,
Sure they called it IRELAND!
~Irish Prayers and Blessings~
Dear Lord,
Give me a few friends
who will love me for what I am,
and keep ever burning
before my vagrant steps
the kindly light of hope...
And though I come not within sight
of the castle of my dreams,
teach me to be thankful for life,
and for time's olden memories
that are good and sweet.
And may the evening's twilight
find me gentle still.
God bless the corners of this house,
And be the lintel blest,
And bless each place of rest,
bless the hearth and bless the board,
And bless each place of rest,
And bless each door that opens wide
To stranger as to kin,
And bless each crystal window pane
That lets the starlight in,
And bless the rooftree overhead
And every sturdy wall.
The peace of man, the peace of God,
The peace of love on all.
May love and laughter light your days,
and warm your heart and home.
May good and faithful friends be yours,
wherever you may roam.
May peace and plenty bless your world
with joy that long endures.
May all life's passing seasons
bring the best to you and yours!
May you live a long life
Full of gladness and health,
With a pocket full of gold
As the least of you wealth.
May the dreams you hold dearest,
Be those which come true,
The kindness you spread,
Keep returning to you.
May joy and peace surround you,
Contentment latch your door,
And happiness be with you now,
And bless you evermore.
May your day be touched
by a bit of Irish luck,
brightened by a song in your heart,
and warmed by the smiles
of the people you love.
May the sound of happy music
And the lilt of Irish laughter
Fill your heart with gladness
That stays forever after.
What Shall I Say About the Irish?
The utterly impractical, never predictable,
Sometimes irascible, quite inexplicable,
Irish.Strange blend of shyness, pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat.
He's spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet the smile of a child fills his soul with delight.
His eyes are the quickest to well up with tears,
Yet his strength is the strongest to banish your fears.
His hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And there is no middle ground on which he will stand.
He's wild and he's gentle, he's good and he's bad.
He's proud and he's humble, he's happy and sad.
He's in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies,
He's enamoured with beauty wherever it lies.
He's victor and victim, a star and a clod,
But mostly he's Irish—in love with his God.
|
|