Saint Patrick and the Labyrinthine Ways
. . . The story of St. Patrick of Ireland is a perfect example of the gravity of grace. We tend to reduce Saint Patrick to the whimsical Shepherd of Ireland who inspires our parades (and maybe a snort or two of Jameson's) this week, but the life of the real Saint Patrick is one of terrible tragedy responded to with the courage born of sanctifying grace. Stepping for a moment into the life and lore of Saint Patrick of Ireland will help us see more clearly these labyrinthine ways of grace. Whether you're Irish or not - and whether you're Catholic or not - the story of Saint Patrick is one of profound struggle against the forces of human evil, tragedy, and salvation against the tides of human history. . . .
A Prisoner, A Professor, A Prelate, Two Priests, and a Poet!
. . . In the corner of my cell where I type sitting on an empty bucket, my head is just six inches from the barred cell window. The window doesn't open - a fact that I deeply resent - but there is a little security grate with a knob that opens a small section of the grate for a little - very little - air. As I sat here early yesterday morning thinking of a title, I heard something unusual through the open grate. It was a song, and it came from a red-breasted robin perched atop the spirals of razor wire on the twenty-foot wall that has been my view of the outside world for sixteen years. I watched the robin for a long time, and listened as he sang. It instantly made me think of . . .
The Catholic League, Saint Patrick and the Labyrinthine Ways
. . . The part of St. Patrick's story about being carried off by marauders and forced into six years of slavery is seen through the eyes of Irish history as part of the "lucky charm" of St. Patrick's life. Think about that! I doubt very much that it felt that way at age sixteen. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time - or the right place at the right time depending on your point of view.Would Patrick be Saint Patrick without that awful six years of his life? I doubt it. We're in an unholy quagmire if we're hell-bent on shedding where we are in life, or where we've been. God's pursuit of us calls not just our halo, but our shadow as well. We can leave neither behind, and there's no point in running. Just as with "that look" my Irish mother mastered, resistance is futile. . . .