Have you ever wondered why, in our state vs church sensitized country, no one
ever objects to Saint Patrick's Day? No, it isn't because Patrick is imaginary,
like St Valentine, nor secularized as in "Happy Patrick's Day". Nor is
he a famous American, a representative of a protected minority, or even properly
ethnic.
What? You said Irish is an ethnicity?
But Patrick was British!
Look, there's no two ways about it, the reason we leave the "St" on the name
and on the day, is precisely because he was famous for nothing else. So why isn't
the ACLU all bent out of shape over this?
No, this isn't Belfast and has nothing to do with Robert McCartney. What then
is the reticence of the usually rabid ACLU to deleting this day?
Surely they wouldn't have overlooked
such a plum opportunity to gain name recognition?
They don't believe they can win, either in court or in the hearts of Americans.
So how could Patrick have gained such a warm spot in the heart of WASP and Jew alike?
And if Patrick could do it, can Declaration Alliance learn the secret, and maybe
finesse the ACLU for once?
So here's to Saint Patrick for fighting the good fight at the ripe old age of 1615!
Obviously without defenders, all of us would be fair game. If the ACLU is afraid
to take on this battle, there must be many willing to fight. And the Irish are
nothing if not willing. We are reminded of the
Civil War battle at Antietam Creek,
when the Irish Brigade of
the 1st Division of the 2nd Corps of the Army of the Potomac under General McClellan
carried smoothbore muskets into battle against Posey's Mississippian rifles. Muskets
only work at short range, and it cost the Brigade half its men to achieve that equality
of range. No, the ACLU is wise to keep its tophat clean.
But there is more to this story than Irish temper, there is that strange admiration
that makes all of us into willing Irishmen today, seeing how many wear the
green of Erin's Isle. To be fair, I had attributed it to American sentimentality until
I was asked to sing Irish ditties for a party this week. As I sang these songs, some
sad, some funny--Danny Boy, I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen, Molly Malone,
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, Rosie O'Grady, Who Threw The Overalls in Mrs Murphy's Chowder?--they
cast a spell over me. No, Saint Patrick wouldn't approve of that, it was a spirit.
A spirit
of blue-collar sweat with a cheerful grin,
of short temper with speedy forgiveness,
of approaching death by tuberculosis and a tumultuous homecoming,
of love that lasts beyond the grave.
In short, it was faith.
We are all Irishmen today, because we all admire faith. Even if we do not have it
ourselves, we recognize it in others, and covet their grace. The ACLU may attack beliefs,
it may attack laws, or remove monuments, but it cannot remove faith.
Saint Patrick did not conquer
Ireland with lawyers, with soldiers, or with educators, he conquered it on foot, alone, with faith.
And faith is not something carved in stone or printed on a plaque, it is inscribed on
human hearts. Hearts that laugh after hot tempers have cooled, promise lifetime loyalty to fiancee,
hearts that cry over a dying wife, and resolutely send their last son to
battle. This is faith that cannot be taken, that the ACLU cannot remove. And
this is what the Irish have in shamrocks.