Raise a Glass in Honour of the Tolerance, Wisdom and Fortitude of Ireland's Preeminent Saint
By JAMES ACKEN
The celebration of the annual St. Patrick's Day bacchanal is one of those odd intersections of medieval and early modern culture that seems transparent but belies a deep and perplexing history.
There is a significant amount of argument over Patrick's historicity, and one theory even claims that there were two such churchmen. The more scholars dig for the "real" St. Patrick, the more shadowy and elusive he becomes. It should thus come as no surprise that there is no single account of his life but several.
Nevertheless, nearly all sources agree that Patrick was conducting his mission to Ireland during the middle of the Fifth Century, not 25 or 30 years after Rome's withdrawal from Britain and the sacking of the Imperial city by Visigoths.
This "barbarian" violence sparked St. Augustine of Hippo to write his "City of God against the Pagans" and struck a major blow to Western Rome's self confidence. Europe was thus entering into a strange and frightening new period.
The political hegemony of the Roman Empire west of the Balkans was dissolving into a series of kingdoms, each ruled by a powerful Germanic warlord.
The last Roman Emperor of the west would give way to an ostensibly Gothic warlord by the 480s while classical education and beliefs were slowly being displaced by a hybrid of various Germanic and Greco-Roman cultural elements. It was the church that tried to make some sense of what was happening.
Offering effectively free medical, free education, free diplomatic services and committed to the advancement of knowledge and virtue, churchmen like St. Augustine of Hippo, St. Ambrose of Milan and - slightly earlier - St. Jerome worked to formulate a unified church that was self-consistent and yet on the then-cutting-edge of knowledge, whether philosophical, scientific, political or moral. In short, the church provided a culture of idealism that transcended language, local culture and the turbulence of the period.
Such was the church's great strength and possibly the reason why the Gaelic culture of Ireland accepted it so readily.
In the Acallamh na Senórach (Colloquy of the Elders), Patrick listens to the collection of pre-Christian tales preserved in the memory of Caílte, one of Finn McCool's warriors, and gives them the official, Christian stamp of approval by having them committed to writing.
One of these tales relates how three brothers, as a result of their father's stinginess, approach their mother's family, the Tuatha Dé Dánann, and receive gifts befitting their noble station: horses, gold, weapons and music among other things.
This visit involves traveling into the Síd, the burial mounds of ancient Ireland, and speaking with the crowd of supernatural figures who clearly represent pre-Christian divinities. After hearing this tale, Patrick wishes "buaid agus bennacht" on Caílte: victory and blessing.
This is not the only time Patrick shows clemency to the pre-Christian past. In the "Phantom Chariot of Cuchulainn" (Síaburcharpat Conculaind), Patrick actually raises Ireland's greatest warrior from his grave of almost five centuries for baptism.
The miracle has a dual purpose, of course. On the one hand, Gaelic tradition's most popular hero is allowed into heaven, while Laoghaire, the last, pagan High King of Ireland, moves one step closer to conversion.
And of course, let us not forget that it was Patrick who insisted that St. Brigit be allowed to accept the pallium of bishop-hood.
We are not alone if Patrick seems a little too relaxed with non-Christian culture. The Anglo-Saxon and later Norman churchmen all agreed that the Gael were too forgiving and too ready to incorporate the systems of thought peculiar to their pre-Christian forebears.
The Seventh Century abbot Aldhelm wrote to one of his students traveling to Ireland that the learning there was all well and good but not to be over-indulged.
Many Anglo-Saxon saints, like Guthlac of Croyland, criticised their Irish counterparts for being too excessive in their religious observances, and Bede, famous for his early Eighth Century history of the Anglo-Saxons, was vociferous in his criticism of the willful Gael. Of course, he probably was thinking more of the Columban monks from Scotland than any from Ireland.
Reflecting on the world of Patrick's mission and memory as it comes to us down through the Middle Ages - particularly seeing that our world is no less chaotic and unpredictable - it seems only appropriate to raise a glass or flowing bowl in honour of the tolerance, wisdom and fortitude of Ireland's preeminent saint. Sláinte mhaith.
Dr. James Acken is the Assistant Coordinator for Simon Fraser's Centre for Scottish Studies. Specializing in the Medieval Gaelic culture of Scotland and Ireland, Dr. Acken teaches courses on literature, history, mythology and religion for the Humanities Department. He can be reached for further information at acken@sfu.ca.
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