In love with the color green from the time I owned my first lime beach bag and jade flip-flops, I was in heaven when opportunities arose for me to spend a year as an au pair on the Emerald Isle. As Johnny Cash so aptly describes, the little island of Ireland is in possession of at least 40 shades of green, and what vibrant, lively shades they are. And though the island is bedecked in green nearly every day of the year, the Irish still manage to make the wearing of green a special occasion for St. Patrick’s Day.
Having always loved green, it’s only natural that I’ve long loved the holiday that requires (under threat of schoolchildren’s pinches) everyone to wear the color I would decree mandatory if allowed to issue a royal edict. So given the chance to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in the land of its origins, I felt lucky, Irish lucky in fact. When the big day in the middle of March finally arrived, I bid my host family good-day and ventured into Dublin for the bustling festivities. It didn’t take long to realize that most of the people cramming into the capital’s streets were actually foreigners like myself who were hoping to experience the heart of Irish celebrations but were more likely to witness other foreigners enacting their own ideas of Irish traditions. Case and point: those horrendous pinches for failing to wear green are totally of American making; my Irish family just stared at me as though I were daft when I asked if they honored that particular tradition. But it’s kind of a moot point anyway since I didn’t see a soul on the streets of Dublin who wasn’t attired like a stereotypical leprechaun. Though they could hardly compete with the living shades of the island, the outfits of every milling tourist were outrageously green. If meeting people in town, it was necessary to have an excellently defined rendezvous point because telling a friend to look for the man in the tall green top hat or the woman with shamrock boxers on the outside of her jeans would have had no distinguishing effect.
Most families I knew were staying home and taking their children to small local parades. Even the young Irish adults my own age were avoiding the big city. I suppose when the party is available to you every year, a bit of the novelty is bound to wear off. For me, though, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I cheerfully joined the other tourists and my international au pair friends to stake out a spot for watching the epic holiday parade. The Irish kept telling me that the Paddy’s Day parades in New York and Chicago are more impressive than the one in Dublin, and perhaps this is true. Irish-Americans seem to have a strong sense of pride for their homeland whereas the people in Ireland maintain a fair mix of national pride and humorous self-degradation. But no matter if their brothers and sisters across the sea are now throwing bigger parties, Dubliners still know how to have a good time and imbibe the city with incredible atmosphere for Paddy’s Day weekend. As the Irish would say, the craic was good. Large floats and colorful dancers rolled through the main streets and pints overflowed in all the local pubs. I had heard rumors of green beer, but alas, very little was to be found. The standard black pints of Guinness and amber Bulmers did abound though, and so did the live music. No matter the pub I walked into or the street corner I turned, traditional Irish tunes were dancing reels and jigs in my ears. Having consumed a pint of my favorite hard cider while toe tapping away to “The Belle of Belfast City,” I moved away from the crowds and headed to St. Patrick’s Cathedral, aware that I had never before headed to church while slightly intoxicated.
While most of Ireland is busy having a big party on St. Patrick’s Day, there are those who remember why they have a national holiday in the first place: in honor of their patron saint. All I can remember anyone telling me as a kid about St. Patrick was that he drove the snakes out of Ireland, but this great evangelist has a bit of a longer biography in Irish memories. He was captured abroad and sold into slavery in Ireland as a young boy. While enslaved, he relied on his faith in the Lord, and after escaping, he felt called to return to Ireland and preach throughout the island, causing Christianity to blossom in the Emerald Isle. There is a park outside of the cathedral that bears his name and a sign that declares that it was here that St. Patrick baptized the very first Christians in Ireland.
Upon entering the towering cathedral, I was handed a cluster of shamrocks to wear. Please let it be noted that being given a cluster of shamrocks is very different than being handed a bouquet of clover, for shamrocks are much daintier and somehow feel more magical than the clover and grass accompaniments you could rip from your own front yard. Twining the shamrocks through the buttonhole on my jacket, I was reminded of its significance for St. Patrick. He used the tiny green plant to help illustrate the mystery of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The other attendees within the church also wore shamrock constellations and listened attentively to readings from the life and sermons of St. Patrick. Looking around, I couldn’t help but notice that the pubs were brimming to capacity on this Saint’s day while his cathedral was barely half full. Despite this discrepancy, St. Patrick’s influence is still visible throughout the country. The national schools are often named after him, and the religion he helped bring to Ireland is still celebrated in public schools. And, of course, there are the faithful who still practice and can trace their ancestral roots back to people baptized by St. Patrick himself.
During a day full of merriment and the wearing of green, the most memorable moments occurred within the walls of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, for it was difficult to remain unmoved by the tale of a man who had enough compassion and purpose in his heart to return with good news to a nation who had stolen the years of his youth. Perhaps the next time St. Patrick’s Day rolls around, you can ask yourself who Paddy is to you. Is he an excuse to drink green beer or a man worthy of remembering for his service to the people of the world?