Every year on March 17, America turns… green. Not just a little green—aggressively green. We’ve got rivers dyed like highlighter ink in Chicago, people wearing shamrock sunglasses, green wigs that look like they lost a fight with a lawnmower, and beverages that—let’s be honest—probably should not exist in nature. Then there are the parades. Oh, the parades. Somewhere between celebration and something that feels suspiciously like a toned-down version of a Roman festival gone sideways.
Let’s not even get started on certain “traditions” in places like Rolla (Alice)… some things are better left unexplained in polite company. Then there's the corned beef and cabbage. A meal proudly consumed across America on this day… that most actual Irish people don’t even claim.
Which brings us to one of the great ironies of all: St. Patrick wasn’t Irish.
Saint Patrick was, in fact, British—captured as a young man, enslaved, and taken to Ireland. For six long years, he lived in hardship and isolation. Eventually, he escaped. That could have been the end of the story. Honestly, that should have been the end of the story. But it wasn’t.
He became a priest. Then a bishop. And then, this is where the story stops being ordinary and becomes something holy. He went back. Back to the very people who enslaved him. Not for revenge. Not for closure. For the mission. He returned to bring them, Jesus Christ.
Forgiveness like that doesn’t come from willpower. That kind of love doesn’t come from personality. That is grace. That is transformation. That is God at work.
I was thinking about all of this today, somewhere between the shamrocks and the chaos, and a phrase came back to me. One I heard as a very young administrator, and one I’ve never been able to shake: “You love Jesus as much as the person you hate the most.”
I wish I could say that line inspired me immediately. It didn’t. It haunted me. At the time, I was… let’s say… pretty impressed with myself. I thought I was a great teacher—maybe even the greatest middle school social studies teacher walking the planet. I loved history. I loved teaching it. I knew my content. If I’m being honest? I wasn’t always leading students toward a relationship with Christ. I was teaching about faith… without always living it fully.
Over time, especially during my years at St. Francis of Assisi, something began to change. Slowly. Imperfectly. But undeniably. Dots started to connect. Faith moved from subject… to center. I began (and I emphasize began) the lifelong work of becoming not just knowledgeable, but faithful.
That’s why St. Patrick hits differently now. Because his story isn’t just about shamrocks and snakes and clover symbolism. It’s about conversion—not just of a nation, but of a man. A man who suffered… forgave… returned… and loved. A man who didn’t just escape his past, but allowed God to redeem it. A man who, in the end, lived out that uncomfortable truth: Loving God means loving people, even the ones who hurt you. Especially them.
So enjoy the day. Wear the green. Have the meal. Maybe even laugh at the over-the-top celebrations. But somewhere in the middle of it all, take a moment. Reflect on the real story. Ask the harder question. Where is God calling you to grow? Who is He asking you to forgive? And what might happen if you actually said yes?
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