Detail of Saint Patrick in a stained glass window at the permanently closed Smith Museum of Stained Glass Windows at Navy Pier in Chicago, Illinois | Photo by Thad Zajdowicz / Public Domain Dedication CC0 1.0 UniversalBy Lou Murray
Now is the time for Bostonians to rediscover the unyielding strength and romance of Saint Patrick in art and music. When asked by the Dorchester Post to write a brief tribute to Saint Patrick, I jumped at the chance. And then my pen froze. I had been surrounded by the image of this man my entire life: A holy picture on the walls of Nana’s “house” (actually, the floor above us in a two-family); in the brilliant stained glass of my parish, where as an altar boy you could find your mind wandering and then settling upon the finer details of morning sunlight pulsing through purple bishop boots crushing snakes with brutal efficiency; in the looming statues that dominate Boston parishes with a kindly tiny mustard seed like shamrock outstretched in one arm and the other arm holding a crozier that always seemed cocked like a boxer’s limb waiting to lash out at an erring pagan chieftain or smash a speedy snake who had escaped the stamp of grandiose heels; did I mention a beard that would make Moses, Vikings, and ZZ Top jealous? Maybe the artist’s rendering of Saint Patrick is the place to ponder and appreciate, as he and it has animated the spirit of Boston since at least 1737. Besides every media outlet will be trotting out a hackneyed historical analysis of the Roman Catholic missionary.
Long before Shane McGowan gargled the lyrics of Will You Come to the Bower, Luke Kelly and the Dubliners resounded off the walls of our 1970’s kitchen thanks to the “Irish Hour” on WROL AM 950. In the song, a lover the woman, the nation, Erin beckons to her scattered children throughout the world to come to the bower. You see an invitation to the secluded woodland glen; a place of romance and secrecy is really a rebel song. The lyrics praise the strength of Ireland’s diaspora and sing of historic leaders and figures in a coded call to come back and fight for Ireland. Saint Patrick’s Irish strength and courage gets acknowledged for his fearless pursuit of slithering serpents:
Will you come to the bower?
Will you come to the land of O’Neill and O’Donnell
Of Lord Lucan of old and the immortal O’Connell.
Where Brian chased the Danes and Saint Patrick the vermin
And whose valleys still remain most beautiful and charming?
What gave Patrick, a simple shepherd and former slave the strength to romance an entire island of tribes, who yet, had not united as a nation though a people distinct from all others? What gave him the intense eyes to stare down pagan chieftains, and stride up to the thrown of Tara? What gave him the strength to thrust a shamrock into the face of warriors and tell them of a new way? What made his visage so strong and compelling, and his stubble so epic that 1561 years after his death artists are still singing his praises, painting his image, carving his crozier, and celebrating his feast day? The answer is less than a mile from your house no matter what ward you call home in the city of Boston. Saint Patrick’s strength and his romantic entreaties all emanated not for his love of the Irish people, but for all people. Saint Patrick could not have known that one day there would be an American city called Boston with 48 Roman Catholic parishes across her neighborhoods, but he did know with certainty that Jesus Christ had come to earth and preached the Good News and that he asked his disciples to share his message to all people. Saint Patrick did know that if he shared the romantic invitation of the Good News to the clans of Ireland those men and women would also share the message.
Tired of the news? Inflation, got you down? Family troubles? Marriage on the rocks? Addiction, striking at your heels, or at someone you love? Would you like the confidence of Saint Patrick’s eyes to face these problems? You want the strength of arms that never put that crozier down? Maybe some figurative purple bishop’s boots in just your size that could crush the “vermin” that is ailing you? That same charism that animated Saint Patrick’s strength and love is a balm available for us all and you don’t have to wear green to get it. Patrick knew the secret words of romantic invitation and so did his progeny the sons and daughters of Erin that made Boston and Dorchester the 33rd County of Ireland: “Unless you eat my body and drink my blood, there is no life in you” – John 6:53. The bower is as close as your nearby parish. Will you come to the bower? The air will resound with hosannas to greet you.
