When I was about 14 I decided I had to have a St. Christopher medal. I didn’t just want one; I desperately needed one. Nevermind that our family wasn’t Catholic and I didn’t have a clue who St. Christopher was. It was absolutely imperative that I have a medal memorializing him.
My parents, infinitely wise when it came to knowing the difference between wanting something and needing it, just ignored me. But my Granna and Grandaddy, on the other hand, believed it was their duty as good grandparents to give me whatever would make me happy (and possibly get me to pipe down) at the moment.
And so it came to be that I wore the likeness of St. Christopher on a chain around my neck the rest of that summer. It turned out he was the Patron Saint of travelers, which was ironic, considering I didn’t even have my license yet.
I’m not sure why I had to have that medal. C.A., my closest friend growing up, was Catholic and when I slept over we would occasionally go to Saturday night Mass just so we could go out later and sleep in on Sunday. That alone made Catholicism way cooler in my book than Methodism, but I really think I wore that St. Christopher medal more as a fashion statement, much (and I really hate to say this) like some Christians wear the cross.
I know this is true about Christians and the cross because once, while browsing in the Cokesbury bookstore at Lake Junaluska, I overheard a mother and daughter shopping for a cross on a chain. I’ll never forget this mother asking her daughter if she wanted a plain cross, or “one with the little man on it.”
The older and hopefully wiser I get, the more that story breaks my heart. I wear a cross most days, and it’s meaning is deeply personal to me. It’s a reminder of whose I am and who He calls me to be in the world every single day.
I have no idea what happened to my St. Christopher medal. It’s probably in the bottom of a dusty box somewhere in my mother’s house, but today’s not his day anyway. It’s St. Patrick’s day. Just in case you know as little about St. Patrick as I did about St. Christopher, here’s his story from Catholic Online, Saints & Angels:St. Patrick of Ireland is one of the world's most popular saints. Apostle of Ireland, (he was) born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in Scotland, in the year 387; (he) died at Saul, Downpatrick, Ireland, 17 March, 461. Along with St. Nicholas and St. Valentine, the secular world shares our love of these saints. This is also a day when everyone's Irish.
There are many legends and stories of St. Patrick, but this is his story. Patrick was born around 385 in Scotland, probably Kilpatrick. His parents were Calpurnius and Conchessa, who were Romans living in Britian in charge of the colonies.
As a boy of fourteen or so, he was captured during a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to herd and tend sheep. Ireland at this time was a land of Druids and pagans. He learned the language and practices of the people who held him.
During his captivity, he turned to God in prayer. He wrote, "The love of God and his fear grew in me more and more, as did the faith, and my soul was rosed, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers and in the night, nearly the same." "I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain."
Patrick's captivity lasted until he was twenty, when he escaped after having a dream from God in which he was told to leave Ireland by going to the coast. There he found some sailors who took him back to Britian, where he reunited with his family.
He had another dream in which the people of Ireland were calling out to him "We beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once more."
He began his studies for the priesthood. He was ordained by St. Germanus, the Bishop of Auxerre, whom he had studied under for years.
Later, Patrick was ordained a bishop, and was sent to take the Gospel to Ireland. He arrived in Ireland March 25, 433, at Slane. One legend says that he met a chieftain of one of the tribes, who tried to kill Patrick. Patrick converted Dichu (the chieftain) after he was unable to move his arm until he became friendly to Patrick.
Patrick began preaching the Gospel throughout Ireland, converting many. He and his disciples preached and converted thousands and began building churches all over the country. Kings, their families, and entire kingdoms converted to Christianity when hearing Patrick's message.
Patrick by now had many disciples, among them Beningnus, Auxilius, Iserninus, and Fiaac, (all later canonized as well).
Patrick preached and converted all of Ireland for 40 years. He worked many miracles and wrote of his love for God in Confessions. After years of living in poverty, traveling and enduring much suffering he died March 17, 461. He died at Saul, where he had built the first church.
Patrick was a humble, pious, gentle man, whose love and total devotion to and trust in God should be a shining example to each of us. He feared nothing, not even death, so complete was his trust in God, and of the importance of his mission.
Why a shamrock? Patrick used the shamrock to explain the Trinity, and has been associated with him and the Irish since that time.
So celebrate the good work of St. Patrick today. And remember: Green clothing? Good. Green beer? Bad.
