Excerpts from Celtic Spirit 

Chapter Five, Dublin

Mary Helena, St. Patrick’s Cathedral

In this excerpt from Chapter Five of Celtic Spirit, we hear from Mary Helena who expected the whole trip to be to abbeys and cathedrals and who is traveling alone because her daughter canceled at the last minute.

She begins the chapter:

The drive to Dublin is mostly highway. Thank God, we are going to a city. If I see one more sheep and hear everyone’s “oohs and ahs” about how cute they are, I might scream. I thought this was going to be a religious trip, but it’s a pagan trip with a gratuitous peppering of Catholic places just to look balanced. My girls should have known better than to send me off with a bunch of pseudo-sophisticated atheists and pagans. They question and critique everything and believe in nothing. Hmmpf. I just wish I were home. My leg and ankle are killing me. I’m afraid of phlebitis setting in. My circulation isn’t good to begin with, my cholesterol is probably higher than a kite with all this rich food, and the long plane ride wasn’t good for me. I pray, Jesus, just get me home okay. 

A few minutes later the bus approaches St. Patrick’s Cathedral

“And here we are, approaching St. Patrick’s. Again, you may be surprised that it is not a Catholic cathedral as is St. Patrick’s in New York, but rather an Anglican church. But the guide will tell you more.” What? Not Catholic? I should’ve known that they’d try to sneak something like this in. Even though Timothy gets us a parking place along the square, it’s a long walk up to the cathedral. But it’s worth it. St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin, Ireland. Even if it’s not Catholic, it is named for the saint and he is without doubt Catholic. No one can argue that. Who would have thought I would ever cross its steps? There’s one for the record books. I have Trish take my picture on the threshold. There is only one guide inside. A number of folks are down front on kneelers, but it’s not a service. Trish recognizes the statue of Jonathan Swift and tells me it makes her think of Capitol Hill. Lots of busts of men who are no longer known to the average person. She says she likes to think about that when she has to deal with some puffed up politician. She is so right, I’ve never even heard of Jonathan Swift. And he has nothing to do with St. Patrick. Leave it to the English.

 It’s a beautiful cathedral. Not as grand as St. Pat’s in New York City. Others say it doesn’t compare to Westminster in London or Chartres or Notre Dame in France, either. But, then, it is not about the building, it is about the religion. Unfortunately, it misses the mark here, too, since it is an Anglican Church of Ireland, not the Catholic Church at all. Nonetheless, it is the house of St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland. Praise Be. 

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