Last September I had the opportunity to visit Ireland for the first time. It was a spiritual pilgrimage of sorts and I was going to participate in a retreat program. When I visit a place, even the woods near my house, I often take a gift for the land. It’s usually tobacco or seeds, but as I packed for this trip, I took a little extra time to consider what my gift would be.
Once there, our retreat included visits to holy sites - many of them Druid or pre-Christian. We visited holy wells, megaliths, and faery glens. What I love about the pre-Christian holy sites is how they embraced the land. Mountains and lakes, for example, were sacred orientation points for deciding megalith locations. The life of the land was dimensionally layered - below, on and above. The light of the Divine was in everything and could be found everywhere.
In some cases, these pre-Christian sites had been overlaid with Christian crosses or statues of the Holy Family and scripture. Christianity was brought to the Emerald Isle in the fifth century by missionaries like St. Patrick who became the patron saint of Ireland.
The pre-Christian Celtic Wheel of the Year marks the rhythmic seasons of light and darkness with solar festivals of solstices and equinoxes. In between each of these four festivals is another festival that celebrates the liminality of each season - acknowledging both what has been and what is becoming. For me, these celebrations do not compete with Christianity, but rather expand our awareness of the Divine in the world around and beyond us. There are ways that Celtic spirituality has embraced both beautifully. Celtic history is itself incredibly complex.
St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated on March 17th because it marks the death date of St. Patrick. Ironically, it also falls very close to the spring equinox. You’ll find that this is true for Christmas and Yule/Winter Solstice, Easter and Ostara, and All Saints Day and Samhain among others. There is a lot of complexity here but there is also beauty and the opportunity to expand our understanding of the Divine.
One of the things St. Patrick was known for was “driving the snakes out of Ireland.” Most people know that there never were snakes in Ireland. “Snakes” referenced the pagans. It saddens me how much of Christian history is not about Jesus but rather wielding toxic power to colonize land, people and traditions in order to assume, demonize and exclude.
As I sat reflecting on all of this last September, I knew what my gift to the land would be.
On one of my last days in Ireland, I took a long walk into the woods. I found a beautiful spot off the path and knelt down. Opening my backpack, I cracked my book open and slid the flat, dried snakeskin out of it. I buried it in the rich dark soil. It was my way of not only honoring the land, but the ones who belonged to it.
No matter how we do or don’t celebrate today, may the shimmer of plastic shamrocks, the glistening of a Guinness, or a flickering votive remind us that Divine light is everywhere if we are willing to broaden our gaze and let it in.