Patrick’s self-giving was total, and it bore immediate fruit in the many Irish men and women who entered consecrated life as a consequence of his mission.
Of the many thousands of his converts, there is only one of whom Patrick has anything significant to say. He describes her as ‘of noble birth and very beautiful, already grown to womanhood’ (Conf. 42). This woman asked to be baptised and a few days later took an even more significant step. ‘She informed us that a messenger of God had spoken to her advising her to become a virgin of Christ and in that way draw near to God’ (Conf. 42).
In both the Letter to Coroticus and the Confession Patrick wrote of how many ‘sons of the Irish and daughters of kings’ (Conf. 41; Corot. 12) had become monks and nuns. In particular, he noted the persecution which women had to endure for adopting such a way of life. ‘But those who are kept in slavery suffer most. They endure torture and constant threats’ (Conf. 42).
Like Saint Paul, Patrick set a high value on celibacy. For him it was the clearest sign that faith in Christ was taking root in Ireland, and the part which he had played in this development was his greatest joy:
Who am I, Lord, or what is my calling that You appeared to me in such a divine manner, so that today among the heathen I might steadfastly exalt and magnify Your name wherever I find myself, and not only in success but also in affliction? (Corot. 34)
Joy and pain
There is an exuberance about Patrick which is rooted in his total surrender to a love which kept alive the fiery enthusiasm of his youthful conversion. Perhaps because of this deep vitality, he had to endure a continual, inner struggle with his own limitations which led to a deepening of faith and a growing sense of his own sinfulness before a merciful God. In the end, it brought him to a joyful triumph from which every trace of resentment had been purged. ‘I must therefore speak publicly in order to thank the Lord for such wonderful gifts, gifts for the present and for eternity which the human mind cannot measure’ (Conf. 12).
These gifts for eternity, far from removing Patrick from the here and now, revealed themselves in a true compassion which shared in the grief of those who suffer. He was deeply conscious of the persecution of those women slaves who felt called to celibacy and also of those victims of Coroticus who were sold into slavery among the heathen Picts. ‘You commit members of Christ as though to a brothel’ (Corot. 14). Given his own experience, it was understandable that he should have shared in the grief of any free person reduced to slavery, but in this case his grief was doubled because of the damage done to the unity of the Church.
However, it was when face to face with the horror of death that the mystery of compassion in Patrick’s life fully revealed itself. His sense of loss for the murdered victims of Coroticus was profound, but it did not weaken in any way his belief that love would triumph over the grave.
Therefore I grieve for you, I grieve, my dearly beloved friends. Yet there again, I rejoice within myself.. And yet such an unspeakably horrible crime took place; but thank God… I can see you – you have begun your journey to where there will be no night nor mourning nor death any more, but you will leap for joy like calves freed of their bonds and will trample on the wicked, and they will be ashes under your feet. (Corot. 17)
Heaven and hell
In talking about eternal life Patrick invariably contrasts paradise with the punishment which awaits wrong-doers. Talk about hell in contrast to the promises of eternal life can, provided due emphasis is placed on God’s mercy and providence, have the effect of removing any trace of passive sentimentality. Hell is a reminder that we are free to turn down the Lord’s invitation to the wedding feast. It is an all too human possibility – a state of life in which neighbourliness and mutual loyalty are overthrown – which is never foreclosed in this life simply because a loving God has no desire to remove our capacity to love which presupposes a freedom to reject love itself.
Our response to Christ’s invitation impels us, for the sake of love, to share in His struggle against evil and tyranny not by resorting to violence and harshness, which are nothing else than a surrender to the enemy, but by a faith which believes that the gentle will inherit the earth and that those who hunger and thirst for justice will be satisfied. To be gentle and fearless is the ultimate and most inspiring expression of the human spirit. The true image of God is to be found by combining these two qualities in a love which triumphs over death and in a joy which is the Spirit-filled fruit of that love.
The rising sun
This is what Patrick had come to at the end of his life. From there he spoke in words which can sound shocking to those of us who do not share to the full his deep, tender and Spirit-filled faith:
And if ever I have done any good for my God Whom I love, I beg Him to grant me that I may shed my blood with those exiles and captives for His name, even though I should be denied a grave or my body be woefully torn to pieces limb by limb or wild beasts or the fowls of the air devour it. I am firmly convinced that if this should happen to me I would have gained my soul together with my body. (Conf. 59)
It is not that Patrick wanted these things to happen. Far from it. They represented what he saw as the most horrific fate imaginable – short of hell itself – but he saw that even the grossest violence to his own person could not turn back the approaching triumph of gentleness in his life. To describe what he saw, he used the image of the rising sun which had come to his aid in that darkest hour after his escape from slavery – the hour when he called on Elijah.
The rising sun brings colour, life and warmth to the world and for Patrick this was a parable. Those of us who follow Christ will be a part of that parable when our turn comes to die. ‘For on that day we will undoubtedly rise in the brightness of the sun, that is in the glory of Christ Jesus our redeemer as children of the living God’ (Conf. 59).
The Father of Jesus who holds all life in His care had no plans for Patrick to shed his blood. Instead, like the apostle Jesus loved, Patrick was moved by the Spirit to leave behind a witness of words.
He wrote words in Latin to his fellow citizens of the Roman Empire which was coming to an end. He called on them not to lose heart because the word of God had come alive among an uncivilised people. Here was a sign that the Good News would never die and that the gentle would inherit the earth. The sun was rising in an unexpected place.
Covenant
Patrick spent most of his life on a small island off the coast of Europe. Those of us who live on this island today cannot escape from one another or from his story. It is an invitation to a covenant and a sign of the reconciliation of enemies – a sign which our world badly needs. Each of us is called, like Patrick, to make this covenant a reality by giving life to words which were written almost one thousand years before Patrick was born:
Console my people, console them, says your God. ‘Speak to the heart of Jerusalem, and say to her that her time of warfare is ended. (Isaiah 40:1-2)
