On being Irish, pagan and confused

[valarltd]

I have said before, I feel very silly calling myself pagan as my ancestral pantheons are very agrarian and I am completely suburban. Fertility, of land, beasts or women, is not something I have a lot of truck with. I kill zucchini, the cats are neutered, I'm sterile and we're working to avoid my daughter getting pregnant.

On the other side, I've been Irish a lot longer than I've been pagan.
My great-grandfather was the son who was supposed to be the priest--and didn't--which is why I grew up in a family of Baptist O'Neills.

For me, being Irish is about a hard-headed rebellious streak, good music and some fine dancing. I grew up with an understanding of the Troubles, but knew they were something far away that didn't relate to me and my Catholic best friend.



Which brings me to St. Patrick's Day.
And some inner conflict.

I'm at the Richard Scarry point, where after the parade and the green cupcakes and cookies, Grandfather Groundhog is faced with telling all the animals about the meaning of St. Patrick, when he notices Mr. and Mrs. Snake and all the snakelings, all in green and wearing derby hats... And he can't tell the story because it's not fair to one family in the community.

Do I explain to the kids that we celebrate the day as a marker of our heritage, as we always have?
Or do I tell them that this is a day of mourning, a day when people like us, who believed like we do, were destroyed by people who believe like and come from the same place as their daddy?

Bah.
Religion is only useful if it makes you a happier better person.
And no religion is worth being miserable over.

I woke up this morning anticipating soda bread and shortbread and corned beef.
Then I got to over-thinking.

Faugh. We're celebrating. Good music, good food and family history.
Otherwise we're no more than whiners going "Oh we can't have this or that holiday because it's against our faith, so we'll sit here and be po'faced and miserable and make you miserable too."



And, speaking of family,
Happy birthday to my niece, my cousin and reannon

Comments

What I object to is compulsory Irishness, myself

[dakiwiboid.livejournal.com]

I was rather glad, in a way, to be laid low by an intestinal virus today, so that I didn't have to explain a lack of green at work. I'm a Scot, and I get thoroughly sick of being commanded to be Irish every March 17th (as in "Everybody's Irish on St. Patrick's Day"). Not if I don't want to be, thanks. I had enough of that at the aggressively Irish parochial school I attended as a child, where people thought it was good enough to wear orange on March 17th if you didn't like the holiday, without realizing that wearing orange is just as Irish as wearing green. Sigh. I prefer to wear a nice polo shirt with a St. Andrew's Cross on it, and a thistle pendant, but I do get tired of having to explain it.