Enough with the green beer, already - St. Patrick wasn't what you think

St. Patrick will get two parades this year: Saturday in St. Paul, Monday in Minneapolis (halftime on Sunday). So let us gather our Irish friends -- our English, Scots and Welsh ones, too -- and give them a St. Patrick's Day message from the saint himself:

Get over yourselves.

The patron saint of Ireland is one of the most misunderstood saints on the calendar. And while he is one of the most over-celebrated, he also is one of the least appreciated.

He didn't banish the snakes (the Ice Age did that), he wasn't Irish and he shouldn't just be embraced by Irish people.

He was bigger than us.

(By the way: If you're between 18 and 26 and would like a shot at a free summer trip to St. Patrick's stomping grounds, stay tuned to this column).

In fact, Patrick was British. Not a pip-pip, cheerio Brit, but a lad in fifth-century Britain who was kidnapped by Irish raiders. He escaped, became a priest and, seeing a vision, returned to the place of his captivity on a mission to bring the Gospel to the Irish. Nothing in his life suggests he should be celebrated with green hats or green beer.

Those coordinates kept Downpatrick off the tourist map for most Irish-Americans over the past 30-some years of killing in the North. But now that the Troubles seem behind us, Downpatrick and its connections to the revered patron of Ireland are playing a big part in a cross-border effort to promote tourism in the north and to reclaim Patrick for all sides of the Irish divide -- Catholic, Protestant and Dissenter.

Patrick is finally becoming catholic with a small "c" -- universal in his appeal, which, of course, is the way he approached his proselytizing.

"There is a growing understanding of the common Christian heritage that Patrick represents," says Tim Campbell, director of the non-profit Saint Patrick Centre in Downpatrick, which is located in a beautiful but neglected part of the island. "In the past, Patrick was seen as primarily Catholic. But he was a British person who brought Christianity to Ireland. You can't get more cross-community than that."

Campbell visited the Twin Cities last month to help start one of the first chapters of the Friends of St. Patrick, a non-profit group supporting the Saint Patrick Centre, which houses permanent exhibitions on St. Patrick and other early Irish missionaries who helped keep Christianity and learning alive in the Dark Ages.

On St. Patrick's Day in Downpatrick, Campbell told me, the flag that's flown is St. Patrick's Cross -- a red diagonal cross on a white field. (You can find it, along with St. Andrew's Cross and St. George's Cross, in the British flag). It's carried, along with a laurel wreath, in a procession to Down Cathedral, to Patrick's grave, where the prayer ascribed to him, St Patrick's Breastplate, is read.

"Do they actually know what they are celebrating?" The Irish Times asked a few years ago, pointing at St. Patrick's Day tomfoolery in the United States.

For too many Americans, the answer was no. Now, the Saint Patrick Centre is trying to boost our Irish I.Q. This spring, it will choose 12 "Young Ambassadors" for a three-week program in Northern Ireland "to promote a greater understanding of the shared cultural heritage" across both sides of the Irish border.

Several of the ambassadors, ages 18 to 26, might come from Minnesota, where Campbell visited the Irish Fair last summer, and where support for The Saint Patrick Centre is strong.

Applications can be made online, and are due by St. Patrick's Day. The real one. For information, visit www.saintpatrickcentre.com.

So my message for those of you who will march on Saturday or Monday, or even those of you who will look on in amazement, is simple. St. Patrick: Get to Know Him.

Saints preserve us.

We may not agree on much. But we can agree on this: We are Friends of St. Patrick.