A wee bit of Irish

On Saint Patrick’s day an important celebration in the Irish calendar, I checked on what this special person had written about himself. The below is translated from a medieval manuscript. This extract is from ©2011 Royal Irish Academy.

My name is Patrick. I am a sinner, a simple country person, and the least of all believers. I am looked down upon by many. My father was Calpornius. He was a deacon; his father was Potitus, a priest, who lived at Bannavem Taburniae. His home was near there, and that is where I was taken prisoner. I was about sixteen at the time. At that time, I did not know the true God. I was taken into captivity in Ireland, along with thousands of others. We deserved this, because we had gone away from God, and did not keep his commandments. We would not listen to our priests, who advised us about how we could be saved. The Lord brought his strong anger upon us, and scattered us among many nations even to the ends of the earth. It was among foreigners that it was seen how little I was.

The last part about being scattered among many nations on earth would explain a lot about Irish descendants ending up in various countries. My Irish genes probably had much to do with my continuous moving around. The last sentence provokes deep meditation on personal humility. It is true that our mentality changes once we are out of our little securities and plunged into foreign lands.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to all. Éireann go Brách.

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