We didn’t make much of a deal of St. Patrick’s Day in our home when I was a child. According to our father, we had primarily German heritage on his side of the family, with perhaps a bit of Russian thrown in, though no one was sure of that. There was a family rumor of a Lakota relative somewhere in our background, but my grandmother wasn’t sure about that. My mother said that our heritage was mainly English on her side of the family, with a bit of Scots thrown in. She didn’t think we were Irish, but was sure that if we were, we would have been Protestant and would not have observed St. Patrick’s Day, which she called a catholic holiday.

On the other hand, I did not want to get pinched at school, which was the punishment for not wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. This was no problem because our father was a John Deere dealer, and we wore lots of clothing with the green and yellow John Deere logo. Any green at all was a sign that you were safe from torture from your classmates.

Later, as an adult, I had an Irish boss who said that you don’t have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in one of my side jobs. He used the occasion to indulge in a bit of beer with his friends and invited me to join them, but I was a small-town pastor who knew that plenty of eyes in my congregation disapproved of such behavior.

And now, I have a grandson whose name is Patrick. Although his family is not Roman catholic, his father was raised catholic, and his other grandparents are active in their parish. They have provided Patrick with laminated Saint Patrick Holy Cards with a picture of the saint and an Irish blessing. They have also given him additional cards about the saint's life. They have a strong Italian heritage, and I don’t think they identify as Irish. Still, it is important that their grandson know the association between his name and the Catholic bishop who was never formally canonized, having lived before the current laws for such matters, but who is revered as a saint.

Patrick’s story is widely known, and his autobiographical Confessio is available. When he was a teenager, Irish pirates captured him from his home in Britain and took him as a slave to Ireland. There, he tended animals before escaping and returning to his family. Later, when he had grown up and become a cleric, he returned to Ireland, where he evangelized and spread the Christian faith, later serving as a bishop. He has come to be known as the patron saint of Ireland.

St. Patrick’s Day is as much a cultural holiday as it is a religious celebration. Like my former boss, many observe it as a celebration of Irish heritage and ways. Over the years, people with Irish heritage have spread across the globe. Here in the United States, they often settled in urban areas with concentrations of Irish people, keeping their Irish traditions and identity alive. When I was in seminary, the joke was that if a person with fair skin, like myself, wore a clerical collar, there was no need to worry about getting a speeding ticket. When pulled over, the officer, likely an Irish policeman in Chicago, would say, “Let’s keep it down, now father,” and drive off without issuing a citation. I never tested that story. We had a car that was underpowered and unlikely to get going faster than the speed limit on the freeway.

With a grandson named Patrick, it is a good occasion to celebrate his presence in our family. His birthday is in July, so having a bit of a celebration in March seems like a good idea. I wore a green shirt and a tie with shamrocks to church yesterday, and when I received compliments on it, I responded by saying, “I’m not Irish, but I have a grandson whose name is Patrick.” I’ll likely wear green today in his honor as well. When he was younger, his favorite color was green, but those things change as children grow, and I’m not sure what he is currently calling his favorite color.

It has been 46 years since my father sold his John Deere franchise. I don’t have much John Deere identity clothing left. There is a yellow jacket with a green logo that my son occasionally wears at the farm. I have a cap in the closet with the John Deere logo. I also have a light jacket from our shop with the John Deere logo and my name, which I keep at the shop at our son’s farm. That jacket is special to me because it belonged to my great Uncle Ted and was handed down to me because it was embroidered with our shared name.

However, you won’t find me at any of the lively St. Patrick’s Day parties at pubs and taverns around the area. I’m not much of a drinker, which is a strange way to celebrate a grandson, anyway. Calling him seems like a better way to celebrate the day with his name.

In Catholic tradition, St. Patrick’s Day is a solemnity, a feast day celebrating a holy mystery. Our grandson is undoubtedly a holy mystery. His presence in our lives is a miracle. The day is also a holy day of obligation. Days of obligation are when the faithful are expected to attend mass and rest from usual work or recreational activities. I’m retired, so every day is a day of rest. Mostly, however, I plan to observe the day by feeling grateful for the gift of a grandson.

My days are filled with gratitude. My life is filled with many blessings, and grandchildren come to my mind daily. I like to recall their names and ages as I think of them and look at their pictures. St. Patrick’s Day is a good day for celebration, but then again, every day is worthy of celebration for me.