St. Patrick was a foreigner who came to Ireland to tell everyone to live in moderation and not have sex. That is every possible opposite of St. Patrick’s Day. We couldn’t have a worse patron saint if we’d picked a prohibitionist. With our history of Vikings and invasion, choosing a bossy foreigner as our patron saint speaks more of historical Stockholm syndrome than it does of devotion.
We’ve already looked at a locally grown legend who’d do a far better job, but “choosing from a wide variety of fun options” is a core aspect of St. Patrick’s Day. As is spending time with fun people and bull$#!+ting. Which is why we’re introducing you to more Irish options we should be celebrating instead.
Ériu
Ériu is the actual Irish patron goddess of Ireland. She’s also known as Éire, or Erin,a.k.a. “The actual name of the country” and “Why did we import a foreign man to get this job this is some serious bull$#!+.” She was a goddess of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the mythically gifted people who lived in Ireland before the Gaels.
When the great gods and humans had battles, as they were wont to do in Celtic mythology, she wasn’t left tending the hearth. She led armies herself, win or lose, because the goddess of Irish sovereignty does not wait around for other people to tell her what she’s allowed to do. You’ll notice she was in charge of our national character when Ireland was sovereign. When a guy from a foreign power was on watch, Ireland started deferring to them instead. It’s almost like a system where you get on your knees and nicely ask for stuff doesn’t work out.
Hey, Patrick, can’t help but notice your countrymen seem to be over here now.
Ériu, her sisters Banba and Fódhla, and their three husbands arrived in Ireland before Noah had even gotten off his boat, but were later replaced with Christianized versions of the original myth. NOTE: search-and-replacing $#!+ we already had with wimpier Christianized versions is a huge part of St. Patrick’s effect on our country. He didn’t bring peace so much as plagiarism. It’s only fair that Ériu should replace him back.
Ériu was later the name of an academic journal of Irish language studies. Paddy is the name of the idiot in all the jokes about Irish people being idiots. You tell me which would be a better patron name for the country. Hint: it’s the one WHICH ALREADY IS A NAME OF THE COUNTRY.
Ogma
Ogma was a warrior poet of the Tuatha Dé Danann who invented a whole method of writing. As opposed to other famous warrior gods who “hit things with hammers.” (And we even have an Irish god who’s better at that).
Ogham is a writing system of tilted lines carved in a vertical stack. It’s not the most sophisticated data compression in the world, but when everyone is running around with swords and sticks, you’re not going to get far trying to prove anything about pens. He invented a writing system you could use without putting down your blade. That’s as effectively as someone can be a warrior-poet without writing with your enemies’ intestines.
“Roses are red, blood is red, violence is red, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”
It doesn’t look like much, but if all you have is rocks it can’t be beat. And lasts for a lot longer than your USB keys. He was one of the trí dée dána, the three gods of skill. The others were an artificer and a carpenter,a.k.a. “all people who would still be useful now.” Ogma also acted as the god of eloquence–perfect for the lubricated loquacity so many of us display on the day.
Eochaid Mac Eirc
Eochaid Mac Eirc is about as Irish as a name can get without being called Ireland son of Ireland, in Irish, which his name already sounds like. (We should say “as Gaeilge” but we want to share the story with English speakers.)
He was the Irish King Arthur, the king of a golden age of glorious Irish history. In his reign no rain ever fell, only dew. It tells you a lot about Ireland that their golden age of a glorious historical reign is “It wasn’t quite as wet as usual. But obviously still wet.” There was also a harvest every year because back then that really was as good as anything could get. And is, you’ll notice, better than any more recent gods ever managed, what with the potato famine.
We’d like a refund on the stained glass Patrick.
He was the first king to establish a system of justice in Ireland, and during his rule no one ever lied. Nowadays we’d consider it amazing if a ruler managed to steer themselves without lying for a single day, never mind an entire country. In fact, forget replacing St. Patrick, if we could replace all our current leaders with him that would be great. In the end he was killed by thirst, with enemy magic hiding liquid from him until his search led into an ambush. So his final lesson is that it’s desperately important to keep drinking. Making him the perfect patron saint for a night of making sure you keep getting drinks, and declarations of “seriously, no seriously, no bull$#!+, you’re great. you’re a great friend. i love you.”
Manannán Mac Lir
Manannán Mac Lir was a god of the sea, which makes a lot of sense for an island nation. He was also a psychopomp, someone who decides where you go after you die. So one way or another if you were getting off this Irish rock you were going through him. He’s strongly (and possibly eponymously) associated with Isle of Man, and still actively worshipped in Ireland.
He held a sword called Fragarach, “The Answerer,” and that’s the most badass name a blade can have. That’s how you answer questions. Especially since it could magically cut through any material or armor. Pointing it at someone could force them to tell the truth–not just because it was so scary, but as a separate magical power.
He also had a cloak which made him invisible by calling down the mists of the sea — because gods don’t hide, they change the world until you can’t see them any more — but his most powerful magical item was a cup which breaks if three lies are spoken into it and is restored if three truths spoken. Making it perfect for drinking games. This is a god who knew that in vino veritas and decided to widen it to every drink in the world.
Which is also a great idea for St. Patrick’s Day. Because even if we have to name it after a wimp, we can live it after the example of great spirits.
Luke McKinney writes about games, drink, science, and everything else that makes life amazing. He’s a columnist on Cracked and writes for several beer magazines. He’s also available for hire. Follow him on Tumblr and Twitter @lukemckinney.
Luke also wisely taught you to Forget St. Patrick, Learn From a Real Irish Hero.
Even his name is cool. Like, literally, “Son of Cool.”
