On this day of gray skies and soft rain, it’s not hard to see the green fields of Ireland, the shaggy cliffs, the ever-present sea, the darling lambs. 

It’s not hard to imagine climbing the hill to St. Benan’s church on the isle of Inishmore, a place so silent and still, so holy, that even the most committed skeptic could not fail to be moved by it. 

It’s not hard to wish I was in Ireland again, knowing that St. Patrick’s Day is probably the day you should least want to be in Ireland … but wanting to be there just the same.