Over at Religion in American History, Kathy Sprows Cummings, an American Studies professor at Notre Dame, reflects on becoming an Irish citizen. A fitting St. Patrick’s Day reflection from a thoughtful scholar. (And I am not just saying that because I watched my first and only Notre Dame football game with Kathy’s husband, Tom).
Here is a taste:
My Irish citizenship papers arrived this week. By virtue of having a grandparent born in Ireland, my siblings and I were eligible to apply for this status, and I responded enthusiastically to my sister’s proposal that we pursue this opportunity (especially when she volunteered to do all the research and paperwork, which involved, among other tasks, tracking down a birth certificate for a man who was born in rural Ireland in 1899). I’ll admit I was enticed by the prospect of easy travel that an EU passport would permit. But mostly I agreed for very sentimental reasons, grateful for the chance to remember and honor my family’s immigrant past. So I prepared the application with a light heart and little reflection.
You would think I would have known better. I am, after all, writing a book about citizenship, religion, and national identity, so I should have known that actually becoming an Irish “citizen of foreign birth” would evoke conflicting and complicated emotions. While I am glad to have this new connection to my past, I also deplore the way that many Americans–Irish and otherwise–romanticize Ireland and its culture. When I see the elaborate celebrations that mark St. Patrick’s Day, I cannot help but call to mind Margaret Atwood’s critique of “ye olde country shoppes.”: “History, as I recall, was never this winsome, and especially not this clean, but the real thing would never sell: most people prefer a past in which nothing smells. “
Read the rest here.
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