They were under tyrannical foreign rule for more than five centuries. Their history is marked by oppression and tragedy.

Their religion was banned as was their native language. Much of their music conveys sorrow and suffering.

They are the Irish.

St. Patrick’s Day is March 17. Greeting cards on the subject are already available. One we saw recently showed two girls who were the picture of health. Shamrocks also adorned the card. Inside it had a supposed Irish blessing that ended with “Wishing you the luck of the Irish.” The card was immediately replaced in its slot.

Luck of the Irish? Wouldn’t that be a grand thing to wish on my wife, Susan, whose roots are solidly Irish Catholic and who is well versed in Irish history? Many a Saturday morning, our house is filled with music of Irish rebellion and ballads of martyrdom by her ancestors who fought oppressive British rule for centuries.

So it is no surprise that her reaction to a Luck-of- the-Irish card would be, “So what have you got against me that you’d wish such a thing?”

Susan’s last name is Breen, which is about as Irish as a name can be. In whichever county we traveled in Ireland, locals always claimed her as one of their own and insisted the Breens originated from that particular county. Some said the name came from O’Broyne.

One of her ancestors escaped the potato famine in dear old Erin. Food was plentiful, but the Brits kept it or exported it and limited the Irish to eating potatoes. That is a fact one does not often read or hear about – except in Ireland. That omission may cause some to question why the Irish did not simply eat something else besides potatoes.

When the blight destroyed potato crops, thousands died of starvation or emigrated to other lands. It amounted to genocide by the English, who considered themselves the world’s most civilized culture.

Susan’s ancestors made it here aboard a “coffin ship,” dubbed so because so many died in the filth and squalor in the holds of the immigrant ships.

We in the United States think of Ireland only around St. Patrick’s Day or when “Darby O’Gill and the Little People” is run on TV. The Disney flick unfortunately spawned the stereotype of leprechauns and such nonsense.

In America, people drink green-colored beer, wear stupid-looking green hats, shamrocks or moronic items that would make the Irish shudder with embarrassment.

The shamrock is the symbol of the struggle against oppression. St. Patrick’s in Ireland is a day of reverence, when people attend Mass, possibly have a big meal and that is it. There is no green beer nor “traditional” corned beef and cabbage. The traditional drink there is Guinness Stout. It is dark brown and heavy. One songwriter likened it to “drinking a loaf of bread.”

There are two things that come to mind for Susan and me around St. Patrick’s Day. One is a person, Irish-born Father Cornelius McGrenra, pastor of Holy Cross Parish in Morenci for three decades.

He stood for virtue, faith and strength of character. He was a man with a mission. He could be strict and stern. Just ask anybody who remembers his or her first communion service in Morenci.

He also had a tremendous sense of humor. He took his life’s work seriously but did not take himself seriously. That is very Irish.

Susan and I spent many days in County Donegal, the land of Father McGrenra’s birth and his final resting place. We met his people, including his family. They, too, are good humored and not a bit self-important.

Father McGrenra’s brother, Danny, a retired veterinarian, lives in the fishing village of Burtonport. His focus was on the present and the future. Sorrows should be left in the past.

“The problem with us Irish is that our memories are too long,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humor as we sat at his kitchen table along with Mrs. McGrenra. That was a peculiarly interesting perspective considering we could see the remains of a British landlord’s large stone house about 50 yards from the McGrenra home. For some it could serve as a daily reminder of Irish suffering and serve as an anchor for bitterness.

Danny McGrenra was right about the long memory of the Irish. We were about to see it first hand.

We left County Donegal and ventured south to County Sligo where we became lost and ended up on a dirt road that eventually became only a path. It’s not on any map and certainly not among the sites listed for tourists.

What we saw was beautiful, astonishing and humbling. We had stumbled upon the Well of Thorbalt, a thickly wooded, grassy area where Irish Catholics met in secret when their religion was banned by the British. Open practice of that religion meant almost certain death.

Under a canopy was a rather primitive stone structure. It was once the altar where secret worship services were held.

There is a spring from which crystal-clear water emerges. A small, ornate, but well-worn China cup is in the spring for anyone’s use. I used it to drink the purest, sweetest water I have ever tasted. I eyed the thick, lush grass around the well and asked Susan if this was a preview of paradise.

A large statue of Christ on the cross, surrounded by the Virgin Mary and others kneeling in sorrow, sits along the new altar. They are snow-white and strikingly beautiful in contrast to the lush foliage surrounding them.

Near the old altar is a sign that greets visitors. It says, “Pilgrim, walk softly. This is Holy Ground.”

A smaller sign says, “It has been made holy by the feet of generations who came here to worship God; to hear mass; to honor our Lady; to pray for their needs and peace.

“Here are memories of a poor, persecuted people. They braved death to come. They walked barefoot through the woods to worship in secret.

“Here are memories of hunted priests, offering Mass in this hallowed place, at the risk of their lives.

“Will this sacrifice be in vain?

“They have handed us a torch. Let us keep that torch alight.”

That, fellow pilgrim, is what St. Patrick’s Day really means.

Fortunately or not, a touch of the commercialism has its grimy claws on St. Pat’s Day in Ireland these days. There is at least one American style parade in Dublin. It probably came with the advent of an economic boom that finally came to the Emerald Isle, However, like the rest of the world, Ireland’s economy has recently been hard-hit. That may mean the outside influences that were becoming more prevalent may not have a very strong influence.

Not that exposure to different cultures is bad, but it would be a shame to see the celebration of religious freedom, the Irish way, become just one more over-hyped shopping day.