The most ancient things have a sneaky way of surviving. Saint Brigid may or may not have been a real person, but her legend is substantially coincidental with that of the Celtic goddess with whom she shares a name, iconography, and memorial day — a pagan festival marking the first of spring, which adds an interesting connotation of fertility to her Scottish name, Saint Bride. Brigid probably was an adaptation, too, with some linguists suggesting her name was derived from an epithet of a Hindu dawn goddess with similar characteristics. Before that, she may simply have been the sun. Perhaps Brigid will be something else someday. Perhaps she already is.
Christianity was hardly history’s first Levantine wine cult, an observation that sometimes makes my fellow Christians antsy for reasons that never have been entirely clear to me. Cult is the first word in culture, and cultures have histories: Pilgrimages were being made to the Kaaba in Mecca long before the rise of Islam. Wine was being consumed sacramentally long before that fateful meal in Jerusalem.
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