Defying Rome: Wear Orange on St. Patrick's Day
Every year, as March 17th rolls around, we're smothered beneath an avalanche of green—green beer, green shamrocks, green everything—as if someone accidentally detonated a giant Leprechaun-themed confetti bomb. Amid this nauseating sea of verdant monotony, a dissenting few choose to wear orange, not as an alternative color choice, but as a rebuke to the cloying narrative that all roads lead to Rome—a Rome, mind you, which has proven itself a direct off-ramp into spiritual ruin.
Why orange, though? Why break from the mindless green conformity?
Well, here's a shocker…because history demands it, because conscience requires it, and because integrity insists upon it. Orange isn't just another pretty shade to pair with your green Guinness. It's a deliberate slap in the face to the narrative hijacked by Rome—a narrative spun from cobwebs of superstition, works-righteousness, and spiritual vanity.
The color orange commemorates William of Orange's 1690 victory at the Battle of the Boyne, a battle where the chains of Catholic domination were smashed by a Protestant king who refused to bow to papal tyranny.
But here come the accusations, loud and predictable as a pack of spoiled children screaming at bedtime: “How dare you politicize St. Patrick! Don’t you know he was a Catholic?” And with that one shallow retort, the historical ignorance paraded by Rome's cheerleaders shines brighter than a neon sign at midnight.
The uncomfortable truth—the truth Rome desperately hopes you'll never bother digging up—is that Patrick’s true beliefs, if there were any, would be far more comfortable in the pulpit of a fire-breathing Protestant preacher than beneath the gold-plated dome of St. Peter's Basilica.
And whether or not this claim is historically watertight (spoiler alert, it's pretty convincing), the symbolic truth remains just as potent…orange declares unequivocally that salvation is by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone—not through kissing relics, muttering rosaries, or performing backflips through Rome’s endless hoops of penance.