Be like Pat: we're looking for a few steadfast men.

Despite and an angry letter he wrote to the pirate-slaver Coroticus, we know very little for certain about St. Patrick.

We do know he wasn't Irish and he wasn't the first missionary to tackle the Irish situation. A man named Palladius has that honor, but his mission was a failure and he was driven off.

Experts locate St. Patrick's place of birth somewhere near the mouth of the Severn River, meaning Ireland's patron saint was probably Welsh. Recollecting that his lather was a Roman Decurion, the Italians tried to stake a claim to his nationality, forgetting that the Romans conferred citizenship on their conquered people.

The dates of Patrick's arrival in Ireland, his training for the priesthood (in Britain or on the Continent), and his death are also debated.

What does emerge as quite clear is that he was a "steadfast man:' Those who lived alongside him thought this, and his actions show it. He faced down the powerful local chieftains and in his lifetime completely reversed a pagan culture.

According to one story, early in his time in Ireland he approached the hill of Tara, seat of the high king, on the eve of a pagan feast that fell on Easter. That night locals were ordered to put out all fires until the king kindled his bonfire high on the hill. Patrick, however, lit the paschal fire to celebrate the Resurrection in full view of the king and the entire pagan gathering. When confronted by the king, Patrick emerged the victor.

He railed against the aforementioned Coroticus for capturing a group of newly baptized Christians: "Wherefore let every God fearing man know that they are enemies of me and of Christ my God, for whom I am an ambassador." He called the pirates "ravening wolves that eat the people of the Lord as they eat bread."

One of his contemporaries wrote that he was "steadfast in the fear of God and in faith unshaken;' The word steadfast, defined as "fixed in purpose, resolute," now seems old-fashioned, outdated in both meaning and practice.

In an era when people are busy "finding themselves" and where uncertainty in matters spiritual is viewed as "cool" and intelligent, the notion of being steadfast may be confused with stubbornness or intolerance. Maybe that's why there are not more steadfast men and women. I've known a few.

Jesuit Father John Markoe was one. His oft-stated motto, referring to his stand against racism, was "Don't give an inch!" While at Creighton University in Omaha, he pioneered the use of sit ins and boycotts to achieve social justice. Like Patrick, he confronted local leaders whose practices were discriminatory.

One of Markoe's recruits, a layman named Denny Holland, now deceased, also merits the steadfast adjective. Long after the '60s, when many of us had retired from the struggle for equality, Holland soldiered on. No one told him the war was over because, in truth, it wasn't. Holland continued to remind friends and foes of their Christian duties. Like Markoe, he never stopped marching.

My final candidate for the "steadfast" appellation is a man I served with in the Army in World War H. Let's call him Ian. Ian and I were infantry lieutenants assigned to the same rifle company. Before enlisting, Ian had been a lumberjack and then a student in a Lutheran seminary.

His conduct was always informed by his faith. In addition to his regular creed he also believed that smoking and drinking were serious sins. We argued about this, even though in those years I neither smoked nor drank. Ian maintained his stance even in a military culture that saw both habits as rights.

Since I didn't drink, I didn't know that officers drew a monthly liquor ration. But Ian learned that our captain had forged Ian's name for an extra ration. He confronted his superior and demanded that this be stopped. His captain laughed at him and said that since he didn't exercise his privilege it was a shame to let that liquor go to waste.

Ian then descended on the battalion commander, who happened to be a drinking buddy of the captain's. Again he was rebuffed. He proceeded to the regimental commander's office. Here his grievance was acknowledged and our captain was reprimanded and told to remove his name from the rations list.

This steadfastness did not endear Ian to his superiors. They punished him with onerous duties. One of these assignments was cynically diabolical. They appointed Ian PX officer, meaning, among other things, he had to distribute free cigarettes to the troops.

"I know you don't agree with me on this, Bob," he said to me, "but suppose I give a cigarette to someone and the next minute he's killed? I helped send his soul to hell" I did my best to explain why this wasn't so, but the thought haunted Ian even as he dispensed the cigarettes.

On our way overseas, the schedule called for a lecture to the troops on sex. In military terms this meant reminding them to use contraception. Ian's still irate superiors thought it would be fun to hand Ian this assignment, and they gathered in the hold on the edge of the circle of troops to enjoy his embarrassment. Ian crossed them again, never mentioning prophylactics, but focusing instead on the spiritual union between a man and a woman and the sacredness of the sex act. The GI audience was attentive and moved, while those who had come to laugh melted away.

Ian was wounded in combat but survived and returned to his studies, eventually becoming a Lutheran minister. Our paths crossed again once or twice, but I don't think I ever told him of the impact he had on me. He died last year, so now he knows. Perhaps his peculiar tenets seem unnecessarily doctrinaire. That's not the point. He lived his beliefs, suffered for them, and still stood tall, Patrick-like.

Some years 8go I shared a train ride with an elderly Anglican minister. We talked all the way from Omaha to California. When we exited the coach, he said to me, "Dear boy, I enjoyed our chat. I seldom meet anyone who believes in anything anymore."

I took that as a compliment because belief is the basis of all decent qualities, including being steadfast. Sometimes it's hard to stand up when everyone else is sitting down, but if you believe strongly enough, you can get to your feet.

By ROBERT T. REILLY, author of Irish Saints (Gramercy, 2002) and other books. What does the church say about cremation?