In the first Freshman English class of the semester, the teacher stated, “Let us establish some examples about opposites. Timothy, what is the opposite of joy?”
“Sadness,” said the student.
“Fine.
And the opposite of depression, Rachel?”
“Elation,” she replied with a smile.
“Very good.
And you, Johnny, what is the opposite of woe?”
“I believe that would be ‘giddy up’”
Scripturally speaking, the opposite of “woe” is “blessed,” and we heard those beautiful words, “Blessed are you,” but as beautiful as those words are, today is our celebration of All Saints, so instead of focusing on the words, we focus on those who heard the words and followed the one who spoke them. We focus on the ones who were blessed.
There are approximately 8.1 billion people living today out of the roughly 117 billion people who have ever been born. Of those 117 billion, only about 10,000 are recognized by the church as capital “S” saints: St. Mary, St. Matthew, St. Julian, and others. That’s roughly one Saint for every 11,700,000 people born. So, the question for you today is: what are the chances of you becoming a saint?
For me, I go along with what Brennan Manning said in The Ragamuffin Gospel: “When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.” I prefer Scotch, but you get the point. I consider the odds 1/11,700,000 and think it could happen, but if we’re being honest… honesty is overrated. My one consolation is that I know I have a much better shot at it than you lot.
Perhaps, instead of asking “Who will become a Saint?” we should ask, “Who should strive to become a Saint?” It might seem a bit bold to us, but many of the great saints intentionally described themselves as working to become saints, and some went as far as to predict that they would. St. Joseph Cafasso writes, “I would be the happiest of men if I could become a saint soon and a big one.” Blessed Mary Fortunata Viti says, “I am fortunate to be given this opportunity to become a saint. I want to become a saint,” and St. Margaret of Cortona says, “A time will come when you will call me a saint, and you will go on a pilgrimage to my tomb with the staff and wallet of a pilgrim.” This might seem to negate the whole idea of humility we see in the saints, but instead it points to the fact that they took seriously Christ’s command to “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,” and, in doing so, they are blessed.
Thomas Merton, in his autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain, describes a notable conversation he had with his friend Robert Lax. Apparently, they were arguing as they walked when Robert suddenly stopped and, turning to Merton, asked, “What do you want to be, anyway?” Merton had a few poor answers in his mind but finally said, “I don’t know; I guess what I want is to be a good Catholic.” Robert responded, “What do you mean you want to be a good Catholic? What you should say… what you should say is that you want to be a saint.” “How do you expect me to become a saint?” Robert replied. “By wanting to.” Merton said, “I can’t be a saint.”
Remembering the mood of this conversation, years later, Merton wrote, “My mind darkened with a confusion of realities and unrealities: the knowledge of my own sins, and the false humility which makes men say that they cannot do the things that they must do, cannot reach the level that they must reach: the cowardice that says: ‘I am satisfied to save my soul, to keep out of mortal sin,’ but which means, by those words: ‘I do not want to give up my sins and my attachments.’” In their conversation, his friend Robert continued, “All that is necessary to be a saint is to want to be one. Don’t you believe that God will make you what He created you to be, if you will consent to let Him do it? All you have to do is desire it.” The next day, looking for a way out, Merton told another friend, “[Robert] is going around saying that all a man needs to be a saint is to want to be one.” His friend’s response, “Of course.” Of course! All you have to do to become a saint is to want to be one.
God’s love pulls us out of the places of sin where He finds us. He pulls us out because He wants more for us, and in pulling us out of those places, he calls us into another place—one where we can strive to become that one person in 11,700,000. And before you say, “I can’t,” consider the words of Thomas Merton when he said he couldn’t. You see, when we say we can’t, it’s because we become painfully aware of our sins. We are confronted with aspects of our lives that we’re often unwilling to change in order to be more saint-like. Remember St. Augustine’s words, “Lord, make me chaste—but not yet!”
Become a saint! I can’t. Why? Because of pride, gluttony, and anger? Then learn humility, moderation, and forgiveness. If you did those things, would you then be a saint? Probably not, but you might be a step closer.
Consider a monk who lived on Mount Athos with Elder Paisos. The monk drank excessively, smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, and cursed like a sailor. One day, after the monk’s death, a few pilgrims approached Elder Paisos, who spoke of the monk so affectionately and regarded him as a saint afterward. The pilgrims were distraught; they discussed all the issues the monk had in his life and scolded Elder Paisos for failing to notice those faults. Elder Paisos understood their concerns but then told them that the monk had cut his twenty glasses of wine down to three and reduced his smoking from two packs to just one cigarette a day. Elder Paisos was certain that God saw a fighter, while the world saw a sinner.
Is this an easy task? Of course not—there are many reasons, but one of the main challenges is the need to turn our critical eye toward ourselves. This battle isn’t fought out there but within us, because “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Becoming a saint is difficult because many of the battles are unseen. They occur in a place where our greatest weapon is our faith. At times that faith may not seem like much; however, behind that faith stands the One True God who loves us. St. Paul reminds us, “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Ephesians 4:14-16)
You may never attain sainthood in this life, and you might never receive the title “Saint,” with a capital “S,” but that shouldn’t stop you from consistently and faithfully striving for it. St. John Vianney wrote, “We must never lose sight of the fact that we are either Saints or outcasts, that we must love for Heaven or for Hell; there is no middle path in this.” Don’t be satisfied with merely escaping to heaven “as one escaping through the flames”; instead, put up a good fight and strive to hear those words, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” Strive to become one among 11,700,000. Strive to be blessed.
Let us pray: (This prayer is called The Anima Christi, The Soul of Christ.)
Soul of Christ, sanctify me;
Body of Christ, save me;
Blood of Christ, inebriate me;
Water from the side of Christ, wash me;
Passion of Christ, strengthen me;
O good Jesus hear me;
Within your wounds hide me;
separated from you, let me never be;
From the evil one protect me;
At the hour of my death, call me;
And close to you bid me; That with your saints,
I may be praising you forever and ever. Amen.
Candle in a Cave 