In her memoir, Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert writes, “Saint Anthony said, in his solitude, he sometimes encountered devils who looked like angels, and other times he found angels who looked like devils. When asked how he could tell the difference, the saint said that you can only tell which is which by the way you feel after the creature has left your company.”
I believe that is true of angels and demons, and of people, too. Some people resemble angels but turn out to be quite nasty, and others look like demons but are, in fact, the kindest people.
The Church has always held certain individuals in high esteem. We call them Saints, with a capital “S.” Saint Matthew, Saint Peter, Saint Mary Magdalene, and so forth. However, there have been times when sects within the Church turned against this practice. For example, when Oliver Cromwell and the Puritans gained control of Parliament in England, they abolished everything—Easter, Christmas, Pentecost, and the veneration of saints—which put an end to the holy-day we celebrate today. How far did they take it?
There’s a story, perhaps somewhat embellished, about Cromwell when he was Protector of England: the British Empire faced a currency shortage. Representatives searched the nation carefully, hoping to find silver to meet the emergency. After one month, the committee returned with its report. “We have searched the Empire in vain for silver. To our dismay, we found none anywhere except in the cathedrals, where the statues of the saints are made of choice silver.”
To this, Oliver Cromwell eloquently replied, “Let’s melt down the saints and put them into circulation.”
I would say they went quite a bit too far, but I also know we can go too far in the other direction—even while they’re still alive.
Take, for example, St. Francis of Assisi. It is reported that crowds followed him, “from place to place hanging on his lips; church bells rang at his approach; processions of clergy and people advanced to meet him with music and singing; they brought the sick to him to bless and heal, and kissed the very ground on which he trod, and even sought to cut away pieces of his tunic.” (Source) Francis did all he could to stop the practice, yet it continued.
Extremes in both directions, but there is a more subtle mistake we can make, which is placing them on such a high pedestal that we come to believe they were without fault. Put another way, we forget they were human.
One of my favorites these days—St. Francis de Sales. He is remembered as the gentle, gracious, patient bishop, but he had a wicked temper. St. Thérèse of Lisieux, “The Little Flower,” is so highly revered for her faith and piety, yet she says she would get distracted and irritated by the sister next to her who made weird noises. We can place them on those high pedestals, but they are quick to tell us they don’t belong there. St. Teresa of Avila writes in the preface to her autobiography, “My life has been so wretched that I have not found a saint among those who were converted to God in whom I can find comfort.”
They become so big and holy in our eyes that we come to believe we could never attain such status, such holiness. However, seeing and understanding their humanness should inspire us. Their humanness tells us that such a life, such a soul, such faith—even in all its brokenness and sinfulness—is attainable, if we are willing, through God’s grace, to reach for it.
Hear again what St. John said to us this morning, “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are… Beloved, we are God’s children now.”
A few weeks ago we said, “The Christian life is not about making ourselves into someone God might someday love. It is about allowing God’s love to reveal more fully the image He placed within us from the beginning.” How do we accomplish this? By living into the fact that “we are God’s children… now.” Not some day in the future when we’re dead and gone, but now. We are God’s children now, which means God’s grace is available to us now, in all its fullness, if we will cooperate with that grace and allow it to transform us. How does that work?
Think of something you enjoy doing. It might even be something you’re good at, and you say, “I want to be even better.” What do you do? If you want to be a good writer, you write. If you want to be a good artist, you paint, draw, etc. If you want to be good at sports, you do the work. If you want to be holy and righteous, you practice holiness and righteousness. As we saw, those we consider the greatest Saints had to practice their faith. And if you will work with the same intensity and consistency in holiness and righteousness as you do in your art, sports, writing, etc., you will make progress. How do I know that?
The Trappist monk Thomas Merton will likely never be a “S” saint. He had a few issues along the way: a girlfriend, an acquired taste for beer, not necessarily always fond of the other monks, a certain disregard for the rules, and a way of getting under many people’s skin. Even so, he is perhaps one of the most influential religious figures of the 20th century.
Early in his life as a monk, he began to see the life of the religious as separate from the rest of humanity. Was it spiritual pride or a lack of understanding of our common life? I don’t know, but I do know that on March 18, 1958, while walking around Louisville, Kentucky, something happened that changed his perspective.
The following day, the Feast of St. Joseph, he recorded the experience in his journal. At the “corner of 4th and Walnut, I suddenly realized that I loved all the people and that none of them were, or could be, totally alien to me. As if waking from a dream–the dream of separateness, of the ‘special’ vocation to be different. My vocation does not really make me different from the rest of men or put me in a special category except artificially, juridically. I am still a member of the human race–and what more glorious destiny is there for man, since the Word was made flesh and became, too, a member of the Human Race! Thank God! Thank God! I am only another member of the human race, like all the rest of them. I have the immense joy of being a man! As if the sorrows of our condition could really matter, once we begin to realize who and what we are–as if we could ever begin to realize it on earth.”
Years later, when he reflected on that day, he expanded on the experience. In Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, he writes, “I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”
If you will work with the same intensity and consistency in holiness and righteousness as you do in your art, sports, writing, etc., you will make progress. I know this because a) you are God’s children now, and b) you are walking around shining like the sun. You have been given the grace to continue becoming the saint God is calling you to be.
Perhaps we ought to look at ourselves and one another a little differently.
We know our shortcomings. We know our failures. We know the parts of ourselves that aren’t particularly saintly.
But God knows those things, too. And still, St. John tells us we are God’s children now.
We are not yet what we shall become. There is still work to be done, sins to overcome, virtues to cultivate, and grace to receive.
But perhaps if we could see one another and ourselves as Merton saw those people on a Louisville street corner, we would discover something wonderful.
We are all walking around shining like the sun.
Let us pray: Litany of the Saints
Lord have mercy,
Christ have mercy on us.
Christ hear us,
Christ graciously hear us.
God the Father,
have mercy on us.
God the Son,
have mercy on us.
God the Holy Spirit,
have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity,
have mercy on us.
Holy Mary, pray for us.
St. Michael, pray for us.
St. Gabriel, pray for us.
St. Raphael, pray for us.
All you holy angels and archangels, pray for us.
St. John the Baptist, pray for us.
St. Joseph, pray for us.
All you holy Patriarchs and prophets, pray for us.
St. Peter, pray for us.
St. Paul, pray for us.
St. Andrew, pray for us.
St. James, pray for us.
St. John, pray for us.
St. Mary Magdalen, pray for us.
All you holy apostles and evangelists, pray for us.
All you holy martyrs, pray for us.
All you men and women, Saints of God, make intercession for us.
Be merciful, spare us, O Lord!
Lord, be merciful,
graciously hear us, O Lord!
From all evil, O Lord, deliver us.
From all sin, O Lord, deliver us.
From anger and hatred, O Lord, deliver us.
Through your death and resurrection, O Lord, deliver us.
In the day of judgment,
O Lord, hear us.
That you would forgive us and all those we love,
O Lord, hear us.
That you would grant peace and unity to all,
O Lord, hear us.
That you would give rest to those who have died,
O Lord, hear us.
That you would lift up our minds to heavenly desires,
O Lord, hear us.
Son of God,
O Lord, hear us.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,
Spare us, O Lord.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,
Graciously hear us, O Lord.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,
Have mercy on us.
