For All the Saints

The invitation to holiness is a lifelong call to draw closer to God who wants nothing more than to encounter us as the people we are and the saints we are meant to be

—James Martin, SJ, My Life With the Saints.

This Sunday is All Saints Sunday on the Church's liturgical calendar.  On the first Sunday in November, it is customary to take time in worship to lift up those saints who have passed on to eternity in the last 12 months.  We typically read a litany of names and give thanks for their presence in our lives.  (Liturgically, November 1 is All Saints Day, with comes after All Hallows Eve, or “Halloween” on October 31.  November 2 is called All Souls Day.)   

When I think of a saint, my mind goes to “official” Saints like St. Paul, or St. Francis of Assisi, or St. John of the Cross, or one of the St. Theresa’s—take your pick:  of Avila, of Lisieux, or of Calcutta (a.k.a., Mother Teresa).  These are people the Roman Catholic church officially recognize as Saints.[1] But it’s interesting to note that, in his letters, Paul doesn’t seem to reserve the word saint for the super-devout. No, he seems to use the term to refer to your garden-variety believer in Jesus.  For Paul, all believers are saints.

One of the foundational creeds of the Christian faith—called the Apostle’s Creed—refers to something called the communion of saints.  Its precise nature is a mystery that has been the subject of theological debate for centuries.  In essence, it’s the notion that we are surrounded always by the ones that have gone on before us (and maybe even, in some mystical way, by the ones not born yet)—what the writer of Hebrews calls “the great cloud of witnesses”—Hebrews: 12:1.

A typical Eastern Orthodox church really reinforces this notion—see images below for examples. When you walk into worship, you are literally surrounded by icons of saints, starting with Jesus in the center, working outward through the Apostles, and then other saints from history revered by that particular congregation.

Icons of the Saints hover around the worshippers at
Antiochian Church of the Redeemer

Surrounded by the saints at another Orthodox church.

As Westerners—and particularly as Protestants—we’ve been taught to be suspicious of prayers to Saints and we typically don’t use icons in worship, but a study of this practice of our Eastern brothers and sisters shows that it has its place.[2] While ultimately our prayers are directed to Jesus, having someone intercede on our behalf is a tried and true practice.  We United Methodists call upon it every time we take time to share Joys and Concerns during worship. From what I have learned, Catholics and Orthodox view these practices as a form of intercession, similar to what we do whenever we ask someone else to pray on our behalf.

If the communion of saints is a reality, then it stands to reason that we can ask prayer from not only those currently alive but all the saints that have ever lived. 

Grand theological ideas are typically lived out in a local context.  And I can speak best of the congregation of which I am part.   At Good Shepherd United Methodist Church in Waldorf, MD, we can point to people who might represent our own communion of saints. Having just celebrated our 50^thanniversary a few months ago, many of those names are fresh in our thoughts. While I lack the institutional memory of some long-time members to name all the names that should be included on our “rollcall of saints”, there were three that came to mind as I was writing this article.  You likely won't know these people personally, but I suspect you can think of Rita's, Luther's, and Bob's in your own context, either in your faith community or maybe among your family and friends.  Each saint bears the image of God in a unique way, but there are common qualities they all share, holiness balanced by humility being chief among them. 

Rita Porter was a longtime member of Good Shepherd. From my experience with her, Rita’s was never a loud voice, but she was a faithful one—and her quiet persistence made an impact on the congregation.  Even as she battled cancer in her final years, Rita continued to sing in the chancel choir and Stain Glassed Bluegrass group, and participate in other activities. When she passed, our congregation was inspired to literally “raise a roof” for our sanctuary in her honor. (We raised funds to enable restoration of the roof over our sanctuary.)

Another example of a pervasive presence was Luther Atkins.  Luther wasn’t a member for all that long before he passed, nevertheless he left an indelible impact on all that knew him.  I still miss his baritone voice singing next to me in the Praise Band, and his participation in Bible studies.  He combined two qualities that aren’t always found together: sage-like wisdom and discernment about when was the right time to share it.  But when the time was right, oh, how Luther loved to tell us his stories! And now I'm quite sure he's telling them in heaven.

To run with the angels
On streets made of gold
To listen to stories of saints new and old
To worship our Maker
That's where I'll be
When you finally find me...

—Mark Harris, “I Wish You Were Here”

More recently it was longtime member, Bob Kendrick, who even as Sister Death finally drew near after over a century of life well lived, extolled the virtue of the place he worshipped for so many years, serving in many different capacities.  We were blessed to hear him sing “In the Garden” from his nursing home bed on the video that was shown at our 50^thanniversary celebration.  If that wasn’t a true communion of saints’ moment, I’m not sure what is?!

In his holy flirtation with the world, God occasionally drops a handkerchief.  These handkerchiefs are called saints—Frederick Buechner.

I think all three of these individuals I've listed would blush at being referred to as saints—maybe they would reluctantly accept being a handkerchief of the Divine.  Of course, none of them were perfect, but they all allowed God to use them for the greater good of their church—and their world.  The same can be said of every saint that has ever lived, whether it be the few that are officially recognized by the Catholic church or the many ordinary saints that we encounter each and every day—if we have eyes that see. 

It was said of St. Francis of Assisi that, “he wore the world like a loose-fitting garment.”  What I assume this means was that while Francis lived in the world, he didn’t get so bogged down in its affairs, that he lost sight of God—and thus others could always see God through him.  Saints tend to be like that.  They show us the fruit of what Eugene Petersen (another saint who recently crossed over to eternity) referred to as, “a long obedience in the same direction”. I’ve heard a disciplined person described as one that is able to do what needs doing when it needs to be done. We might say they are able to do the right thing, at just the right time, for the right reason—for the common good of all.  I’m pretty sure being disciplined is a prerequisite for sainthood.  

In my experience, there’s only one way to be able to do anything in life reliably:  you have to be willing to “put in the time” practicing it day in and day out.  

Think about it: from math to music to meditation—for most, the ability to do these things doesn’t just “come naturally”.  Growth doesn’t just happen.  If you want to progress, you must practice—and you need a well-defined plan to get to where you want to go. 

In The Ignatian Workout, author Tim Muldoon explain it this way: “Novice athletes trust their coaches and their peers who have been in training for some time, using them as models for where they eventually want to be.  Christians trust Jesus and the saints, who are similarly models to follow in their single-minded pursuit of holiness.  We need saints—not just those historical figures revered by the church but also those ordinary people in our lives who quietly testify to the work of God in their midst."

We could say that saints provide us blueprints for holy living. They outline a path that another human being followed to make significant progress in living their life with God, which we can then adapt to our own unique place, time, personality, and circumstances. 

Studies show that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to gain mastery of a topic.  For example, the basketball player who calmly sinks a game-winning free-throw with thousands watching did so because he or she had taken tens of thousands of similar shots in an empty gym.   

As with basketball, so with spiritual life. If we want to perform well in life’s pivotal moments, then we need to make sure we’ve “put in the hours” of practice being who we desire to be in those moments—long before “the moment” ever comes. 

Saints throughout the ages were (and are) flawed human beings just like you and me; but they have “put in the time” in pursuit of God day after day, so they tend to perform well in life’s pivotal moments. Their witness shows us what we all have the potential of becoming if we open ourselves to God and commit to making the pursuit of God’s Presence a priority in our lives.  We follow the examples of saints—not because they are God themselves, but because they are God-windows.  As we look through the lives of the saints, whether those physically present in our lives or those present via the communion of saints, we get a glimpse of how God is at work in their lives, and we’re inspired to let God work through us.  And hopefully, somewhere along the way it occurs to us that we’re all saints-in-the-making.  Our witness can indeed be a blueprint that others can follow toward Christ, and a window through which they can see God at work. 

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[1]I learned a great deal about the stories of some famous Saints when I read My Life with the Saints, by James Martin, S.J.  This book was the genesis of the term ordinary saints used in this article. 

[2]For an introduction to the practices of the Eastern Orthodox church, I recommend Light from the Christian East: An Introduction to the Orthodox Traditionby James R. Payton, Jr.  Chapter 11 discusses Icons.