Modern Sainthood
All Saints Day 2002
Week of Monday, October 28, 2002
This week Protestant and Catholic churches around the world observe All Saints Day on November 1, the day after Halloween, but when they celebrate the saints they will do so in different ways and for different reasons. Do you have a favorite saint? Or, more interestingly, do you think of yourself as a saint? It all depends on what you mean by a “saint.”
In the Catholic tradition the word “saint” is used in what we might call a narrow sense of the word. Saints are Christians whose lives have been characterized by extraordinary holiness, heroic virtue, and the performance of miracles. Across the centuries there has risen a long, complex process whereby the Pope may finally canonize a believer as a “saint.” The first step to sainthood is called “beatification,” for which there are generally three criteria to fulfill—theological soundness, extreme holiness, and the performance of two miracles. If the Pope verifies all of this, the person is then “beatified” in a public ceremony in the Vatican and from that time forward is referred to as “Blessed” so-n-so. But to be canonized as a saint, the believer must be credited with two additional miracles. Whereas the beatified receive only local recognition, the canonized are venerated worldwide, and whereas the former are permitted to be venerated, veneration of a saint is mandated. Finally, the pope's act of canonizing a saint is declared to be an infallible act, meaning Catholics can be assured that the saint is worthy to be venerated and imitated, and that the saint can intercede for them.
I believe that there is some merit to this narrow sense of the idea of sainthood. It feels entirely appropriate to me to honor and imitate those believers whose lives are clearly and extraordinarily devoted to Christ and his kingdom. Think of Mother Teresa, for example. People like this can inspire us in our own journey with Jesus.
On the other hand, I find this narrow notion of sainthood off-putting and even discouraging. I know that my life is a long way from Mother Teresa's and always will be. Last summer Pope John Paul II traveled to Mexico to canonize Latin America's first indigenous saint, Juan Diego, a Nahuatl Indian who converted to Catholicism in the early 16th-century. The act was hailed by some as a long overdue recognition of the role of indigenous peoples in the Catholic church. In a news item I read I resonated with the remarks of Bernardo Gomez, a retired bus driver, to the effect that the very act of canonizing Diego actually distanced the people from him, for they had come to identify with him as a humble, peasant person just like them, not someone famous and highly exalted to sainthood. “Juan Diego was an ordinary man chosen by the Virgin to be her messenger,” said Gomez. “That's what he did.”
As a Protestant, I understand sainthood quite differently, more like Gomez when he intimates that sainthood is for every ordinary Christian. Rather than a narrow category that elevates the spiritual superstars, I think the New Testament has an understanding of sainthood that is broad. So broad, in fact, that it is not too much to say that the New Testament describes every believer as a saint. Thus the Protestant notion of sainthood subscribes to the plural and the ordinary, as when Paul refers to “all the saints” (Ephesians 1:15), whereas the Catholic notion thinks in terms of the singular and the exceptional, the extraordinary and the heroic.
Another way to say this, and it can be rather shocking, is to say that from a Protestant perspective my identity as a saint is not based upon my virtuous character or heroic deeds. How can I be a saint, then, when I am rather unsaintly? There are two responses to this.
First, the Protestant Reformation in general and Martin Luther in particular made a very important distinction regarding my righteousness or saintliness as a Christian. According to Luther, the righteousness we enjoy before God is not ours at all. Rather, it is the righteousness of Christ that God counts as my own. This is a declaration that I am righteous and not a demonstration in real life experience that I am righteous. Best of all, this declaration is made by none other than God himself, who, to use a fancy word, imputes or reckons to me the perfect righteousness of Christ. Luther calls this declared righteousness an “alien righteousness” because it is outside of me rather than inside of me. Because of Christ, God counts me as perfectly righteous; he considers me a saint. I receive this saintly declaration or justification, said Luther (and Paul!), by faith alone (Ephesians 2:8–9).
But does this not set the bar to sainthood incredibly low?! Well, yes and no. During Luther's day Catholics complained, with some merit, that his notion of righteousness made virtuous works and saintly character superfluous. But that's not exactly accurate, for Paul himself rejects such foolish thinking in Romans 6:1ff: “shall we go on sinning that grace might increase? May it never be!” We Protestants affirm that a transformed life that demonstrates holiness, piety and all sorts of “saintly” virtues is extremely important. Even though we are not saved by our saintly works, we are assuredly saved for good works: “we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works” (Ephesians 2:10). We simply believe that those good works are the result of my sainthood and salvation, not the basis of them.
A second, slightly different way to say this is that in the Protestant perspective my saintliness is not based upon my virtuous character but upon God's call. God has conferred on me the status of a saint, but I now must pursue the process of saintliness all my life. In Romans 1:7 Paul writes that we are “called to be saints.” Saintliness, in other words, is not a perfect demonstration of heroic holiness but rather a lifelong pilgrimage. Bit by bit, through the transforming power of the Holy Spirit, my life becomes conformed to God's own character. We Protestants call this life long process “sanctification.” So, we can say that in our standing before God we are already counted as fully saints because of Christ, but then we also say that through the Holy Spirit our actual lives gradually and increasingly demonstrate saintly qualities or what Paul calls the “fruits of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:22–23).
This raises an interesting question. Given that I am declared a saint by God, just how much demonstration of actual holiness might I expect to experience in this life? Here Christians disagree. Catholics would say that the more you become saintly and holy in real life, the more you are considered just in God's eyes. Luther insisted that even after we become saints we still, at the same time, remain sinners. I have heard it said that John Wesley was pessimistic about his expectations for unregenerate human nature but very optimistic about regenerated people; and thus in the Wesleyan tradition you find a doctrine called “entire sanctification,” an idea that suggests we can approach sinless perfection in this life.
In the end I think we need both the Catholic and Protestant ideas of sainthood. The former challenges and inspires us; the latter offers consolation and encouragement for all the normal struggles of life. Whatever your view, with Paul we can affirm that Christians should “work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12–13).
The Journey with Jesus: Notes to Myself Copyright ©2002 by Dan Clendenin. All Rights Reserved.
