Saints past and present can inspire us

Who are the saints for us today? Can they inspire us?

A saint, based on the Latin word for “holy,” is a person recognized for a life of great virtue. They serve as excellent role models, teaching us how to live lives of goodness and generosity. Saints act as channels of God’s power and can interpret God and holiness for others.

My understanding of saints has changed tremendously from my days as a Roman Catholic child, when I believed that saints literally walked a metre or so above the Earth, as they were closer to heaven than the rest of us. The Catholic Church has a strong tradition of venerating saints and continues to formally recognize (or “canonize”) new saints, such as Oscar Romero, an archbishop in El Salvador known for his courageous advocacy for human rights and social justice during a time of political turmoil.

The commemoration of saints, people recognized as having lived holy lives, has always been a part of the Anglican tradition. As Anglicans we pray to “the communion of saints” in the Apostles’ Creed. We honour the memories of the saints, we recount their virtues and try to model our lives by their holy example.

Gregory of Nyssa, a fourth-century Roman Catholic prelate, is venerated as a saint in many Christian traditions, including Anglicanism. He was famous for his views on papal supremacy, his import of monastic principles into canon law (he was the first monk to ascend to the throne of St. Peter), and for his pursuit of anti-corruption reform within the Church.

St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church in San Francisco offers clues about how we might want to think about saints. It features a stunning 2,300 square foot mural that encircles the rotunda walls. Mural figures include saints that might be expected, including Old Testament figures such as Isaiah, David and Miriam, along with early saints such as Francis of Assisi and Teresa of Avila. But social activists such as labour leader Cesar Chavez and civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr., both devout Christians, also grace the church walls.

Another feature stands out: these saints are dancing, inspired by Gregory, who wrote: “Once there was a time when the whole rational creation formed a single dancing chorus looking upward to the one leader of this dance, and the harmony of motion that they learned from his law found its way into their dancing.” St. Gregory’s has taken this message to heart in its art—and in its worship, which includes the congregation joining hands and dancing. Some may view this as a flakey San Francisco vestige from the hippie era, but I found it deeply spiritual when I worshipped there.

Who are the people in your life whom you view as saintly, through their holiness and their lives of service? I think of a former colleague, a lawyer and Christian named John Olthuis, who worked tirelessly on behalf of First Nations across Canada for six decades, including numerous trips to Labrador to win justice for the Innu. John’s spirit was not ground down by the difficult work before him and the hardships he witnessed amongst First Nations people. Instead, like the dancing saints at St. Gregory’s, John emulated joy. He has danced his way through life. His life of service was recognized through an Order of Canada award two years ago.

Many Anglicans would regard South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu as a saint due to his immense efforts to promote human rights, and in particular to oppose South Africa’s former apartheid regime. Like my friend John, he too emulated joy. Many years ago I met him at a church service in Halifax. A long line of people waited patiently to shake hands with him. He greeted every person with warmth and enthusiasm. As the elderly lady in front of me shook hands with the archbishop, she told him that she’d just had a hip replacement.

“Then we must have a little dance,” replied Archbishop Tutu, with a twinkle in his eye. He let go of her hand, then danced before her in the middle of the nave. May we all seek to live out our faith with that spirit of joy and boldness.