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              CHAPTER 
              13:  
              Becoming 
              Saints 
            by 
              Jon M. Sweeney  
               
            Jesus 
              sets the standard of holiness so high in the Sermon on the Mount 
              that none of us can seemingly reach it. Do the saints we honor reach 
              this high? 
            When 
              Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat 
              down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to  speak, 
              and taught them, saying: 
            
               
                “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom 
                of heaven. 
                “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 
                “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 
                “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, 
                for they will be filled. 
                “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. 
                “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 
                “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called 
                children of God. 
                “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ 
                sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
                “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute 
                you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my 
                account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in 
                heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets 
                who were before you.” (Matthew 5:1–12) 
             
            There 
              is no doubt that great saints have used Jesus’ teaching as 
              a list of what to do, what not to do, and who to try to become. 
              Many have succeeded to an extraordinary degree of faithfulness. 
               
              In the sermon, Jesus continues: 
             
              “You 
                are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, 
                how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for 
                anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. 
                “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill 
                cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under 
                the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light 
                to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine 
                before others, so that they may see your good works and 
                give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:13–16) 
             
            Jesus 
              concludes this portion of his teaching with the sentence that has 
              been bemoaned by Christians for millennia: “Be perfect, therefore, 
              as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). How is 
              that at all possible? 
               
              My friend Professor Ron Miller of Lake Forest College in Illinois 
              offers a helpful explanation of how we might understand these teachings 
              of Jesus—and it goes a long way toward explaining how we all 
              might really become the saints we are intended to become. Miller 
              retranslates Matthew 5:48 this way: “You should grow to your 
              fullness, becoming whole and holy, like your heavenly Parent.” 
              And he offers this short explanation: 
             
              I 
                used to fear the word “perfect,” seeing in it an impossible 
                ideal. But when I first read this passage in German, I 
                noticed that the word was vollkommen, a clear cognate 
                to 
                the English phrase “to come full.” We are to come 
                full, like 
                the rose in its fullness or the full moon, like the full-faced 
                smile of a baby or the full fruit ripened on the vine. God is 
                the fullness of existence, and we are called to be fully all 
                that we have the capacity to be. [Jesus’] call is to a full 
                and 
                abundant life.1 
                 
             
            Above 
              all else, saints have discovered what, for them, is the true likeness 
              of God in their lives. They do not suffer, as the rest of us do, 
              from wandering in what Sts. Augustine and Bernard of Clairvaux called 
              “the Land of Unlikeness.” Each of us at one time had 
              a likeness that was only like unto our Creator, but few of us in 
              maturity have been able to retain it. Instead, we more often are 
              found somewhat lost, unlike ourselves as we once were. 
               
              To become a saint is not to become otherworldly as much as to become 
              fully human. Some hagiographers did not understand this, no doubt, 
              but Christ taught it. He showed us how to be fully human and divine 
              all at the same time. He showed us the way to the most fulfilling, 
              abundant life. Guibert of Nogent, one of the theologians of the 
              Middle Ages who helped articulate the 
              church’s reasons for the veneration of saints’ relics, 
              once said, “Anything that is connected with the Divine is 
              in itself Divine, and nothing is more closely connected with the 
              Divine than God’s saints who are of one body with him.” 
              Yes! In a very real sense—so real, in fact, that it is not 
              unreasonable to find 
              holiness in the very stuff of it—the saints of God share in 
              Christ’s body.  
            St. 
              Ambrose once said, after the discovery of the relics of Sts. Gervasius 
              and Protasius, “Our eyes have opened to behold God’s 
              glory, which is seen in the passion of the martyrs and present in 
              the working of their lives.” Similarly, Thornton Wilder says 
              at the end of Our Town that the “eternal part of us” 
              can only come through when we make room in our lives for God’s 
              gracious filling and become as fully human as we are already made 
              spiritual by God. 
            The 
              communion of saints is all around us, all the time. They are listening, 
              available, right before us. We, too, are saints when we are alive 
              in Christ. It is the extraordinariness of this realization that 
              caused pilgrims to gather up the blood from Thomas à Becket’s 
              crushed skull as he lay dying on the cold floor of Canterbury Cathedral. 
              That’s the weirdness of the saints that so fascinates us. 
              But the same realization that saints’ bodies are one with 
              Christ’s body shows us how to make sense of sainthood today, 
              and how to take our own potential as saints more seriously. 
            SPIRITUALITY 
              IS INCIDENTAL 
              The pursuit of saintliness can be an honest and earnest endeavor, 
              but it is ultimately misguided. You might diligently follow a list 
              like the one in chapter twelve—ten guidelines for becoming 
              a saint, for instance—but doing those things will not get 
              you there in and of itself. I don’t even think that becoming 
              a saint is the same as practicing spirituality. Practicing spirituality 
              is part of saintliness, to be sure, but not the crux of it. 
            We 
              make a mistake when we simply interpret the saints’ lives 
              as exemplars of an ideal spiritual life. Certainly saints are more 
              focused on what is spiritual, lasting, and eternal than on that 
              which is natural or bound to pass away. Most of our lives differ 
              from the lives of the saints in this important regard, but when 
              we say that the saints are spiritual we should understand that there 
              are two things that spirituality is not. First, spirituality is 
              not a permanent condition; it is not something that you enter into 
              like a bath, and it is also not an acquired or temporary condition, 
              like hunger or its opposite, satiety. Second—even though it 
              sounds incorrect to say so—spirituality is not meant to be 
              the goal of our lives. We spend a lot of time trying to be spiritual, 
              in all that that means, and most of it is good, but God does not 
              ask us to be spiritual; God asks us to become like Christ, to become 
              Christ in our own unique way, which asThomas Merton explains means 
              to become ourselves. 
            Listen 
              in as Merton introduces this idea to young men at the Abbey of Gethsemani 
              in Kentucky who are preparing to become monks: 
             
              There 
                is only one thing for anybody to become in life. 
                There’s no point in becoming spiritual. It’s a waste 
                of 
                time—the whole thing, trying to make yourself spiritual. 
                You’re not; it’s a waste of time. What you came here 
                for, what 
                you came anywhere for, is to become yourself, to discover 
                your complete identity, to be you! But the catch to that, of 
                course, is that our full identity as monks and as Christians is 
                Christ. It is Christ in each one of us. . . . I’ve got to 
                become me in such a way that I am the Christ that can only 
                be Christ in me. There is a Louie-Christ which must be 
                brought into existence and hasn’t matured yet; it has a 
                long 
                way to go!2  
             
            Sainthood 
              is utterly and completely incarnational. Sainthood is the marriage 
              of God and the individual man or woman, flesh and spirit, heavenly 
              and earthly, transcendent and imminent, in a kind of perfection 
              that is available and possible today. It is ordinary in its simplicity 
              but miraculous and extraordinary at the same time. It happened to 
              you before you were born—God made it possible in Christ—and 
              now you must know it and grow into it. If you allow God to be as 
              close to you as to enflesh you, being a saint, living your vocation, 
              will become natural. 
            There 
              is a tradition in Judaism that if you are about to plant a tree 
              and you hear that the Messiah has come, you should go ahead and 
              plant your tree before you go out to meet him. The point of the 
              teaching is this: the people of God bring about the kingdom of God. 
              Do what you do to bring about the kingdom. In that is your sainthood. 
            1. 
              Ron Miller, The Hidden Gospel of Matthew: Annotated and Explained 
              (Woodstock, VT: SkyLight Paths Publishing, 2004), 56-57. 
               
              2. Thomas Merton, in a talk to monks at the 
              Abbey of Gethsemani on the subject of William Faulkner’s short 
              story “The Bear.” Recorded by Merton and distributed 
              on cassette by Credence Cassettes, Kansas City, MO. 
             The 
              Lure of Saints: A Protestant Experience of Catholic Tradition 
              by Jon M. Sweeney 
              ©2005 by Jon M. Sweeney 
              Used by permission of Paraclete 
              Press.  
               
               
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              LURE OF SAINTS , 
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