So often, when we think of the communion of saints, we imagine people from centuries gone by, surrounded by halos, living in a world where angels and miracles are somehow much closer than they are today. Sainthood seems more akin to tales told in comic books than it does to the experience of everyday life. After all, how could ordinary people like you or I aspire to the kind of holiness we see in Hildegard, Maria Skobtsova, or John of the Cross?
Carlo Acutis canonized September 2025
On the other hand, on 7 September 2025, we saw the Roman Catholic Church canonize St Carlo Acutis, an Italian boy who died in 2006 at the age of 15. The most striking images from that day, other than of the new saint’s own mother seated among the prelates of the church, were of St Carlo’s tomb. His casket has glass panels so that his body can be seen, and he looks, for all the world, like a teenage boy at rest. Track suit, sneakers, and all. He looks just like countless young people in every one of our neighbourhoods. Several times it has been said about his canonization that he is proof that “holiness is in the ordinary.”
We all come to God as ordinary people. Every one of us who has been baptized knows what it means to give up our lives, be joined to Jesus’ death, and to share in his resurrection and eternal life. Of course, if I share in the life of Christ and you share in the life of Christ, then this means that you and I are related through the life we share. In choosing Jesus Christ as our brother, we have also chosen one another as Christian siblings, even if by accident. And, by extension, we have also chosen Carlo, Hildegard, Maria, and John, along with every other Christian who has lived and everyone yet to be. It’s a very big family.
And, like any family, not all of the relations get along. St Jerome, famously, was so ill-tempered that hardly anyone was speaking to him by the time he finished his translation of the Bible. Legend says that 1,700 years ago this year, St Nicholas punched his brother in Christ, Arius, at the Council of Nicaea in the midst of an argument.
Saints are not held up as examples because they were perfect people. Quite the opposite. We look to saints as examples because, in spite of their imperfections, flaws, and sins, we still see the glory of Christ reflected in their lives. They have managed to run the race that was set before them and, along the way, to show others the truth of a life truly given over to God.
If we can think of the saints, not as superheroes whose feats are impossible to replicate, but as ordinary people—our own extended family, even—who managed to show forth in their lives what they believed in their hearts, holiness suddenly becomes so much closer. Being holy does not become any easier, but it ceases to be something only attainable by an elite few, the especially gifted, or those who lived in eras gone by. Instead, we remember the great cloud of witnesses mentioned in the letter to the Hebrews, cheering us on and encouraging us because, in spite of our struggles, our older siblings believe that we, too, can be signs of holiness in the world.
All Saints Day is one of the feasts in our calendar marked as especially appropriate for baptisms and the renewal of our baptismal promises. One of my favourite traditions at baptisms is the singing of the Litany of Saints. As the candidates, families, and congregation move through the church to the baptismal font, a list of saints new and old is sung, inviting each one to pray for us, especially for those being baptized. What better way to leave an old life behind and begin a new one in Christ than surrounded by the family one is joining?
The congregation of the local church is there, but so are hundreds of new aunties, uncles, and grandparents. Hildegard, Maria, John, and Carlo, rather than being far-off, legendary figures, are gathered around the font with us, praying, singing, clapping, and waiting with open arms. Behind them are prophets and sages, matriarchs and patriarchs, apostles, and martyrs who have been waiting for generations to welcome this new relation to the great chosen family of God. Welcome to the communion of saints.
Saints: The Chosen Family of God
So often, when we think of the communion of saints, we imagine people from centuries gone by, surrounded by halos, living in a world where angels and miracles are somehow much closer than they are today. Sainthood seems more akin to tales told in comic books than it does to the experience of everyday life. After all, how could ordinary people like you or I aspire to the kind of holiness we see in Hildegard, Maria Skobtsova, or John of the Cross?
On the other hand, on 7 September 2025, we saw the Roman Catholic Church canonize St Carlo Acutis, an Italian boy who died in 2006 at the age of 15. The most striking images from that day, other than of the new saint’s own mother seated among the prelates of the church, were of St Carlo’s tomb. His casket has glass panels so that his body can be seen, and he looks, for all the world, like a teenage boy at rest. Track suit, sneakers, and all. He looks just like countless young people in every one of our neighbourhoods. Several times it has been said about his canonization that he is proof that “holiness is in the ordinary.”
We all come to God as ordinary people. Every one of us who has been baptized knows what it means to give up our lives, be joined to Jesus’ death, and to share in his resurrection and eternal life. Of course, if I share in the life of Christ and you share in the life of Christ, then this means that you and I are related through the life we share. In choosing Jesus Christ as our brother, we have also chosen one another as Christian siblings, even if by accident. And, by extension, we have also chosen Carlo, Hildegard, Maria, and John, along with every other Christian who has lived and everyone yet to be. It’s a very big family.
And, like any family, not all of the relations get along. St Jerome, famously, was so ill-tempered that hardly anyone was speaking to him by the time he finished his translation of the Bible. Legend says that 1,700 years ago this year, St Nicholas punched his brother in Christ, Arius, at the Council of Nicaea in the midst of an argument.
Saints are not held up as examples because they were perfect people. Quite the opposite. We look to saints as examples because, in spite of their imperfections, flaws, and sins, we still see the glory of Christ reflected in their lives. They have managed to run the race that was set before them and, along the way, to show others the truth of a life truly given over to God.
If we can think of the saints, not as superheroes whose feats are impossible to replicate, but as ordinary people—our own extended family, even—who managed to show forth in their lives what they believed in their hearts, holiness suddenly becomes so much closer. Being holy does not become any easier, but it ceases to be something only attainable by an elite few, the especially gifted, or those who lived in eras gone by. Instead, we remember the great cloud of witnesses mentioned in the letter to the Hebrews, cheering us on and encouraging us because, in spite of our struggles, our older siblings believe that we, too, can be signs of holiness in the world.
All Saints Day is one of the feasts in our calendar marked as especially appropriate for baptisms and the renewal of our baptismal promises. One of my favourite traditions at baptisms is the singing of the Litany of Saints. As the candidates, families, and congregation move through the church to the baptismal font, a list of saints new and old is sung, inviting each one to pray for us, especially for those being baptized. What better way to leave an old life behind and begin a new one in Christ than surrounded by the family one is joining?
The congregation of the local church is there, but so are hundreds of new aunties, uncles, and grandparents. Hildegard, Maria, John, and Carlo, rather than being far-off, legendary figures, are gathered around the font with us, praying, singing, clapping, and waiting with open arms. Behind them are prophets and sages, matriarchs and patriarchs, apostles, and martyrs who have been waiting for generations to welcome this new relation to the great chosen family of God. Welcome to the communion of saints.
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