MESSY SAINTS

Here's a post a good friend sent my way last week.

Was she trying to tell me something? Certainly, no halo here. Without hair, mine keeps falling off.

Sometimes we think of saints as living in unapproachable light. And we think that if we wanted to be saints, we’d have to be perfect, just like them. 

So instead of being inspired by them we’re deflated by them because “perfect” feels “impossible.” Or at best, while we might be inspired by them, we’re not challenged by them. I mean… they’re saints. They’re superheroes. They can fly and shoot webs. That’s a whole different category from us schleps. We’re missing the point of the saints. The message isn’t that they merely need to be admired. The message is that you… yes you… can become one. 

Today I want to share the stories of a few messy saints you may not have heard of to give you some hope. 

St. Mark from China was a doctor. He got sick and took opium for his pain and became addicted. He tried to quit and failed. And because of a lack of understanding about the nature of addiction at the time, he was denied confession and the Eucharist. He never stopped going to Mass and praying, and he often gave free medical treatment to the poor. On July 7, 1900, 120 Christians were rounded up during a persecution and told to renounce their faith. Mark and his family was among them. They all refused and chose martyrdom instead. Mark asked to be killed last so that no one else would have to die alone. When his family had all been martyred, he was given one last chance to renounce the faith and he refused. He died with a full-blown opium addiction, and was canonized by John Paul II in the year 2000. 

Or take St. Drogo, who always struggled with feelings of guilt that his mother died in childbirth, spent his life in prayer, and had an extreme physical ailment that deformed him and drove him to become a hermit. He’s the patron saint of people who are considered unattractive, and, of coffee. (Someone please open a St. Drogo’s coffee shop!) 

Or take St. Benedict Joseph Labre. He struggled with severe depression and social anxiety. So often we think our mental and emotional struggles make us “less-than.” It’s helpful to remember that even that kind of cross can make you holy when you offer it back to God in love. 

Or consider St. Francis Xavier Cabrini. She was amazing. She only lived to be 67 and she started 67 schools, orphanages, and hospitals—mostly to help immigrants. I know a priest who met an old sister that worked with her. “What was she like?” he asked, in awe of someone who knew a saint. “She was a jerk!” the woman said. Apparently, being blessed with a personality type that got that much done in her relatively short life also had its downside, and some people felt steamrolled by her, despite her good intentions and genuine holiness.  

But the king of all dysfunctional saints is the good thief. He was crucified next to Jesus for his crimes, didn’t do anything good that we know of, and at the end of his life simply said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” Jesus famously replied, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” He’s the first man we know who went straight to heaven. In some ways, that makes a thief the first canonized saint. The Church refers to him as Saint Dismas. (I have a special love for him. My grandfather who tried and failed to beat alcoholism and died of liver cancer saw a vision of that good thief shortly before he died.)

If you look close enough, all the saints had scuffs and chips in their halos. And all their lives bear this message: even you can become one of us.

God bless you,

Chris Stefanick

Real Life Catholic