THE SAINT NEXT DOOR

My mother used to say that in this world we sanctify one another. I heard her when she said that but, truly, I never really heard her. It was just Mom reflecting in her kind and loving way. But over the years I came to realize that she was right, right on, as we used to say back in the day. The problem was, back in those days, the only sanctified ones I ever thought about were the saints we revered in church and whose statues reminded us of their saintly character, something of which I knew I did not possess!

What Mom was getting at, I think, was to remind us that we all have some saintliness about us. We are children of a good and loving God and are thus good and loving in and of ourselves even if we do not always or maybe even regularly live out this goodness and love that is part and parcel of our being. It is always there and will always be there and it is up to us to make it alive and visible in our lives.

When we do that, we, in Mom’s words, sanctify one another. When we help another in need, whatever that need, we make the other’s life better, holier, whole-ier, if you will. We fill in the void, the emptiness, whatever the void, that is causing the other pain and suffering. And it doesn’t have to be a huge and visible void, a pain that is almost unbearable. In fact, most of the time, out saintly acts are almost invisible or at least seem not to be all that important.

The churches I supply at now that I am semi-retired are all involved in saintly ministry which is what they are supposed to be about. They prepare meals for a women’s shelter, community meals for a city that is economically depressed, help fill food banks for those in need. The list goes on. Two little girls volunteered to shovel my mother-in-law’s driveway. Yes, the hoped to be paid and thought a dollar would be wonderful. The point is, they knew she lived alone and could use the help.

Our five-year-old grandson colored pictures for his cousins while they stood watch as their father lay dying. He didn’t understand death but he knew they were sad and he wanted to cheer them up. His father lovingly shaved his uncle’s beard as he lay paralyzed by a stroke. Saintly acts by saintly people who would never consider themselves saints. They were just doing what came from the goodness and love within and, in the process, sanctified in some small way another, others.

We forget that, don’t we? Or at least we all too often take for granted how we sanctify one another. Oh, we are very much aware of being sanctified by others when they come to ease our pain, whatever that pain is. But when we are the sanctifier, well, that’s another story. The point is, as my Mom tried to tell my siblings and me way back then, is that we have it within us to help those in need live a better life. We sanctify them. What she didn’t say, and what we only learn when we do so, is that we are sanctified as well, perhaps even more so.