November 1, 2026,
Book of Revelation 7: 2-4, 9-14 + Psalm 24 + First Letter of Saint John + Matthew 5: 1-12
Over the past several years, my celebration and observance of All Saints Day has changed because I have had the grace and privilege of knowing someone who has been officially declared, “Blessed”, by the church in process of Canonization. It is my hope that when the time comes for that celebration, I may still be here alive and able to attend that event.
Like every other Catholic, growing up, I put the saints on exalted pedestals, and that justified my excuse for not imitating them. The church has often had a way of exaggerating their virtues and minimizing or completely ignoring their lack thereof. Consequently, devotion to them can become more of a hindrance than a help.
An Oklahoma priest was martyred in Guatemala in 1981. I knew him. He was one of us younger priests, and our paths crossed fairly often. I was four years younger and still bumbling my way into the priesthood when he volunteered to go down to our mission there. He came home two or three times a year for our retreats and assemblies, and I visited him at the mission. He was just one of us when he left, and when I saw him from time to time, he was still just a priest like me perhaps a bit wiser and older.
During this coming Lent here at Saint Peter, we are going to spend two nights reflecting on his life, his faith, his courage, and what led up to his murder. Because I knew Father Stan Rother, my sense of what a saint is like has changed. All the hype and glorious stories that surround all of those men and women we call “Saints” too often ignores the fact that they could just as well be called, “Sinners” because that is exactly what they were. It is for this reason that they stand before us as models and reminders of what life is all about. It is that reality that can inspire, encourage and give all of us sinner hope.
There is no shortcut that gets us from sinner to saint and maybe there should not be. What I have learned from knowing Stan is that we ought not try to be a saint because that creates some kind of phony character that is really a fake, some charade by which we try to become something or someone we are not. It strikes me that he is a Saint because he never tried to be anything other than what he was, a guy who grew up on a farm at the edge of a small town who ended up standing at an altar and preaching the Word of God by deeds more than by words.
What matters most for us is that we should be ourselves, our unique selves, but the best we can be, the kind of people God intended us to be. Our real goal is not to strive for happiness but for goodness. Happiness will follow. Piety is no substitute for goodness. There might be goodness without holiness, but I am quite sure that there is no holiness without goodness.