Sixth Sunday in Eastertide

In challenging times we seek out those who are able to lead with wisdom and discernment. Some years ago, the Holy Father wrote an apostolic letter in which he quotes St Theresa Benedicta of the Cross, saying that ‘The greatest figures of prophecy and sanctity step forth out of the darkest of nights’. He goes on to say that, for the most part, the mystical life remains invisible and that the most decisive turning points in world history are often determined by souls whom no history book ever mentions.

St Theresa’s quote gives us hope that God will send true leaders to guide us when the world is in its darkest hours. But the gist of the Holy Father’s message is that sanctity is not reserved for the few – that the call to holiness has borne fruit in the lives of the most unassuming people – those who he calls ‘the saints next door’ – they could be parents, siblings, friends, people at work, fellow parishioners. People whose quiet example, generosity of heart and prayerful spirit bring a welcome depth and meaning to our existence.

In another section of the letter, relevant to Mary’s central role in this month of May, Pope Francis speaks of the ‘genius of women’, saying that in times when the contribution of women was underestimated or even ignored by society, the Holy Spirit raised up female saints who produced spiritual vigour and significant reforms in the Church. He names, among others, the 14th century influencer and mystic St Catherine of Sienna whose feast we celebrate this past week, Saint Therese of Liseaux – a young woman whose faith was so simple but so deep that it spoke volumes to others.

He speaks of the reforming figure of St Theresa of Avila and the polymath and scientist St Hildegarde - one of the great lights of the high middle ages. And then, of course, St Theresa Benedicta of the Cross, otherwise known as Edith Stein, a Jewish girl who converted to Christianity as a young woman, became a Carmelite nun and was put to death in the concentration camp at Auschwitz.

But, as the Holy Father says, sanctity is often found closer to home and in a more muted form. Many years ago, as a young deacon in Selby, I would visit an elderly parishioner called Tessie. In the corner of her living room, before a makeshift altar, Tessie would always have a candle burning. Each day, she had a different person to pray for. It might be her grandson taking his driving test, a neighbour in hospital, a friend who had recently died. 

Not long after I was ordained a priest, I was told that Tessie was dying. I went back to make a final visit to her with the parish priest. At one point, Tessie said to him ‘Father, I can’t seem to pray any more’ – she was very ill at that point. And the priest simply said ‘Tessie, you’ve prayed for people all your life. Rest now, and know that the whole parish is praying for you’. It was a striking image - we carry people in prayer and when our time comes and it’s difficult to pray, whether that be due to old age, illness, grief or unbelief, we might take comfort from knowing that others carry us in prayer.

Tessie died not long after, going to her eternal reward. A year or two later, I was ministering as a curate in East Leeds, and used to take communion to another elderly lady called Theresa. As a young woman, Theresa had gone, with her husband, to the far east where they volunteered as missionaries and they’d adopted two children who they brought back to the UK. Theresa had been a widow for a while. Unable to get to Mass due to increasing frailty, she lived high up in one of those high rise blocks which you see on the eastern outskirts of Leeds. Her missionary life meant that she’d never had much money, indeed she was a member of the third order of Franciscans and lived a very poor life but with tremendous purpose.

Like Tessie, Theresa was a tremendous prayer and a voracious reader. She was fond of the work of a French theologian called Theillard de Chardin – whose work is deep and complex. I’d often find her reading one of his books and she’d discuss with ease the insights he gave into faith. You had a real sense when you were with her that here was a person of genuine sanctity and real spiritual depth.

When Theresa died I received her into church the night before her funeral and, inadvertently, left the paschal candle burning overnight. The next morning there was only half of it left but it seemed appropriate that the light signifying the risen Christ had burned beside the coffin all night as that light truly shone out of someone whom the Holy Father refers to as the ‘saints next door’.

During the course of our daily life we can get discouraged by the conflict and division presented to us daily by the news, and the corresponding human suffering. We can get downhearted when we meet people who are simply out for themselves, when we witness cruelty and deceit and corruption. Our faith is often diminished by the relentless and pervasive cynicism which is all around us or by the hypocrisy of those who purport to do good but fail to practise what they preach.

The Pope’s letter, which is called Gaudete et Exsultate - Rejoice and Be Glad, is an encouragement to us to see the goodness all around us in the world. To become more aware of the sanctity of others which is often overlooked. To discover our own ‘saints next door’ and celebrate the influence they have over us. (The depth of grief for Fr Jim just now, is reflective of how one of the ‘saints next door’ touched the lives of so many).

Let’s give thanks for the holiness of those, past and present in our lives, who set us an example and inspired us, particularly in our formative years. Again, we can think of our own parents, grandparents, teachers, friends or fellow parishioners. And let’s pray today that we might be a part of that stream of holiness, that we might accept with a willing heart the sacrifices that true sanctity demands, so moving forwards inexorably each day, towards the light which awaits. In this month of May, called as we are to reflect upon the sanctity of the Mother of God, may we aspire to be, in our own humble way, one of those saints next door.