I dared the lightning, and I should be dead - mailing these words in from the Great Beyond, because I’ve done crazy things in my life. You could say that I’ve burned my candle at both ends - bull riding, parachuting, motorcycles, fast cars, storms at sea, helicopter crashes, Vietnam, everything but Niagara Falls in a barrel; however, the saints have pulled me through, despite “mi vida loca.”
I’m a Christian, and I believe in God; but I’m just superstitious enough to believe that the gold St. Christoper’s medal I bought in Barcelona when I was 17 has had something to do with it. It’s hung around my scrawny neck for 67 years, swinging back and forth, through success and failure, acceptance and rejection, happiness and despair. How did it help? The power of suggestion? Disruption of some cosmic force field? Created an invisible aureole? Divine intervention? Beats me. I just know, whatever their religious persuasion, such religious medals and adoration of the saints were “de rigueur” among the sailors I lived among for almost four decades.
Sadly enough, such self-expression can become distorted. Recently, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has been deporting illegal immigrants who (supposedly) have self-identified as gang members by their tattoos, which often feature religious figures such as Our Lady of Guadeloupe, the patron saint of Mexico. While Latin American gangs such as Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) and Tren de Aragua often cover themselves with depictions of the Virgin Mary, crucifixes, crosses, and other religious iconography, a tattoo of Our Lady of Guadeloupe does not necessarily indicate gang membership. It could imply many things, such as the bearer’s desire for protection, as a shield against intimidation, a symbol of cultural identity, and as a sign of repentance and a new spiritual path. In general, female saints are often depicted holding a crucifix and a bouquet of white lilies, symbols of their faith and purity.
Although his feast day is no longer included among the 170 saints on the universal liturgical calendar, purged because of doubts about the historical truth of his sainthood, St. Christopher is still one of the most well-known and widely venerated saints in the Christian tradition. He is known as the patron saint of travelers, including motorists, soldiers, and sailors. He is usually depicted in iconography as a large man crossing a river with a child on his shoulders. Dating from the 4th century AD, legend says that as he once carried a small child across a river, the child grew heavier with each step. When they finally reached the other side, the child revealed himself to be Jesus Christ, carrying the weight of the world. Consequently, “Christopher” in Greek means “Christ-bearer.”
A few weeks ago, the 1.406 billion Roman Catholics around the world were affirmed, amazed, or aghast, possibly all three, to learn that an American cardinal had been selected to serve as the 267th pope. From the point of view of someone whose boyhood career aspirations were either to be a sea captain or a Jesuit priest, it was an excellent choice. Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, a native of Chicago, and now Pope Leo XIV, was a worthy candidate, and so impressed the other 132 members of the College of Cardinals that they elected him on only the second day of deliberation.
I had the honor of working closely with the Catholic priest who reputedly had the best chance of any American cardinal to become pope before Pope Leo was selected. For almost nine years, at various duty stations, and while he was still a Navy chaplain, I was the personal assistant of John Cardinal O’Connor who became, upon retirement from the Navy, the bishop of Scranton, Pennsylvania, and then the Archbishop of New York City (1984-2000). While he served as a cardinal, only one pope reigned, Pope John Paul II (1978-2005), so he was never eligible for consideration. My guy could only speak three languages while the new pope can speak five.
Even though most readers of this newspaper are aware that we now have an American pope, many are quite possibly unaware that we could, in the foreseeable future, have our first, native-born, Mississippi saint of the Roman Catholic Church. Sister Thea Bowman (1937-1990), a member of the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration, has been awarded the title, “A Servant of God,” the first of four steps in the canonization process. Born in Yazoo City and educated at Catholic University in Washington, D. C. (Ph.D. in English Language, Literature, and Linguistics) and at Xavier University, New Orleans, she was a passionate advocate for racial justice and worked tirelessly to promote the richness of African American Catholic spirituality. Shortly before she died of breast cancer, she spoke to the U. S. Conference of Catholic Bishops and urged them to address diversity and inclusivity within the Church. The Diocese of Jackson officially opened her cause for canonization (sainthood) in 2018, and the lengthy process continues today.
Although the Roman Catholic Church currently recognizes over 10,000 individuals as “saints,” the “bar” to become canonized is higher than it ever was. It is a very difficult process, overseen by the Dicastery for the Causes of Saints at the Vatican, and involves four distinct steps.
1. First, after a person’s death, usually at least five years (Although this requirement can be waived by the pope), the person’s life is thoroughly investigated by a bishop. If all is well, they are designated as a “Servant of God” by the Vatican, as Sister Bowman has been, and are referred to as “Blessed.”
2. Next, a detailed biography of the person, called the “positio,” is submitted to the Vatican. This document is reviewed by the Dicastery, and if the pope agrees that the candidate has lived a life of “heroic virtue” (faith, hope, charity, prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude), he or she is proclaimed to be “Venerable.” From what I know of Sister Bowman’s life, she’s home free on this one. Among the other well-known Venerable are Fulton J. Sheen, the famous bishop and evangelist.
3. The third step is where the road to sainthood gets very narrow. This is called “Beautification,” and to be beautified, a miracle must be attributed to the person’s intercession after death – usually a medically inexplicable healing. Such a healing must be verified by medical experts, and theologians, and then approved by the pope. There is one exception. If someone is martyred for their faith, they can be beautified without proof of a miracle. For example, the American priest and missionary, Stanley Rother (1935-1981), is now in the “Blessed” status after being killed by the indigenous people he was serving in Guatemala; however, he would seem to be a good candidate for Beautification because of his sacrificial death.
4. Finally, after “Beautification,” a second miracle, again verified and approved, is required before the pope officially canonizes the person in a public mass, declaring them to be a “Saint of the Universal Church.” The last person to be so recognized was Saint Carlo Acutis. An English teenager, renowned for his use of technology to spread the faith worldwide, he earned the nickname “God’s Influencer,” and became known as the “Patron Saint of the Internet.” He died of leukemia in 2006 at the age of 15 and was canonized on 27 April, 2025.
There’s another category of 37 “super saints” called “Doctors of the Church.” This group includes individuals who have been recognized for their unique theological, doctrinal, or spiritual contributions to the Church. The list includes such notables as St. Augustine (354-430), the author of “Confessions,” and “The City of God,” St. Thomas Acquinas (1225-1274), a master of scholastic theology who wrote “Summa Theologica,” and St. Anslem of Canterbury (1033-1109), famous for his ontological argument for the existence of God (Simply put, God is that than which nothing greater can be conceived.).
During the Middle Ages, the “heyday” of the Christian pilgrimages, churches and cathedrals throughout Europe vied with each other for the precious relics of saints to attract as many pilgrims as possible. Most important would have been the bones of St. Peter, revered as the first pope, buried under the Basilica’s altar in Rome. Other famous saint’s relics include the skull of St. John the Baptist, the arm of St. George, the sandals of St. Andrew, and the bones of St. James the Less. One of the most famous stories regarding saint’s relics is how Venice acquired the bones of their new patron saint, St. Mark. They wanted a more famous patron than St. Theodore, the one they had. One of the four evangelists of the New Testament (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), St. Mark was traditionally martyred and buried in Alexandria, Egypt, and his tomb became a favorite destination for pilgrims. To secure his remains, two Venetian merchants went to Alexandria, bribed the Muslim guards at his tomb, and slipped his remains out of the country under layers of pork in a basket, knowing that Muslim religious customs would prevent a close search. If you’ve been to Venice, you’ve probably seen his relics, displayed in a gold showcase and housed in a specially constructed church, just off St. Mark’s square. Look out for the pigeons.
It is important to note that saints are not worshipped. Rather, saints are role models of holiness; their lives are signs of what God can do through a faithful person, and saints can pray for you, just as you might ask a friend. A major motivation for the pilgrimages, then and now, to places like Lourdes, in France, and Santiago de Compostela, in Spain, was to be healed. It’s ironic to note that at the same time pilgrims were going to holy sites and on crusades, their more irreligious neighbors, especially in England and France, were lining up for something called the “Royal Touch.” Since kings supposedly ruled by divine right, it was believed that this gave them extraordinary healing powers, particularly for those subjects suffering from scrofula, a form of tuberculosis of the lymph nodes. Perhaps it was only the power of suggestion, but people would line up during special ceremonies so that the king could touch them, and they could be healed.
While I’ve been to the Vatican at least three times over the years, I’ve never managed to be blessed by the pope in person; however, hanging in my library, in pride of place, I have a beautiful, parchment Papal Family Blessing which the Catholic priests at the Naval Academy procured and presented to me when I left there to go back to sea around 1975. In a Churchillian sense, I guess, that served to mark the end of the beginning because I went on to complete another 20 years on active duty in the Navy’s Chaplain Corps. And even there, I couldn’t escape the influence of the saints, and here’s why: the word “chaplain” comes from the Latin word, “cappa,” meaning cloak or cape. That word, chaplain, is also associated with a legend about St. Martin of Tours, France, a Roman soldier who later became a bishop in the 4th century AD. According to tradition, during a snowstorm, he cut his cloak, or “cappa,” in half and gave it to a freezing beggar. The remaining half of the cloak eventually became a holy relic which was carried into battle as a flag or standard by Frankish kings. The priest who carried the cloak was called the “cappellanus,” or the Keeper of the Cloak.” Over time, the term came to apply not only those who guarded the cloak, but to any clergy who accompanied the military into battle or who served others in hospitals and prisons. From the Latin, the word passed into Old French as “chapelain,” and into Middle English as “chaplain.” While I was on active duty, I would answer to that title, but I preferred to be called “Padre” or simply “Brother Benny.”
Light a candle for me.
