Something on my Mind: Confessions of a Saint

I doubt very much that you have heard of St. Craig, but if you have, don't worship him. I, er, he doesn't exist.

If I ever used the title "Saint" ( or St.), it would only be as a joke. The term I use a lot, "M'Lord," but all I ever got was laughs, which is the intention.

There are Saints and then there are saints and then, saints. The Saints is a name of an NFL team from New Orleans. Nice name, bad label. There are a smattering of other non-professional teams scattered throughout the land, usually of the high school or junior hockey flavour.

Then there are the saints of a religious order, as in St. Augustine or St. Agnes. There are many towns, schools, and roadways scattered around Alberta bearing those names and others. These have usually come about because the early settlers and missionaries were of the Catholic persuasion.

Speaking of "religious persuasion," with as much respect as possible, there is some misunderstanding as to who, what, when, how, and why a person is a saint. The following will fly in the face of religious tradition and conventional knowledge of sainthood.

And this is where I finally tie in my "confession" of a saint.

I am not a saint for a number of reasons. One, I am living and I don't know of any religious saint who is living. To be a saint, in that tradition, one must have been dead for a long time. Two, I see no precedent of a canonized saint in Scripture (saint, yes; Saint, no). And three, "saint" is applied accurately to any living follower of Jesus Christ, and not limited to dead ones.

So at any given time, if you were so inclined, you could say the following about me: "He's such a saint." That may or may not be true, but we all would know what you mean. But you shouldn't say the following about me: "That St. Craig is such a wonderful dude" (Is "dude" still in vogue?).

I may be a saint, but certainly not a Saint.

If "saint(s)" and "sainthood" are based on the Scripture, now augmented by tradition, it's best we reference the Good Book for what a saint is and isn't, to see if any of us measure up. Few of us would; most of us will think of our dear mothers (but not fathers, for some reason) as a saint, but that could be more on sentiment than anything else.

Sentiment aside, a true saint is one who is holy and set apart, usually in a practical everyday sense. Don't be picturing those 15^th Century paintings in which the so-called saints have that pious glaze, wearing those stained halos, sitting around with other saints doing the same thing.

Sainthood has been invested by God, and God alone, and I confess—there's that word again—I rarely measure up. Maybe you do, but this column is not your confessional! I rarely exhibit those virtues of patience, love, grace, etc. (marks of a true saint) in the cauldron of everyday life.

Being a true saint is one who is not caught up (yet "dragged down" at the same time) with secular values and habits. Being a true saint is one who lives in view of a better place beyond the grave. Being a true saint exhibits the virtues of the only true Saint (not the team, thankfully) Who ever lived on earth.

So my confession, then, is that I don't always exhibit those virtues. I don't always live up to the title. But it's not about perfection. Rather, it's about character and a standing before Almighty God.

Even playing for the Saints wouldn't help.