Where Are Your Saints?

Once when I was a new convert to Anglicanism (a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away) I asked my dear Anglican pastor why our Anglican Church no longer canonized any saints.  I knew that the Roman Catholic Church continued to canonize saints and (had I only known it back then) the Orthodox Church continued to canonize saints, but the Anglican Church did not.  What was the deal? 

We had saints in our Prayerbook’s “Calendar” (e.g. St. Mary Magdalene on July 22 and St. David of Wales for March 1).  We even had a number of Anglican worthies, like “William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr 1645” on January 10, “Charles Stuart, King, beheaded 1649” on January 30, and “George Herbert, Pastor and Poet, 1633” on February 27. 

Admittedly these last were obviously strictly local affairs, distinctly “B-list” players.  I don’t recall hearing anything at all about them in church and there was no “Collect, Epistle, and Gospel” provided for them in the Prayerbook as there was for St. Mary Magdalene.  One got the distinct impression that they were there in the Calendar as a kind of Anglican triumphalism, an historical nod to English Church history, and no one really thought that they were saints.  That would, of course, explain why they were ignored liturgically.  So I repeated my question:  what was the deal?  Why didn’t the Anglican Church canonize saints today like the Catholics and the Orthodox did?

The answer provided was that the Anglican Church could not canonize any saints, because the machinery needed for canonization involved the unity of the Church, and since the unity of the Church had broken down (i.e. with the Great Schism and the Reformation) the machinery for canonization had gone with it.  Even at the time I wondered exactly why the Anglicans needed the blessing of the Catholics to canonize their saints.  After all, the Catholics canonized saints without checking first with the Anglicans or the Orthodox.  What did denominational disunity have to do with whether or not we canonized saints?  But since as a Protestant I would never have prayed to them anyway, it was not exactly a burning question for me, and I let it drop.

A better question would’ve been “Which people would we have canonized anyway?  Where were our saints?”  If one maintains a very, very generous definition of “saint” then of course someone—almost anyone—can found.  I have seen some Anglicans suggest that Dr. Martin Luther King could be canonized.  With all respect to that dear and heroic man, putting forth such a candidacy only serves to underscore the difference between political heroes and actual saints.  Stand Dr. King next to St. Seraphim of Sarov and look them both over and you will see what I mean.  `

In some Protestant circles the place of saints is filled by missionaries, for missionaries are at least concerned with the eternal Kingdom of God and not with civil rights, which however important, are still a part of this passing world.  Some Protestant groups tend to lionize such missionaries as James Hudson Taylor, John West, and William Carey.

Once again, a comparison of these dedicated and worthy missionaries with the saints of the historic Church only serves to highlight the difference between dedication and sanctity.  The latter is unmistakable and self-authenticating.   Those who spent time in the presence of (for example) St. Seraphim of Sarov or (in more recent times) the Athonite St. Porphyrios (died 1991, canonized 2013) knew that they were in the presence of true holiness.

One sign of such holiness is the miraculous—not the only sign and perhaps not even the most important sign, but a true sign nonetheless.  Such saints often have the gift of prophetic clairvoyance and know things that have happened at a distance or will occur in the future.  They often have the gift of miraculous healing.

And sometimes we see things such as them levitating off the ground when they pray.  The first recorded instance of such levitation was that of St. Mary of Egypt, a solitary living for decades alone in the Palestinian wilderness, who had the gift of prophetic clairvoyance and who died about 522.  The monk who found her in the desert and learned of her story (Zosimas by name) also reported that, to his initial terror, he observed her levitating about a forearm’s length above the ground when he saw her praying.

One might be tempted to dismiss such a report as fictitious hagiography but for other such reports about other saints.  More recently it was reported by an eyewitness that St. Amphilochius of Patmos (d. 1970, canonized in 2018) was seen levitating when he was praying, and shining with uncreated light.

So, given the presence of such miracles in saints ancient and modern such as Mary of Egypt and Amphilochius of Patmos—and a host of others whose miracles of clairvoyance and healing have been abundantly recorded—we ask:  where are such saints among the Anglicans and other Protestants?  Why do we never hear of John West levitating in prayer or William Carey healing miraculously?  They were stalwart Christians certainly, and no one should doubt their dedication to Christ and the Gospel.  But they could hardly be compared to the wonder-working saints of the Orthodox Church.

Again we may ask:  why is that?  Or, to phrase the question in ecclesial terms, why have the Protestant churches in the four hundred years of their existence never produced saints such as we find in Orthodoxy?

The answer is:  because, despite their many virtues, such churches are in schism from the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.  The absence of such wonder-working saints has ecclesial ramifications, and points to the sad consequences of schism.  Miracles alone cannot provide proof of theological legitimacy.  But they can serve as striking confirmation.  Like the miraculous Holy Fire which comes to the Orthodox Church in Jerusalem every year, the miraculous saints also serve to undergird the claims of the Orthodox to be the one holy Church confessed in the Creed.